#Codenames: Deep Undercover

[whovian223]

New to Me - November 2023

New to Me - November 2023 @czechgames @gmtgames @bwisegames @devirgames @AMIGO_GamesUS @PlanBGames_

With a convention coming in November, I had a feeling that this New to Me games list would get pretty hefty. Little did I know how hefty it would get! This was a big month for new to me games. Even better, many of them are older! Though not necessarily better. After last month’s Cult of the New to Me near rebellion, it was nice to play some older new to me games. That even got me some…

[lucid-loves]

simon slowly falling in love with reader after hating her for a long time⁉️

Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy it! ❤

Nuclear Date Night

Pairing: Ghost x 141!reader (fem!reader, weaponsengineer!reader, codename: Byte)

Word Count: 12.8k, One-Shot

CW: strong language, mention of violence, hate to love relationship, rivals, competitive, competence, realized feelings, smut, body praise, deep kissing, licking, fingering, biting, p in v

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: Ghost hates your guts. Even since you joined the team as their new weapons engineer two years ago, he’s hated you with his whole chest. With your high and mighty attitude, bewildering intellect, and unwavering confidence, he can’t stand you. You hate him too with his unreadable face, demeaning protection, and lack of grace. When an undercover mission requires the two of you to get closer, though, the both of you realize your hate for one another has turned into something else entirely. 

You ignored the icy cold glare the lieutenant kept on your figure as you explained how the new sniper-focus worked. Your comrades stared at your invention in wonderment, once again reminded just why you were part of the team. Thanks to your countless all-nighters and delicate hands, you managed to invent a focus that can attach to any sniper, calculate notches and wind speed, recommend the gun-adjust accordingly, and hit a target perfectly with over 98% accuracy. No matter the distance, no matter the weather, your focus powered with A.I. calculated assistance can kill any target. 

Everyone was impressed. Save for Ghost. 

“Aim at the target, give it a second to calculate, and then listen to the adjustment with the earpiece. After that, just adjust the aim and fire. Pretty simple stuff, really.” You demonstrated, large sniper in hand. 

The wind blew through your hair, dust coating your strands like moth to a flame. From a distance, a whipping dust devil was forming across the golden sands of the desert. It was dry, it was hot, and it was windy as hell. It was the perfect place to demonstrate your brilliance. 

When you joined the team two years ago, you knew that you had to put your heart and soul into this job in order to be taken seriously. You weren’t especially muscular or tall. As a soldier, you did train for instances of defense in case it was needed, but your true power relied on your smarts. A rather overlooked sign of an excellent soldier that often invited ridicule from the more traditional soldier. 

That’s exactly what Ghost did when he first met you. 

“You sure this shrimp can handle herself? Be one of us? She looks like she can barely lift a spoon without straining her wrist.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at the memory, muscles tensing as if you were in that moment once again. The memory of your response quickly took over. 

“Are you sure this meat-head can handle my science? He looks like he can barely use a blender without getting confused by all the buttons.”

You both left a bitter taste in each other’s mouths that day. The taste has lingered ever since, tainting nearly every interaction you had. It was a wonder how you haven’t killed each other yet. 

Setting up the sniper, you prepped for the real demonstration. While you did final adjustments to the focus, you called over your rival. “Ghost, test this for us.”

“Why do I have to be the guinea pig? I don’t need a fucking robot to focus my aim anyway.” He protested, every cold tone in his words deliberate. 

The team shifted uncomfortably, even after all this time still not used to the spats the two of you got into. Attempts to resolve the bad blood have always failed. It was easier to just let the two of you spit your fire until you ran out of fuel. 

“Alright then, tough guy, you can aim without it. Go ahead, hit the target.” You nonchalantly agreed, confident that things were going to go your way this round. Ghost noticed that easy acceptance you gave, his eyes narrowing at you as he tried to figure you out. What was your game this time?

Not one to back down, he approached the sniper and aimed it normally, your focus set to default. No robots, no artificial intelligence. Just plain-Jane markers for distance. Looking through the scope, Ghost looked for the little red flag that indicates the location of the fake target used for practice. After a while of looking at nothing but sand, he spotted the target just past the dust devil. 

He would have to account for that. You planned for this. No wonder you insisted on dragging them all out to this dry wasteland. He clenched his teeth, blood simmering as you tried to make him look like a fool in front of his team. Backing away, though, would make him lose this game. Shooting and missing would also give you the victory point. Either way, both scenarios made him look incompetent.

God, he fucking hated you. 

Suppressing a malicious smile, you antagonize him. The feeling of beating him made your heart race in excitement. “Any day now, Ghost.”

He hated the way you drew his name out like that. The way you so easily said it like it was nothing but air to you. Like bubblegum being blown and popped at your will. His name should’ve struck fear and intimidation. Instead, you chewed on it. Popped bubbles with it. 

Aiming the scope, he lined up his shot, and fired. Watching the bullet carefully, he saw it shoot forth with speed right on the dead center of the target, whip back from the dust devil, and hit sand with an explosion of grain. 

It took everything in him not to fucking leave right then and there. 

“Good shot if you planned on missing. Now, use my focus.” You continued to tease, twisting the knife further into his already wounded pride. There was little snickering coming from his men, Gaz and Soap not being able to contain themselves. They would admit that sometimes your fights were funny. It was a way to cope with the discomfort it brought. 

Silently, Ghost switched on your focus. Out of the side, a small earpiece ejected out. He took it and fitted it into his ear under the mask. Of course, you programmed the artificial instruction with your own voice. Serious, stoic, and purposeful. “Awaiting aim to calculate.”

He aimed once more at the metal target using the scope, the dust devil blowing the sand around violently to protect it at all costs. The scope projected its calculations as if he was staring at a screen. Within a few seconds, it completed its estimations. A green dot appeared way over to the left and bottom of the notches, marking the shooting point. Your voice rang in his ears. “Target confirmed. Aim and fire.”

This seemed way off. There was no way this could be right. Was he really meant to aim so far off? The green dot stayed perfectly in place as he adjusted the aim, his center notch in line with your tech’s mark. He hoped that it would miss.

He fired and watched the bullet sail through the air, ride with the dust devil like a wave, and hit the target with perfection. He became slack-jawed bewildered at the precision. The fact that it could calculate aim with even an extreme factor such as swirling winds was undoubtedly impressive. 

This was your clear victory. And he hated it. 

You relished in his fiery disdain of your genius. A small smirk played at your lips as you saw just how the rage froze his muscles. He looked like he wanted to punch something. 

“God damn, Byte! That was phenomenal!” Soap loudly praised, his eyes wide in true marvel. The others agreed, all wanted a turn to use that focus of yours like it was a new toy. Every invention that you gave them has felt like a new toy. It made those days feel like Christmas morning. You were great at your job and they couldn’t be happier to have you on the team. 

Of course, except for Ghost. Even if your engineering prowess was the best in the world. 

“Really great work, Byte! Are the blueprints all ready to copy?” Kate smiled appreciatively while tapping on her smartpad.

“All ready for production.” You simply answered, proud of the work that you had accomplished. Another one for the books. 

While the boys played with their new toy, Ghost stepped back and crossed his arms angrily. 

He hated everything about you. Your unmatched intellect, your confident plays, your arrogant personality. He hated that his team was wasting money on technology for weapons when a true soldier shouldn’t need the handicap. Real skill was earned by yourself. Not with the assistance of technology. It should be a tool, not a crutch. 

Ghost believed that people who couldn’t aim a sniper on their own and hit a target didn’t deserve to be snipers. And you just made him unworthy of being a sniper when against your tech. 

You looked up at him, taking note of how hard he threw daggers at you. You made him look stupid, and that was your goal. It felt like you had the world in your palm when you did. Someone as respectable as Ghost being bested by a brainiac was always the best. You proved that you didn’t need muscles or height or even intimidation to be better. You just needed your smarts. 

A huff of a laugh escaped you as you turned away from him, knowing that that would just make him even more angry at you. Good. 

You hated everything about him too. 

~

“What you do really is modern magic. Seriously, Byte, how does your brain come up with such things?” Gaz inquired, raising a bottle of beer to his lips. The team decided to celebrate your new invention at the usual bar. Of course, your drinks were on them as a reward. They knew that you put a lot of work into what you did. The least they could do was pay for your rum and cokes. 

You raised the cold glass to your lips, the sweet and spicy cocktail hitting your tastebuds. “The pros of being a genius. Thank you for the praise. It feels nice to be appreciated for my work around here.”

That last past was said a little louder, loud enough to make sure that Ghost could hear it on the other side of the bar. He bit his tongue and rolled his eyes at you, not willing to open himself to any more of your antagonizing today.

The victory was as sweet as the drink you were nursing. Addictive too. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling of success. When you finished an invention, when you helped your team complete a mission, or when you bested Ghost, they all gave you that sweet sense of accomplishment. 

Soap slung his arm around your shoulder, nearly causing you to spill. He was already a couple drinks in. “Yeah yeah yeah, good work! But all we ever talk about is work. Been two years, Byte. Tell us what that genius does outside of work, huh?”

You shifted in your seat, becoming a little uncomfortable with the sudden questions about your personal life. They knew tidbits here and there about you. Some failed relationships, favorite songs, distaste for certain foods. But your answer to all of that was usually straight-forward. “We broke up.” “I like this song.” “I’m not going to eat that.”

Something that the team noticed early on was that you were a workaholic. You hung out with them on rare occasions, you were usually confined working in your lab while they had offices, and you usually departed events early to be in said lab. Besides minor details, they really didn’t know much about you outside of your work personality. They have been trying to pull you more out of your shell over time, but it was a slow process. 

Gaz frowned at Soap’s bluntness. “Come on, Johnny, leave her alone tonight.”

“It’s fine, Gaz.” You put your glass down roughly, the clink of the glass on polished wood sobering Soap up pretty quick. It made Gaz look away in shame. That was at least one thing they knew about you most intimately. You hated being treated like you can’t take care of yourself. When they stepped in on your behalf, answering a question that was meant for you, it made you want to hit them. You knew they only did it to protect you. That you were one of them and this is how they treated one of them, but you could never let it be. 

You didn’t need anybody to stand up for you. You will make that a point for forever if you had to. 

The air grew thick with tension as you silently scolded them for hitting one of your pet peeves. With a sigh, you caved in, wanting to restore some of that fun from before. “What do you wanna know? Anything is on the table.”

Soap’s face lit up like a match to a gas station. “Seriously?! Anything?”

You gave a little nod and braced yourself for the worse. Soap’s lack of personal boundaries was quite well known. It was coming from a place of genuine curiosity and ease, never ill-intent. It was just one of the quirks of Soap that you were still coming to terms with even after all this time. 

“Well. . . what’s your sex life like?” 

Gaz began to choke, coughing on beer stuck in his throat. Price tapped his back to help him out, his sharp gaze falling on Soap for such a personal question. Yet, he didn’t say anything. He knew that if he did, you would get angry at him. He has been pretty good about avoiding your pet peeve and he didn’t want to break his streak.

Clearing your throat, you composed yourself. You weren’t expecting such a blatant question either, despite inviting this kind of open question. It didn’t mean that you weren’t going to be honest, though. That just wasn’t the kind of person you were. You never stepped away from a challenge. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Soap grinned widely, happy to talk with you finally like you were just like one of the guys. “Body count? Preferences? All of it. I wanna know what a genius views sex as.”

Slowly, you drank the rest of your rum and coke before signaling for another one. While you hailed the bartender, you noticed that Ghost was staring intensely at you. He hated you, but even he was curious on how anyone could tolerate you enough to sleep with you. 

Once you were halfway through your second drink for some liquid courage, you began to talk about one of the most personal details of your life. “Body count of five. All men. Most were one-night stands or sex-friends.”

You liked sex. There was no question about it. At least, you were interested in it. Despite the amount of people you’ve been with, they always left you wanting more. It was always a little unsatisfying when they were finished. It always felt like there was a black hole inside of you that needed the right meal to be satisfied. 

The exact reason why was no mystery either. Unless you were masturbating alone, you never came. No matter how much time and effort went into foreplay, none of your partners have ever made you orgasm. 

Just because your sex life was active didn’t mean it was great. 

“Wow, that’s a little surprising.” Gaz admitted, finally over his coughing fit. Price shook his head, a little embarrassed to hear about his men talking about sex so freely with you. As a captain to a group of mostly boys, he has shared details with them to bring the group together. It felt a little strange to have you participate in this. Even Kate wasn’t pressured into sharing such details. 

“Our little genius gets some then! How is it? Any experience noteworthy?” Soap persisted as he ordered another round.

“Not especially? Average, I suppose.” You shrugged, answering the questions becoming much easier the more you poured rum and coke into your system. Warmth crept along your cheeks, blossomed in your ribs. You felt yourself opening up like a dormant flower. 

You ordered another drink. Soap continued to pry. “Average? What does that even mean?”

“I never came before.” You suddenly blurted out, the blending of your naturally blunt personality and alcohol turning into a pretty dangerous combination. It seemed like the rum in you was getting to your brain faster than you thought. 

This time, it was Soap’s turn to choke. Gaz was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to comfort your plight. Ghost just stared as if he was watching the news. However, his mind was thinking all sorts of things. He wanted to mock you. Say that that was what you deserved for being so arrogant about your intelligence. He felt the instinct to trash talk you to recover some of the pride he lost today. 

Yet, he couldn’t. In fact, he began to feel a foreign pity for you. If you knew that he was pitying you over something like this, you would absolutely rip him a new one. That didn’t stop his eyes from softening for just a moment, though. A moment that you noticed with those sharp eyes of yours. 

Finishing your drink, you slammed the glass on the counter, nearly shattering it. How dare Ghost look at you like some tragic whore! So what you never orgasmed from sex! You were doing just fine when it came to solo-sex escapades. You didn’t need anyone to satisfy you. You only needed yourself. “I do perfectly fine when I masturbate. Don’t get it twisted. Other people just don’t satisfy me. It’s whatever.”

In a simmering fire, you got up from your chair and left the bar for the night, leaving your teammates wondering what the hell got you so worked up all of a sudden. 

Only Ghost knew the answer to that. 

~

Arriving back on base on your motorcycle, you headed straight to your lab. It was quiet. The dead of night. Everyone else was either back home, sleeping in the barracks, or partying it up downtown. You had an apartment to go back to, but you always found yourself coming here instead. 

Settling your helmet and jacket on the coat-rack, you made yourself at home. Dim-emergency lights softly illuminated unfinished projects on tables. Pieces of wires, circuits, and bolts littered every corner of the room. The place looked small and cramped during the day, scientists and engineers squished together in a lab that was second priority compared to the more athletic-based facilities. In the night when no one was here, the place looked like a tech graveyard. Vast, dark, and cold. 

You headed towards your usual workstation, a large workshop desk that was overflowing with unfinished blueprints of inventions that haven’t panned out just yet. A lot of the struggle came from lack of funding. Some of it came from unrealistic expectations. Science was an investment, something that most military dogs failed to realize. It’s why you always pushed yourself to work constantly and prove what the proper time and resources could bring. 

You were essentially killing yourself in order to make them see the worth of your department. 

Looking through the blueprints, you settled on one that was worth revisiting. A Russian Doll bullet that would save ammunition and materials to build said ammunition. The idea was to invent a bullet that would be compatible with most firearms, shoot an outer layer of bullet without shooting out the inner layer, and repeat until the last of the bullet is gone only to be replaced by another Russian Doll bullet. 

It would effectively turn a six-shooter into a twenty-four. It would save so much ammo and save many soldiers the reload time. 

The only problem you haven’t solved yet was the instability of gunpowder. 

That’s what you decided to work on tonight. Taking a seat in your worn out swivel chair, you opened your drawers and pulled out your materials. Bringing a magnifying glass close to you, you began to disassemble a few bullets. It was always a good idea to build things by first taking things apart. 

As you worked, you heard the sound of the lab door open. It was still much too early for the morning crew to come in, so you wondered who it could’ve been. Maybe Price had come to lecture you about how you left things at the bar. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to talk to you about your temper. 

Turning around, you were surprised to meet your rival, peering over all of the electronic corpses on the tables. He didn’t come here very often. You were always here after all. He knew you were always here. He shivered, noticing just how chilly it was inside the lab. The air conditioning was running on full blast. “Feels like a meat-locker in here. How can you work like this?”

“What do you want?” You sharply retorted, nerves already on edge at his presence. The lab was supposed to be your refuge. Your paradise. And here came the snake. 

“Relax. I’m not here to fight. I just wanted to talk to you about the focus.” He treaded carefully, his own instincts waiting to fire off like they were used to when he was with you. A lightbulb in his head just went off just then. He realized just how bad the relationship between the two of you was since his first real instinct was to yell at you. Ghost knew you felt it too. 

He was supposed to be the 141’s Lieutenant. He was supposed to bring the team together for his captain. And here he has been for two years, trying to push you out. 

Ghost has never even approached you without the intention to fight or yell or demand since the first day he met you.

Christ, was there any recovery from this? Ghost took a deep breath, trying to choose his words carefully for once. “The focus is great. You did a good job.”

“Don’t fucking pity me.” You snapped, turning back to your desk and igniting sparks as you bonded metal with heat. A hurricane brewed in your chest. Did he seriously come all this way to pity you? The gaze in his eyes should have been enough. It made you leave the bar!

Ghost felt that fire rising in his throat, wanting to say something back that would hurt you. Old habits die hard. It was a tough pill to swallow. “I’m not trying to pity you. The focus is going to help a lot of soldiers. It’s going to save a lot of people.”

You paused, unsure if his words were genuine or misleading. You’ve fallen into that trap before, hearing what seemed like a compliment only for it to be backhanded. It was unfortunate that you didn’t trust a word that came out of his mouth. “Why did you look at me like that at the bar?”

He knew exactly what you were talking about, but he wished he didn’t. He didn’t really want to talk about your sex life when it was just the two of you. Especially not when the two of you haven’t even had one decent interaction with each other. Goosebumps prickled all of his skin, his teeth nearly chattering. How could you keep it so fucking cold in here?

“I felt sorry for you.” He admitted, finding himself unable to lie to you or change topics. At least from the beginning, he has always been honest with you. 

As you heard the words you loathed to hear, you put down your tools, hands becoming too shaky to handle them with all the rage storming inside you. “I-”

“I felt sorry that no one has liked you enough to satisfy you.” 

Well, that didn’t exactly sound right.

Your mouth opened in shock at his dig. His eyes widened as he heard the words coming out of his mouth, realizing that it sounded completely fucking wrong. He held his hands up in defense, scrambling to explain himself before it was too late. 

The hurricane was in full swing, though. But instead of bringing thunder, it only brought rain. The corners of your eyes prickled with tears before streaming down your flushed cheeks. A lump choked in your throat choked the air out of you. You thought you could say something hurtful back. You always did before. But this time, his words cut a little too deep.

None of your relationships have lasted long. Not even with people you agreed to just be sex-friends with. They always ended up leaving. Whenever you asked what went wrong, they always blamed it on your demeanor. Your personality was too particular. Your interests were too complex. Your high expectations were too much. 

It was one of the reasons you kept a distance from the 141. They loved your company as far as you knew. But only in small doses. Who knew what would happen if they really spent time with you? They would probably get sick of you over time too. Ghost hated you since day one after all. 

No one liked you. You thought that you were fine with that at this point, but clearly you weren’t.

Ghost stood frozen in time, completely taken aback by your sudden tears. He expected screaming. He expected hitting. He expected icy retorts. That’s all he has ever known you as. He never in a million years expected tears. 

It made him feel like he was the biggest piece of shit on the planet. And the worst part was that he didn’t even know what to do about it. 

All of his years of hatred for you melted away as he watched you crumble, your distrust for him putting up more walls between the two of you. Jesus, how does he fix this now?!

