#I KNOW SHE'S THE LEFT HAND BUT THIS BREACHED CONTAINMENT ALREADY ITS OUT OF MY HANDS SDJHGSD

[hajima-7]

left hand of the divine

[asimplearchivist]

(This has been sitting in my drafts long enough…my fear of mischaracterizing Astarion is lesser than the agitation of seeing this beast among my WIPs. @fangswbenefits I’m affectionately blaming you for giving me pale elf brain rot🫣)

Okay guys this may be a very niche concept that will appeal to maybe like two people total but it hasn’t left my mind since I mentioned the idea to a buddy of mine who convinced me to play bg3…(Cullen and Astarion have a lot of similarities, which I would love to elaborate on later, but…) hear me out—it could be a very interesting dynamic to play with in a crossover.

Headcanons under the cut:

I’m not usually one for crossovers unless they’re in self-contained within a fandom (like Pokémon or Dragon Age, for example—there’s a phenomenal fic called The Half-Life of Element Zero by @unhealthynpcobsession which is a DAI/MEA crossover and safely one of the only “cross-fandom” crossovers I genuinely enjoy and adore bc the story and concepts are contextually sound and professionally orchestrated), but I feel like the sheer numbers of DAI fanfiction that explore the concept of the Breach opening up portals into other worlds (namely our modern Earth, thus the Modern Girl in Thedas trope, my beloved) could include adjacent worlds. I believe I have seen Skyrim before, so why not Baldur’s Gate 3? (Now keep in mind I know next to nothing about BG3 bc I am newly introduced to its lore and everything but) I think one could easily get away with having Astarion somehow slip through the Breach, along with the Sole Survivor at the Conclave.

(Holy shit why did this turn out so fucking long?)

The Survivor wakes—chained, cold, and aching—in the cells beneath the chantry, interrogated by Cassandra and Leliana, and denies her involvement with the Temple’s destruction. Forced to cooperate with the Survivor due to their dire need for the Mark and its potential use related to the Rifts, Cassandra casts a scowl at Leliana. “I will escort the prisoner if you will deal with the pale elf.”

Leliana only responds mildly, “I will continue to deal with him as I have been for the last three days—as well as nurse the migraine that he has caused.”

The Survivor doesn’t meet this esteemed “pale elf” until the battle at the Temple, and she only sees him from afar—he accompanied Leliana’s men to deal with the array of Shades and Wraiths that speckled the cratered grounds while the rest picked away at gargantuan Pride. She notices he is masterfully skilled with his weapons, perhaps even peculiarly so—she also notices that he has far greater strength, agility, and stamina than the average elf, easily surpassing the abilities of his peers.

She doesn’t see him again until well after the dust has settled—the Breach has been patched, Haven is able to reassess themselves, and the new Inquisition begins to construct their foundation. The newly named Herald of Andraste attempts to escape it all, fleeing into the grounds beyond Haven’s gates under the guise of fulfilling favors and errands for the various supervisors in the village, and stumbles across an abandoned cabin in the forest—at least she thought it was abandoned, at first.

She’s rummaging through the things there, finds the passed healer’s notes, but the lightest creak of displaced wood behind her tips her off to the presence of another. She whirls, hand already flying to her weapon, and backs up against the table, sending things clattering to the floor. The pale elf stands there, smirking at her startle.

“Act all the victim when you intrude on my space,” he croons, tilting his head and tutting at her, “my, how manners seem hard to come by around here.”

“You’re that—” She stops, hesitates, starts again. “Sister Leliana mentioned you. You’re the only other one who survived the blast.”

“That is comparatively the least of my problems and only the beginning of my present predicament, yes.” His eyes—as brilliant a crimson as the blood that still crusts the wounds that litter her bruised, battered, borderline broken body—scan her form from top to bottom, pause on her bandaged hand, and return to meet her uneasy gaze with a considerate one of his own. “Although I’m afraid I can confidently say that I ended up with the better of the lots drawn between the two of us.” His expression relaxes, just a little, a thready furrow forming between his silverite brows. “Does that hurt?”

She clenches her fist and clenches her teeth. “It’s dismissible.”

“Considering I heard tell that it is in the process of consuming you, I would disagree—but, I digress!” He flashes her a toothy smirk. “I am just grateful that there are no longer demons spewing out of that torn arsehole in the sky.”

She stares at him for a long moment, uncertain what to say in response. She’s exhausted, sore, and reeling from the last week of utter unfortunate bullshit that had befallen her.

“You’re…rather tall, for an elf,” she finally says lamely.

His brows arch into his forehead in clear surprise before he tips his head back and laughs. It exposes his teeth, and…no, those were not fangs. It must have been a trick of the firelight.

“It does seem that my kindred, however distantly related they are, do not possess as generous of traits as I,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “All so thin and lithe and…well, diminutive…it’s truly a marvel how they’re able to get anything done without breaking their hollow little bones. It’s little wonder that they seem so afraid of everyone else around here.”

She frowns, echoing, “‘Distantly related’?” with some dubiousness.

“Oh, your lovely spymaster didn’t tell you? I’m shocked.” The stranger gestures to himself with his arms extended to either side. “You have my sincerest apologies, my dear, I haven’t even introduced myself—I complain of lack of manners, yet fail to offer them in due turn.” He dips at the waist briefly, eyes glittering through his frosty lashes. “My name is Astarion, and…to put it simply, I am not supposed to be here.”

“I imagine anyone is fortunate to have walked away from all that destruction unscathed,” she responds mildly, narrowing her eyes.

“How cute,” he simpers, straightening and bracing his hands on his hips. “I fail to possess sufficient enough knowledge of magic in order to explain how in the hells this happened, exactly, but I originate from a place called Faerûn—not your delightfully archaic ‘Thedas’.”

He goes on to ramble about his companions, at least two of whom would have been far better suited to hypothesize how to rectify this particular ‘magical’ predicament. He tells her about their unusual circumstances of being thrust together, forced to cooperate and work towards fixing their looming health issues and the threat that faces their world.

She studies him for a long moment after he finishes. “…It sounds as if you and I are trapped in similar problems,” she sighs, rubbing her face. “As incredible as this all sounds, I sincerely doubt such a story could be easily invented on the spot…so you have my sympathies. Do you think that you’ll be able to return home?”

“Sister Leliana introduced me to that lovely gentleman who dresses like a vagrant. Supposedly, he’s the resident authority on this…‘Fade magic’, as it were?” he surmises.

“So I’ve heard,” she responds.

“Yes, well, our conversation was cut rather short at the time due to him being rather persistent in keeping his eye on that little souvenir.”

She flexes her hand and glances away. She’s been doing her damnedest not to dwell on the burning in her palm, thank you very much, and she didn’t particularly want to discuss it, either.

“Nevertheless,” he continues lightly, although his tone tempers into something more neutral, “he promised that he would look into the issue.”

“That’s…that’s good,” she replies quietly. “I hope he finds a way to send you back.”

The pale elf tilts his head at her then, eyes contemplative when she looks back up. He offers her a thin-lipped smile—this one actually reaches his eyes, softening his angular features. “As much as I am grateful not to be in your position, I do apologize. It would seem that the weight of your new moniker is not one to be taken lightly.”

“It is what it is,” she grits out. “They will believe what they wish regardless of my input.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier.” He leans in, holding her stare. “…I think it best to remain nearby, for the time being. Sole survivors of a devastating explosion still under scrutiny by those newly in power ought to stick together, yes?”

She relaxes, just slightly. “As long as you’re not the one who caused all of this.”

His expression sobers enough that it jars her. “I am the least inclined to cause spontaneous combustion among my compatriots,” he tells her, attempting humor, but there’s something in his eyes that contrasts his words entirely—a lingering fear, apprehension, borderline horror, if she has to place a name on it. “But no. I did not. And I think I have a few choice words—and daggers—on reserve for whoever did cause all of this devastation. I never asked to be thrown into the middle of this refuse burn.”

“Neither did I.” She offers him a bow in return and gives him her name. “I would say it’s been pleasant to make your acquaintance, but…I think we both are allowed to say that we would rather not have met at all.”

“Agreed.” He stoops to pick up the papers Adan had sent her to find and hands them to her. “I trust I will see you again soon?”

“You do intend to stay?” she asks, brow furrowing as she tucks them into her pocket.

“I’ve nowhere else to go,” he begins, “and fleeing from an investigation would provide rather damning evidence for the prosecution, even if misused. For now I’ll lend my particular set of skills and…services to this delightful little collection of vagabonds. I think you need all the help you can get, given that poor, overworked general of yours is relying on farmers and pilgrims to become your armed force.”

“I don’t speak on behalf of the others,” she says, “but I thank you. You’re greatly appreciated.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he purrs. “Now…do go get some rest, my dear. You look positively horrible for someone who has slept for nearly six days.”

His nonchalant sincerity startles a laugh out of her—the first in what felt like an age. He seems pleased to have done so. She departs the cabin feeling slightly less isolated than before.

[lairofdragonagelore]

Forbidden Oasis

The Forbidden Oasis contains ancient Elven and Tevinter ruins. Relatively recent history includes the arrival of the "Envers Mining Company" who predominantly mined Serpentstone and Paragon's Luster. The miners were eventually driven mad by the sinister magic that still lingers in the area.

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]  

Updated December 2022

When we enter to this zone, Scout Harding tells us that the Venatori were already in this place, and she assumes they are moving on the Temple.

She also tells us that a mining company [Envers Mining Company] out of Val Firmin [a region in Orlais] used to have interests in this place, until economy changed and so they left two years before [2033 TE] the breach in the sky. She also highlights that it’s strange that this temple was never marked in any map, not even by the miners. This comment seems to be related to the fact that the entity trapped inside this temple had skills that caused forgetfulness on people, as we will see in other codices and notes.