“Byte, I-”

“Don’t you think I already know that no one likes me? You think you’re the first person to hate my guts?!” You spat, some of the lightning finally coming out. The tears kept coming, but it was somehow better for Ghost. He felt more used to that dangerous spark you had. It made you easier to approach now. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Poor choice of words. Honest. I just meant that. . . I . . . Everyone deserves to be loved enough to the point of satisfaction. You work hard and give us countless advancements to use. You deserved to be satisfied. You deserve to have someone that will put the work into you too.” He finally managed to find the right words, nearly running out of breath with all the effort he had to find them. He was never really good at heart-to-hearts. 

You looked at him in shock once more as he attempted to salvage the hurt he caused you. This was beyond confusing for you. Your brain that worked so hard everyday, that could think up a million things at any given time, was at a loss for words. 

In your uncertainty, you followed your instincts. And that was to turn back around to your desk, wipe your eyes, and get back to work. It was the only constant in your life that you could rely on. The best way to think. 

Ghost didn’t blame you for returning to work. He probably wouldn’t know what to say either if it was him. Instead of pushing it any further, he decided that it was probably best to leave. Before he headed out of the lab, he turned back and looked at you. 

You did the same, the moment of work gracing your senses. In the end, he did try to pay you a genuine compliment. You were always the type to reciprocate fairly. “Thanks, Ghost.”

There was a certain way you said your thanks that made Ghost’s heart skip a beat. A sense of gentleness that he’s never heard from you before. The way your eyes shone bright from leftover tears had him stunned. Were your eyes always that pretty?

He turned quickly and left, the back of his neck heating from the intrusive thought he just had. As he walked back to the barracks, he sighed. The air outside was much warmer than the environment of your lab. So much easier to breathe. It felt suffocating being in there. Out here, he could let his mind relax.

And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking of you. 

~

The two of you didn’t fight as much anymore. Sharp words slipped out every now and then, but neither of you kept feeding the fire once they were said. Most of the time, you two were just back to avoiding each other. Though, the both of you had your own reasons. 

You found yourself just at a loss of words when he was civil. It was that distrust that still lingered that made it hard for you to interact with him. It was especially difficult to be around him when he was actively being polite. Praises for your work, helping you carry heavy boxes across base, or prioritizing processing your submitted paperwork was always done either curtly or in silence. It was foreign to you.

And the energy you saved now that it wasn’t spent on fighting was now put to use by noticing him a little more. You always couldn’t help but stop and stare as he helped carry equipment with you from the lab to the armory. The way his biceps flexed with ease at the heavier load. The way his eyes remained stoic even as he embraced your inventions. Ghost was now more on your mind than ever, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. 

Ghost, on the other hand, was now always thinking about you. He felt the urge to get closer to you. To get to know you better. To help you out in a way that didn’t look down on you like he’s always done. He couldn’t stop thinking about your eyes too. How bright they were under the sun or moon. How they watched him under such careful supervision, trying to decipher if his good will was real or not. 

Even in moments where he didn’t want to think about you, he found his mind wandering anyway. Ever since that night in the lab, he felt his feelings change. Two years of anger and resentment for you have nearly melted all away only to be replaced by something else. And he didn’t know how to explain it. 

All he could do was try to keep cool. Remain civil. Avoid too close of interactions with you. 

It was working for the both of you for months until you were assigned to a mission together.

The team had noticed that the both of you were getting along in the loosest sense of the term. They wondered what caused such a shift, but they never asked out of fear of resetting the apparent progress. Instead, Price tried to push more progress by assigning the both of you to work an undercover mission. 

A wealthy investor of nuclear weaponry was suddenly pouring a lot more money than usual into a country with a rising dictator. The investments coincided with less threatening ideas such as climate change prevention and DNA study in order to balance out interest. The goal was to detain this investor, question him about his relationship with this dictator, and then hopefully stop a dangerous man from getting his hands on advanced nuclear power. 

The way in was at a formal event promoted by the science community. Conservationists, biologists, engineers, and more were going to be present to try to win over some other wealthy investors that would be there including celebrities, CEOs, and politicians. It was a high brow event which made the need for scientific knowledge apparent. 

And who knew more about such science than you?

Intimidation invitations in hand, Ghost waited in a hotel lobby, a crisp, black tuxedo hugging his form as if tailored to him. The skull balaclava was swapped with a simple black face mask, covering enough of his identity which made him feel better about all of this. Looking at a nearby mirror, he checked his blonde hair. He’s never dressed so formally in his life. 

He suddenly wondered if you would like it. 

You still need a moment to get ready, always one to check twice to make sure you had everything you need. Your heart raced in your chest, your nerves tingling with adrenaline as you prepared to see this mission through. You’ve been on the field a couple of times. Never under-cover. The fact that you would probably have to do most of the talking made you nervous. 

People didn’t like you. That weakness of yours was clouding your confidence. Being a woman in science was already a tough world. Would you be able to keep your personality in check if you faced such a conflict?

Nervously, you headed down to the lobby, adjusting every dress each step of the way down. When you spotted Ghost from a distance, you froze. You have never seen him so cleaned up before. When you were coming down, you half expected him to appear like he always has. Military uniform, skull mask, strapped with obvious weapons. 

You didn’t know that his hair was so. . . 

Finding yourself at a loss for words again, you steeled yourself. As you got closer, you realized that your heart was racing for an entirely new reason. Your lieutenant was much more attractive than you thought. 

And he was technically your date for tonight.

Ghost caught your figuring in the corner of the mirror, making him turn around. Time stood still for you once again as you appeared before him looking like someone straight out of a romance movie. Your dress hugged your curves in all the right places, every strand of hair was styled beautifully to frame your face, makeup only highlighted just how beautiful you naturally were. 

How could he never see just how beautiful you were before?

You walked closer and cleared your throat, that voice he thought was so annoying before now sounding like the sweetest violin. “Lieutenant, you look good this evening.”

This was the first compliment he’s ever received from you. It made his stomach do flips. What was happening to him? Pull it together!

“Thanks. You look great tonight. Ready?” He offered his arm, waiting for you to take it. 

Your heart could barely take it as you looped your arm around his, touching him so intimately for the first time. Heat radiated from his body. The biceps you found yourself staring at before felt solid under your touch. You looked up into his eyes, the glacier blues melting into a deep ocean. Looking away suddenly, you attempted to hide your blush. He was looking at you so intensely that it startled you.

“Do you have to stare?” You questioned a little too sharply than you intended. You braced yourself for him to say something equally sharp, something Ghost felt in your arm that was hooked around his. 

He averted his gaze, now conscious of the way his eyes naturally followed you. His mind searched for an explanation for his lack of discretion. The unexplainable pull that you had on him. Jesus, it was like he was. . . 

Oh. Oh no.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, trying to keep his feelings in check. How could he spend two years praying for your downfall to all of a sudden being-

He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t even want to entertain the likely possibility. Even if he wanted to act on his feelings, did he really deserve to after all the fighting for two years? You would probably never truly accept him after all the things he’s said and done. You weren’t completely innocent either, but Ghost had to face the fact that he was the one that started it all. Before even knowing your name, he insulted you, unable to keep his opinion on tech in weapons in check. A matter that wasn’t even your fault to begin with. 

What the hell was wrong with him back then? What the hell is even wrong with him now?

“Hey, Earth to Ghost. You okay?” You asked, noticing how he seemed to be just staring into space as they waited for the car to pick them up. There was a brightness in the night, a rain having just finished its pour. Puddles on the ground reflected the city’s lampposts, cars flashed their lights, and much to Ghost’s dismay and pleasure, your eyes shined replaced the stars. 

His voice was deep and agitated, more so upset with himself than with you. “I’m fine. Just nerves.”

At that you smirked that devilish smile that he hasn’t seen in a while. It pissed him off to no end before, but now it made his heart flutter. “Wow. The great Lieutenant Ghost has nerves. Never thought I’d hear that. Makes me feel a lot better, though.”

“And why is that?” He inquired carefully, almost afraid to hear the answer. 

You shrugged, actually starting to feel at ease for the first time in his presence. The butterflies were still there. They were just much more manageable now. “I am nervous as well.”

Before he could question you further, the designated car pulled up in front of the hotel. Gaz, parading as the chauffeur for tonight, got out of the car and held open the passenger door for the both of you to get in. Soap wanted to do this job, but Price refused. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to shut his mouth if he saw the two of you together like this. Gaz at least had a filter.

He played the role to a tee, onlookers staring as he took off his hat and bowed. “Good evening. You both look dashing tonight. Especially our lady.”

The cover was working smoothly. Together, they really looked like A-list people. The civilians would have never guessed that they were all just soldiers. Drinking in their looks, you let it replenish your confidence. You got into the car followed by Ghost, Gaz shutting the door once everyone was settled. As he drove to the venue, he went over the mission details. 

“We’ll be keeping an eye on you the entire time. We have access to all the venue’s cameras and we have mics hidden throughout the building. Some security is our own too to keep an eye on things. This place will be packed full of civilians, so violence must be kept to a minimum. Non-existent preferably. If anything does go wrong that we don’t notice, use the codeword.”

You nodded at all of the information that will keep you safe, reading the mission file to brush up on before the big show started. Ghost looked over your shoulder, also reading the file once again. Mostly though, he noticed how intensely you studied. You didn’t want to be the reason why this mission failed. You couldn’t afford that. 

When the car slowed in front of the venue, you looked out. At least a hundred people were outside, dressed to the nines, ready to spend their money or ask for money. Your blood suddenly became cold as you looked at all the people. There must have been hundreds more inside.

Gaz parked the car and stepped out, getting ready to open the door for you. However, you were a statue. Unmoving. There was panic in your eyes. You looked the part for this. Could you talk the part too?

A warm, large hand landed on your shoulder, gaining your attention. Ghost looked at you with steady eyes, his tone slow and soft as honey. “You got this, Byte. You’re probably smarter than everyone here. I’m right by your side too.”

It was relieving hearing those words come from him. He was encouraging you like he was your lieutenant. Like you were part of his team. Your heart swelled as you looked into the eyes you’ve been trying to avoid. It looked like he was finally seeing you after all this time. 

With a deep breath and a new steely expression, you nodded to Gaz through the window. He opened the door and Ghost stepped out first. You took the hand he offered you and came out, the buzz of intellectual conversation in the air. 

Gaz drove off, leaving the mission to the two of you. Ghost led the way up, your arm in his like it was always meant to be there. Miraculously, the two of you looked like the ideal date. It made getting into the venue easy as Ghost handed over the invitations to the guard at the entrance. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Riley. Have a fun night!”

The both of you couldn’t help but blush at the shared name. To be referred to as Mrs. Riley gave you ideas that you never thought you would think about. It strangely had a nice ring to it that made your senses prick up. 

Ghost thought the same thing as he guided you in. Tonight, you were Mrs. Riley, his beautiful and intelligent wife. 

The two years of hating each other seemed to feel farther away as the night stretched on. 

The marble floors were packed with esteemed guests. Large, crystal chandeliers reflected off gold jewelry and champagne glasses. A live orchestra played with precise rhythm. Everyone mingled, trying to see where the best place to put their money was. Likewise, scientists tried to advocate for their foundations. All of the talk made Ghost’s head swirl. He was used to undercover missions, however, this was truly out of his realm. 

You were better at picking up the jargon. They spoke a language you understood. The language that only the people in the lab on base understood. It was like hearing your native tongue after years of speaking foreignly. Military culture and science culture was so different, that you often missed this. 

A couple approached the two of you, led by a middle-aged woman with a large, diamond necklace and fake lilies in her hair. “Aren’t you two the most adorable couple! I must compliment you on your gown too!”

This was it. This was their test to look like a real couple out as each other’s dates. You put on a fake smile and held out your hand. “Thank you for the compliment. I’m Mrs. (Y/n) Riley. This is my husband.”

The name slid easily off your tongue, yet it sent electricity through you. There was no way you were going to get used to that name tonight. It made you feel lightheaded when you said it. How could you get so embarrassed by a fake name?

Ghost was having trouble getting used to it too, a part of him wishing that the name was real against his will. Clenching his jaw, he looked out at the crowd, trying to spot the target. His large height helped, but there were too many people around. They all crowded around each other. Talking, laughing, flaunting. A slight tug on his arm brought his attention back to you. You were just sending the lady on her way after a simple, pleasant conversation. Through that, you were able to figure out if the target has shown up yet. 

“Let’s go to the main ballroom. According to the recent intel, our target would be there if he’s shown up. Something about him not being able to resist a shrimp cocktail.” You directed, your confidence becoming stronger as you weaved through the crowd. Ghost couldn’t help but take in your courage, finding it hard to believe that you were once nervous. Then again, this was your crowd.

The ballroom floor was also filled with people, but also now with clear advertisements from scientists. Small signs indicated programs with their representatives, helping investors find the right place to put their money in. You read the signs carefully, recognizing a few of them along with who was supposed to be running it. At some of the names, you grimaced. 

“You alright?” Ghost asked, trying to keep his own expression solid as if he was playing poker. He found himself worrying about you now that you looked so pained. 

You shook your head, trying to clear unpleasant memories as best as you can. “I’m fine. I just. . . I hope I don’t run into any ex-colleagues.”

As if the devil was listening himself, you heard your name being called from afar, a surprised tone countering the determined piano filling the room. “Y/n? Is that really you?!”

Putting on your game face, you smiled and turned towards your former colleague and, unfortunately, ex-lover. Of course, this was going to happen. Almost always one thing goes wrong during a mission. A part of you wished you didn’t accept this mission now that you were face-to-face with someone you tried to leave in the past. 

“Dr. Emmanuel. It has been a long time.” You greeted politely, taking extra time to keep your tone in check. The last time you spoke to him was during the breakup. He dumped you after a quarrel about a missing blueprint. You were working on a project together when you were both interns at a scientific space-engineering facility. The blueprint was supposed to help the both of you land permanent positions, but it was made clear that there was only room for one. 

When you heard the news, you both agreed that neither of you would take credit until you talked to the head of the facility. That was, until the blueprint went missing. From there, you fought and accused him of taking the blueprint for himself to get the job. Your hunch was right when you saw the new employee ID card he hid in his wallet. 

You called him a traitor. He called you deplorable. You claimed that most of the blueprint was your design. He reasoned that if you had the job, you would neglect him anyways with your workaholic nature. He then dropped the bomb that he hated working with you, that you made him feel insecure in bed with your inability to orgasm with him, and that you were just becoming into someone he loathed with your particular personality. He accused you of not loving him enough.

So he took the credit and ran, leaving you to figure out what the hell you were going to do about a job. That’s when you decided to join the military as a weapons engineer. Some time after, you joined the 141. 

“It has been some time, hasn’t it? I’m surprised to see you here? Are you here as a scientist or an investor?” Your ex inquired, sizing you up as someone to take advantage of or as competition for investors. You knew his game and you knew it well. You only had to learn the hard way once before you learned your lesson. You never made the same mistake twice. 

Ghost noticed how your expression hardened, yet you maintained that fake, pearly smile. What was this man to you? How did you know each other? 

Why did he care so much?

“He is the investor and I am the scientist. This is my husband, Mr. Riley.” You announced, now saying the word “husband” with your full chest. Your ex’s eyes widened briefly before twisting into a smile that showed hints of disgust. 

Nonetheless, he held out his hand for a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Riley. It is an honor meeting a man that could tame such a work-driven woman.”

Before you could shoot back some venomous words that were bubbling up on your tongue, Ghost took his hand and gripped it tight with that soldier strength of his. Your ex seemed distraught as pain shot through his hand that was being crushed. Ghost didn’t let up. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t look down at my wife, doctor. I love her just the way she is. I’m sure she has accomplished much more than you as well.”

“Now, if you will excuse us, we have better things to talk about with other people.” Ghost finally let go, bruises already starting to form on the crushed hand of your ex. While you normally would pop off at him for standing up for you when you could’ve done so yourself, you were too busy thinking about his words. The L-bomb he dropped seemed to flow so naturally from him. It made you feel flustered. 

As Ghost led you away, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. He took your flustered expression as you being upset. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were upset with him or your ex-colleague. He knew he triggered your pet-peeve and he wanted to apologize. For now, though, he had to settle with a raincheck. “We’ll talk about that later. Do you see our target yet?”

You snapped back into action, being reminded that you have a mission to accomplish above all else. Looking around, you tried to spot the target. As predicted, there he was, gorging himself on shrimp and champagne. “10 o’clock.”

He looked over and confirmed. “Target spotted. Good eye. Ready?”

Taking a few deep breaths to reset your brain, you nodded. Swiftly, the both of you approach the target just as he was taking another flute from a silver tray. You changed your serious demeanor into a more graceful one. Someone worth giving money to. Someone that the target will like. “Mr. Marston. I was hoping to finally meet you tonight. I am Y/n Riley. This is my husband. You are such an inspiration to both scientists and investors.”

“Ha! A couple of fans with good taste! A pleasure to meet such a handsome couple! I’ve been in the business for a long time though, so I know you must want something. Can’t pull the wool over these eyes, even if they are old.” He laughed cheerfully as he raised more alcohol to his lips. 

It seemed that this would be easier than you thought. People like Mr. Marston made you sick. People with way too much time and money on their hands to shape the world as they saw fit, regardless of the good of the people. Nuclear war would be a disaster. And yet, this man treated it as lightly as the glass in his hand. Careless. Spilling over with each movement. Such a fragile thing away from one wrong move before shattering into a hundred pieces. 

“With age comes experience and wisdom. I am a scientist looking for an investor. Though my studies tend to be a little. . . unconventional.” You buttered him up before casting your line. All he had to do was take the bait.

And that he did. His eyebrows rose with interest at your choice of words. He felt his wallet burning a hole in his pocket. “Unconventional, you say? Well, I am all for out-of-the-box solutions to our world’s problems. Care to elaborate on your odd studies?”

You looked up at Ghost, awaiting some sort of signal that you may proceed with luring the target to where you needed him to be. He gave a single nod, disguising it as full support for his lovely wife. You were handling this much better than he expected. Or perhaps, this is how you always were under pressure. His judgment was always just too clouded with contempt to see it. 

“We would love to talk about our project, but such a thing is rather sensitive in nature. I would hate to upset some over-hearers. Perhaps we shall meet later once the formal is over?” You played cautiously, not yet reeling in such a loose bite. 

“Oh my, now you really have my interest! There are a few study spaces at this venue reserved for investors and scientist contract negotiations. I haven’t committed to any facility yet, so why don’t I start with reviewing you? What do you say?”

Hook, line, and sinker. “That would be most ideal, Mr. Marston. Just lead the way.”

Grabbing a few shrimps to go, the target led the way to a more private area of the venue. Everything was smooth, all according to plan. The crowd parted away for the richest investor here, making the exit quite swift. Once the three of you separated from the main event down to a much quieter room, Ghost detained him with cuffs. A button on his watch was pressed, signaling to the team that the target was in custody. 

“Wh-What?! What is all this now?!” Mr. Marston protested, hoping that someone would come to his rescue. 

“Lieutenant Ghost and Sargent Byte. You are being taken into military custody for involvement with nuclear investments. We just need to ask you some questions.” You explained carefully, trying to keep the target calm so you didn’t attract unwanted attention. Cool, calm, and collected. Ghost thought it was a good look on you. You weren’t normally involved like this, so he couldn’t help but think so. 

He had it worse than he thought. Seriously, what was with him?

While Ghost took his hands off the target for a moment to reach for his phone, feeling an incoming message, the target swirled around and tried to bolt. Not in the direction of an exit, though. Instead, he was running straight to you, binded fists raised to strike you. Thanks to your self-defense classes through the military, you acted on pure instinct. You dodged his fists and struck his jugular with a sharp strike of the side of your hand. He gasped for air and collapsed, tears streaming down his face as if he would die from the loss of oxygen. 

Ghost’s attraction to you increased tenfold as you nonchalantly fixed your dress like a meager wind just caused only slight agitation. He forgot just how capable you could be physically, not just intellectually.

Right on time, Price waltzed in wearing his common military uniform. He didn’t even bat an eye at the struggling target. “Transportation is outside. Well done, you two! It was about time you worked together on something. I hope to see more of this in the future!” 

You made some distance between you and Ghost, not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea. For some reason, it pained Ghost to see you put up that wall again so soon after the mission. Was this the first and last time you would get along so well with him?

No, he decided. He told you that he would speak to you later about the interaction with Emmanuel. Then, he would knock your walls down. Finally get to know the real you.

From there, we can really determine if his feelings were just a fluke or not. 

~

You were back at the hotel, wiping your makeup off and stripping yourself out of the formal dress. Your muscles ache at the new freedom, having been fed up with such a fitted dress and heels. After showering and putting on some pajamas, you got into bed and began to read. You were rewarded for your work with a one-night’s stay at the luxury hotel, and you were taking full advantage of it. 

After reading, you were going to order hotel service and then go to bed. The life of luxury that was more than enough for you. As you began reading the next chapter of your book, you heard a knock at the door. Sighing, you bookmarked your page, and answered it. You were surprised to see Ghost standing there, smelling like fresh maplewood and citrus soap. A plain shirt clung to his torso and pajama pants made him look like a new man altogether. He had his black facemask on still, but once he let himself in, he took it off. 

This was the first time you have ever seen his full face uncovered. You noticed the small scar on his upper lip that matched the one on his right brow. His jaw was strong as if chiseled from marble. You couldn’t deny it. Ghost was a very attractive man.

“Sorry to barge in like this. I said we were going to talk, so here I am.” He explained, taking a seat on the edge of your king bed. He was drinking you in too. The pajama shorts that showed off your thighs, the cami that exposed your delicate shoulders. Your hair was still damp and scented with lavender and vanilla. His heart picked up speed as he felt a pull of attraction to you. 

How could he have ever hated a beautiful thing like you?

You found it a little rude that he just barged in, but you let it slide for once. From his tone, he didn’t seem like he wanted to fight. Besides, those deep blues were starting to melt your icy heart little by little. Just for tonight.

You took a seat on the bed next to him and looked up. “What is there to talk about? He’s just a man from my past.”

At that, he felt his muscles tense. He knew that there was more to the story. Ghost detected your evasion of the subject as clear as day. It was something he experienced nearly every day before this. He knew your tell. “I know it wasn’t just that. What he said, how you looked. What happened?”

Out of all people, you least expected Ghost to hound you about this. He has never been interested in your personal life before. Then again, your relationship has changed dramatically since the night in the lab. Before you knew it, you started to feel yourself open up to him a little. 

You stared down into your lap. “He’s an ex. We were interns together, he took all the credit for a project we did, he got a job, and I didn’t. He insulted me, dumped me, and then left. I left to work in the military. That’s really all there is to it.”

While your tone tried to keep it casual, Ghost knew it was really a tragedy. No wonder you didn’t trust easily. Now he wished he broke that guy’s hand when he had the chance. 

Did he really have room to talk though? He made you distrust people even more easily when he first met you. It was about time he apologized for it all. “Listen, Y/n. I’m sorry. About everything. For the two years of fighting. All the insults, all the exclusion. Everything. I should have been a better teammate, lieutenant, and even friend to you. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what to say, a new trick of his that seemed to have worked time and time again. The tick of a classic clock filled the silence as you thought about his apology. The sound of him using your real name echoed in your ears. You blamed him for everything that transpired. And now he was sorry about it. Yet, the way he looked at you didn’t indicate the need for forgiveness. He wasn’t entitled to it, and he knew that. Instead, his gaze was filled with certainty. The certainty to do much better by you from now on. 

Two years to lead up to this moment. You never thought you would live to see the day. Just like him, you slowly found your rage for him melt down to almost nothing, instead to be replaced by something soft, warm, and electric. 

You gave an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry too. I know I can be pretty unlikable.”

“You’re not unlikable.” He reassured, his hand naturally taking your cheek like he’s been doing it all his life. Ghost didn’t even realize that he did it at first. And before he knew it, he was going in for a kiss, unable to resist those pretty lips of yours for a moment longer. 

Your cheeks began to burn as he kissed you so suddenly, yet you didn’t fight it. You couldn’t. Something was pulling you deeper into him. A passion that was always there from the beginning. Hate or love, you have always been passionate about Ghost. Maybe that was why you truly hated him in the first place. 

Ghost couldn’t stop himself, deepening the kiss with each second that passed, reveling in how sweet you tasted on his lips. He’s been obsessed with you since the beginning. A fire within him had always burned for you. He just wished he realized that it was actually love much sooner. Perhaps if he did, you really would’ve been Mrs. Riley tonight. 

All the things he hated about you before were things he loved about you now. Your soft lips, your silky hair, your amazing intellect. All of the things that he could never match. You were better than him. However, he didn’t care anymore. He actually appreciated it now. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really am.” He whispered as he pulled you closer, wrapping you in his embrace. You felt his firm muscles against you so much better now than before, the shirt he was wearing leaving little to the imagination with how fitted it was. 

It honestly turned you on. 

You took the initiative to reconnect your lips, your mouth opening to invite his tongue. Nerves fired off in every inch of your skin as his slick tongue met yours. Your toes curled as he felt you up, groping your thighs and waist like they would disappear any moment. His hands felt so good on you that you shivered, yearning for more. 

Things were getting out of control, but Ghost didn’t care. Tonight, he wanted you more than he has ever wanted anything from you. To appreciate all the things he was too stupid to notice before. You were sexy beyond belief. Always have been. When you were working over your desk with such a focused look, when you were gloating about your new invention, when you demonstrated a new gun so naturally in perfect stance. 

His pants tightened as his erection grew strong with each taste of your tongue. His hands roamed into your hair, gripping slightly to pull you closer. The both of you moaned when you ended up grinding against his hard cock. Once you got a taste for that, you couldn’t stop. Your hips grinded into his, sending earthquakes of pleasure through you. You could feel your panties get damper each minute as the makeout became even hotter and heavier. It wasn’t helping that it has been a while since the last time you had sex. It made you feel more sensitive than usual.

Finally, Ghost flipped you around and settled you back on the bed. He has never been so turned on in his life and you were the one doing this to him. 

There was something he needed to make clear first, though.

“I’m going to make you cum.” He promised, flashing you a determined look that had you weak. 

You blushed and averted your gaze, your voice low. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“I’ll do it. No matter how long it takes. I’m going to be the first man to make you cum tonight.” He reassured, gladly ignoring your warnings as he leaned down to kiss your lips again. As he took control of your tongue, his hands began to explore your skin under the shirt. You were unbelievably soft under his fingertips, delicate from your lack of experience on a battlefield. He now loved that about you. You didn’t need to be in the throws of battle to be part of the team. 

“You’re so soft, you know that?” He praised, deep rumbles of his voice making your brain turn into mush as it entered your ears. His kisses traveled to them, making you shiver uncontrollably as he softly bit down. 

He chuckled, a sound that was once always reserved for his male teammates unless he was making fun of you. Now, they teased you so pleasantly that your breath hitched. “Someone’s ears are sensitive. You like having them played with?”

Just as you were about to answer, he slid his hand up to touch your breasts, pinching your nipples and making you jump. “Ahh~! Ghost!”

“Call me Simon.” He demanded, yearning for the sound of his real name coming from you. It would be the first time you would call him by his real name. 

You played with it in your head, noting how foreign it felt just sitting on your tongue. Nonetheless, you gave him what he wanted. “S-Simon. . .”

“Again.” He encouraged, suppressing a shiver that traveled down his spine. It was like getting a dose of the sweetest drug. Fireworks exploding in his chest. He loved how his name sounded on your lips. 

“Simon. . .” You sighed as he peppered kisses all over your neck. Your cami was now raised up to reveal your chest, kisses traveling further and further down to taste all of you. As much as Simon wanted to fuck you already right then and there, he had a promise to keep. He had to take it slow and let it build up. He had to make you cum first.

He took a stiff nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around before taking it between his teeth in a gentle bite. His other hand twisted your other nub between his fingers. The way he tweaked them hard sent waves of pleasure through you, all the way down to your cunt that was still soaking your panties. It felt so good to have him touch you like this. You wanted more. 

Arching your back, you took your top off completely. Simon followed suit, stripping off his shirt and trailing his kisses down your stomach. As he felt your stomach on his lips, he buried his face deep into it. To think that he could’ve had this so much sooner if he was just nice to you from the beginning. “So soft. . .”

You squirmed a little under his slow, deep kisses to your body. No one has ever taken this much time on you before. All foreplay was pretty exclusive to your breasts or cunt with your previous partners. Simon was taking the time to appreciate your whole body. It felt so intimate. “Simon. . ?”

God, he loved it when you said his name. “Y/n?”

You were starting to like the sound of your name coming from him too. A blush swept across your cheeks. “You can be a little rougher.”

He smirked, this time making you tremble in excitement rather than rage. “Is that what you like? You like it a little rough?”

“I like the firmer sensation. Nothing too crazy.” You elaborated, always one to speak your mind even in a moment like this. If you were going to have sex with Simon Riley, if he wanted to make you cum, information like this was important.

Simon hummed against your skin, his hands working to pull off your pants. The vibrations made you sigh. Once your shorts and panties were off, he settled himself between your legs. Your dripping cunt was such a pretty sight. Pink, wet, and sweet. He bit the inside of your thigh, making you gasp in pleasure. “Like that? Is this what your previous partners did to you?” 

“N-No. . .” You admitted. Your previous partners never really listened to what you liked even if you told them straight-forwardly. At least not enough to get you to tremble like Simon did. It seemed like the man you hated before was really the best so far in bed. 

“Good. Their loss.” He murmured, biting down on your thighs soon after and leaving a deep love-bite. You bit your lower lip and whimpered, the sensation sending shockwaves. Simon kept going further and further down on you, relishing each time you moaned and quivered. He wanted more. He wanted to make you scream.

His lips latched onto your swollen clit, biting it between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue. He tasted your nectar on his tongue, a taste that instantly made him addicted to it. You arched your back and grabbed his hair suddenly, silky soft strands feeling nice between your fingers. 

Just like he wanted, you moaned his name over and over again. His tongue kept lathering your clit firmly and with even strokes. Fingers prodded at your opening, spreading your wetness all over you until he was able to put two of his fingers inside. God, you were tight. 

“Ahh~! Right there, Simon!” You encouraged, your ability to speak your mind unwavering. Simone found that insanely attractive as he pushed his fingers in further and curled right at that spongy spot that was driving you crazy. His teeth pulled at your folds before being soothed with his tongue. Your clit twitched as he pressed his tongue up against it once more, all the while pumping his fingers into your soaked pussy. 

Your grip on his hair got tighter as he kept pushing you to the edge. The sensation made his own cock twitch under his clothes, making him press it up against the mattress to grind into. He wished it was your pussy he was grinding into already, but you were so close. He could feel it. You could feel it. 

He didn’t stop his pace. Strong, even, and slow. You tightened around his fingers each second, feeling the wave approach closer and closer. You could already tell that this was going to be a big one. Your first orgasm with a partner ever. 

Tilting your head back, you moaned louder and louder. You begged for more and more, praying to a god that Simon wasn’t just going to leave you hanging. Now that would be pure evil. The worst thing he could ever do to you. But he didn’t. He just kept nipping, sucking, biting, and licking to the point that your head was spinning. 

Before you could warn him, your vision saw white and you screamed. Simon could feel you suck in his fingers so tight that he smiled as he still landed kisses on your clit. Your legs trembled, aching to close or kick out the electricity that coarse through you. Your cum was spilling everywhere. All over his fingers down to his wrist, coating your thighs in a sweet glaze. 

While you tried to catch your breath, Simon licked up every drop. “How was that? Everything you thought it would be?

You looked down to see his eyes ablaze with victory and a sexy smirk on his lips. You sighed and nodded. “Credit where credit is due. That was really good.”

“Good. Because you’re not done yet.” He decided, already stripping off his pajama pants to reveal his rock hard erection. He was bigger than you expected, all that shit talk for two years making you believe that he was making up for something. But he was blessed with the girth, the length, and the look that you knew would be amazing.

He positioned himself between your legs, coating his length with your slick. Shivers started again as the tip rubbed against your clit. The both of you sighed, enjoying each other’s bodies to the fullest extent.

Suddenly, Simon pushed all of his cock into you, bottoming out within a second. You gripped the sheets tight in your fist as you cried out. He stretched you out so pleasurably, so fully. You’ve never felt so full in your sex life. 

Simon hissed as you clenched around him. “Fucking hell, you’re so tight. . .”

Slowly, he began to move. Long even strokes that rubbed every inch of you and him. As he looked down at you, face twisting into such a pleasurable expression, eyes only on him, he heard his heart beat in his ears. God damn, you were gorgeous. 

Your eyes widened as he came down for a kiss, his tongue taking full control while his hips remained steady. The sudden rush of the kiss and his cock reaching deeper made you scratch at his shoulders. He was eating up all of your moans like candy. 

“F-Fuck~! Simon, wait!” You begged, the sensation getting overwhelming with each deep thrust. He could feel you getting tighter. Wetter. He knew that you were getting close to another orgasm, and he wasn’t going to stop for a second.

He sat up and pushed your legs down by your thighs, spreading you wide open and making you take all of him as deep as you can. You clawed his hands as your climax approached even faster, Simon ignoring all of your cries for him to wait. The sounds of your wet sex echoed in the room along with your sensual moans, causing you to get even more aroused. Christ, his cock was so good!

You were plunged into an orgasm, your whole body quaking as you arched and screamed it out. Simon felt your pussy wrap tightly around him, trying to take everything from him before he was ready. It was dizzying how good your insides felt coiling around him. He loved how you soaked his dick and crotch full with your hot cum. 

Simon grabbed your thighs tight, squeezing hard and clenching his teeth while he tried to stop himself from climaxing too soon. He wanted to stretch this night out for as long as he could.

While you settled down from your second orgasm, you gazed up at Simon who was struggling to keep himself together. You lifted your arms and touched his strong, muscular chest that was shimmering in sweat. You could feel how hard his heart was beating under your fingertips. You could feel him twitch hard inside you, aching to fuck you again. Your body was weak, though. You didn’t know if you could last for much longer. Every nerve in your body felt like it was melting. “Si-”

“I know. Your body won’t stop shaking. Just until I cum, yeah?” He observed, fingers tracing your trembling curves.

At the idea of Simon cumming, your body regained new energy that you didn’t know you had. You wanted to see it. Feel it. You wanted to see your lieutenant crumble from the power of your body. “Fuck me then, Simon.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. His hips went into overdrive, thrusting in and out of you with ease from all of your slick. You felt him hit that wonderful spot of yours that made you see stars over and over again, your body already on the edge once again. 

Simon picked you up off the bed and turned, settling you on his lap while he laid back. He didn’t relinquish any control, however. He just wanted to grope your delicious ass while he thrusted up inside you, hitting nice and deep. With the new view and new places to touch, he was losing his mind. 

You weren’t expecting this new position, but you didn’t reject it either. In fact, it felt heavenly. He hit that g-spot at just the right angle and you loved how he manhandled your butt so roughly. You liked how his eyes never looked away from your body, drinking it all in like the finest wine. From this position, you could feel his solid cock twitch inside of you.

Struggling yourself up, limbs feeling like jelly, you fell onto his chest, your tits pressing firmly into him. That sent him over the edge, his grip on your ass making his nails dig into your skin. Once you felt that first rope of cum enter you, you came for the last time.

Hot cum mixed together, making a mess out of the both of you. His chest fell and rose with heavy breaths, groans coming out with each rope he couldn’t hold back. Your tightening pussy wasn’t helping, milking him of everything to the point where he even felt tingles travel through him. Once he was finally done, he felt exhausted. 

You were exhausted too, your lungs struggling to regulate air flow. Your heart was beating so loud that it drained all other noises. Your body felt slightly numb from it all, your head getting fuzzy with each second. Simon wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as you both calmed yourselves. 

“That was. . .” He began, losing the right words to describe just how amazing that was. He’s had his fair share of sexual encounters, but never like this. No one could quite compare to you.

“Yeah. . .” You agreed, your eyes closing as you felt the afterglow take over. You felt the covers pull up over you, Simon still holding you on top of him, not willing to let go just yet. 

He could never imagine letting you go now. 

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

Drink Your Villain Juice - FAQ

Contains mild spoilers.

What is the story about?

You play as a science experiment turned undercover supervillain, charged with gathering information on a mysterious new villain group in town. With many skeletons in your closet and mixed allegiances, whose side are you really on?

Genres: Horror, action, traumatised people trying to heal (or get worse)

Who is involved with this IF?

There's the writer, and there's her wife (the secretary!). Both of us are active on the blog, so you may sometimes see posts unrelated directly to DYVJ, usually tagged #unrelated.

What are the protagonist's powers?

The protagonist/MC can grow a protective membrane over their body, forming two tendrils from their shoulders. The membrane makes them stronger, faster, and more resilient.

MC can also select one of three power specialities: inducing wild and uncontrolled mutations of their body, creating small creepy-crawly minions (referred to as 'nodes'), and growing an armoured carapace.

Will we be able to gain multiple powers/will you add new powers?

No: both would add too much complexity and also detract from the significance of the choice.

Will our powers get stronger?

Yes, to an extent, but I don't write based on power levels anyway. :)

Who is this Paradigm/Dime person people keep talking about?

Paradigm, AKA Dime, is the MC! It's their codename with their 'true' faction.

How long will the story be? Is it going to be a series?

Length: I have no idea! I'm not intending to get completely bonkers, but I want to ensure all the ROs get their time in the sun too.

Series: I suspect this will be a duology, but I can't be certain yet as we're not deep enough into the narrative.

Did you say Romance Options!? Elaborate!

There are currently 7 romanceable characters in DYVJ. You can also play the MC as aromantic, asexual, or both. The ROs are explained in more detail on choice of games, but briefly:

Mallory (non-binary), Wilson/Wilma/Willow (gender-selectable), Kay (female), Teddie (male, men only), Control Group (female), Alistair (male), Beth (female, women/nonbinaries).

I'm intending on including at least one poly route, featuring Wil and Kay.

I've heard there's a choice to have a previous RO in the past?

Correct! There's a flashback sequence with MC and some friends before the supervillainy. You can choose to have MC dating or crushing on Prii (nonbinary), Shauna (female), Grant (male), or Beth (female). This doesn't prevent you from romancing someone else later on!

Will the characters from the flashback show up again?

I can promise some level of closure! There won't be romance routes though. (Beth notwithstanding)

Will you make [X] an RO?

Seven is already an awful lot! I don't want to overcommit by adding more!

Can I select all the options for the Juice changing my character's appearance?

I'm presently not planning on adding this. I'd have to alter some code in an annoying way and I enjoy it being a choice with intent instead of an 'all of the above'.

Will we be able to get off the Juice/free from control?

Keep playing and see. ;)

How villainous can I get?/Do I have to be a villain?

There will be opportunities to leap off the proverbial slippery slope, but also to be unhappy and conflicted about what you're being forced to do.

Drink Your Villain Juice! is kind of a goofy name.

So I've heard! I know it's given people the impression that this is a comedy, which it, uh, very much is not. Honestly Drink Your Villain Juice! was the only title that popped for me in the conceptual stage: everything else felt much more bland or generic.

I've found a bug, how can I let you know?

First, please make sure you didn't resume playing on Dashingdon from an old save: updates to Dashingdon tend to break a lot of stuff in the backend and that's been the root of a lot of errors in the past.

If you're confident this isn't the problem, then just send an ask or post on the COG forum! I'll look into it.

I'd like to give feedback on the game!

Once again, send an ask, or post on the COG forum. I also have a feedback form I'm trying out for each chapter, so you can fill that out if you like!

Can I support you?

That's very kind of you! Support from fans is how I can work on the game and update as frequently as I do. I have a Patreon and a Ko-fi, but honestly, I'm grateful just for your feedback. :)

Do you have a discord?

Yes, it's tied to Patreon membership. However, if you have sent a tip/donation/etc, please reach out to DYVJ requests to talk about an invite. :)

[lilyaoraki]

okay, I need to know about Arabesque and the spy AU for the WIP game!!!!