There are many Tevinter urns everywhere in this place, along the streets formed by small canyons, inside the caves and mines, on small canyons, etc. How can we interpret this? I have no idea; the Venatori were here, and before them, a  mining company. Before that we have no information.

The ridiculous amount of Tevinter urns makes me suspect that maybe Teviner took and altered this temple, in similar fashion they did with the one we found in Razikale’s Reach in the DLC Jaws of Hakkon. They could not enter the temple, but built a Tevinter structure around it, maybe even drawing power from it.

When we walk outside the mining region, heading into the desert, we find this statue with remnants of what looked like an arc or a building. This statue is rather unique in all DAI; it appears 3 times in this region and then, only once, in Redcliff castle [in the future]. When we are close to it for the first time, Cole says

“It’s empty. That’s why they hid it here”

I have no idea what Cole is referring to.  Is the tomb empty? But it wasn’t empty, it was full of demons and possessed bodies. Unless Cole refers to a bigger entity that had been trapped here. In any case, we also don’t know what he refers to with the “they hid it”. What it was hidden?

This statue in particular triggers the codex  The Marker, where Ducette, amateur historian who works as a representative of the mining company, gives us his perception of this statue: a kind of guide in deserts for the people [my mind can't jump immediately to The Colossus after this comment, making me assume that the Colossus is also a guide in the deserts, even though it’s not clear towards where]

Close to this statue there are fallen pieces of a column that display a dwarven pattern.

This statue is mysterious. By only its style is hard to guess to which one it belongs. The main man has angular features, his ears are not visible since it looks like he is wearing a chain-mail, he uses scale-based pauldrons, and a robe. He is holding a sword with one hand while the other holds a bigger head. By comparison with the state of the overall figure, we can assume that the bigger head has a lot of wounds and scars. Despite looking similar, the head in his hand and this man’s profile are different. The bigger head has a smaller, shrank nose. The only significant shape in this statue that can give us a resemblance of a hint to whom it belongs is his belt, which has pointy ends. We had seen this pattern in two places: in Tevinter artefacts, such as the sacrificial burial or Tevinter architectural details, or in andrastian outfits.

Close to the canyons and around the mines, we see it again, where the codex The Weight of War is triggered. In it, the same author of the previous codex, Ducette, observes this statue and interprets it. He claims that the stern look and the bigger head in his hand represent a person or knight who carries the weight/burden of those he had killed [hence the comical size of the damaged head]. This amateur historian considers that, given the proximity to Western Approach, this statue could be related to the Wardens. We know it cannot be the case. There is no iconography of the warden on him, instead the only detail we see is his belt which has some reminiscence to Tevinter decoration. Sadly, we don’t have a date for this statue, so we can’t determine if it was made pre-blights or post-blights.

Close to the entrance of the Oasis, entering to the zone of the mines, we can find several pieces around this region that narrate a story, compiled in the codex A Miner's Journal. Summarising it: 

Three years before the breach in the sky [2032 TE], this journal was started to be written.

There is a miner called Didot who wants to know about the Temple door in this place. The writer suggest him to keep low and just work.

The author is intrigued too, but prefers not to go deeper since he recognises the dark energy of the Temple.

The author fears that Didot can disturb the thing inside the temple with his procedures.

Didot starts to speak strangely, and the author assumes he spent too much time close to the door.

Their boss claim that soon a check of operations from a superior will happen. Didot disappears after this announcement.

Putting all together, it seems that these two miners, the author of the journal as well as Didot, could perceive something dark in the temple and the door, but could not open it. Didot became curious about it and started to do things that could “disturbed it”. I’m not sure if Didot became possessed at some point or simply was affected by a compulsion [like red lyrium do on people exposed to it] to the point he started to talk strangely and spend more time at the door of the temple.

When we enter to this zone we automatically trigger the codex The Forbidden Oasis where we read one of the last letters of Didot to his wife. It implies that the name of this place is based on the mysterious door of the Temple that he should not ask about. So, in an implicit way, we have a Forbidden place and a Door which seems to be Forgotten every time someone wants to speak about it. The words Forbidden and Forgotten mix in this series of codices and notes. What’s clear is that this original forbidden rule triggered the curiosity of Didot and doomed him to his own compulsion.

When we explore the mines, we can trigger the note Spiral Mine, where we find out that Didot had an accident. It’s not clear if it was the company’s doing [because he was starting to look mad] or was his compulsive state’s doing which made him find this end.

Also, as we see the symbol of the Blind Men, it looks like these mines had been or are used by smugglers.

As we explore the net of caves that this mine has, we find several notes and messages in veilfire. One of them triggers  An Apostate's Message which narrates how an apostate was incorporated to the company as a miner. This person claims to feel a sense of dread close to the "door".

We also find The Journal of Paulette Deschant where once more it is repeated the effect of the door on the miners: one of them slept close to it in his first day and awoke everyone with his scream. Since then, he avoids the pool.

Inside the mines we can see old columns which patterns are Tevinter. These tunnels are also filled with Tevinter Urns. We see once more the same pattern than in Razikale’s Reach: a Tevinter structure has been built around an elvhen tomb.  In these corridors we find a landsmark called  Upper Walkways  which suggests that nobody can describe the "heart of the pool".

[...] like all accounts of the area, a clear description of the "heart" of the oasis is lacking.

Apparently, when someone wants to do it, their words stop, they simply "forget". This would explain why this temple was never added into the map of the miners, as Harding has noticed in the beginning. It had a powerful unconscious effect on people when the dread entity was still inside. Now, that effect doesn't exist anymore, therefore we can mark Solasan in the maps.

Since we can compare this tomb with the one we found in the DLC Jaws of Hakkon, where a forgotten one was trapped inside, we can infer that Solasan may have had a trapped forgotten one as well [Full speculation in the post of the Temple of Solasan].  

We get closer to the door. In this case, we see a beautiful small waterfall and a pool of water.  There are two statues here, one of Andraste, and the another is the famous Faceless figure holding a crown. One of the statues triggers Intrinsic Pool, which adds nothing, like almost 90% of the codices written by Orlesians, lol.

Updated December 2022: I finally managed to understand and justify the statue Faceless figure holding a crown  It's andrastian and represents the Maker. The stained glass of Andraste's life represents him as a figure without face with a crown that looks very similar to this one. As  The Maker, it makes a lot of more sense for it to appear in the places it does.

We approach the door. More details in the Post Temple of Solasan.

In another canyon we find four corpses and a book, explaining what happened with these people. It triggers a codex called Mysterious Book, which shows a person who I assume was a Venatori trying to bind a demon here, and clearly something went wrong.

In the upper part of these canyons we find a path which is flanked by these two statues.  Due to the pattern that accompanies the columns, it seems to be Tevinter. So we have the mixture of the three styles: elvhen, Tevinter and Andrastian. There is a bit of dwarven style in some columns in the outskirts of the region too.

These statues seem to guide us through a path that reaches  Par’as Cavern. We see symbols of the Blind Men and barrels, inferring immediately that this was a hideout for smugglers at some point.

The columns keep showing Tevinter patterns as well as the Tevinter Urns at the base of some columns. There are cells too that I imagine they may have worked like a jail for when the Tevinter were present in this zone [I follow the similar structure we saw in Jaws of Hakkon: The Frozen Gates had a prison close to its entrance].

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore ]

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 19

The Darkling x Reader

You were fast asleep in the safety of your chambers, tucked into the comforting sheets and their warmth as the contrasting winter air blazed outside. You could hear a faint shuffle outside your door, guessing it was the rotation of guards you ignored it and turned in the bed, facing away from the door but stopped short when the door opened. You shot up, squinting in the dark to see who'd just entered your chambers in the dead of night. Talk about being vulnerable. The figure moved from the door and shut it but you heard the faint sound of the lock as it turned. Your heart started hammering in its chest as you felt your shadows coil around you.

'Did I wake you?' His voice was smooth and full, and through the darkness you managed to make out his glistening kefta. Your shoulders sagged in relief as you lay back down, shadows dropping and retreating.

'More like 'Did I scare you?' You relaxed back onto your side, eager to return to your slumber. 'I'm going back to sleep' you mumbled, the sound muffled by the sheets half covering your face.

You heard him taking off his outer layers then the thud of his boots as he disposed of them and walked towards the bed. His hands were absolutely freezing cold as he reached for your waist and pulled you into him

'You're so cold' You whined but he merely chuckled and pulled you closer. With a gentle kiss to your temple, Aleksander quickly dozed off right after you, enjoying a good night's sleep with you cradled in his arms.

*****

You woke and he was gone, the only sign left of him being the rumbled cushion and gloves on the nightstand. You stretched dramatically and dressed quickly, ringing for two breakfast trays to be brought to the General's war room. You carried stacks of documents in your hands, most of them boring and pointless, as you walked the short distance to his quarters.

'Good Morning' He was standing with Ivan next to the round table with his arms crossed, studying the Shu border with furrowed brows but relaxed them once he heard you enter. You dropped the papers on his desk with a sweet forced smile 'I come bearing gifts. Oh and breakfast.' Aleksander looked amused and sighed

'That's all Ivan, thank you.' Ivan only acknowledged you with a nod before leaving the room as instructed by his Commander.

'Thank you so much dear for leaving me with all your paperwork.' You slapped your hand against the messy pile 'I don't even know what half of it is'

'You'll learn in time I'm sure'

'If you think you're going to do that again you are sorely mistaken. It is possible to read whilst sitting in a carriage is it not?' As he went to reply, a servant wheeled in a table of breakfast trays and your stomach rumbled at the sight. You thanked them and uncovered your plates, mouth-watering at the sight of fresh fruit and pastries.