Thank you @ronsenburg for the ask and sorry for taking so long!! So:

Arabesque is an AU where Felix is a dancer and Sylvain's a DJ. Sylvain first notices Felix when he's dj-ing at a club, because Felix is very obviously dancing to the music in his own head rather than to the one Sylvain's playing (this is the only scene that actually exists at the moment). They will properly meet later through Yuri, who's also a dancer and Sylvain's roommate. And that's where everything becomes very very vague in my mind! I wanted sylvix to get to know each other better through some kind of work collab but i have no idea how it would work, because I have no clue about how DJ work. Or dancers, for that matter, but at least I've done research on that, so here's random stuff about Felix's career:

His parents were the star couple of the Faerghus Royal Ballet. Felix took dance classes as soon as he could walk and was raised in classical ballet. Entered the Faerghus Royal Ballet Academy at 15, became a finalist of the White Heron Cup at 17. He didn't win because of his attitude, but he drew the attention of famous contemporary dancer Byleth Eisner and was offered a one-year scholarship for Garreg Mach Academy.

He went to Garreg Mach and switched to contemporary dancing, which was considered mild treason by his father. That's where he met Yuri. Both became friends over their interest in subverting gender norms in ballet. Felix loves dancing on pointe (his mom taught him against his dad's will).

After graduating from Garreg Mach Felix was hired by the Imperial Ballet in Enbarr, but resigned after five years over unspecified disagreements. So at the start of the story he's back in Fhirdiad as a freelancer.

There it is! I'd like this story to be about art, the way people connect through it, learn from and about each other, and maybe become better artists and people by letting someone else's work have an impact on them... I just have to find the circumstances and events that can bring that about! (And research DJs).

The spy AU has been in the brainstorming stage for, like, two years? Because it requires some plot and I'm awful at plotting. So, the basics are:

Sylvain's a spy for the Kingdom. He's been deep undercover in the Empire for five years. His codename is The Fool.

His handler is a guy he doesn't know the identity of for obvious reasons. Codename: The Duke. Sylvain reports to him regularly via means as of yet unspecified, and in five years, you could say they've become sort of friends. At least the relationship's very precious to Sylvain because The Duke is the only person who knows him for who he really is and prevents him from losing himself entirely to his undercover persona.

But! Something happens that makes Sylvain think The Duke is in danger (a trap laid out for the Kingdom maybe). He'll have to choose between breaking his cover... Or let The Duke be killed...

Very random but important detail: when he can't carry weapons Felix is not above killing enemies with hairpins. Or pens.

One of the reasons I can't progress is that it's unclear what the Kingdom and the Empire are (countries? companies? criminal organizations?) and what they want. I also don't know what level of technology I'm able to handle credibly. I'm also probably hindered by the fact that this should probably be more action-focused and less introspective than I'm normally at ease with... I really want to write this one day though, it's one of my favorite projects!

[lizzyscribbles]

I was watching part of the episode of Assassination Classroom where the kids all give each other code names and I was like "wouldn't it be funny if the league of villains did that", so here we are.

Now "Lizzy," I hear you say "they have villain names, why would they need code names"? And to that I say, leave me alone. I just watched today's episode and wanted to sob, let me have my fun. >:(

(Also, technically, in that episode the fun was that everyone else picked the codenames so we operating off that).

I feel like this would be born of a bet that went horribly wrong or just them joking around and then it became serious. Like, they had some undercover mission to do and were like "hey, since everyone like, knows what our names are now, we should probably get like codenames". Actually no, Toga and Twice said that, the rest of them said it was ridiculous but they were so insistent they put it to rock paper scissors and the others lost. So they all picked out codenames for each other:

Dabi: "Daddy Issues" (he almost flambés the entire hideout, because he totally doesn't and people aren't supposed to know about his super secret stuff, but in reality it's not that deep and Spinner put it in because he thought Dabi just looked like someone who'd have them).

Tomura: "Gotta Hand it to Ya" (Everyone but Tomura thought it was hilarious, no one cares it's not practical)

Spinner: "Brain AFK" (He would take offense that, but at least it's not Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle)

Kurogiri: "MOOOOOOM" (All o's and caps included)

Compress: "Hey kid, wanna see a magic trick" (Again, no one cares it's not practical so Compress just goes with it and waits until it eventually gets shortened into something that can actually be said quickly on coms)

Twice: "Needs Therapy" (Anyone could've taken this, but they felt it fit him best)

Toga: "Stabby the Human" (Most of them don't get the reference, but it's fine)

I can just imagine them running around, murdering people and just doing what they do but the whole time it's just:

"Gotta Hand it To Ya?"

"..."

"Gotta Hand it To Ya? Do you copy?"

"What."

"...Y'know, I seem to have forgotten what I was gonna say, silly me."

"I swear if you pull this shit one more time Daddy Issues isn't gonna be the only thing you have–"

[aleksandrovicviktor2]

🧬 Character Profile: Marta Sera (AU)

Alias: Jr Mary Sera Age:

17 years old (Teen AU version)

10 years old (Jr Mary Sera, child shrunken)

Gender: FTM (Female-to-Male gender swap in AU continuity) Pronouns: She/Her (FTM Gender Swap AU)

🎙️ Voice Cast

Japanese: Inori Minase (noted for balancing soft-spoken intelligence and emotional complexity)

English: Yeardley Smith (styled performance with mature sharpness, tribute to emotional resilience)

Russian: Ольга Зверева (Оригиналь��ый стиль: подростковая серьёзность с мягкой лиричностью)

🧩 Family & Relations (AU Timeline)

Mother: Mary Sera (Adult version) – MI6/SIS/CIA hybrid agent, also known as "The Wolf Tiny"

Sister: Masumi Sera – Protective and energetic influence in his life

Father (Deceased): Tsutomu Akai – Missing MI6 agent, inspiration for Marta’s undercover ideals

Brother: Shuichi Akai – Elite FBI sniper and emotional distant elder sibling

Aunt (Deceased): Elena Miyano – Biochemist involved in APTX4869 research

Uncle-in-law: Atsushi Miyano (Deceased)

Cousins:

Akemi Miyano (Deceased) – Compassionate cousin; emotional loss

Shiho Miyano (Teenage version, alias: Ai Haibara, codename: Sherry) – Close cousin, intellectual bond

📺 Canon Information

First Appearance: Detective Conan AU ?)

Notable Appearance Years: 2009 – ?

Character Arc Highlights:

Child version: "Jr Mary" – known for his keen instincts and similarity to his mother Mary Sera

Teen version (17): Assumes independent investigations, often in covert missions linked to MI6 and CIA, collaborates with Conan Edogawa and Ai Haibara

Explores gender identity confidently in a supportive environment crafted by Mary and Masumi

🧠 Personality & Abilities

Traits: Inquisitive, composed, sarcastic under pressure, emotionally guarded

Skills:

Tactical observation (trained via MI6 lineage)

Hand-to-hand defense (light CIA training with Alex Mason in flashbacks)

APTX4869 knowledge (due to Haibara and Elena’s history)

Deep memory recall and disguise tactics (from Mary Sera)

[steven-g-rogers]

He leaned in toward her, keeping his voice low and deep.  It felt like current ran between them, connecting them and making his skin crackle and break out in goosebumps.  “I am,” he said.  “Is it safe to be using our codenames so freely?  Do we know that we aren’t being watched?”

He took a sip of his drink and leaned against the bar as he read the note.  “I guess we need to look at these other clues before we go to the rendezvous point.”

He looked her up and down, and his tongue brushed over his bottom lip.  “You’re very attractive too.  It will be hard to go undercover with so many eyes on us.”

@agentpeggycarterrogers

Peggy watched his reaction to her note, and it was so endearing and so adorable that she almost broke character. She regained composure as he walked over, and she took a sip of her martini as well. She slipped again, and took one moment to smile at him to show she was happy to see him and excited about this. 

“Good evening,” she practically purred. “You may, the next round. Agent 49, I presume? I’m your partner, Agent 13.” She pulled the other envelope from her purse. “Agent X sent me this,” she said, and she shared the other note with Steve. “He says I can trust you.”

Agent 13, now that you’ve met up with Agent 49, on this boat, don’t forget you’re undercover. No one else can suspect who you are. Trust each other, but no one else. Collect your clues and end up at Room 208. – Agent X

She hoped Steve appreciated the use of codes - she was agent 13, the year was 1949, and their room number on the ship was 208.“What do you know about the mission?” she asked. “I have a list of clues, but Agent X is being very cryptic about our goals. I also…” – she added a hesitant pause before continuing – “didn’t expect my partner to be so handsome.”

@steven-g-rogers

[dfsrtyderrr]

Codenames Board Game: A Clever and Addictive Party Game for All Ages

The Codenames board game has quickly become a modern classic in the world of party and strategy games. Designed by Vlaada Chvátil and published by Czech Games Edition, Codenames is a brilliant blend of wordplay, deduction, and teamwork that has captivated families, friend groups, and board game enthusiasts across the globe.

Whether you're a seasoned board gamer or someone just looking for a fun game night activity, Codenames is an excellent choice. It’s quick to learn, incredibly replayable, and perfect for groups of any size between 2 and 8 players (or even more, with creative variants).

Let’s take a deeper look at what makes the Codenames board game such a fan favorite—and why it deserves a spot in your collection.

What Is the Codenames Board Game?

Codenames is a competitive team-based word game in which players try to identify secret agents based on clever one-word clues. Two teams face off, each led by a spymaster. The spymasters give cryptic hints to help their teammates guess which codenames on the board belong to their team’s agents—all while avoiding the dreaded assassin.

The game is played on a 5x5 grid of 25 random word cards, each representing a "codename." Each team has a specific set of words that correspond to their agents, and the goal is to identify all of your team’s agents before the other team does.

What makes the Codenames board game so fun and strategic is the tension between giving a clue that’s too vague versus one that reveals too much. The challenge of making connections between unrelated words, while avoiding traps and the opposing team’s agents, creates a gameplay experience that’s both exciting and mentally stimulating.

Why the Codenames Board Game Stands Out

Codenames isn’t just another party game—it’s a game that encourages creativity, logic, and collaboration. Here's why it's become such a beloved title among players of all types:

1. Simple Rules, Deep Strategy

One of the biggest strengths of the Codenames board game is how easy it is to learn. New players can understand the game within minutes, making it perfect for spontaneous game nights. However, the strategic depth is what keeps players coming back.

Spymasters must think carefully about the words on the board and come up with the most effective one-word clues to link multiple agents. Guessers must decipher the spymaster’s thought process, using deduction and teamwork to make the best choices.

2. Perfect for Groups

Codenames is designed for 4 or more players, but it can be easily adapted for smaller or larger groups. It shines in team settings, making it ideal for parties, family gatherings, classroom activities, or icebreakers.

Since the game relies on communication and shared reasoning, it naturally encourages social interaction and bonding, making it more than just a game—it’s a shared experience.

3. Endless Replayability

Because the word cards are shuffled each game and the key cards (which determine which words belong to which team) are randomly selected, no two games of Codenames are the same. The variety of combinations means the game stays fresh, even after many plays.

You can also increase difficulty or creativity by using house rules, themed variants, or even mixing in custom word sets for holidays, pop culture references, or inside jokes.

4. Available in Multiple Versions

Due to its massive popularity, the Codenames board game has inspired several editions and spin-offs:

Codenames: Pictures – uses images instead of words for visual thinkers.

Codenames: Duet – a cooperative two-player version perfect for couples or close friends.

Codenames: Deep Undercover – an adults-only version with more risqué content.

Codenames: Harry Potter, Marvel, Disney – themed editions for fans of popular franchises.

This flexibility allows players to choose the version that best fits their group and preferences.

How to Play Codenames

Here’s a brief breakdown of how a standard game works:

Set Up the Board: Lay out 25 word cards in a 5x5 grid.

Choose Spymasters: Each team selects one spymaster who sits on the same side of the table, facing their teammates.

Use a Key Card: The spymasters share a secret key card that maps out which words belong to the red team, blue team, neutral words, and the assassin.

Take Turns Giving Clues: On their turn, the spymaster gives a one-word clue followed by a number (e.g., “Ocean: 2”), indicating how many words on the board relate to the clue.

Team Makes Guesses: The guessers discuss and try to identify the correct words, one at a time. They must avoid picking neutral words, the opposing team’s agents, and especially the assassin.

Winning the Game: The first team to find all their agents wins. If a team guesses the assassin, they immediately lose.

Why Add Codenames to Your Collection?

The Codenames board game is an essential title for any collection, whether you’re a casual player or a board game enthusiast. Its compact size, low price point, and high entertainment value make it an easy choice for game night.

It also serves as a great entry point for new players. If you’re introducing someone to modern board games for the first time, Codenames is a perfect way to get them hooked.

Discover More Games Like Codenames on KallaX

At KallaX, we’re passionate about helping board game lovers track their collections, connect with friends, and plan unforgettable game nights. If you enjoy the Codenames board game, explore similar word, deduction, and party games in our growing database.

With KallaX, you can:

Log your plays of Codenames

Track which editions or spin-offs you own

Discover new games based on your favorite mechanics

Share your board game collection with friends

Conclusion

The Codenames board game offers a unique combination of strategy, wordplay, and social interaction that makes it stand out in the crowded world of tabletop gaming. It’s fun, fast, and full of “aha!” moments that keep players coming back for more.

Whether you’re hosting a party, planning a family game night, or just looking for a great new addition to your board game shelf, Codenames is a guaranteed hit.

So gather your team, sharpen your wits, and dive into the thrilling world of secret agents and clever clues with the one and only Codenames board game.

[zelda7999]

New Horizons - An Accidentally Undercover fic

Words: 2,454 | Approx. reading time 9:05 min

My first publicly posted writing! x.x Not beta read, nor edited! Any and all mistakes are mine. 

A story in which we follow a different Y/N and meet Eclipse! Explosions follow suit and bonds are sparked!  Really hope I did him justice ;; aaaaaa enjoy! Story under the cut! 

Accidentally Undercover by @lavenoon 

One moment you found yourself top of your class in both Electric Engineering and Chemistry. The next you found several things in your vicinity exploding. It’s not that you meant for them to explode! Really you just thought it would be fun if your presentation contained a little more… Pizzazz! Colours! And most importantly, some bang! So they would really remember it. It was meant to be harmless, just some fluorescent lights and some neon! All of which is typically safe and can be pretty when used correctly… When used correctly.

At some point the metal base of the fluorescents had lost insulation, meaning it had melted and caused a severe pressure imbalance and therefore… Explosions followed suit. One, then two, then five, and multiplying. Your professor started shouting for everyone to evacuate and anyone who may have been injured to go to the nurses office immediately, and you found yourself running out with everyone. A kind of self-preservation autopilot, and that’s how the remainder of the day felt afterwards. Autopilot.

 Going from class, to the Electrical Engineering department head’s office, then the Dean’s office, and lastly to your dorm to pack up all of your things. Apparently what you had done was destructive enough and dangerous enough to warrant your immediate expulsion. So much for those degrees, and for this college for that matter. It was the second in the past four years. You were getting so close too! At least this meant you would get a break to work on your personal projects, a definite plus for now at least.

—

 A couple weeks later you were in your garage working a robotic arm into place, the bolt just would not tighten no matter how much pressure applied to it. A frustration for another day it would seem as the sound of your mailbox stole your focus. All tools forgotten and quickly traded for a handy letter opener. You skimmed all the letters, spam, spam, mail for the previous tenant, bank, and oh? The last one looked quite important actually. Nothing to identify it on the outside other than a nonrecognizable logo. If you had skimmed over it like the other mail, you might have assumed it was from the government.

 One slice of a letter opener later, and you couldn’t believe what was in the letter. First, it was a job offer. Second, it was a job offer for a Secret Agency. You had no clue why they were offering you job, but there was only one way to find out… And you needed a better source of income anyways. Freelance was not treating you kindly. So with not much thought (which you probably should have thought about it a bit longer than you did) you accepted the job.

 The first day approached fast, and a lot of information along with it. First you were provided with a code name, which haha very funny. The codename given to you was Neon. Fitting, but now you really wanted to know how they knew, or why they knew. Your first thought was ‘duh, secret agency’ but that wasn’t enough for you. A deep need was arising within you craving to know why they found interest in you. Sure you had a track record, and an extensive knowledge in electrical engineering and chemistry, but you didn’t think it was something secret agent worthy.

 Second, after your code name, you were then given a small tour of your new work environment. Not very extensive, but what you’re shown will be handy in learning more later on. As you follow the agent assigned with giving you the tour a loud BANG sounds from one of the many doors. While you find yourself jumping the height of a frightened cat, the agent you’re following only reacts with a sigh.

 You almost don’t want to ask, but the curiosity would eat at you if you didn’t, “What was that?”

 “Your soon to be Supervisor.” The agent barely gets this out between the sigh they try to contain and the distain now painted on their face. A normal person would be concerned by that statement, but now you really wanted to meet your supervisor.

 “Is that a normal occurrence?”

 “Unfortunately. I would add the fire department on speed-dial if I were you. Follow me.“

 You didn’t even have to ask as it seemed the agent was now leading you to meet your new supervisor. You didn’t even know his codename yet, only told they were an animatronic. An animatronic who seemed to have an affinity for explosions…? You had a feeling you were going to like them. Even if most of your explosions were accidental… They were still really fun to witness and learn from.

 The sight of the door isn’t a surprise. Soot covered what small amount of glass there was, and on the floor sooty footprints were easy to spot. Thankfully you don’t hear any fire or yelling, a very good sign considering the explosion just happened. The agent guide knocks on the lab door, there’s no response at first. A small disappointment, maybe you wouldn’t meet him today, but the disappointment disappears near instantly when a voice calls “All clear!” from inside.

 Your guide opens the door and you’re already on his heels as he does. The lab inside is large and bright. Despite the smoke and soot coating the ground most of the white still showed through. The white fire extinguisher foam everywhere was helping with that too.

 “I hope we won’t be needing to call the fire department again, Agent Horizon.”

 Your tour guides voice draws your attention back. Tearing your eyes from the messy scene before you to your guide and a very tall animatronic. He had to be somewhere between 7 or 8 feet tall, maybe more if you included the rays circling the faceplate. If the height wasn’t enough to catch your attention, the four arms is definitely the next to. His lower set scribbling away at a clipboard of notes and his remaining two both fidgeting with individual fidget toys. You must have been staring pretty intently because now his eyes were on you.

 “Do I have soot on my face?”

 “Oh- No, no you don’t. Sorry! I uh, I’m um…”

 Your tour guide pipes up before you can embarrass yourself further, “This is Agent Neon. Your newest lab assistant.“

 One of his many hands if offered to you, once accepted you’re trapped in an energetic handshake.

 “Eclipse, nice to meet you Agent Neon!” there’s an abrupt pause that’s quickly filled, “Horizon actually. My code name is Horizon.”

 You struggle to hide your grin as without missing a beat you reply with, “I’m Y/N. Hopefully giving my own name Eclipses the fact you gave me yours, but if you’d rather we could start with new Horizons in mind.”

 You wait for a sigh to follow but it never comes, instead Eclipses expression brightens significantly. You do however get the longed for sigh from your tour guide.

 “We should continue with the tour, the lab needs to be cleaned anyways it would seem.”

 Damn it, you were hoping for a little more interaction before being whisked away… But maybe you could stay? Maybe if you offered to help clean? Maybe if-

 “Y/N could help us clean and I could finish the tour. Agent Neon bright be better use of Lumen resources here.”

 Did he? Did he just make puns out of your code name? Oh goodness is this love? A giggle erupts from you and your tour guide sighs even more. It really looked like they had half a mind to leave right then and there. That’s when Eclipse turns to you.

 “What do you say? Want to help clean? Or cat got your tungsten?“

 More giggles force their way out of your throat as you nod vigorously. You’re so caught up with your own enjoyment the departure of your previous tour guide is missed entirely. If this is your supervisor, you’re going to enjoy this new job a little too much. Especially if the banter can stay this friendly while working.

 “So what were you doing before that cause an explosion? Also where are the cleaning supplies kept in here?”

 A joyful hum sounds from Eclipse’s voice box as he starts off in a direction, one of his arms motioning for you to follow him.

 “A new prototype. Intended to be used as a distraction and weapon on the field, a little iron sulfide goes a long way!”

 “A little? The whole lab is practically covered in soot! If I didn’t know better I would have thought the lab was soot coloured.“

 “We needed to know how much to put into the prototypes, and what better way to find out than testing!”

 The two of you stop in front of a supply closet filled to the brim with cleaning supplies. Looks like a little bit more than a typical lab might need, but if explosions were a norm around here… This was probably a valid amount. You grab a few items to assist in the cleaning, but find yourself falling a little short when you can’t reach the last item you need. Of course it’s on the top shelf. Do you embarrass yourself and ask for help? Or do you embarrass yourself by not asking for help and inevitably knocking something over…

 The latter sounded slightly more appealing, at least then you could say you were just clumsy if you did knock something over. Positioning yourself close to the shelf you stand as tall as possible, but even your tippy-toes don’t quite get you there. You couldn’t even graze the item with your finger tips if you wanted to. You’ve half a mind to climb up to it when a purple hand comes into view and said item is lowered to your hands.

 “Oh- Thank you.”

 “Not a problem!”

 It’s a small gesture, grabbing something for you without having to ask, but it made your heart sing. With all the cleaning supplies procured it’s time to get to work. It’s easy enough to get all the fire extinguisher foam cleaned, the soot is a little more difficult. Not enough to let it stay there however. Meanwhile as you cleaned both you and the taller animatronic quipped puns back and forth. Starting with the theme of cleaning, then trailing off to chemistry, and ending on celestial. It was all too tempting not to, and it seemed like Eclipse enjoyed them as much as you did.

 You’ve almost finished what you’re working on scrubbing out when a thought occurs. If his current prototype was meant to be a distraction and weapon, maybe something even smaller than what he had done previously would work better. Neon didn’t need much energy to be activated, and any energy provided could also be used to trigger an opening mechanism. Without thinking you promptly blurt out the new idea that’s plagued your mind.

 “What if for your prototype it was the size of a cat-ball? A little iron oxide on the inside, a small mechanism to open the sealed ball, and to make it distracting some neon for the glow. I don’t know if it would exactly work… Maybe not with that size but-”

 “Let’s find out!”

 “Wait what? It would be dangerous, someone could definitely get hurt.“

 “Nonsense, let’s get started!”

 “But didn’t something just explode?“

 “It’ll be fine! Lab safety isn’t real and therefore can’t hurt me!”

 “I don’t think that’s how it work- but if you’re certain… Then I think I have an idea for the mechanism!”

 The other lab assistants in the room share a knowing look before resigning themselves to helping. Eclipse leads you to a spot where you can write down and show your design idea, he even adds his own improvements as you go. The excitement from the acceptance of your idea, working on it with him and bouncing ideas back and forth fuels you significantly more than you could have imagined. While you both write and brainstorm Eclipse offers you one of his fidgets, a little stretchy star themed doughball. You accept gladly, it gives you hands something to do during the points that you and Eclipse are simply talking and discussing instead of writing.

 By the end of the planning the two of you end up with a fresh prototype to test out. A little cat-ball with neon and iron oxide. Not a combination you would normally go for, but it would work for it’s intended purpose. For now you only had two of them, one to test now and one to adjust later.

 “So what are the protocols for testing it?”

 “Do you have a clipboard ready?”

 “…Yes?”

 “Stand behind me and get ready to write then!”

 “Wait what? But wouldn’t you-”

 “Nonsense! Let’s get started!”

 Was this really the procedure for this? No way, it can’t be. A quick look towards the other lab assistants confirm however, that this is the protocol. Eclipse prompts you to follow him back to the freshly cleaned part of the lab and you timidly stand close behind him. He was actually going for it. No wonder explosions were a constant here! But you couldn’t deny… This way of testing already sounds a lot more fun.

 “Ready?”

 Eclipse calls with a quick check around the room. Everyone else is already cleared way or left the area. Meanwhile you and Eclipse were dead centre of it all. Oh goodness, maybe this wasn’t the protocol. No backing down now!

 “Ready!”

 There’s a soft whir from Eclipse and then the click of the cat-ball sounds, accompanied shortly after by the sound of glass rolling on tile. It should explode roughly 5 second after activation… Five, four, thr- BOOM! You didn’t get to finish as the heat of it brushes against you and Eclipses lap coat almost blinds you with how fast it’s in your face.

 “Fascinating!“

 The thrill in his voice is hard to miss. The excitement bubbling in your own voice is also hard to miss. Causing something to explode on purpose, and it had pizzazz! And a definite bonus was that fact that standing behind him worked and it felt safe. 

 “It went off before three, we might have miscalculated the timing.”

You’re instantly writing this down and providing your own insights as you do. The others in the room share another look(tm) as they all rush to put out the fire you and Eclipse ignore in turn of writing down these findings as fast as possible. This was beginning to turn into a beautiful relationship! You were going to like this job alright. Especially if everyday was something like this.

[docgold13]

365 Marvel Comics Paper Cut-Out SuperHeroes - One Hero, Every Day, All Year…

December 11th - Siryn 

Theresa Cassidy is the daughter of the X-Man known as Banshee (Sean Cassidy) and his former wife, Maeve Rourke Cassidy.  During his time as an agent for Interpol, Sean was sent on an undercover mission for many months, not knowing that Maeve was pregnant when he left. Maeve gave birth to a girl whom she named Theresa.  Not long thereafter, Maeve was tragically killed in a terrorist bombing.  Sean’s cousin, Tom Cassidy, took custody of the baby and raised her as his own, hiding the truth from Sean as well as Theresa for many years.  

Tom Cassidy was himself a Mutant, as well as a villain who frequently teamed up with the fellow super villain, The Juggernaut.  Theresa’s own Mutant powers manifested in late childhood and she possessed the same sonic powers as her father.  These powers entail the ability to emit a high pitched sonic scree that creates significant concussive force.  Along with offering a formidable offensive weapon in the form of a sonic blast, when coupled with a specialized gliding suit, it can provide short term flight.  

Theresa was a sweet and gentle young woman, but also impressionable and anxious for the approval of the man she believed was her father.  As such, she was willing to use her powers as a super villain to do Tom Cassidy’s bidding.  She took on the alias of ‘Siryn’ and accompanied her father to the States where she battled Spider-Woman (Jessica Drew).  Theresa did not fare well in her initial outing; her heart was not in it and she was easily defeated by Spider-Woman.  Tom Cassidy and The Juggernaut, meanwhile, were defeated by The X-Men.  Following his capture, Tom Cassidy exonerated Theresa, stating that he had coerced her.  He additionally revealed her true identity as the daughter of Sean Cassidy.  

Still a minor, Theresa was not charged and released into the custody of the X-Men.  They reunited her with her biological father and the two lived together on Muir Island along with Sean’s girlfriend, Moira MacTaggart.  

Theresa would go on to resume the guise of Siryn whist acting as a member of the Fallen Angels.  She later became a member of Cable’s X-Force.  She would go on to serve as a part of the X-Corporation as well as Jaimie Maddrox’s X-Factor Investigations.  

At one point, Theresa had a fling with Jaime Maddrox (unaware that she had actually slept with one of his sentient dupes).  The affair resulted in Theresa becoming pregnant.  She had the baby and named him Sean after her father.  Tragically, when Maddrox toughed the newborn he unintentionally absorbed in that it was essentially a dupe.  Losing her baby in this fashion was unbearably traumatic to Theresa and she fell into a deep depression.  Theresa was ultimately able to get through her sadness in part by getting back in touch with her Catholic faith.  Thereafter she retired the codename of Siryn and took on her father's former mantle as Banshee.    

A version of Siryn featured in the Fox Films movies, X2: X-Men United and X-Men: The Last Stand, portrayed by actress Shauna Kain. The heroine first appeared in the pages of Spider-Woman Vol. 1 #37 (1980). 

[strawberriesinmoominvalley]

strawberriesinmoominvalley fanfic masterlist!!

my ao3

below the cut are the links to my amphibia and owl house fics. i don't really write for those fandoms anymore, but they're still good fun :)

MARVEL:

series:

hold my hand tight, we'll make it another night:

an eighteen year old natasha defects to shield after clint takes the one shot he didn't, and finds the family she didn't think she deserved to have. a happy au where the world is saved (eventually), cycles are broken and there is something to be said about the power of friendship (possibly) being real

you have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve (and i have always buried them deep beneath the ground)

clint's one shot he doesn't take, and what becomes of it

look at the wonderful mess that we made

what happens when natasha and clint adopt a kid they find during a hydra raid

falling doesn't feel so bad when i know you've fallen this way too

they've finally taken down hydra, after years of near-constant raids. all natasha and clint have to worry about is going to stark's party and going home to their kid.

but when ultron goes wrong, and they're forced into a fight with a robot and two enhanced teenagers, where are they meant to turn? is it truly possible to get peace in their time, or are they fighting an indestructible force?

and will they all make it out alive?

you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now

wanda and pietro learn they finally have a home, and are loved. the farm family gains two new members

it's the living that's hard

small moments from the family as they make their new life in new york

what happens now? do we have another go? (do we bow out and take our separate roads?)

due to the incident at lagos, the sokovia accords are created. natasha and clint don't know what path to take, which one will keep their family safe. everyone has different opinions and the time of the avengers may come to a close

but what happens when the signing of the accords is attacked and bucky is blamed? was it really steve's best friend, now the winter soldier? and why does there seem to be more than one supersoldier running around vienna?

i chose to be happy:

instead of natasha being the eldest sister, yelena is. how does that change everything, and do they now get a chance at a happy ending?

there are two of us on the run

yelena was the big sister, eleven years old and four years of the red room under her belt. natasha was six, her only memories full of ohio and the fake family they had. yelena had always been the harsher one, doing anything to keep natasha safe. in a split-second decision, she changes their course from cuba, taking natasha as they run from their past.

but the past has a funny way of catching up with you, doesn't it?

colour in your cheeks:

maria hill is a widow of the red room who was deep undercover in shield. she meets antonia dreykov and makes a choice that changes the course of her life forever

a trilogy following the life of maria hill

and i feel nothing, not brave (it's a hard day for breathing again)

maria nekrasova, better known by her codename maria hill, was a widow of the red room deep undercover in shield. when her cover gets blown, she returns to the red room and is brutally hurt for blowing her mission, even though she still managed to complete it.

as she stays in medical she meets antonia dreykov, the general's daughter. antonia befriends maria and she suddenly finds herself looking after dreykov's daughter. as she realises the power she holds, maria has a chance to destroy the red room forever

i try to memorise and identify but it's all getting foggy

she says "i am real and you are not"

when natasha goes to yelena after receiving her package, things don't go quite as she expected. natasha just wishes yelena would trust her. yelena just wishes natasha was there.

you're free to have everything you can see (all that you want from me

yelena really doesn't want to see alexei again. she also doesn't want natasha to leave - because that's going to happen. she just knows it

general fics/oneshots:

talk about god in his mercy, oh if he really does exist, why did he desert me?

Layla has been in the Red Room for as long as she can remember. When she's fourteen she’s given a family on a piece of paper and the role she would assume for the next three years. She exchanges one mask for another and sets off to play an orphaned cousin to the perfect American family.

It should have been just another regular mission but two children named Natasha and Yelena changed everything. As the mission draws to a close, her memories are getting harder to piece together, but she knows one thing - her little sisters cannot go to the Red Room. Layla will do whatever she can to save them, including praying to gods she doesn’t believe in.

blow a kiss, fire a gun (we all need someone to lean on)

The shower was icy cold as she stepped under the spray, her body flinching instinctively. The water ran red and only then did she let herself cry, scrubbing at herself with the soap.

The child had been six. The same age as Yelena when they were taken. In that moment, when she’d slit the boy’s throat and blood had sprayed everywhere, she saw her baby sister staring back at her.

OR moments of natasha washing off blood, and how she realises she's not alone

i will look for you as the sun rises higher

She hadn’t meant to do it. She really really hadn’t.

The breath was knocked out of her lungs as the gun fired again, her finger accidentally pressing the trigger. She screamed, throwing the gun away as fast as she could.

And-

She didn’t mean to. She really didn’t, and she didn’t know what to do-

OR children make mistakes and accidents happen. when your children are widows, accidents tend to be more fatal

if i could start again a million miles away (i would keep myself, i would find a way)

Being different in the Red Room wasn’t allowed. In fact, it got you killed.

Natasha had always helped her when she didn’t understand things, when kids would laugh at her for being unable to tie her laces, or for only talking about My Little Pony. She wouldn’t tease her, just patiently help her learn the skill (or do it for her, if Yelena was being honest). She’d always play with her and make sure she understood what was going on.

And now she was alone. The first time Yelena tripped because she couldn’t do up her laces she was hit around the face so hard the world spun.

She learned fast after that. You are not enough. Yelena is weird and different and that is bad.

OR moments of yelena's life of growing up up in the red room whilst being autistic, plus all the things that came later

we are the reckless, we are the wild youth (chasing visions of our futures)

By the time Peter was nine, he was very aware that he wasn’t like the other kids. He asked May about it and she said he was autistic, which wasn’t a bad thing, it just meant he saw the world differently. Peter wasn’t sure he fully agreed, because if it wasn’t a bad thing why wouldn’t anyone be his friend?

Then Tony Stark became Iron Man and Peter had never been more excited in his life.

Tony Stark made technology and was a superhero! Ben helped him get lots of books from the library because he decided he was going to be an engineer and a scientist and a superhero all at once too.

OR peter's never spoken, which is fine by him, even if he desperately wants to fit in. his life is fine and he's going to be an engineer-scientist-superhero just like tony stark!

then his uncle ben dies and it's his fault. may makes him promise not to be a superhero. so his plans kinda fall apart until he gets powers.

because really, it would be dumb if he didn't help people?

he couldn't save ben. maybe he could save everyone else

you'll change your name or change your mind, and leave this fucked up place behind (but i'll know, i'll know)

Natasha promised that she’d do anything for Yelena and protect her forever. And Yelena knew that was true, because Nattie had always protected her. She always would. Plus, you couldn’t break a promise.

Nothing bad would happen to her if she was with her big sister.

OR natasha and yelena stopped being sisters after she let them go back to the red room. natasha just never thought to tell yelena that

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

STRANGER THINGS

series:

hey kids, into dust together:

what if joyce and hopper never came back? what if the babysitters were thrust into responsibility they never expected?

if you changed anything, would you not have survived? (you're alive, you're alive, you're alive)

hopper and joyce never returned from the russian base. what started as a joke of being babysitters thrust steve, robin, nancy and jonathan suddenly find themselves thrust into looking after all the kids as they navigate the grief from all the people lost.

it doesn't help that everything seems to be getting worse again, that the upside down may not be fully gone. it doesn't help that they can barely afford to look after anyone, let alone make sure the law doesn't get involved. it doesn't help that feelings between people in the group may be more complex than first thought.

but maybe, everything is going to be okay. maybe this year is their year, right?

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STAR WARS:

general fics/oneshots

when the shadows fall your light will still burn brighter

He is Lukka Sky-Walker, Ekkreth, freedom and the slave who makes free. He knows his name.

She is Leia the krayt, the dragon who gives them a moment of peace. She does not know this name.

OR

a voice has been calling leia for as long as she can remember, telling her she's abandoned her people. it takes her many years to work out that voice is calling her to tatooine to free the slaves. after efforts the usual way fail, she resorts to extreme measures to fulfil her destiny - or whatever this voice is. she will free tatooine, no matter what it takes.

this is how the empire falls.

i need freedom now and i need to know how to live my life as it's meant to be

At nineteen, Padmé Naberrie has her life under control. As padawan to Qui-Gon Jinn, she gets to travel the galaxy helping people. As lineage sister to Obi-Wan Kenobi, she has an inbuilt best friend and someone to help stop Qui-Gon causing mass disturbance. When the three of them depart on a mission to Kamino, she doesn't expect anything out of the ordinary.

Then, of course, her world collapses with the discovery of the clone army. As the galaxy dissolves into war, she finds an unlikely ally in Anakin Skywalker, a revolutionary from Tatooine who helped to lead his planet to freedom from the Hutts. Now trying to help a clone revolution and fight a war, Padmé makes up her mind to find the Sith who started all this.

Inevitably, this will either destroy the Republic or destroy her. She hasn't quite worked that out yet.

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

GOOD OMENS:

general fics/oneshots:

secretly bleeding my heart out to you (i am making the best of a bad situation)

Crowley had kissed him.

Aziraphale had realised he loved Crowley in 1941. Which was stupid, because Aziraphale couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t loved him. He’d met Crowley - then an angel - whilst he created the stars. The most beautiful, wondrous things he’d ever seen. There was so much care, so much love, so much Crowley in every single one of them. He’d seen Crowley and that had been that.

Aziraphale hadn’t expected Crowley would ever love him back. Perhaps one day, when the time was right, Aziraphale would have told him. But that time would never come, because he’d managed to ruin everything.

He just wanted Crowley to be safe. He just wanted to make the right decision.

OR turns out, the supposed goodness of heaven is not a good as crowley. realising this in a lift on the way to become supreme archangel, however, is possibly the worst timing one can have this revelation. fixing this is quite simple: introspection, heresy and an well-timed rainstorm

THE OWL HOUSE:

series:

A Curse Shared AU:

Lilith cursed her sister Eda when she was 17. By the time she was 40, she had fought Emperor Belos, infiltrated the Emperor's Coven and started a rebellion with her sister. How did this happen? And how much does this change the fate of Boiling Isles?

I've lost it all (I'm just a silhouette)

Eda was always the one to protect Lily, to keep her safe, even though she was younger. Not that Eda found school easy, oh no. But in the same way Lilith found school impossible, Eda managed to find friends

OR, how hard it is to be autistic in school

What do you want me to say (when I can't tell you the truth?)

how Lilith went from cursing her sister, to starting a rebellion against Emperor Belos with her

The wrong step would be not to start this exodus

how did eda and lilith start the rebellion, anyway?

But I promise you I'll keep you safe

how did they get to the point where eda makes sure they always have griffon eggs, because luz can eat so little?

Please don't say you love me

what if Lilith and Eda had reconciled earlier, splitting the curse years before Luz came to the Isles? What if they'd started a rebellion together, fighting against the Emperor's Coven?

Amity needs an escape from her parents after disaster strikes. Will a promise made long ago help her? Did Lilith truly abandon her?

Ah yes, good etiquette demands (I remain soft and accessible in the face of my own ending)

Others at school seemed to have a different life to her, though. She didn’t know anyone else who looked after their siblings. If they cried, they went to their parents, and they would help them. If Emira went to her parents, they’d tell her to grow up - she was nine, for goodness’ sake. But that was fine - she was the oldest. She was meant to look after her siblings. Her Mum and Dad were doing this for their own good, like when they made them get top grades and gave them special necklaces that their Mother could communicate through. It was because they loved them.

You've ruined the colour green for me

how the Blight twins were affected by Amity leaving, and how they too came to live at the Owl House

Are you tired of me yet?

the Blight kids settle into living in the Owl House. There are many meltdowns, and they learn they aren't failures for existing. There is far too much hair dying. And a plot against the Emperor's Coven is hatched

The devil's after both of us

Luz and Amity go on a trip to the Emperor's Castle, with disastrous results

All my nightmares escaped my head (bar the door, please don't let them in)

Luz struggles with nightmares, and the Blight children don't understand the Owl House is safe (yet). but at least they have each other, and Eda and Lilith are happy to be parents

Won't you stay with me, my darling?

Eda was sixteen when she first kissed Raine, twenty-four when they broke up, thirty four when they rekindled their friendship. And now here she was at forty-two, running after them through the woods because they loved her.

Capture the wild things and bring them in line (and own what was never your right to confine)

it's been just over a week since Luz, Amity, Ed and Em saved the Clawthorne sisters from being petrified. It's near impossible to get work, and rebellion numbers are falling as the Emperor's Coven rounds up more and more rogue witches. With everyone closing in around them, they have to do something - and fast. But how can they fight against a group that outnumbers and overpowers them? Who is this Golden Guard, who seems to bother them at every turn?