'You'd be sad to know there's no herring' You pretended to gag and his laugh echoed along the walls. What a pleasant sound.

'I think I'll manage' He sat down next to you and spooned extra sugar into his porridge. For a moment you ate in comfortable silence, enjoying your food.

'Why were you back so late last night?'

'I wanted to avoid the fleet of performers arriving for the fete. There's already a long line of them at the gates.' You hummed as you bit into the flaky pastry.

'What color are you wearing to it?'

'What do you mean?' You eyed him curiously as he lay down his teacup.

'What color kefta are you wearing to the fete?'

'I haven't thought about it yet. I have so many lavish ones I doubted I needed to have any more made' You chuckled 'Why do you ask?'

'I requested that Alina wear black'

Oh.

'And will she? I know she refused the first time.'

'I had Genya make sure of it'

'Oh I get it, is this your way of politely telling me to not wear black?' Your voice contained no anger or resentment. You had agreed to his plans and it would be petty of you to be upset now.

'No, you can wear it if you wish. It's always been my favorite color on you. I'm just letting you know' You took the napkin and dabbed at your mouth.

'Well the fete is tomorrow, I should decide quick.' You rose from your seat and took the mug of tea with you.

He was out of his seat by the time you fully stood and wrapped his strong hands around your waist, keeping you close to him.

'Don't be jealous, at the end of the day I come to you, not her.'

'I'm not jealous Your eyes whipped to his.

'No?'

'No.' You forced the sternness into your voice, solidifying the word but it only sent a smirk to his face. 'What are you smirking at?'

'I missed you' He crashed his lips to yours in brute force, knocking the air out of you. He was eager and greedy, wanting you to himself. You let yourself indulge, holding his face in one hand while the other still held the mug of hot tea.

'I have to go Aleksander.' You pulled away and he pouted, like actually pouted. He looked like a big baby who'd just been denied dessert and it ingrained in your mind. The adorableness filling your heart full for the rest of the workday.

*****

'Saints can I ever catch a break.' You groaned with your head in your hands.

You wanted to run and escape to wherever was quiet and peaceful, where you would be left alone for at least 2. fucking. minutes but no, the people of Os Alta and its performers were ready to watch you rip out your hair from frustration. The Queen's messengers were drilling a hole through your head and your Grisha demonstrators were throwing a huff about their limitations 'Don't light anyone on fire' was simple and reasonable, so why were the Inferni fussing about it?

'Saint's whats wrong with you'

'Zoya I don't have time for this right now.' If Grisha never got sick, then why was there a headache forming in my head?

'Just here to pass along a message-'

'-who isn't' you scoffed

'-let me finish, it's about Alina's double for the dinne-'

'Let the General deal with that. I'm at my wits end here.'

'But I don't want to tell him, hence why I came to you.' She sat down on the chair next to you and huffed.

'Put on your big girl breeches Zoya. I'm really not in the mood.'

'Must you always be so rude?'

'Oh my Saint's you're one to speak'

'But I'm never nice so there's the difference.'

'Are you still here just to berate me?'

'Is there something you want me to do?' Although she was rude, Zoya showed her kindness in other forms.

'Can you speak with the head of Palace guards and go over security breach protocols? I don't want to risk anything with so many foreign dignitaries in the building'

'I would love nothing more.' She sarcastically said and left you alone. It wasn't long before you accidentally dozed off in the midst of all the chaos.

------

Part 20

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!) @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb

[fic-for-fic-sake]

A Happy Accident

A/N: The other day I found out that Chris Evans may possibly have a sex dungeon? I don’t write real people fics but I knew I HAD to write a Steve Rogers fic about this because I mean...c’mon. Also the text conversation in the fic is indeed a real conversation between my friend and I. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, dom/sub, flogging, being tied up, penetrative sex, honorifics, praise kink

Word Count: 5.4k

You knew there was trouble before you even reached the meeting room, it was like a palpable tension you could sense coming from the conference room. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever was to come as you walked in and took your usual spot next to Natasha. 

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” You questioned her, murmuring under your breath since nobody seemed keen to speak above a whisper for the time being. 

“Some kind of security breach, we don’t know how bad yet, we have to wait for Stark.” She explained, speaking in clipped tones. She seemed nervous, which was understandable given the circumstances. A security breach could mean a number of things, none of them good. Anything from weapons tech to secret identities could’ve been revealed in the breach. 

The tension seemed to come to a head when Tony and Steve walked into the room. Everyone erupted into a flurry of activity, peppering the two men with so many questions it was hard to make out what came from who. 

“What was taken?” Someone asked. 

“Was it anything serious?” Someone else wondered. 

“Do we need to scrap the new suit designs?” You asked, adding your voice to the babble. 

“Okay everyone settle down and give Tony some room to think.” Steve urged all of you, forming a one man barrier around Stark. Which you had to admit was rather effective. Once everyone reseated themselves and Steve gave Tony a nod, Tony cleared his throat. 

“By now you all have obviously heard that there’s been a security breach. We don’t know who is behind the breach but so far all that was leaked was text conversations of the following Avengers; Wanda, Sam, Bucky, and Y/N.” 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. You were a target in the security breach. But why? Why you specifically and why just your text conversations? It seemed rather harmless considering everything else they could’ve taken. 

“Luckily Wanda doesn’t really text anyone because everyone she knows is here. As far as Sam, Bucky, and Y/N are concerned they only leaked conversations from your work phones, meaning your personal phone security isn’t in question.” Tony reassured you all. Well, it reassured Sam and Bucky at least. 

“Um, what do you mean ‘work phone’?” You asked, looking around with a puzzled expression on your face. 

“You do have a burner phone for personal use, right?” Nat asked from beside you. Now your heart was located somewhere in your feet. 

“I didn’t know I needed one.” You whispered, barely contained horror edging its way into your voice. 

“Well, I mean what’s the worst that could be there?” Sam asked, trying to reassure you. Luckily, or unluckily enough, you didn’t have to answer that question because within the coming days they would all find out. 

After the meeting you tried to go about your normal routine and ignore the security breach as best as you could. That got considerably harder the following morning, when the hacker released your private conversations with your friends for all the world to see. They went something like this: 

Sarah: Do you think Steve Rogers is good in bed? 

You: Obviously, dumb question. 

Sarah: Do you think he’s kinky though? 

You: Oh 100%, no way he doesn’t have a secret sex dungeon or something. 

Sarah: Since you’re an Avenger now you should try to find out. 

You: HAHAHAHAHA that’s hilarious and something I’ll never do, in reality. But in theory PUT ME IN COACH! I bet he would probably make me sign an NDA and I would totally be down for that. 

Sarah: I’ll sign a DNR

You: HAA, I would sign the NDA but also have to tell you what’s happening and then I would make you sign an NDA. 

Sarah: Then you’re breaking the NDA??

You: Not if you don’t tell anyone goddamn be cool. 

Sarah: It’s the principle of the thing

You: ...I wonder what kind of dom he is

Sarah: Idk if he’s a daddy. He feels like a Sir or Master. I also think he doesn’t have soft limits, only hard limits. 

You: as much as I would like to think he’s a pleasure dom I don’t think that’s true

Sarah: I agree

You: Maybe a brat tamer? 

Sarah: That feels too tame for him. 

You: Okay so then just a no holds bard whipping dom. I would wait all day in his sex dungeon just to lick his boots when he came home. Does that make me depraved? Probably. 

Sarah: Possibly, I also think he’d degrade the shit out of you, like kinda pet play shit. I also think he has a spreader bar collection. Aaaand an overstimulation kink. 

You: Oh agreed, that and edging. I feel like he would edge you for hours and then leave to go on a mission or something and you’re not allowed to touch yourself and then he comes back hours later and you’re just aching for release. And then only after you’re BEGGING he would let you come. 

Sarah: Oof. How much do you wanna bet his dungeon is like a sensory deprivation thing? Think about it, hours upon hours of not having any form of relief, after begging nonstop, no real form of your senses and then BAM normal orgasm but heightened to the absolute max. 

You: YEP! I bet he’s like the king of aftercare though, like 1000/10 so sweet. Like Steve Rogers is legit such a nice human being so I assume aftercare is the same. 

Sarah: AYO SIR LEMME BE YOUR SUB

You: GOD FORREAL!

Needless to say, you did not leave your room that day. The next day you tried to get away with not leaving your room again but Nat was having none of that. 

“Come on Y/N, I promise it’s not that bad, I’ve said much worse.” She assured you as she practically dragged you out of your room and into the elevator. 

You buried your head in your hands and let out a frustrated scream. “He’s a coworker, Nat, and I totally objectified him and basically said all the filthy things I wanted him to do to me.” 

“And I bet he’s real flattered about it! The man needs a good ego boost every now and then.” She replied with a laugh. To which you responded with another frustrated scream and a kick to the elevator doors as they opened. “I bet he didn’t even read it, I doubt anyone on the team did.” She said, sounding certain in her own thinking. She half convinced you until you walked into the training room and every pair of eyes turned to you, including Steve’s baby blues. Fuck. 

“Okay we’re working in a group today people, focusing on enhanced individuals with external powers. Wanda and Y/N against Sam, Bucky, and Steve.” Nat announced, opening the door to the special training facility. So you and Wanda wouldn’t trash too much of Stark’s equipment with your powers. 