And what happens when one of their own is caught?

This is just a bump in the road (and I promise I'm trying)

emira wakes from a nightmare, and lilith comforts her

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

AMPHIBIA:

general fics/oneshots:

there's something in the water that makes me love you like i do

a collection of small moments after sasha and marcy surprised anne on her birthday, ten years later

i could even learn how to love (like you)

Marcy was seven years old when they were adopted by Olivia and Yunan.

Now they're fifteen, running across the country with their best friends, Anne and Sasha, to find adventure and freedom. Sasha promised them adventure, and Marcy can't wait to have some with their favourite people in the world.

It seems almost too perfect when they meet Andrias, a video-game developer who's blown away by Marcy's skills and wants them to work for him.

But what happens when tensions arise between the three of them? And is Andrias all that he seems?

[mcdannoangelwolf]

I really loved your Mutants!5-0Task Force fic! And I would love to hear more about your thought process about their powers! If you wanted to indulge a bit more, no pressure, I just really loved it and am always curious about stuff like this :)

ALPHA! Of course, I'm happy to elaborate on their powers.

When I first started off with this Verse, (Danny being kidnapped), I wanted to try and use canon Mutant powers that didn't get a lot of screen time and did a deep dive into various canons. As you can see that didn't really pan out lol, (with the possible exception of Danny but more on him later). So after that I started trying to think of powers that would either compliment, or contradict, personality traits seen in the Core Four.

Chin.

In a way Chin has always reminded me of Ororo (Storm). Especially the 90's X-men Cartoon Storm where she talked several times about needing to remain calm and collected to prevent disaster with her powers.

To me that was Chin to a T. Throughout the show Chin always tried to remain levelheaded. Even in times of HUGE personal stress. Who better to embody Storm than Chin?

Kono.

Telepathy for Kono, I thought, was an interesting reversal for her. Telepathy, in most of the X-men/Marvel canon requires calculated, centered, almost cold control. Both Xavier and Jean have been shown to cause devastation with Telepathy if it slipped. I'm not saying Kono lacked these qualities. She didn't. But Kono was usually more of an active, aggressive, presence. She was the undercover minx, the sniper, the brawler, the shooter.

I thought giving her a power that was more mentally taxing VS psychically oriented was an interesting turn.

Steve.

WIth Steve and his powers I leaned more into the dark and/or more SEAL side of his personality. I thought to myself, "What mutant power, aside from Telekinesis, would make Steve not only a one man wreaking crew but could be used in subtle ways in military life." Enter Ferrokinetics/Magnetokinesis. Unlike Magneto, whose powers stem from control over electromagnetism, (which he can use to also manipulate non-magnetic metals), Steve can do both separately.

Though I only touched on it in both fics Steve has no compunction about using his powers in lethal and/or possibly 'unethical' ways. He saw no problem with lifting the cars with civilians, so long as they were safe. If Danny had been killed/grievously injured or ASSAULTED by his captors Steve wouldn't have thought twice about pulling the triggers or bringing the whole warehouse down on them. He's not as amoral as Magneto, he's not a bad guy. But he very much sees his powers as a weapon. In this verse, if I continued with it, ( I plan to but you never know), it will be an interesting juxtaposition of soft, sweet, sappy, lovable Steve and Ferron, (Steve's mutant/SEAL codename).

Danny.

Now Danny was the hardest for me to empower. I knew I wanted something elemental for Danny. A force of nature. Fire was my first thought but that has been done. SOOOO I actually took inspiration from you Alpha, and Demigod Danny. Now, I admit, I haven't read your Demigod Danno fics yet, but i know he is the son of Zeus.

Danny isn't JUST a Speedster, he isn't JUST Electrokinetic. Danny IS living lightning. The majority of the time his body produces all the power he needs but in times of stress or if his powers are dampened he has to jumpstart them from an outside source. He can also pull from those sources to not exhaust his own.

Though I didn't mention it the fics Danny could, if he chose, manipulate lightning from storms, (he actually acts as a lightning rod and has to self dampen when outside during storms), or even travel through electrical lines as pure energy. But those are more aggressive aspects of his power. You probably noticed in the kidnapped fic I kinda wrote Danny as a bit more Scott like. He's definitely still the anxiety riddled worrier. Still the professional and elite cop. But he's also a bit freer, a bit more joyful. I mean can you see Canon Danny calling Steve "My Man" so casually lol? He loves his powers, loves to run. His powers are an aspect of his life, of his self. Something to be used for life and joy. Not just a weapon.

Adam.

Though you might not have meant Adam I felt, since I mentioned him, I would include him lol. I saw Adam as the reverse of Kono. In H50 Adam was the planner. The calculated tactician. Oh he could take action and throw down when needed. But this was a man who ran a criminal empire, a member of the yakuza, who managed to get out and go legit and lived to tell the tale. So why not give him a more active and possibly chaotic power? One that, as I touched on, almost had a mind of its own when he could move things without even meaning to?

SO that is how it played out. I really enjoyed this Verse and I have ideas on working in it more but, like I said, you never know what might happen. I still have so much of the 2019 Inktober list to write for lol. However if you have more questions I am HAPPY to talk them about it more lol.

[ajaxwrites]

Genshin Impact Fanfic Rec List

(because this is my most current obsession~~)

The Narwhal of Dihua Marsh by GreyLiliy

Childe hears of a strong Adeptus living at the Wangshu Inn. Despite warnings from Zhongli that fighting Xiao would be a deathly mistake, Childe seeks out the Adeptus living in the Dihua Marsh eager for a proper fight.

However, Childe severely underestimates his opponent, and the consequences of his actions may keep him from returning home to Snezhnaya.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: This fic is interesting primarily because it's not necessarily what you would call an easy story to read. The content can surprisingly get quite heavy as the relationship between Childe and Zhongli isn't healthy and it becomes increasingly obvious as the story progresses. You swing between wanting to separate the two and also desperately wishing that they'll work out because there is something there. The story snowballs from what seems like an innocuous, if stupid and rash, decision on Childe's part to a complicated mess that you can’t help but be enthralled in. I went in expecting your typical romance and ended up in something that was more complex than I expected but also beautifully thought provoking.

Entirely Out of Spite by Bgtea

"Welcome to a new user experience! You have triggered this interface with the keywords, ‘Stupid game! Stupid devs! I want my f*****g money back!’ You are now bound to the character Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, codename: Childe! We hope you have an enjoyable user experience and we welcome you once again to Genshin Impact 2.0!”

Those are some of the first words Ajax, starving college student extraordinaire, has the misfortune of hearing upon waking up in a brave new world from what he's fairly sure is a very, very fatal accident involving water and a shit ton of electricity.

Okay, so he's not dead. That's good. But what's this about him being stuck playing the character Tartaglia? Tartaglia, as in the shitty, one-dimensional, cartoonish villain who met his untimely, gruesome death in the first act of the original game?

Fuck that noise. Like hell Ajax is going to share that fate.

And so begins one man's journey to unfuck himself.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Whenever this updates, I squeal. If you’re a fan of The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System or just transmigration/reincarnation plots in general, you’re going to love it. Bgtea does a beautiful job in balancing humor with the trauma that comes with the whole reincarnation plotline. The whole of it is beautiful written and watching Childe/Ajax interact with the other characters (and the perspective of those characters) is a delight! 

the sister by glassdrachma

The tragic and unexpected death of Zhongli-xiansheng of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor occurred to the sorrow of many and the deep skepticism of a few.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: glassdrachma has a gift for humor and romance. In short, Zhongli fakes his death for plot reasons and comes back as Jianlao, the bereaved twin sister. Shenanigans ensue, featuring overprotective Liyue-ians (?), chaotic gremlin Venti, and Kexing. Very light hearted, good for the soul.

The White Cicada Society by clementinesgulag

After his little brother is bundled back to Snezhnaya, Childe makes good on his promise to the traveller and takes the first boat out of Liyue Harbor. Any sense of homecoming lasts about as long as an uncooked steak in front of Xiangling, however, when his boat sinks, grounding him back in the mainland.

It's just as well, because the next morning, a body is found in the Northland Bank. A visit from a fellow Harbinger reveals a far more insidious plot than anything Childe could concoct with a god of the vortex and twenty minutes without supervision. The murders aren’t limited to the one Bank. They’ve been trailing down the Liyue border, getting closer and closer to the city. The Tsaritsa has a new mission for him: to figure out who, or what is targeting Fatui forces.

Against his best wishes, Childe is forced to see Zhongli again at the morgue. It becomes clear that he’s going to need a guide, and Childe resolves to quash his pride, and their differences to request his help to navigate Liyue and solve the case.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: A diamond in the rough that I slept on and then stumbled back to by accident. I had it marked for later on AO3 and forgot about it for like a good week to my utter self-disgust. It. Is. So. Damn. Good! The mystery is intriguing but I live for the realistic portrayal of the aftermath of the whole gnosis plotline. The betrayal, the bitterness, but ah, the sexual tension. The harbinger interactions in this fic make it gold though.

Lungs full of Roses by SecretlyACatLady

Childe had always assumed that he would die young. He had accepted that a long time ago, ever since he accepted the mantle of a Fatui Harbinger. However, he always thought that he would die in a glorious fight, his body broken but spirit relishing the strong opponent that had bested him. He was okay with that type of death.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Fate had decided to add one last insult to injury, because, here Childe was, dying because he had fallen in love with the ex-Geo Archon. The same Archon who seemed to have discarded him like an old toy ever since the Osial Incident. --- In which divine beings are cruel and a cursed Childe starts preparing for his inevitable death because no Archon could ever love a mortal.

…Right?

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: The fic that started it all for me, the one that sucked me into the fandom. This fic is heartbreaking. We always do love a hanahaki plotline but something about the way it frames the disease and the shame that comes with it...I highly recommend giving it a read. The angst is real I tell you.

The Bride of The Golden Dragon by Erika_Bee

“You’re to be sent on a special mission, Tartaglia.”

The young man’s eyes gleamed in interest. “How special?” He asked as he wiped the blood off his daggers.

His superior grinned. “Special enough to put your name in Snezhnaya’s history books.”

—

In which the Archon War ravaged the land of Liyue and to ensure the people’s survival, the God of Geo established the Harvester Contract: One bride per village, every year, in exchange for protection and a good harvest.

Or: Childe is sent on an undercover mission to kill the Geo Archon, but things don’t go as planned.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Don’t let the title scare you off--this isn’t one of those fics where they feminize one of the male characters and reduce their personality to a mindless submissive bobblehead to the point that I want to throw my laptop out of the window. Not that there’s anything wrong if you like that kind of thing, just not my cup of tea. This fic though---READ IT! There’s just something refreshing about the writing and the plot, the way that Childe’s character reads off the page. I live for the interactions between the characters and how the author has mapped the relationships. Warning that recent chapters have swerved decided into NSFW territory though.

the brothers grim by izabellwit

Left in an unfamiliar land with a mission he never wanted, a young Kaeya lies, survives, and somehow finds a family in the process.

Or: How Kaeya came to Dawn Winery, and why he left it. Includes lore, sibling bickering, found family struggles, and a more in-depth look at the years between Kaeya’s arrival and Crepus’s death.

Ships: N/A

Notes: Ahh, little Kaeya. Cheeky ass little shit that’s too angsty and adorable for his own good. I don’t have words for this fic. It makes my heart warm but also makes me want to weep because god, this fic covers exactly how traumatic Kaeya’s situation is and why child soldiers/spies just shouldn’t be. And the dynamic he has with Diluc and Crepus--do me a favor and read it. Screams found family.

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: A light-hearted, humorous and fluffy as hell piece. Short word is that Venti comes to Liyue for some fun, causes chaos, accidentally plays matchmaker, and steals some vegetables. A get-together fic for Childe and Zhongli that includes a surprisingly self-aware (if blunt and snarky) Zhongli and jealous Childe that gets increasingly flustered.

melt (speak or forever hold your peace) by anatakana

Falling into bed with Diluc was an unbelievably bad idea given their tumultuous shared history, but Kaeya’s impulsive urge to amuse himself knew no bounds.

It’s all fun and games until emotions got involved.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: THIS IS NSFW. With plot though? This is THE FIC that got me shipping the two (though the game did a good job on its own). The angst is real here and we love the sheer gal of both of these two stupid men.

Cascading (In a good way) by Hubbleablubble

Kaeya is a fascinating annoyance.

(Or: A series of events in which Albedo gets to know Kaeya, and they slowly go from strangers to acquaintances to something more.)

Ships: Albedo/Kaeya

Notes: Sweet fic. Not my typical ship pairing. Loved the Khaenri’ah mentions. Kaeya is Trans FTM here though it’s only briefly mentioned. There is also an incomplete sequel (as of May 2021) featuring an Overprotective Big Brother Diluc on a warpath giving shovel talks to everyone except apparently Albedo that’s also worth reading.

The Language of Flowers by Jules (Penwyn)

Kaeya Alberich has made a habit of lying—after all, the only truths he’s ever spoken cost him everything—but there are only so many lies a man can tell before the truth comes spilling out.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Hanahaki! Except not! Basically, Kaeya pukes up flowers that say the truth whenever he lies. Cue, angst! Lovely and quick read--love Kaeya’s voice here.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly."

Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-"

Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?"

Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Childe, you idiot. Humorous and funny, very light hearted. Makes you wonder if Childe has an IQ. He’s too busy pining/lovesick to realize that he told his target that he’s going to kill him for his gnosis. Zhongli and Liyue remain confused on how Childe still DOES NOT get it but half-ass hiding his Archon status anyway.

the bird without wings by Anonymous

"Kaeya!" someone yells. Small arms wrap around his waist tightly, red hair spilling out of the ponytail, and Kaeya's heart almost stops.

He's talked his way out of all types of situations. From placating international disputes to buttering up his informants, he's always had a quick response to everything.

But for once, Kaeya is speechless. He stares down at the boy with puffy cheeks, slightly crooked teeth and sparkling bright eyes.

Eight year old Diluc beams back.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Diluc gets de-aged and Kaeya gets angsty. The interactions between the two are heartwarming and will induce tears. Childe makes a brief appearence that *chef’s kiss*

call me "lover boy" by Anonymous

Zhongli turns back, eyes bright with amusement, a stray lilypad still stuck in his hair, and Childe thinks, wow. I want to kiss him stupid.

Childe's not into the whole "swooning maiden patiently waiting for his beloved to swoop down and smooch the daylights out of him" thing. Nah, that's not his style. He's Tartaglia, eleventh of the Fatui harbingers, and he's going to kiss Zhongli right now.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: FUNNY AS HELL. Childe is straight up just trying to plant one on Zhongli but fate and people just keep interfering. It’s a weird trope aversion where the character is actively trying to confess rather than avoiding it but life gets in the way. 

springtime in snezh-nya-ya by miaomaomei

Tartaglia’s body moves before he can even think about it. He arches his back and flattens his ears against his head, baring his teeth in a hiss. Considering he barely even reaches Scaramouche's knees — Scaramouche, of all people! The guy is practically the size of a fourteen-year-old — he doubts that he is cutting as imposing a figure as he hopes.

It isn't a surprise, though. No one could become a Fatui Harbinger if they were scared of a little cat.

OR

Tartaglia is turned into a cat and he goes to Zhongli for help. It goes about as well as expected.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: TOO ADORABLE FOR WORDS. This is just pure fluff I swear. Love how Childe is written and the interactions between the two are just ahhhh. A balm on the soul.

Melt by tanktrilby

“My name is Diluc,” he says. A scowl naturally furrows his brow, and Kaeya looks like he wants to laugh.

He’s looking at him through his lashes again, blue eyes teasing and warm. “Diluc,” he says. “A knight in overalls isn’t quite where I thought my preferences would lie, but here we are.”

(or: Kaeya loses his memories and makes some assumptions. Diluc can't honestly tell him that he's wrong.)

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: As the summary says, Kaeya loses his memories. Diluc plays babysitter for plot reasons. Meanwhile, Kaeya freaks out and has an essential crisis because his instincts freak him out which = angst. Simultaneously, sort of love confessions? 

you are cordially invited by ktenologious

When the Traveler receives a mysterious invitation from a Snezhnayan businessman, they seek out help from the only Snezhnayan they are on good terms with. They decide it is a wonderful idea to go to this business party in the middle of the ocean because, well, what could be better entertainment than watching a Fatui Harbinger at work? It is too bad Childe couldn't come with them...

Meanwhile, the Tsaritsa needs someone to track down the source of a brand new drug at a party on a cruise; it just so happens that she has two Harbingers who specialize in causing chaos and sinking ships. Scaramouche is a sadist and loves this, and Tartaglia... Well, Tartaglia just wants to know why is he the one in the dress again.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, sort of Diluc/Kaeya & Scaramouche/Childe

Notes: Features a crossdressing Childe and Kaeya for plot reasons. Funny as hell. Love Fatui dynamics/interactions. Highly recommend. Go read it. I’m serious. It’s so beautiful, I can’t. Also Zhongli is so love-sick and jealous, it’s hilarious.

The Road to Snezhnaya by paranoid_fridge

Everything's done and over. Now, Zhongli only needs to adjust to living like an ordinary mortal. Or that is what he thinks until a familiar face shows up in Liyue. Teucer comes looking for his brother who failed to return to Snezhnaya on the Fatui ships. And as Childe's declared "friend", Zhongli must help Teucer find him.

Or: Teucer drags Zhongli on a cross-country goose chase looking for Childe. Zhongli just happens to find a bit more along the way.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: I have no words for this fic outside of the fact that it is clear that Teucer has the only functioning brain and should be Best Man because he obviously did all the work here. Features an oblivious Childe and overprotective Zhongli, plus bystander Kaeya that is getting allll of the gossip. And also the most destructive group of children ever.

basket of knives by oronine

“I just want to be loved,” Childe says to himself, to whoever is listening. “Is that too much to ask?”

They are on the roof once more, this time Childe’s foot touches the edge of the building as he daydreams of something that cannot be. The sky is blank and cloudy and perhaps Lumine fears it’ll all end when he takes a step.

“Not at all,” she says. It’s still the truth.

Contrary to popular belief, Childe hates his family but loves them all the same.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: TW for suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, self-harm, depression, etc. Not a light read by any definition. Set in a modern AU, not in the genshin impact universe. Features a Childe that is Not Okay, good friend but also probably traumatized friend Lumine (and her brother Aether), and Zhongli. Family dynamic is messed up as hell and explores mental health quite well in my opinion. I’m not sure how healthy necessarily Childe’s relationships are but I think that’s a given considering the context and how derailed his mental health is in this fic. Definitely angst as heavy, made me tear up quite a bit. Read, but pay attention to the content/trigger warnings as it does get quite explicit.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

Ships: Chongyun/Xinqiu

Notes: JFKLFJS I LOVE THIS. I love Chongyun’s characterization and the interaction between all the characters. The dynamic between Chongyun, Xingqiu, and Xiangling are to die for. Also, this line: “Stuck-up Persnickety Bastard.” Random note but Xiao throws Chongyun off a balcony yet is also 100% a softie.

Talks about Nothing by tzitzimeme

In which Zhongli unlocks the Memory of Dust, only to find out:

1. Guizhong is 100% alive (just disembodied) within it, 2. Guizhong has been watching over him this whole time, and 3. Guizhong is very excited by the prospect of Zhongli getting a cute Snezhnayan boyfriend.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, Venti/Xiao

Notes: The pure judgment that Guizhong unleashes on Zhongli (as well as her sass in general) is pure comedic gold. The dynamic between Xiao and Venti are also adorable. Meanwhile, Childe misunderstands and also just wants to know what the fuck is going on.

xi wangmu by tzitzimeme

Xiangling scales entire mountains to satisfy the palettes of her two pickiest customers.

(Or, two men who are emotionally stunted by their own immortality inadvertantly turn an overly enthusiastic chef into their messenger pigeon.)

Ships: Zhongli/Xiao (?)

Notes: Not sure if it reads romantic exactly, can definitely be read as platonic. The fic boils down to Xiangling trying to expose Xiao to variety because just eating plain almond tofu is a no no. Zhongli gives advice/uses Xiangling as a messenger pigeon. Backstory is explored!

Falling (Fallen) by asinglecrow

It’s only when Childe finds himself in front of Zhongli, a spear protruding from his stomach, that he thinks oh I might have fucked up.

Or: The worst (best) day of Childe's life.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Funny and lighthearted! Gets sort of NSFW with passing mention of mpreg but otherwise, it’s just pure humor/fluff. Get-together fic featuring deadpan dragon Zhongli and Childe that is just done with everything. 

the louvre by morisuke

Here in Liyue, the air is filled with the ocean, and the sun shines through the mountains like it’s flowing through a crack in the sky. Here in Liyue, there is a man with no wallet at a vending machine that is going to waste the rest of his day showing a stranger around their school campus for a pocket sized can of iced coffee.

It’s interesting here in Liyue, Childe thinks.

or

Where Childe flirts with a stranger at a campus vending machine.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Set in a modern/college AU. This is a relatively quiet, soft kind of story. Childe comes to Liyue because reasons and falls in love quietly. It’s more of a snippet of life type of fic that’s sweet and peaceful. Love the change that comes over Childe as he finds a home.

[lovelylogans]

the warmest hello (to the coldest goodbye)

once a spy, always a spy forever, forever the warmest hello to the coldest goodbye remember, remember -spies are forever, the tin can bros

warnings: undercover spy work, mention of weapons, drugging someone into unconsciousness/giving someone a roofie, essentially the start of an enemies to lovers fanfiction

pairings: virgil/logan, offscreen roman/patton

words: 4,465

notes: this is for day 7 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “free day” and i have decided to write a combination soulmates and rival spies au! please enjoy!

⁂

Not that Virgil would admit it, but, like literally every other marked person, he's tried to imagine how he might meet his soulmate. He just didn't ever spare any thought on what he'd do if it happened on the job.

His official cover to his friends (which was mostly his cousin Roman and Roman’s husband Patton) was that he was an analyst—he was always vague about what exactly it was he analyzed, but since neither of them were particularly mathematically inclined, and both were maybe a bit too trusting for their own good, they took him at his word.

Even when he was sent off on various unusual "business trips.”

It’s not like Virgil’s mark is very specific about when and where it’ll happen. Virgil knows that variations of "sorry about that” make for a large percentage of common soulmarks. 

There’s protocols in place, of course, but Virgil had never really paid attention to those classes while training to be a spy. The Lewis clause is the kind of thing Virgil didn’t pay as much attention to, because it didn’t seem as useful as understanding the technology or how to make a cover. The Lewis clause is what to do when someone meets a soulmate on the job—there are specifications for if the soulmate is a target, a team member, or an enemy.

Virgil hadn’t really cared at the time. He’d kick himself for that later.

Any number of meetings occurred accidentally—knocking something over, bumping into someone, or, like his cousin Roman's soulmate did, take Roman's coffee thinking it was his own hot chocolate. They got married two winters ago, just so they could serve hot beverages in cold weather.

He thinks the iteration stamped in black along his left inner arm, "I'm very sorry about this," with the addition of "oh no, it's you” tacked on at the end of his makes it likely that whatever he says will, A, likely be first, B, be somewhat unique, or unique enough to be immediately recognizable, and C, be in the aftermath of some kind of accident.

He ends up being partially right. What he says is first and it is somewhat unique. What his soulmate apologizes for is no accident, though.

Virgil does undercover work, sure, but it's very rare for him to enter the James Bond style locale he's at today, and that he’s been working for the past couple months; the marble ballroom he's circling is dripping with gold chandeliers and matching heavy, velvet curtains that accent the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a string quartet in the corner, barely audible over the chatter of rich socialites. Virgil, deeply uncomfortable in his white-tie attire, is circling the room in an attempt at looking like he attends charity balls all the time.

He sucks at it.

As if on cue, his earpiece crackles to life.

"How the fuck did you ever qualify to be a spy?" Janus, his tech man and eye in the sky, snickers into his ear. "Your acting skills are horrendous. If you auditioned for The Room right now, they wouldn't let you into the cast.”

"Fuck off,” Virgil fake-coughs into his shoulder.

"Christ, at least try to look like you're mingling, not like you've stalked the target here."

Unable to stop himself, he glances toward the target he's meant to be watching.

The target, who is so staggeringly wealthy it could make Virgil, who is trying to pay off his student debt on a spy's salary (not as high as one might think) burst into tears. Or, much more likely, start ranting about the myriad flaws of capitalism. If so inclined, he could honestly probably steal the amount of money necessary from one of her offshore accounts, and it would be as unnoticeable as someone taking a penny from him.

Mary Lee Truman is standing amidst a flock of suited men, like a dove amidst a flock of dour crows; her dress is slinky silk, a shade of champagne that glimmers rose-gold in the right shade of light. She’s standing leaned to one side, her hip popped out and an arm crossed over her stomach, a crystal-cut champagne flute dangling in her fingers as if she was born to hold one.

Her husband, Lee Truman (fuck if that wasn’t confusing, it was really easier to think of them by their codenames) is off by the bar, seemingly getting himself another drink. 

His eyes stray to Mary Lee again; he can tell a couple of the suits are hired muscle, bodyguards, which makes sense, as the Trumans are allegedly a massive crime family, doing their dirty dealings in plain sight. A couple of the suits he recognizes from dossiers; one is a business partner of Lee’s father, who might not even know what the Truman family really gets up to; one absolutely knows what the Truman family gets up to, as Virgil’s read his rap sheet and knows he’s been in and out of jail due to his assignments from the mob.

There’s one suit there that really doesn’t seem to fit the mold of either category.

For one thing, he’s around Virgil’s age; for another, he isn’t rippling with muscle. Not that he doesn’t look fit; his well-tailored suit shows off his broad shoulders, his biceps, his lean waist. He’s dark-haired, and pale, and blue-eyed, and he’s standing next to Mary Lee with a look that Virgil would think of as dour, but now that he’s looking closely, the blue-eyed man looks almost... calculating.

This man wasn’t in the dossier.

Almost everyone at this ball was in the dossier.

Virgil looks away from Mary Lee and the handsome man, and instead decides to start taking up Janus’ advice; he slowly moves through the room.

Well. He's doing it to get closer to Mary Lee, but sure, he can attempt to mingle.

He traverses through the room, his fancy shoes clicking on the marble floor, mindful to not step on any dress hems—he has it easy, as his directive was simply to wear his white tie with his hidden weapons, his ear piece, and his lapel pin that records everything he's seeing. The women in the room provide the only splashes of color outside of the black suits and white shirts of the men, the gleaming marble, the gold- accented glasses and dishware. Even what little art he's seen follows that color theme -- white marble busts, abstract black and white paintings in their gilded frames, a gold statue outside the front steps, as if to greet the partygoers.

But the women of the party aren't beholden to this strict color scheme. Gowns of pink chiffon, red lace, blue taffeta, deep violet velvet, Virgil passes them all, keeping one eye out for rose gold silk.

He ends up instituting himself in a ring of people listening intently to an art history professor talking about the architectural significance of his building—he introduces himself with his cover name, James Walker, to the man next to him, who Virgil already knows is a Truman cousin. He gives a fake first name too—he says his name is Alex, when Virgil knows it’s really Bruce. Okay. Something to take note of.

He listens to the art history professor talk about art deco with just one ear, the other straining to eavesdrop on Mary Lee and her suits.

“Do you think our beneficiary approaches?” Mary Lee murmurs to the blue-eyed one, the one that wasn’t in the dossier.

“Oh, I know he does,” the blue-eyed man says to her. He has a pleasant British accent, the kind of voice that would be right at home on a nature documentary calmly narrating the eating habits of wolverines, or something like that. “According to all my research, our previous beneficiary is no longer within our purview. A new one will have been instilled in hasty time. As a matter of fact, I believe I would be able to point him out to you right now.”

Mary Lee sighs, a little, and the man continues talking about their charity. Virgil’s mind races. He knows the Truman’s “charity work” almost always acts as a sieve to run dirty money through, so what would it mean, that they got a new beneficiary? A new target, maybe? A new directive?

Either way, this is almost definitely some kind of code they’re talking in. He tunes a bit more into the art history professor’s impromptu lecture—he’s taking a brief tangent into talking about Tamara de Lempicka—as he ruminates on that particular conversation between the blue-eyed Brit and Mary Lee.

Then he ends up in conversation with an elderly woman beside him, who wants to know who he is—James Walker, I run a business a state or two over, I’m interested in diversifying my assets—and if he’s been to any art museums in town. Both he and the man he is meant to be have not, but it turns out she’s a curator and has numerous suggestions for him.

He also knows this woman, Ida Kelly, has been paying into the Truman business for quite some time, and has potentially ordered hits using the Truman’s muscle.

“Madam,” a suited waiter shows up at her side, as if on cue, and hands her a small glass full of what looks like a gin-and-tonic.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” she says, taking her drink immediately.

The waiter turns to him. There is a singular champagne flute on the tray. “Sir.”

“I didn’t order anything,” Virgil says stupidly, before he realizes that almost everyone here is taking champagne flutes off of trays, and he supposes this waiter just wants to clear his before he has to double back and get more. “Oh, all right.”

He takes it. It’s a delicate, crystal-cut glass. He’s almost a little afraid that if he holds it wrong, it’ll break.

“Really, we’re doing an Impressionism exhibit, and it is positively divine,” she says.

Very suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder, emanating warmth through his suit and Virgil jumps, a little—he hopes whoever it is didn’t feel one his knives. Or, God forbid, his gun.

He turns to see no one, when a hand touches his opposite arm, and he turns again. It turns out to be the blue-eyed Brit, who is staring only at Ida, brushing past him, allowing his hand to trail down Virgil’s arm, touching his hand as if to say, please stay there, I do not want to bump into you.

At such a close range, Virgil can smell his absolutely incredible cologne, see his defined jawline, the way his blue eyes gleam.

Ida brightens. “Darling!”

“Ida,” the Brit says warmly. “I visited that display myself, it was simply wonderful.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” she says, clearly drinking up the praise. Virgil looks between them, feeling even more awkward than he has all night.

“Wait a goddamned minute,” Janus murmurs in his ear, after such a long stretch of silence that it makes Virgil jump again. There’s the sound of rapid typing.

“A victory!” The man says, lifting his glass—it looks to be full of whiskey. “A toast, to your latest triumph.”

“Oh, now,” she says, but when the other surrounding suits start lifting their glasses, Virgil lifts his, as well.

“To Ida Kelly,” the Brit says. “One of the finest artistic minds to walk the earth at our time!”

Virgil takes a sip of his champagne at the same time as everyone else; another woman in a deep green gown with a shawl edged in feathers takes Ida’s arm, rhapsodizing about the Impressionism movement and the latest event that her art gallery had put on.

It takes about a minute for Virgil to notice his vision going blurry in the corners.

It takes him about ten seconds of blinking hard and rubbing his eyes, hoping to clear it, to stumble over his own two feet.

It takes five seconds for Janus’ voice to buzz to life in his earpiece, urgent, “Virgil, get out of there, get away from that man, that’s Lo—”

It takes him about two seconds after that to notice that the blue-eyed Brit is looking at him with an expression clearly lacking remorse.

It takes him about half a second to realize the finger tapping one shoulder, his hand at his hand—the same hand that had been holding his champagne flute. He hadn’t been looking at his drink. The Brit had made him turn away from his drink.

The Brit put something in his drink.

Virgil’s been made.

“Good God, man,” another suited man says, when Virgil stumbles over his own two feet, “had enough of the bubbly, have you?”

Virgil ignores him; even as his vision is growing blurrier and blurrier, his eyes are intent on the Brit, staggering towards him, and he doesn’t even really know why. He’s been made, he should be running, but—

"Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?" Virgil slurs, and his sudden lack of physical control resoundingly answers the question before the Brit can; the arms that catch him before he can full flat on his face are muscular and warm. He’s distantly aware of the crystal-cut grass slipping from his hand and shattering on the marble.

The warm, muscular arms are more pressing than that. And, for a dirty rotten criminal who has probably killed people, the man is quite handsome. His bespectacled face swims in Virgil's vision.

"'I'm very sorry about this," he says smoothly, before his eyes widen in alarm. "Oh no.”

As Virgil is on the verge of unconsciousness, he hears, "It's you."

His last three thoughts before he slips under: did he just fucking say what he thought he said, then, good God his eyes are so blue, then, fuck, I should have paid way more attention to the Lewis clause.

⁂

Virgil is aware of three things as he wakes up: one, he feels like he has a dreadful hangover. Two, he’s pretty sure he’s in a plane or train or car or something moving, which makes him feel motion sick.

Three, he’s been stripped of his earpiece and his weapons.

He blinks his eyes open slowly, squinting; it’s night time, but even the low light is making Virgil’s eyes hurt.

This is a limousine, he can tell that much off the bat; the partition is closed, the glass tinted as dark as it legally can be, the interior leather light-colored, the bar fully stocked with different sodas and crystal-cut decanters full of various liquors, which makes him wince in memory of the champagne.

He feels like shit, but when he looks over and sees the blue-eyed Brit—his soulmate—his soulmate who had fucking drugged him and was working with the mob—it makes him feel even shittier.

“Ah,” his soulmate says. He’s sitting with one ankle resting on his knee, a squat glass of whiskey in hand. He has glasses on now that he hadn’t had on before. Also, his accent is no longer British; he’s got a nice Italian lilt to his voice, now. “Good. You’re awake.”

Virgil stares at him. He doesn’t say a word.

“I’ll admit this,” he gestures between them, “rather put a cinch in my plan on how to deal with you.”

“Would you have killed me?” Virgil asks. His voice comes out a croak. “If we weren’t...”

He trails off.

The man’s eyebrow arches, before he shrugs, and rolls up his sleeve. His soulmark is in the same place as Virgil’s—stamped across his left inner arm, in the spiky handwriting Virgil only uses in his personal notes, not the more uniform one he writes reports with.

Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?!

Undeniably a matching soulmark to his.

“My parents were quite bemused by it, when it showed up,” the Brit—or American?—the blue-eyed—his soulmate says. “I suppose we have our answers now.”

“Do we?” he says. 

The man takes a sip of whiskey. Then, he says, “Your predecessor was FBI. Are you the same?”

Virgil tenses. The man rolls his eyes again.

“Please,” he murmurs. “For an organization meant to be secretive, your lot are quite obvious when you trade moles in and out. One comes in, goes out, and coincidentally someone new is knocking on the door within the week. It’s absurdly simple to pinpoint who’s reporting back to your government. So. FBI, CIA, military...?”

“Who gives a fuck,” Virgil says.

“One should know what one’s soulmate does for a living, shouldn’t they?” he says. “This is a very unique situation. I’m simply trying to find out—”

“What do you do for a living, then?” Virgil snarls. His head is pounding, his mouth is dry and it tastes dreadful, his soulmate is an asshole working for the other side, and he’s being carted off to God knows where. This day is one of the worst of his life. Why couldn’t he have had a nice little café meet-cute, like Roman had had?

The man smiles at him, not particularly kindly. “I diversify.”

Virgil pulls a face, because he knows that’s poking fun at his cover.

“What,” Virgil says, “poison people on Monday, go to Ida Kelly’s resort on Tuesday, with a fun little Friday jaunt of killing people who cross the Trumans?”

“I’ve never actually been to the museum Ida Kelly curates,” the man admits. “It was an easy way to insert myself near you, to put it in your drink. And for goodness’ sake, it wasn’t poison.”

“Roofie. Drug. Whatever.”

The man’s eyebrows pull together, in a rather petulant expression. “I designed that myself, you know.”

“Well, it’s shit,” Virgil snaps. “I feel like I have the worst hangover of my goddamn life.”

“Yes, that was part of the design,” the man says, and offers him a glass of water.

Virgil stares at him. “Seriously.”

“No trust between soulmates?” He says.

“Yeah, well. Fool me once.”

The man shrugs, putting down the glass of water into a cupholder, before digging out a sealed water bottle. Virgil takes it and places it into a cupholder near him. No fucking way he’s accepting any food or drink from this man.

His lips quirk up into a smile.

“Where are you taking me?” Virgil says, ignoring the way that smile makes his heart pound.

“That rather depends,” he admits. 

“On?”

“Well.” He says. He uncrosses his legs, planting both feet on the floor. “I’m assuming that now the man in your little earpiece—he was rather rude—is aware that you have been, what is it you say? Made?”

Virgil nods.

“Well. Now that he, and therefore your employer, knows that you are made, you won’t be poking your nose into Truman business anymore, will you?”

Virgil grits his teeth. “Not undercover.”

The man ignores that. “And I know that no matter which you work for, the Lewis clause has been adopted across every arm of that government, and as such you’ll be prohibited from any mission that might bring you into contact with me.”

God damn it. How does he know the spy lessons better than Virgil does?

And then it occurs to him: Janus knew that man. He warned Virgil to get away from him, to get away from Lo—

He rolls this information around in his head. The Lewis clause isn’t exactly a widely advertised part of being a spy; there was a whole trilogy of novels that got adapted into secret agent movies, years ago, that concerned opposing agent spies coming to face each other again and again, and the secondary soulmate agents teamed up together. Which the Lewis clause would prevent, but the public who went and read those novels or saw those movies wouldn’t know that. 

So either this man—Lo? Lo what?—either knows a lot about spies, because he’s one of those know your enemy types, or...

Or he sat down and learned about the Lewis clause the same way that Virgil did, except he actually sat down and listened. Maybe he defected, maybe he’s dirty? Or maybe Virgil’s just overthinking it.

Look. Virgil’s got a lot of questions here. Chief among which:

“Where are you taking me?”

“Away,” the man says vaguely, looking at him. “Are you gay?”

Virgil gapes at him.

“I’d be perfectly fine with a platonic soulmate, but for the sake of disclosure, I am gay.”

“For the sake of disclosure,” Virgil repeats disbelievingly, and pinches the bridge of her nose, rubbing it. God, his head hurts terribly. 

“Bisexual, or pansexual, perhaps?” He prompts. “Asexual? Or... you could be straight, I suppose.”

“Ugh,” Virgil says reflexively, then shakes himself. “I’m not—okay. Fine. Yeah, I’m gay too.”

“All right,” the man says, as if noting it. “What’s your name?”

Virgil snorts.

“What?”

“Okay, I don’t—” he gestures to the limousine around them. “Again, you just drugged me. I don’t know where you’re taking me. You probably would have killed me if I hadn’t said those words.”

The man makes a moue of distaste.

“Or had someone kill me, I don’t know,” Virgil amends. “Either way, you’re working with that family, who I’m assuming aren’t pleased at having a spy getting caught trying to work himself into your ranks, so I’d rather you not know all that much about my life, thanks.”

“It’s not like I’m asking for your,” an infinitesimal pause, as if he’s wracking his brain, trying to remember something, “social security number or anything. A name.”

Virgil stares at this man. Lo—. Lo something. Lochlan? Loyd? Or was it a codename?

“Yours first.”

The man pauses.

“You drugged me,” Virgil says.

He smiles at Virgil. “Will you hold this over my head for the rest of our lives?”

The rest of our lives. Yes, that’s meant to be the fairytale ending for soulmates, isn’t it? A nice little meeting, the swell of overdramatic violins in the background, falling into each other’s arms and forming a life together. That’s the popular answer.

More and more recently, though, people have been advocating for choice; that soulmates are not always the best person for you.

Virgil doesn’t know which camp he and this man will fall into, just now.

“Yes,” Virgil says quietly. “Yes, I think I will.” 

The man sets aside his whiskey.

“Logan.” He says at last, and his accent has changed again; it’s vague, almost indecipherable, but if Virgil had to guess he’d say Midwestern American. Virgil wonders if it’s his real one. “My name is Logan.”

Logan.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Since discovering you’re my soulmate? I haven’t lied to you at all. Not a word.”