“Hey Y/N, you been to any good sex dungeouns recently? I’m looking for one.” Sam quipped as you made your way to the starting point. Before you could even think about what you were doing the smell of ozone was ripe in the air and you sent a bolt of lightning hurtling towards Sam who was barely able to dodge it in time. 

“Sorry...hand slipped.” You mock apologized, making it clear that you would have another ‘hand slip’ if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. He got the point well enough but the damage was already done. The tension was worse now than when you first found out about the breach, everyone trying not to bring up the elephant in the room. 

Nat cleared her throat and started her countdown and then the training began in earnest. After an hour you were all panting and sweating, utterly spent from your session. Steve passed everyone a water bottle and you took it gratefully, chugging the cool liquid in earnest. It was then that another comment was made, this time by Bucky. 

“Thanks for the aftercare daddy.” He mocked as he opened his own water bottle. Once again the smell of ozone was in the air but you didn’t have a chance to meet your target before Steve had Bucky pressed against the wall, his forearm digging into the other man’s throat. 

“That’s enough.” He growled through his teeth. Everyone was silent for a minute and you almost felt sorry for the deer in the headlights look Bucky was now wearing on his face, almost. A shower of frustrated sparks extinguished all the lights in the room as you stormed from the room, embarrassment trailing after you. 

That had been four hours ago and you hadn’t left your room, despite Natasha banging on the other side of your door. You had asked FRIDAY not to open it for anyone unless given your express permission. It seemed even the AI knew what kind of a mess you had landed yourself into, as she was immediately understanding of such a request. You were in the process of ordering a burner phone off of Amazon when there was a knock at your door. 

“Nat, I don’t care how many books you offer to buy me, I’m NOT coming out of this room.” You yelled into the empty space of your room. 

“Noted, but uh, it’s Steve. Can we talk?” You were at the door before he finished his sentence. You opened it no more than a crack, not courageous enough to do more. 

“I don’t wanna talk to you, I’m mortified.” You mumbled, looking down at your feet instead of the imposing figure outside of your door. Steve gently pushed on the door with his hand and you let him open it the rest of the way. He brought gentle fingers to your chin and tilted your head back so you were looking into his eyes. 

“There’s nothing to be mortified about, sweetheart. I just wanna talk.” He replied beseechingly. And maybe it was the tone of his voice, or the way he looked at you, but you relented and let him in, closing the door softly behind you. 

“Listen, I’m really sorry for what I said. I obviously never thought it would see the light of day but that’s not an excuse and doesn’t make it okay. Fuck, Steve I’m so sorry. I can get reassigned if you want, have SHIELD put me somewhere else.” You rattled off apologies and half baked plans before you felt his hands gently clasp your shoulders and once again you were forced to look up into his eyes which had gone saucer wide. 

“Doll what are you talking about? You don’t need to be reassigned, it's not that big of a deal.” He said, in an attempt to comfort you. 

“Not a big deal? I practically accused you of having a sex dungeon and being a mega dom.” You blurted out, mortification making your voice rise half an octave. 

He let out a soft sigh before he sat down on the edge of your bed, “It’s not like you were completely in the wrong.” He replied, and that’s when your brain short circuited. 

“What? You have a sex dungeon?” 

“Well, it’s not a dungeon, it's just my bedroom, but yes I do, partake in those types of things you described.” He explained, his voice as even and calm as if he were discussing the weather. 

“Oh.” Was all you could really bring yourself to say. 

“Oh? That’s all? I have to say you were much more articulate in your texts.” He teased, his voice suddenly becoming deeper and taking on an air of authority that wasn’t there a second ago. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

And again, maybe it was because of his tone or because of the absurdity of the situation you found yourself in but you answered him honestly. “I’m thinking I’m absolutely mortified that my coworker found out how badly I want him to fuck me.” 

“What else?” He prompted. You couldn’t breathe properly, he was taking all the air from the room and the intensity in his gaze pinned you to the spot, like an unsuspecting doe finding itself at the barrel of a gun. 

“I’m wondering how correct my predictions were. What kind of a dom you are.” 

“Would you like to find out?” 

“Yes.” You answered before you could think better of it. The second the word left your mouth your eyes went wide at the confession. Because you did want to find out, God did you want to find out what kind of shit Steve Rogers, the golden boy, was into. 

“Then we have ourselves a deal. You want to find out what I’m into and I want to show you.” 

“Right now?” You asked, breathless. You could feel your core ache at the suggestion, the want plain as day. 

He chuckled before he moved to stand before you. “No pretty girl, not yet.” He whispered, bringing his right hand up to cup your cheek and stroke his thumb across the expanse of your lips. “First we have to talk about a few things.” 

“Like what?” You questioned, completely enraptured by this man, finding yourself willing to submit to whatever he wanted you to. You were terrified by how much the prospect excited you. 

“Like exactly what you want me to do to you. Your texts were very...explicit. But, that may have just been talk. I need to know specifics if this is going to work.” Steve explained, backing you up until you hit your dresser. Without a word he lifted you on top of it and stood between your legs, one of his hands tracing absent minded patterns on your thigh. 

It was hard to think with him in such close proximity but you tried to clear your mind because you really wanted this, your mouth went dry at the thought. “I want...I want to be tied up. And I want to be blindfolded. And whipped.” It felt weird to lay your desires out plain before you like this. It made you feel exposed, but it was also oddly empowering. 

Steve nodded his head at your requests. “You mentioned something to your friend about edging and orgasm denial, is that something you still wanted to try?” 

“Yes, but not, not yet. I’ve never um, I haven’t- I’ve never been kinky with a partner.” You explained to him, feeling an embarrassing heat creeping up your face. 

“Hey, no need to be embarrassed, we all start somewhere.” Steve insisted, bringing his hands up to settle on your hips. “Anything else?” After you shook your head he gave you a nod in reassurance. “Okay, I’ll be in touch.” He said as he stepped away from you. 

That was three days ago and you hadn’t heard anything from him on the matter since. You had trained with him, went for a run with him, had the usual team meetings and exchanged the usual pleasantries but nothing out of the ordinary. You had even gone far enough in your wandering mind to think that maybe you imagined the whole interaction. 

On Friday, you were told that Steve had gone away on a mission and by that point the team was done teasing you about the leaked conversation, already having moved on to the next thing. You had made plans to go out with them that night to a community outreach thing in Manhattan. You had just gotten your jeans on when a piece of paper slid across your floor from the door. 

You walked over to it, thinking someone had just dropped their paper, when you saw what was written on the other side of it.

Text an excuse to Stark for the outreach and then come to my room. -SR 

Your heartbeat sped up to a gallop as you read the message through two more times, just to be certain. This was it, it was happening. With shaky fingers you texted Tony a flimsy excuse about draft reports you needed to finish before you put your phone back on your desk and calmly made your way to Steve’s room. 

You went to knock but found the door slightly ajar. Taking that as your cue you stepped into Steve Rogers room. While it wasn’t the first time you had been here, it was certainly a circumstance that you weren’t used to. Everything seemed...different somehow. The curtains were drawn and the only light came from dim overhead lighting. There was a faint scent of jasmine that you assumed came from a candle or incense burner you couldn’t see somewhere. On the bed, the sheets had been changed to something that looked like silk and resting on top was an eye mask and two long chords of rope. Which seemed innocuous enough, current circumstances notwithstanding. 

“Shut the door and lock it please.” A voice commanded from a shadow in the corner of the room. As soon as you locked the door Steve Rogers emerged from the shadows in an all black version of his Captain America suit. You had never seen him in such a suit before and the sight of him in it made your mouth water and your knees buckle. This was really happening. 

“I have to admit, when I read your text conversation I was surprised to say the least. I didn’t know how many dirty thoughts resided in that head of yours but you did not disappoint, did you sweetheart?” He questioned as he made his way over to where you stood, rooted to your spot by the door. He gently pressed against your shoulder and you followed his lead, letting him back you against the door, his strong hands landing on either side of your head, arms caging you in. “And then when we spoke, you were /very/ specific in what you wanted and I am nothing if not obliging, you’ll find.” He whispered into your ear and you couldn’t help the small moan that escaped your mouth at the implication behind his words. 

“Are you ready to be my good girl? Hmm sweetheart?” 

“Yes Steve.” You whispered, your mind not being able to form anything other than those words. 

He made a slight tsking sound. “In here, don’t call me Steve. It’s Captain. Got it?” 

“Yes Captain.” You replied obediently. 

“Good girl, now get undressed for me.” He commanded, stepping back to give you room to complete his task. With nervous fingers you lifted your shirt above your head and undid the clasp on your bra. You watched as Steve’s eyes took in your exposed top half, he licked his lips which made you shiver in turn. Confidence growing by his visible excitement you unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them down your legs along with your panties, until you were gloriously naked before him. 

“God, you're so beautiful sweetheart. I’m already getting hard and all you’ve done is get undressed.” He praised you as he palmed himself through his tac pants. “Come here pretty girl.” He insisted as he picked up the blindfold. 

You walked over to him and turned around as he secured the blindfold against your eyes and tied it for you. “Now, we’re gonna use a color system, okay? Green means you’re okay to keep going, Yellow means to slow down, and Red means stop. Can you remember that doll?” 

“Yes Captain.” You murmured as you adjusted to not being able to see. You tuned into your other senses to rely on what was happening. You felt Steve take your hand and walk you over until you reached the side of the bed. He helped you up before asking you to lay down on your back. 

“Okay pretty girl I’m gonna tie you up now.” He told you as you felt both of his hands take your left arm and maneuver it above your head before securing your wrist in place with rope. He pressed a gentle kiss to the spot before repeating the process with your other arm. “How do you feel sweetheart?” 

“Good Captain, I feel good.” You told him as your heartbeat kicked up another notch. You felt him take your left leg with gentle fingers and tie your ankle to the baseboard of the bed. You gasped as he secured your right ankle, knowing you were now naked and spread bare before him. You felt the bed dip as he kneeled over you and brought his mouth down to whisper in your ear. 

“What’s your color baby?” 

“Green.” You replied. Almost immediately you felt his lips press against yours, desperate and hungry for you. You kissed back with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed. It was a strange sensation, kissing someone you couldn’t touch let alone see, but that didn’t make it unpleasant. You felt blissfully detached from your body and the need raced down to your pussy until you had the sudden urge to close your legs and hide your arousal. 

Steve chuckled against your mouth as his left hand snaked down to see what you were trying in vain to hide. “So eager for me and we’ve hardly started” He lazily swiped his fingers along your folds to feel the wetness that gathered there. He then brought the same hand up to your breast and worked your juices around your nipple, making you groan at the sheer wantonness of it all. Steve happily swallowed your groan with his mouth, his tongue taking the opportunity to pass your lips. 

You fervently kissed him back as his ministrations against your nipple continued. His lips left yours and left a trail of hot kisses down your throat and over to your neglected right nipple. You felt him blow cold air on it and your back bowed against the bed, your arms straining against the restraints. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud and you couldn’t help the noises that escaped your mouth. 

“Oh fuck, Captain.” You let out as he took your nipple into his mouth. You could feel his left hand leave your nipple and you let out a whine of protest. He only laughed against your skin before you heard the faint opening of a drawer. Your ears picked up the sound of him rummaging around for something but you couldn’t focus too much on that as the rest of your body was alight with fire as he continued to work on your nipple with his mouth. He finally found what he was looking for in the drawer and he released your nipple with a wet popping sound before you felt his weight shift and he removed himself from you. 

“You mentioned something about being whipped.” He teased, and you could hear that his own arousal had made his voice hoarse. Your cunt throbbed in response. “Do you know what a flogger is pretty girl?” 

“Yes Captain.” You replied from your position on the bed. Your mouth went dry at the mental image you had of Steve in his black tac suit with a flogger in hand. How would he use it on you? Would it hurt? Be pleasant? The anticipation was eating you up in the best of ways. 

“Good girl. We’re gonna do some counting. Since this is your first time we won’t do too many, just ten. But you have to count them pretty girl. If you forget, or lose count, we start over. Do you understand?” 

Oh fuck. “Yes Captain.” You heard him chuckle from somewhere above you before you heard the whoosh of the flogger and the sensation on your skin. You gasped as the leather straps came down hard against your left nipple. “One.” The second one came down against your right nipple and you found that your pussy clenched around nothing. “Two.” 

Numbers three, four, and five were placed on your nipples and your stomach.

“Halfway there pretty girl, you’re doing so well.” Steve’s voice came from somewhere around you. A thin layer of sweat had broken out over your skin and your arousal was through the roof. You found yourself panting in anticipation of the next strike. It came, the leather striking against your dripping center and you let out a gasp as your back arched off of the silk sheets. “Six” 

“Oh you liked that one didn’t you sweetheart?” Steve teased. 

“Yes Captain.” You replied breathlessly. Number seven came in the same spot and another lewd sound left your mouth as the flogger found its spot. Numbers eight and nine he placed on the sensitive insides of your thighs. 

“Last one pretty girl. You’ve taken it so well I’ll let you decide where this last one goes.” 

“Hit my pussy again, please, I want it so bad Captain.” You practically pleaded. Under any other circumstances you would’ve been ashamed at how pathetic you sounded but you didn’t care. Steve Rogers was doing depraved things to you and you couldn’t think straight. You just wanted him to keep doing what he was doing, to take all of you, every tiny nook and cranny of your being until he knew your pleasures like the back of his hand. 

“Such a needy girl, maybe after the flogger I’ll give you a reward.” He replied, sounding pleased with you, before he placed the tenth and final flog against your aching core. “God you look so sexy like this, blindfolded and tied to my bed, maybe I should leave you here as my own personal fucktoy, would you like that baby?” He asked as he inserted two fingers into your mouth. 

You mumbled your response against the digits, your pussy getting wetter at the thought of him using you like that. You were only half kidding when you had texted your friend about it but now, with your arousal so strong, it sounded more and more enticing. Steve removed his fingers from your mouth and brought them down to your sensitive center, rubbing them up and down your slit before inserting them into your slick heat. You gasped at the intrusion and felt your hips buck up in response to being filled. 

Your walls fluttered around his fingers as he began to pump them at a leisurely pace. You felt him make his way down your body to nestle himself between your spread legs and then his hot breath was fanning out over your cunt as his fingers continued to fuck you. “You look so good, pretty girl. Spread open for me like my own personal feast. God you’re so wet. I guess you like to be flogged.” He spoke, the filthy words that left his lips making you wetter than you already were. Without warning he brought his tongue to you and kitten licked your clit, sending a shockwave through your system. 

He took your clit in his mouth and sucked as he continued to work you with his fingers. You fruitlessly tugged against your restraints and bucked your hips in an attempt to get the friction you so desperately needed. 

“God sweetheart you taste better than I imagined.” Steve commented as his tongue lapped up your juices. “I bet I’ll be able to taste you on my tongue for a week.” 

“Fuck, Captain, please can I cum?” You begged, tears wetting the inside of your mask from the intensity of your session. 

“Come for me baby, let me feel you come on my fingers.” Steve commanded and that was your undoing. The knot that had been building inside of you was finally released and you came loudy around his fingers. You felt him lick you through the aftershocks. 

“Talk to me, pretty girl, how are you feeling?” Steve questioned, voice hot once again by your ear. His suit gently pressing against your overstimulated skin. “Give me a color.” He asked, pressing a gentle kiss to your jawline. 

“I’m good Captain, still Green.” You responded, coming down from your orgasm. 

“Such a good girl for your Captain. You’re doin’ so well pretty girl.” He said as he left the bed. You weren’t sure where he went until you felt his dexterous fingers undoing the ropes on your left leg. “I’m undoing the leg ropes first. And then I’m going to fuck you senseless like I’ve been wanting to do since I saw those damn text messages.” Your spent cunt clenched around nothing, as you eagerly waited for him to undo the other leg restraint. You could hear him undo the many zippers and clasps on his tac suit until the bed dipped and he was once again between your legs. 

This time skin met skin as you felt his upper thighs press between yours as he brought himself closer to you still. You felt the tip of his cock slide between your wet folds before slipping inside. The breath was stolen from your lungs at the feel of him sinking into your waiting cunt. A low moan left your mouth as you felt every perfect inch of him spreading you until he bottomed out and his hips nestled perfectly against your own. 

You felt his forehead press against your own. “Fuck you feel perfect, you know that pretty girl? My perfect little pussy.” He breathed against your mouth as he let you adjust to him. He retracted himself from you fully before swiftly filling you up again. Any noise you may have made was swallowed as he kissed you with a hunger you didn’t think was possible. What started as a slow rhythm quickly changed until he was snapping into you with a fervor akin to a madman. 

Your hips eagerly met his thrusts and soon your combined pants and skin slapping filled the room. Still blindfolded, you felt the moment his hand wrapped around your neck and squeezed just so. That had your walls flutter around him and your hips stuttered. 

“Oh you like that don’t you? You like when I choke you huh pretty girl?” He asked eagerly, his voice husky from moaning. 

“Yes, fuck, please Captain, fuck me.” You rasped out. You grunted as he brought his other hand down to press your hips into the mattress before he slammed into you at a relentless pace. Eventually, his hand left your throat to play with your bundle of nerves. 

“Come on pretty girl. Come for me.” He ordered and you were only too happy to comply. You came hard around him, enough that you saw stars behind the blindfold and Steve let out a string of curses and praises for you as he pulled out of you and you felt his cum paint your stomach. 

You had a moment to catch your breath as you heard Steve pad over to what you assumed was the bathroom. He came back and placed a warm washcloth against your skin, cleaning up the combined mess you both made. Then you felt his hands move up to untie the blindfold around your eyes. You squinted into the low light of the room and were shocked to see Steve bare chested and glistening with sweat before you. 

“Hi.” You murmured shyly, finding that some of your confidence had left you along with the blindfold. Seeing him like this, because of you, because of what you had done, somehow cemented this moment in reality. There was no turning back now. 

“Hi yourself, how do you feel?” He asked as he undid the ropes around your wrists. 

“I um wow, I feel great.” You said and realized it was true. In the afterglow of the scene you felt amazing. Sexy and empowered and utterly spent but undeniably amazing. 

“You did great.” Steve assured you as he took lotion into his hands and massaged the areas on your wrists and ankles where the ropes had been. He placed a gentle kiss on each palm when he was done and went to get you a glass of water. “Drink all of this.” 

You took the glass from his hands and drank deep. Appreciating the cool feeling of the water as it slid down the column of your throat, you didn’t realize how thirsty you had become. You finished the glass and handed it back to Steve, who placed it on one of his bedside tables. 

“Good girl.” He praised and you felt yourself blush in response. He noticed. “Do you like being praised, sweetheart?” 

“Yes Captain.” You nodded. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He replied as he helped you into one of his shirts and placed you underneath the covers. He rested beside you and wrapped you in his strong arms. “You did so well today for your first time. It wasn’t too much for you was it?” 

“No, I really liked it.” You reassured him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead with a promise to discuss it more after you slept some.

[willowcrowned]

Okay but has anyone considered Obi-wan/Cody/Satien (is that how its spelled?) Regardless, hes got two hands for his two mandalorians, the au where this happend is gotta be top notch ridiculous ye?