“Except for the accent.”

Logan laughs.

“Habit, sorry. It’s a long story that perhaps the man screaming in your earpiece will be able to tell you one day.”

Virgil jolts with surprise. “You know—?”

He cuts himself off before he can say Janus’ name.

“Reputationally,” Logan says, and, as strange as it is, Virgil believes him. In this, at least.

His soulmate’s name is Logan.

“Virgil.”

Logan smiles, his blue eyes glittering. “It’s nice to meet you, Virgil.”

There’s the sound of a soft knock on the partition, and it lowers; Virgil can’t see the driver.

“Sir? We’re here.”

“Right,” Logan murmurs, shaking himself. He reaches into his jacket and withdraws an envelope, offering it for Virgil.

Virgil hesitates.

Logan rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve laced it with anything. I’m holding it with my bare hands.”

Virgil huffs, but he takes it, opening it and pulling out a thin piece of paper.

It’s a commercial flight ticket to Washington, D.C.

“Why D.C.?” Virgil says quietly.

“Most of those organizations are based there,” Logan says. “Is it too far a jump to assume that you are, as well?”

It is actually too far a jump; it’s not even remotely close, he lives in an entirely different part of the states. But. To be fully honest, he doesn’t want Logan to know the state he lives in, and therefore the state that Patton and Roman live in, until Virgil knows if he can be trusted or not.

Logan opens the limousine door from inside, revealing they’ve pulled up to the local airport.

“What, no private plane?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t trust that,” Logan says with a shrug. “The Trumans may be powerful, but you know as well as I that manipulating a flight of this nature is well outside their purview.”

Logan’s right, he absolutely wouldn’t have trusted that, but. This limo’s pretty swanky. For the time he wouldn’t have been obsessively running over every crack and seam in a private jet and interrogating the pilot, he probably would have had a pretty swell time.

Virgil swallows, looking up at Logan. “There are programs, you know? If you wanted to be a witness. Be in service to—”

Logan smiles at him in a way that’s almost pitying. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”

Virgil looks to the airport, then back at Logan.

“Will I see you again?”

Logan shrugs again, almost delicately. “Who’s to say?”

Virgil nods, once, and he says firmly, “I’ll see you later.”

Logan grins at him. “Not if I see you first.”

Virgil slips out of the limo, slams the door shut, and, with what feels like Herculean effort, manages to get into the airport without looking back to see if he can see Logan through the tinted glass.

He does exchange the ticket for another that’s an hour and a half later, though. He’s not a total idiot.

He gets through security pretty quick, and sits in one of the incredibly uncomfortable chairs, his brain pounding with his headache, the questions swirling around in his head making it even worse. Virgil puts his head in his hands.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is working for a mob family.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is apparently smart enough to specifically engineer a roofie.

His soulmate, though!

Janus knows his soulmate. Janus recognized his soulmate.

His soulmate knew about the fucking Lewis clause.

Was his soulmate a spy too? Was his soulmate in deep cover? Had he betrayed his organization? Was he a good person, or had the universe seen fit to hitch Virgil to someone awful?

How had Logan gotten entangled with the Trumans in the first place? Why wasn’t he in the dossier? 

Where was Logan even from? Did he like coffee? Hot chocolate? What had he studied in school? What was his favorite food? If they were normal people, would he have asked him on a date and not drugged him and dragged him off in a limo? 

Who was Logan?

Whatever the answers to his questions are, though. Virgil knows himself enough to know that he isn’t about to let this case go. Not the Trumans. Not him.

Lewis clause be damned.

[mudhorn-djarin19]

Mission: I Do - Chp. 1 (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: A new mission has come up and you are sent off on it with Agent Whiskey as your partner. However, you have to go undercover as his fiancee. What will this mission mean for you and your harboring crush on him? This chapter is the set up to the mission. Rating: General (will change in future chapters) Warnings: None but some fluff AO3 Link | Masterlink | Join my taglist via here!  More chapters to come soon (will be added here)

You sat at the big long table amongst the other Statesman as Champ handed out the reports for your next missions. A bunch of reports have come up across the country of some trouble so he was having you agents partner up and travel to each destination that showed trouble.

“Agent Sangria and Agent Whiskey. Here is your file. You two will be partnered up together for this mission.” Champ says, sliding a file folder over to each of you.

You sigh slightly. You love being partnered with Whiskey when you can cause it meant more time around him, time to get to know him better and etc. He may get on your nerves a lot for he’s a big flirt and sometimes likes to push people’s buttons but deep down you found the man attractive. You’ve been growing a crush on him for a while but you knew nothing would ever come from it. He was such a big shot within Statesman, he probably was the same outside of work too. You open the file fold and start looking over your information for the mission when you spot some information that surprises you.

“Everything okay Agent Sangria?” Champ asks.

“Sir… I’m going undercover as… Whiskey’s fiancee?” You question.

“That’s right. You and Agent Whiskey will be going undercover as a couple for this mission. The culprit has been found kidnapping brides and sometimes bombing venues. We need you two to go to a bridal convention held in Dallas where he was last heard of being. I am sending you two cause you both work together well and seem to have the best chemistry out of our agents. I’ll let the rest of the details for you two to go over together.” He says.

You gulp and slightly look up at Whiskey who has that typical dumb smirk he always has on his face as he looks at you. “Well… seems I’m gettin’ hitched again. Who knew it’d be so easy.” He chuckles as he elbows Tequila sitting next to him who also chuckles. 

Champ had let you both go home shortly after the meeting to gather up all your supplies for your trip. Whiskey said he’d come pick you up later this evening before your flight out. You sit down on your bed and groan into your hands. This is going to be a tough weekend you think to yourself. Not only are you going on a mission alone with Whiskey again but you have to act as his fiancee all weekend?! The thoughts of what could go on cause you to feel sick with nerves. You shake your head and get back up and start rummaging through your closet finding what you can for the weekend. Some nice dresses and jewelry, some casual but cute clothes, and even some of your cuter sets of undergarments. Just in case you think. Just as you finished packing everything into your suitcases you hear your doorbell ring. You open the door to see Whiskey leaning up against the door frame.

“You ready for our weekend getaway darlin’?” He winks at you.

You sigh in response and motion your hand over to your suitcases and bags. “Care to help me load this into your car?” You ask

“Certainly.” He says stepping into your place, slinging your bag over his shoulder and grabbing both the suitcases in each hand. “Didn’t forget anything did ya?” You stare at him in disbelief. “Uh no. I got everything. Also… I can take one of them, you don’t need to take them all for me.” “Nonsense. This ain’t nothin’.” He says as he makes his way down the tiny walkway to his Bronco parked out front, placing them into the back seat. You shake your head in response and check to make sure all the lights and appliances are off before grabbing your keys and locking up, meeting him at the car. 

“Ah ah… allow me future Mrs...” He smirks, opening the car door for you. “Oh yea and before I forget Champ gave me this for you”

He grabs your left hand and slides a sparkly diamond ring onto your ring finger. Your eyes go wide in how fancy it is. “Can’t be my fiancee without a way to show it off.” He chuckles, walking around to his side of the car and then starting it.

“Y-yea..” You say, staring at it and twisting it between your fingers to admire it more.

You arrived at the airport and got all checked in okay with the tickets Champ got you. The flight didn’t take long, only a few hours. You two slept most of the way. You got your rental car, luggage loaded in and headed off to the designated hotel where you would be staying for the weekend. 

The bridal convention and events you were to attend for the weekend were being held at a local convention center so to stay close to the action in case anything went down and to blend in a bit more, Champ had scheduled for you guys to stay at a hotel nearby. 

Jack helped you with your bags out of the rental car, taking more than he needed to. You two walked up together to the check in counter.

“Good day sir and ma’am. Checking in?” The lady at the counter asks.

“Yes ma’am. Reservation should be under Joseph Daniels.” Jack says giving his partially fake name assigned to him for the weekend.

“Ah yes here we are. Joseph Daniels and Elizabeth Wallace?” The lady asks

Jack nods, handing her the company card to pay for the room. She hands you both your key cards and information packs on some things for the area. 

“I take it you guys are in the area for the bridal convention? Seeing as you have the honeymoon suite booked?” She smiles.

“Yes indeed.” He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. You smile back nervously. 

“Well congratulations to you both! Let me get you the information packets for the event as well then.” She says, grabbing them and adding them to your pile.

You two gather your belongings and make your way to the elevators up to your room. You figured since the honeymoon suite was booked for the weekend it was going to be fancy but you had just no idea how until you opened the door. Flower petals littering the floor, candles surrounding the tub in the bathroom and chocolates on the little table inside the door with a congratulations note. You feel like this was some sort of tease to you about your crush with Jack. Did Champ know and send you on this mission for that reason?! 

“Uh…” You stutter out, taken by surprise.

“Champ sent me a message earlier telling me what room we had. Said everyone attending the event has these rooms, makes us blend in better and might help us run into the culprits better.” Jack states. 

“Oh, okay.” You say quietly, setting your bags down. “So um… look darlin’ I don’t want to make you uncomfortable this weekend. So I’ll sleep on the love seat over here. You can have the bed to yourself.” “Whis-” You start to say. “Jack. He replies. “I know we are used to calling each other our codenames but this weekend call me by my real name. Unless out on the field you know but, still. Hell, you can do so even not when on this mission.” He chuckles.

“Jack. You don’t have to sleep on the sofa. Your back’s going to be killing you afterwards. I don’t mind taking the sofa instead. We can um… share. It’ll be fine.” You say shyly.

“You sure? I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He says, stepping closer and looking down into your eyes. “It’s fine. You’re not going to make me uncomfortable. A lot more is going to have to happen between us this weekend I’m sure and sharing a simple bed is at the bottom of the list of awkwardness for me.” You chuckle.

“Alright. If you say so.” He pats your head and works at unpacking his suitcase while you head off to the bathroom.

You just finished your shower and changing for the night when you stepped out into the bedroom to see Jack laying shirtless in nothing but flannel pj pants on the bed watching the local news. You stop in your tracks, admiring at just how handsome he looked. You must have been standing there staring for a bit too long when he looked over at you and called out.

“Everything okay? Did you change your mind about sharing? ‘Cause if so I can still move and go to the sofa.” He asks

You shake yourself out or your dazed state and start heading over to the bed and crawling, in under the covers. “No no. It’s okay, stay where you are. Sorry I was just thinking about um… something else.” “Alrighty then. Also if me being shirtless bothers you I’ll put one on. This is just how I usually sleep.” He says looking down at his torso. For being such a flirt and a nuisance at times he was surely a gentleman deep down inside. Always checking with you on if things were okay and making sure you were comfortable.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” You reply, get snuggled in under the covers for the night. “We have a big day ahead of us so I’m going to get some shut eye.”

“Sounds like a plan. Me too.” He says, shutting off the tv and lights, crawling under the covers with you.

Taglist: @sarahjkl82-blog​ @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange​ @blackberries45​

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 17 - Big Brother

Title: Irreverent Pt. 17 - Big Brother Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: T (Teen) Words: 2050

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Things had gone back to normal - or as normal as they ever got when you caught serial killers for a living. Cases at work had picked up with Hotch back in the driver's seat, and you were all starting to heal.

The team had successfully wrapped up a case in Kansas City involving missing children, so needless to say spirits were high. You drove back to the airport with Hotch, Spencer, and Garcia, with the others in another car behind you. Garcia had tagged along since the Unsub had been known to hack into home alarm systems and it would be good to have her on the ground with the rest of the team.

"What does everyone have going on for the weekend?" Penelope had obviously bored of listening to Spencer's lecture on quantum physics he'd been telling her about for the past 20 minutes. You and Hotch had conveniently tuned out, choosing instead to argue over your taste in music. You had been doing your best to introduce him to new artists instead of listening to The Beatles for the millionth time, and currently you were making a good case for Hozier.

"Jack's away at the lake with his cousins, so I have a free weekend for once," Hotch revealed. You were happy for him to be getting a break - he'd been working himself ragged trying to be Super Agent and Super Dad - a break was definitely a good call.

Before you could answer Penelope, your phone rang, distracting you and leaving Spencer to tell Penelope about his upcoming weekend of hustling with Emily in Atlantic City. The two of them made a dynamite duo in scheming drunk guys out of their money and had turned it into an annual tradition.

You quickly pulled your phone out of your pocket and saw - for possibly the fiftieth time that week - the name Dominic flash on your caller ID. Your brother had been pestering you for a few weeks now, trying to get in touch. No doubt he was doing your father's bidding. Being rid of him entirely had been too much to ask for.

You quickly dismissed the call, catching Hotch's glance in your direction. You shook your head at him, mouthing, "Later." He nodded in understanding, before tuning in to the conversation in the back once again.

"What about you, sugar?" Penelope asked, looking at you eagerly, awaiting your answer.

You thought for a second - what did you have planned for the weekend? With Jack away and Emily and Spencer off to Sin City, you didn't really have much to do. I should really get friends besides people I work with and their children. "Nothing planned," you said, turning in your seat to look at Penelope.

"Oh come on, Y/N! You're young! Vibrant! You should have plans. Men courting you." Penelope had been the most disappointed when you'd ended things with Cedric during the peak of the Foyet case. You had had more important things to worry about and between both of your busy schedules, actually seeing one another was becoming impossible. That was when you'd started to understand how hard it must have been for Hotch with Haley. He loved the job and he loved her, but she'd asked for him to leave it and in the end he hadn't been able to. While you sympathized with Haley, you got why Hotch had chosen the job. It would have killed him not to.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes good naturedly. "When would I meet men, Pen? The only men I meet are serial killers."

"Actually, statistically speaking, you run into at least fourteen eligible mates every time you step outside," Spencer rattled off in his all knowing voice. "Plus, you're a female of above average attractiveness, so it is actually closer to twenty for you."

"And yet, somehow, I'm single," you retorted. "I must be chasing them away with my attitude." You heard Hotch chuckle from next to you. He should laugh more. It makes him look younger.

*------------*

Penelope had talked everyone into going out once again, using the excuse that Hotch was free and didn't have Jack. You could tell he wasn't thrilled about being used as the excuse - he was so bad about enjoying bar type settings. However, he'd agreed under the agreement that everyone turned in their report to him before they left for their weekend activities. Spencer, Penelope, JJ, and Rossi had gone ahead, having quickly rushed through their reports. Hotch wouldn't leave until everyone had turned theirs in, and you didn't want him to be waiting alone, so you were sitting in his office keeping him company while waiting for Emily and Derek to wrap up as well.

When you'd brought your report up and then turned and sat on his couch instead of leaving, Hotch had quirked an eyebrow at you in question. "Can I help you?"

"Nope!" you said flouncing down on his couch. "I'm just waiting up here to make sure you can't just bail."

He rolled his eyes at you, but then fixed you with a contemplative look.

"What?"

"It's later now."

You looked at him, confused. "Yes…"

"The phone calls. You got them all week. Don't think I didn't notice."

"Right." Nothing ever really got past Hotch. "Dominic has been calling me, incessantly," you admitted.

"Your brother?"

"Yeah. I think my father put him up to it, and as he and I are no longer on speaking terms, I don't want to open any doors to communication."

"You know," he said quietly, as he walked up from his desk to come sit on the couch by you. "You don't ever talk about your mother."

"Well," you began slowly, focusing on a spot on the opposite wall as you spoke, "she wasn't really much of a mother, I suppose. My parents were that couple that should've separated a long time ago. Pretty sure I was the save-the-marriage-baby." You expected to see some pity on his face, but he simply sat and nodded, so you continued. "But, when it didn't work my mom sort of went away, always in her own world. Say what you will about my dad, but at least he was around, as much as he could be. She could've been there all the time - she just chose not to be."

Hotch had a way of making you want to talk to him. You'd tell him something awful, and sometimes he'd try to help. More often he'd just listen.

This time, he chose to speak, in his deep comforting voice. "You know, you should be proud. It's kind of amazing that you came out the way you did, given everything."  

You felt a warm glow surround you as you looked up at him, sincerity radiating off of him. "Thanks, I think," you laughed.

Derek's voice cut through the moment, "Hey, let's go you two! I've got mine and Prentiss's report here," he said, striding in and placing two files on Hotch's desk.

You saw Hotch get up, undoubtedly to check their work, but you were done waiting. "Nope, that's for Monday. Come on!" And against his protests, you grabbed his jacket and led him out the door.

The four of you drove over to the bar and found a spot a couple of blocks down. As you started walking towards the bar together, you heard a voice calling you from behind, causing you to tense up immediately.

"Y/N! Y/N, wait!"

You turned to see a large dark figure moving towards the four of you, and as it got closer you recognized your brother's face. Hotch and Derek were both instantly on alert as well, ready to come between you and the man hurrying towards you.

He looked much the same as he had the last time you saw him. He stood as tall and broad as Derek, looking even more intimidatingly large in his dark suit. "Dominic! What're you doing? Following me?" You were pissed.

"I need to speak with you," your brother said, moving as if to usher you away from the others.

You took a step backwards to avoid him and instead bumped into Hotch. "Anything you want to say to me, you can say it in front of them. But remember, they're federal agents, so I'd watch my words if I were you."

He glowered at you for a moment, before accepting that he wouldn't be able to catch you by yourself. "Father has a message for you," he announced.

"Oh yeah? Still playing dad's lapdog, are you?"

"You need to go man," Derek came to stand by your side, intimidatingly.

"You're being ridiculous!" Dominic seethed ignoring him, "You're disgracing yourself and everything we've been taught."

"What's the message?" You tried to remain calm, knowing it would rile him up more to see you unaffected by his old bullying tactics. Maybe then he'd just leave.

"Come home. The family needs you." He repeated what were obviously words fed to him by your father.  

"Tell father to leave me alone, Dom. I won't be his pawn anymore." You tried to do an about face and move the others along with you, grabbing Derek's arm with you.

"You're Emily Prentiss, aren't you?" You'd thought he was done, but his words towards Emily gave you all pause. "I've got a message for you as well…Valhalla says hello."

As you watched Emily's face lose all color, your brother turned around and vanished back into the shadows from where he'd come.

The mood sufficiently ruined, you all ended up back at the office so that Emily could fill you in on whatever or whoever Valhalla was.

As Emily explained her undercover role playing the IRA terrorist's girlfriend - Ian Doyle, codename Valhalla - you started to realize that you never truly know a person. Not that it changed how you looked at Emily per se, but that there are parts to people and their histories that you might never know, despite feeling as close as sisters to them.

"So, if Dominic L/N has a message from Valhalla, then that means that L/N Sr. knows Valhalla too, right?"

"Yes, most likely. I'm going to have my contacts at Interpol look into this," Emily said, in response to Derek's question.

Hotch had been pretty quiet, so the three of you turned to him to see what he was thinking. Noticing all eyes on himself, he looked at the three of you and then more specifically at just you, before sighing and pushing up from the table. Hotch spoke, carefully choosing his words, not quite meeting your eyes. "For some time now I've suspected that the CIA has a case open on Mr. L/N, and I think this pretty much confirms those suspicions."

"Wait, what? Why would you think that?" you asked, unsure of why this was the first time you were hearing about this.

Hotch sighed again, unsure of how to tell you. Slowly, he explained, "To be honest Y/N, I've suspected it since you told us about your dad. Your rejection from the CIA  never sat right with me. After your dad was here the last time and the case with Dawson, it made sense that your rejection was tied to some conflict of interest they would have with you being part of the agency and not anything to do with you personally."

You swallowed, trying to process what Hotch had said. If you were honest with yourself, a small part of you knew he was right. It had never sat right with you either, but at the time you hadn't been feeling confident and had assumed your year of partying had somehow been to blame.

"You really believe that, don't you?" You looked up at him as he stood with one hand tucked into his pocket and a furrowed brow.

"Yes, I do."

"Well then, I think a visit to the CIA is also part of knowledge gathering before we can more forward and assess the full threat." Emily's past as a rogue was definitely showing here as she drew herself into commanding position. The rest of you agreed to defer to her experience, deciding that she would get in touch with Interpol and visit the CIA alongside Hotch.