Okay thank you so much for giving me a reason to think about this, because this AU contains three things I adore: polyamory, ships where everyone is frighteningly competent, and Obi-Wan

In this AU, Ventress is somehow even less well-adjusted (bear with me). What this means is that, instead of taking a gap year and finding herself after her family is brutally murdered, she decides she needs to get revenge even more now. What does this mean? In the short term, she still becomes a bounty hunter, but in the long run? She’s looking for a Sith lord team up so she can punch Dooku (with a lit lighstaber) in his stupid, elitist, backstabbing face.

So when Maul invades Mandalore, what happens? Ventress comes right along, ready to give her ‘I know we hate each other, but consider teaming up to kill someone we both hate even MORE’ space TED talk. And though Maul may be terribly annoying, a closet theater kid, always in a tits out kind of mood, and denying his gay awakening, he’s not stupid. He knows Sidious is coming for him, sooner rather than later, and he knows he needs more people on his side than his (impressively beefy) brother. He and Savage agree to the team-up.

Cue Obi-Wan showing up, ready to save his sort-of girlfriend, and finding Pre Vizsla, who got REAL sus the second ANOTHER lunatic with a red lightsaber showed up, occupied by capturing Maul, Savage, and Ventress. 

Obi-Wan saves Satie, who convinces him to call Cody for a quick evac, and they’re running away, flirting, and arguing over shooting things (as usual), when they spot Ventress, Maul, and Savage, about to be executed.

Oh, they both think, hell no. And then, because they have a stupid moral code that makes them do stupid moral things, they go save them.

A little background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has been fighting in a war for over two years. He is exhausted, close to a breakdown, and seriously questioning his place as a General. Next to him at all times, supporting him, helping him, and saving him, is Cody, who is clever, kinder than he has any right to be, and is, of course, devastatingly handsome when he does his special, unique-to-Cody half-smirk.

Obi-Wan, to put it mildly, is totally gone on him. Obi-Wan also, to put it less mildly, is his commanding officer in an army that Cody can’t leave on pain of death. To do anything— make any advance beyond the flirting that he engages in with most people— would put Cody in a very uncomfortable position, whether or not he returns Obi-Wan’s feelings. So Obi-Wan watches him from afar, hoping against hope that his affections are returned, and that one day, after the end of the war, there will be a future for both of them.

A little more background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has always respected Satine. Their correspondence fell apart just a few months after the end of his mission with Qui-Gon, but he’s been keeping up with her professional accomplishments for years. Over time, the love he bore for her faded, leaving him with good memories and an enduring appreciation for her courage, her cleverness, and her ability to deliver devastating blows to someone’s confidence with a few well-placed words.

Until he sees her again. And yes, alright, he might be angry that she’s choosing to stay out of the war— he knows what good she could do— but he understands her fears, understands the very real possibility that if Mandalore gets embroiled in yet another war, they may never recover. The thing is... well, she’s still very beautiful, especially when he’s yelling at him, and as slowly as his feelings had faded then, they come back in a rush now.

He has very much fallen in love with Cody, and he is very much still in love with Satine.

Cut back to the present— Obi-Wan and Satine rescue the three most annoying Sith in the galaxy and get the heck out of dodge. Cody, because he’s Cody, comes swooping in with a last-minute rescue.

At this point, two things are occurring.

The first: Obi-Wan is stuck in a room with four people he’s periodically flirted with over the past few years, two of whom he’s desperately in love with, one of whom he had a weird encounter with that he can never tell Anakin about when she and him got trapped in a middle school auditorium, and one of whom is definitely wearing no shirt and all that jewelry for a reason. It is Supremely awkward for him.

The second: Every single person in that room, each of which is (barring Savage) deeply attracted to Obi-Wan, is realizing that Obi-Wan is dressed in Mandalorian armor, and while Obi-Wan in three layers of tunics and a cloak is an absolute knockout, Obi-Wan in Mandalorian armor may very well kill them (and he won’t even have to touch his lightsaber to do it).

For one single moment, everything is absolutely still as they all stare at each other.

...And then Maul starts on the ‘I will rend your flesh from your bones, feel my wrath, Kenobarrgh’ spiel, and Satine stuns him. Oh, and Savage. Ventress agrees to watch the two of them if they don’t stun her, and Obi-Wan agrees.

Which then leaves him, Cody, and Satine in a room alone.

A word on Cody at this point: He has been bred from birth to be the perfect soldier— loyal, clever (but not too clever), and rigourously adherent to protocol. Yet, within three months of knowing Obi-Wan, he’s, well, calling him Obi-Wan in his head. Even just that is a gross breach of protocol, but he’s compromised in more ways than one. He talks to Obi-Wan, now, not just as a subordinate, or secondary advisor, but as a friend, as a councilor. Every time Obi-Wan touches him— never for longer than a brief second— his skin lights up under his armor. One time, Obi-Wan fell asleep on him for half an hour, and Cody’s was sure everyone would hear his heartbeat. 

What he’s doing— how he feels— he knows it’s putting Obi-Wan in danger, knows that if the Kaminoans had wanted to the clones to be equals to the Jedi, they would have told them so. And look, he knows what the natborns would call the way he’s feeling, but he can’t feel that way. He’s a clone— he’s expendable by definition. Even if, on some off-chance, he makes it out of this war alive, there’s nothing for him. Obi-Wan couldn’t care for him like that, couldn’t care for a man with the same face as millions of others, born and bred only for war. So it doesn’t matter how he feels.

A word on Satine at this point: Obi-Wan, when he left, was a gawkish, bumbling thing of red hair and freckles and the sweetest smile. Obi-Wan, when he came back, was graceful, eloquent, and very, very handsome. He is also infuriating. (This does not change how attracted she is to him in the least.)

She’s not a romantic, really, but she is a realist, and she knows she’s loved him in some form or another for over twenty years. She knows she can’t ask him to return it— knows that asking him to leave the order for her wouldn’t just be for her, it would be for Mandalore, and while the politician in her cries for her to claim him, the person in her who loves Obi-Wan could not abide tearing him away from his culture for her own purposes. She still loves him, deeply and irrevocably, and she knows he still loves her. (Maybe, she thinks, after the war... But she can’t afford to be sentimental).

What do Cody and Satine have in common? They’re both extremely competent, both instinctively ruthless, and they both love Obi-Wan. Oh, and they’re also both immediately jealous of their counterpart.

They know they shouldn’t be. They know it’s not fair, not when Obi-Wan isn’t theirs anyways, but it doesn’t change the surge of envy and dislike that happens when they see Obi-Wan use the soft voice he only uses for the people he likes best on the person across from them.

Cody knows he can never compare to the Duchess, who is beautiful and well-spoken and has held Obi-Wan’s heart since they were fifteen. Satine knows she can never compare to Cody, who has been at Obi-Wan’s side every second since the war’s beginning, who is so much closer in ideals to Obi-Wan than she is, however it might appear on the surface.

Fortunately, they don’t have to deal with it for long, because Ventress comes in with Maul and Savage and proposes a team up, at which point Maul reveals the identity of the Sith Master.

Obi-Wan swears a string of words that Cody and Satine are both very impressed by, and agrees to the team up. Cody and Satine, who are both going to Coruscant anyways, agree to it too.

What ensues is a good deal of scheming, during which Cody and Satine avoid each other like the plague, Obi-Wan is repeatedly told to get some sleep, and Ventress cuffs Maul to a door on multiple nonconsecutive occasions. When they get to Coruscant, Satine has already told Padmé, who has in turn told her group of anti-war (and anti-Palpatine) senators, Cody has given Rex a heads up, and Ventress, Maul, and Savage have been metaphorically sharpening their lightsabers for ages.

(It occurs to Obi-Wan, at one point, after he’s woken up from his enforced 25-hour nap, that Palpatine must have created the clone army for a reason— must have a failsafe in place— and he asks Ahsoka to pull all the data the Kaminoans have on the clones. They find out about the chips, and Ahsoka immediately immediately holds the Kaminoans at laser sword point until they reprogram every order into a command that dissolves the chip.)

The thing about organizing a coup together is that it makes it very hard to avoid each other. Cody and Satine are forced to work together, and, what do you know, it turns out that even with seething jealousy at work, they end up respecting each other. (Note: Obi-Wan comes into a room at one point to see them both bent over a commlink, heads together and hands nearly touching. He short circuits.)

In any case, coup, Palps dies, Republic fixed, whatever.

What’s important is that Obi-Wan gets really, really injured— so much so that he might die. Cody and Satine have dealt with him being dead before (Deception arc anyone?), but this? Watching him slowly fade, knowing there’s nothing they can do about it? That’s worse.

One night, when Anakin has fallen asleep, they have a long conversation in low voices about Obi-Wan, darting from fond to furious to devastated over and over again. If he wakes up— if, not when— they agree to say something to Obi-Wan, to let him know that they love him. It’s a meager consolation after all they’ve been through, but this is the end, in one way or another, and they deserve to be honest with him.

(Cody thinks, privately, that he will be— well, not tossed aside, because Obi-Wan isn’t the sort of person who does that, but there won’t be a place for him by Obi-Wan’s side anymore. Obi-Wan is a Jedi, a negotiator, a peacekeeper, and Cody is a soldier for a now-ended war. He is already steeling himself to accept Obi-Wan’s polite rejection with equanimity, to not cause more pain to the man. (It will be easy, he knows, to wish him every peace, every happiness. Cody has only ever wanted to see Obi-Wan happy. This does not mean it will not be painful.) Obi-Wan said once that he would have left the Order for Satine if she’d asked— she will ask, now, and Cody knows Obi-Wan will leave, can see the love written in his face, in his spine, in his hands, whenever he is around her. Satine will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Cody will be left to look for a place in this new galaxy.)

(Satine thinks, privately, that Obi-Wan’s feelings for her must be long faded, replaced by his obvious ones for Cody. Obi-Wan is a warrior, a Knight, and Satine is a diplomat who foreswore violence long ago. She is already steeling herself to accept his rejection with grace. (It will be easy, she knows, to wish him well. She has only ever wanted good things for him. This does not mean it will not be painful.) He said once that he would have left the Order for her if she’d asked, and whatever he’d felt then for her pales to what he feels now for Cody. Cody will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Satine will rule as she always has.)

And then Obi-Wan wakes up.

Cody and Satine let him have his long talk with Anakin first, partially because they know how important it is to him, partially because Anakin wouldn’t let them if they wanted to, and partially because they are dreading their own coming conversation. When Anakin has finished, and Obi-Wan is asleep again, they go in, hand-in-hand, and wait for him to wake up.

When he does wake up, he sees them holding hands and immediately comes to several wrong conclusions. Wrong Conclusion A: Cody and Satine are in love. Wrong Conclusion B: Cody and Satine are going to try to break the news that they’re in love to him gently. Wrong Conclusion C: This conversation is about to break his heart.

Then they speak.

At the end of it, Obi-Wan has some Thoughts. Thought One: alkdfjhskhsgjljlbhkgkjbjvnab,gkjvn;qlerghjsv?????!!!!fwbfwlkrehwogwhuwrijvhfdbhkf!!!! Thought Two: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Thought Three: Oh, we’re all idiots. Fantastic. 

He then passes out, because being on the edge of death for days and then having a shock to your system this big tends to do that to you.

When he wakes up, he is mildly more coherent. Then he sees that Satine and Cody are asleep on each other, and the coherence is lost, but he does manage to wake them up and get across three things:

Thing One: He is desperately in love with them both.

Thing Two: He’s leaving the Order for a multitude of reasons, but they are a Significant Bonus.

Thing Three: He would very much like if they both held his hand while he falls back asleep.

Cody takes Obi-Wan’s right hand, Satine takes Obi-Wan’s left hand, and the three of them stay like that, fingers intertwined, for a long, long, while.

[ladyblogger-margie]

Traitor

Pairing: Mobius M Mobius x Loki (MCU)

Summary: The Loki Variants are captured and Mobius battles his personal versus professional feelings. 

Warnings: Mentions of bondage kind of?? A little angsty

Word Count: 1788

a/n: thanks to this post by @pietro-maximoff I have been listening to Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo and thinking about Lokius non-stop. This fic is what came out of that obsessing. Also I wrote it before Episode 3 aired. 

MY MASTERLIST

Mobius heard the alarms blaring and didn’t flinch. It had been set off so many times lately, it had lost all impact. This time though, Casey came flying through the halls of the TVA and skidded to an abrupt halt next to Mobius’ cubicle. 

“We found him,” Casey panted. 

“Who?” Mobius asked, fearful to get his hopes up. 

“The Loki variant,” Casey explained, his hands on his knees. 

“You may need to be more specific, there are several,” Mobius said, as he stood and led Casey back where he came from. 

“The variant, your variant,” Casey said, jogging to keep up. 

Casey’s words rang in Mobius’ brain. Apparently everyone could see how he felt about Loki, well except Loki. If Loki knew, he wouldn’t have ran off, or at least Mobius desperately hoped that was the case. The alternative was too gut wrenching to consider with everything else going to shit. 

Mobius had called out for Loki, begging him not to leave, but he went through the door anyway leaving Mobius behind. Loki had looked at him, but gave him nothing but an empty glance before he turned his back and ran to join the Loki Variant they were supposed to be chasing together. 

Now Casey was explaining how both Loki’s were now surrounded and Mobius needed to get there immediately. He was trying to keep his focus professional and stuff down the longing rising in his chest, a longing that would not do him a single lick of good. 

Suddenly Mobius turned a corner and saw the Hunters in position by the Time Door. He didn’t slow down as he gestured for them to breach the door and he was right in their midst as they arrived on the scene. 

Lady Loki sat with her eyes rolling tied up and contained, clearly annoyed, bored, as well as plotting. Mobius knew Loki well enough to know that she wasn’t truly as subdued as she appeared on the surface. The other Loki, the one in the TVA Variant jacket, was looking extremely put out with a collar back around his slender throat and his wrists in cuffs. 

Mobius banished his first thought in favor of the professional thoughts that followed. 

“We’ve apprehended the variants. Let’s reset this one here first,” he said, pointing to Lady Loki. 

The other Loki was desperately trying to make eye contact with Mobius, but Mobius turned his back to him. 

This was his first mistake. Loki slipped in behind him so close that Mobius felt that taller man’s breath against his neck and he suppressed a shiver. 

“I did it, I captured the Variant,” Loki bragged, his tone smug, “But these fools arrested me in the process of turning her into the proper authorities.”

Mobius caught the indignation in Loki’s voice at the second part and tried not to let it affect him. He was fooled before and he would not be fooled again. 

“Reset her, bring this one back to headquarters,” Mobius said, still ignoring Loki, “Someone’s going to have to question him to complete the paperwork.”

Then Mobius retreated with the team completing the Variant reset, leaving a stammering Loki behind him.

“Mobius, where are you going?” Loki asked, “Mobius?”

Mobius ignored him. 

After they successfully solved the Lady Loki Variant problem, Mobius returned to headquarters. He wasn’t told exactly where they had taken Loki, but he had a hunch, and until recently his hunches usually proved correct. 

He found Loki in the same room he had shown Loki his role on the timeline when they first met. There Loki was heavily guarded and they had added a gag to his collection of restraints since Mobius saw him last. 

“You can all go,” Mobius said, waving the hunters away, “I can handle him.”

Mobius shook the control to Loki’s collar in his hand and with minimal muttering, the Hunters filed out. 

Mobius sat in a chair across the table from Loki and just looked at him. He watched as Loki squirmed and tried to speak. He watched the frustrating boil over on Loki’s face and felt guilty for watching him suffer. He thought he’d enjoy catching Loki out, but he was wrong. The image in front of him made him sick. 

Mobius reached across the table and gently removed the gag from Loki’s mouth. He’d barely sprung the release when Loki began talking rapidly.

“Mobius, you have to understand,” Loki’s fast tongue clipped, “I had to go. I needed to catch the Variant. That was the plan, was it not? Use a Loki to catch a Loki.”

Mobius bit the inside of his lip, pouting them slightly as he did so, but he kept quiet. 

“I know what you must be thinking, but technically I didn’t stab you in the back,” Loki said, attempting a joke. 

Mobius remained silent and to his surprise he found it was making Loki look, well, nervous. 

“You don’t think I left you on purpose?” Loki asked, “Why would I do that?”

Loki’s face looked so open, so vulnerable in its proposed sincerity, Mobius was almost moved. He promised to himself he wasn’t buying the trickster’s words, but unconsciously he stood and removed the rest of Loki’s restraints except the collar around his neck. 

“Thank you,” Loki said, his voice soft with emotion and Mobius' heart clenched. Being in close proximity with him again had Mobius on edge, so aware of his own body and Loki’s as well. 

“What happened when you went through the door?” Mobius asked in a professional tone. 

“I heard you calling,” Loki said, standing to stroll the room. 

“I’m aware,” Mobius sighed, “You looked right at me.”

“Well I thought that meant you understood,” Loki said, his arms open wide, head cocked to the side. 

“Understood what? That you’re a traitor? You betrayed me,” Mobius said. He shook his head, this wasn’t the time to air his personal issues, he shouldn’t have fallen in love with a Variant, especially a Loki whose betrayal surely was inevitable. “I’m here to assess and record what happened after you walked out,” he said, pushing forward with his assignment. 

“I didn’t betray you, I swear. Besides, isn’t paperwork and cleanup a bit beneath your pay grade? There’s got to be more to you being here than just the job,” Loki suggested with a raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t trust you with anyone else,” Mobius admitted plainly. He didn’t trust himself with Loki either, but that wasn’t the point. 

“I didn’t leave you, Mobius,” Loki said, sitting back down. He reached his hands across the table to where Mobius’ were resting. 

Mobius ripped his hands out of the way and stood himself, taking up Loki’s pacing position. 

“I trusted you to see this through,” Mobius said, barely containing the tremble in his voice. 

“But that’s just it!” Loki said, following Mobius and completely disregarding his personal space, “I did! I caught the Variant.”

Mobius studied his face, “You were captured with the Variant.”

“No!” Loki was frustrated now, his hands in his hair, “Those imbeciles showed up after I had her in custody because I was trying to call you.”

Mobius was blinking very quickly now, “But you left me, I saw you look at me and deliberately choose to abandon the team and the mission. Loki, I am trying to get to the truth here and I know that’s a foreign concept-“

Mobius was cut off mid-sentence when Loki crashed his lips against his, kissing him and shutting him up in one fell swoop. The action short-circuited Mobius' brain and he stood frozen, his lips responding on instinct alone. 

Loki tasted like honey and peppermint, sweet and sharp and a little bitter, but absolutely perfect. Mobius raised a hand to Loki’s throat and in horror remembered he was still wearing his collar. 

Mobius shoved Loki away abruptly. It wasn’t easy to shove a god, but the advantage of surprise  granted him the space he needed. 

“You really think you can play me,” Mobius said with a sad chuckle. He had to drop this idiotic fantasy - Loki could never love him the way that Mobius loved him. 

“Play you? I’m trying to kiss you,” Loki said, his tone sharp. 

“You’re trying to get me to take off that collar,” Mobius said with a limp gesture of his hand. 

Loki’s fingers brushed across the collar almost like he forgot he was wearing it. 

“So take it off and see how I act then,” Loki suggested. 

Mobius actually laughed, “How thick do you think I am? I know you don’t respect me, but give me a little credit.”

“Of course I respect you, I care for you,” Loki sighed, “You’ve caught me many times before, I have no magic, and your team already confiscated my daggers, what have you got to lose?”

Loki watched Mobius with his head tilted, as Mobius squinted at him intently. 

Mobius released Loki’s collar with a press of the button on the controller. Loki tossed it aside casually and he made no effort to run. Instead he moved closer to Mobius, crowding his space. Mobius held his breath as Loki inspected him intently, his crystal blue eyes tracing across Mobius’ face. 

Mobius’ breath hitched as Loki kissed him again, slower this time, deeper. He felt his skin catch fire as Loki traced his thumb across his check as his tongue swept across his lower lip. Then Mobius’ resolve shattered. 

Mobius yanked on Loki’s tie, wrapping it around his fist as his other hand wrapped around Loki’s waist. Mobius could feel the smile on Loki’s lips through the kiss and he couldn’t help but smile back. Loki’s hands were soft and cool and Mobius relished in the feel of them, still not entirely sure if he believed his good fortune, but too overwhelmed to care. 

Suddenly the door to the room opened and Casey walked in, interrupting the kiss. Mobius flushed and jumped back in surprise, his hand still wrapped in Loki’s tie.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to - wait, what’s happening?” Casey said, obviously flustered. 

“What can I help you with?” Mobius asked. 

“There’s a new variant we need your help with,” Casey said, “After you reset this variant, there’s a file at your desk.”

Mobius turned to Loki and held his hand, “He’s not a variant, he’s a member of the TVA.”

Loki’s face lit up as Casey left with a shrug. 

Mobius turned to Loki, and fixed his tie and collar as Loki smiled at him. 

“I swear I wasn’t leaving you, I’d never do that to someone I love,” Loki said sincerely, and Mobius believed him so he kissed him, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. 

[mellowyandere]

SCP Academia Eraserhead Part 2

Reader: F

Characters: Aizawa Shouta (main); Kurogiri

Summary: After struggling to find his way out with Dr. L/N, Eraserhead is offered some help. (This turned into a lot more exposition than expected. Part 3 will get steamy though I promise! I’m just a hoe for setting the stage.)

Length: 1442 words

Warning: Yandere-themes.

He had been running for a while now. Hallways and corridors bleeding into one another in a way that turned his head upside down. He hadn’t had to open any doors so far, and a strange absence of security set off little alarms in the back of his head.

Left…no right? He snarled in frustration. Curse this stupid foundation. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy but this was simply ridiculous. He peered down at your unconscious form, nestled protectively against his chest in a layer of his tendrils. So small and weak... he had to keep pushing forwards.

He had been forced to kill a couple of SCP’s along the way, not all being as sentient and rational as himself. Their desire to kill you forfeiting their rights to life.

Shit. Another dead end.

Something cleared their throat behind him, causing him to spin on his heel. His tendrils flared out ready to cut down whatever it was. To his surprise there stood what appeared to be a man made of mist, wearing human clothing. His sharp attire strongly contrasted his own, which consisted of an orange jumpsuit, the top half having been torn to shreds when he unleashed his tendrils, and a pair of standard issued boots.

“Move out the way. Don’t make me hurt you.” He didn’t have time for this, who knew when security would appear to regain control of the breach.

The mist man raised his hands to show his non-hostility. “You look a bit lost… would you like some help leaving this place?”

Eraserhead narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why would you help me?”

“Don’t you find it odd..” Ah great this might take a minute. If he wasn’t blocking off the hallway Eraserhead would have left by now, but the man in front of him didn’t look like someone he could simply side step.

“Beings such as ourselves don’t belong here. By all means humans are nothing more than fodder in comparison. And yet they contain us? They’re witty creatures with dangerous minds, it’s what gotten them this far. But so are we. This containment breach was no accident, I’m sure you’ve already noticed almost every enclosure open, save for the truly unhinged ones. And a complete lack of guards to corral you back to your prison. No, there are higher powers at play. But now isn’t the time to delve into that, so I’ll ask again… would you like some help leaving this place?”

The mist man finished his little speech and opened his arms, inviting Eraserhead forward.

“What’s the catch?” Eraserhead knew better. Nothing in this world was done from the kindness of one’s heart. Well, except for you. You were the only real kindness he had ever known.

The mist man chuckled. “I see you are a man of caution. Yes this exchange is not for free. We’ll be keeping tabs on you. Your intelligence and abilities make you a very strong creature indeed. One day we’ll need you to help free our kind from the shackles of humanity.”

Lowering his arms the man took on a more sinister aura. “Let it be known though, I don’t need your consent to teleport you. I’d choose my offer. After all that human in your arms looks so frail, she might not make it out here alive if you keep at it.”

Shit. This bastard wasn’t leaving him with much choice.. should he fight his way out? He wasn’t exactly sure what his opponents abilities were besides teleportation. Even if he erased them, can you punch a man made of mist? His clothes clung to him, but who knew his real body composition.

No. This man was too dangerous, and his threat towards your well-being still hung heavily in the air. “Alright. Deal.”

The mist mans nodded with a hum, satisfied with his answer. “Start with continent, State or province, then major nearby city. Small nearby towns if applicable.”

Eraserhead listed off what was asked of him. His goal was to bring you to his old self-isolation home. He used to live amongst humans with little to no problems. His larger than normal stature at 6’10” raised a few eyebrows but nothing too serious. He kept the dark markings along his torso covered, and a scarf helped to hide his deathly white complexion. As for the eyes, he always wore sunglasses.

His issue had arisen with the month of his “birth”. For as long as he could remember, during the month humans called November, he went absolutely feral. Losing all control over his himself he’d slaughter anything that crossed his path. He’d make sure to isolate before November came along, and for the most part it worked. He had lived many centuries alongside humans with only the occasional slip up.

Five years ago he slipped up. And the SCP foundation had been all over him ever since.

“I can’t get you to any of the nearby towns, but I can get you to the city,” the mist man stated. “Step forward, I’ll take you there now.”

With that the man began to spread out the mist that defined his body, pooling out until he filled the entirety of the corridor. Eraserhead stepped forward into the blackish purple abyss, his vision going dark. Squinting he tried to peer through the pitch black that surrounded him, until finally he could see again. Stars lit up the night sky above him, and the sound of cars echoed down far below. Stepping onto concrete he moved out of the portal. This creature had quite a powerful ability. 

“What you do from here is up to you. We’ll give you some time to adjust and then we’ll contact you. Do not think that you can hide from us.” With that the mist vanished and Eraserhead was left alone atop a tall building with you in his arms.

It would be about a half a day of running to get you home from here. Meaning it would be wise to stock up on supplies now. That way he wouldn’t have any reason to leave you alone for the next week or two as you adjusted to your new home. The tall creature checked you over, making sure you wouldn’t wake up anytime soon before leaving you on the rooftop. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but he’d move fast.

Jumping from building to building he made quick work of locating and snagging some clothes from a local donation box in order to change out of the tattered orange jumpsuit. One extra-large black long sleeve shirt and accompanying extra-large pair of blacks pants. Grabbing a few bags that had also been inside, he headed for the nearest chain supermarket. He’d stock up on essentials like food and nest making materials, as well as daintier things that you might like such as feminine soaps and fluffy stuffed animals.

Due to the limitations in his interactions with you he didn’t really know what you’d want, but he had the rest of your time together to learn.

He was going to prove to you that he was the best mate you could ever dream of having. No one else would ever be good enough for you. And no one else would ever be good enough for him with you now in his life. He had never encountered a human like you before, and he’d be damned if anyone ever dared try to take you away or hurt you.

Making quick work of the supermarket he dashed out as the alarms rang. It hardly mattered though, he wouldn’t be coming back to this city. He had enough money stashed away that he’d be able to buy what he needed from small towns as to not draw attention to himself. Despite what the mist man had said about a new world order, he didn’t want to chance the foundation getting back on its feet and finding him.

Quickly climbing the building he left you on he was relieved to see your small form still sound asleep on the cold concrete. He wrapped his tendrils around his new stash of goods and scooped you up in his arms yet again, taking a moment to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling your scent.

Even if he had to give up part of his freedom to get here, holding you in his arms had all been worth it. Now all he had to do was get you home, and then he’d make sure to repay every gesture of kindness you had ever shown him tenfold. His precious cute little human.

[reallyreallyreallytrying]

Let me tell you about my Saab III

Let me tell you about my Saab. I was turning over moon rocks, the wreck of Moonbase 4 still sending plumes of black smoke up into the atmosphere, the orbital flares glowing red to indicate to the shuttles that containment had been breached and that the cleansing fires of the Nuclear Protection Network ought to soon be rained down mercifully upon the surviving population for the good of us all. I was alone with just my thoughts and a fully charged plasma carbine when into my field of vision hopped a moon creature. Not just any moon creature. Half Time Slim, the trickiest moon rat this side of the Sea of Tranquility. Slim was a piece of work. A real fuck. A tricky fucking piece of shit, was Half Time Slim. You couldn't talk to Half Time Slim without leaving the conversation a hundred bucks lighter. You couldn't enter a deal with him without the point of a knife cuddling up to your windpipe. You couldn't think about the guy without tossing and turning in your bed. The very last thing I wanted sliding in front of my space helmet from stage right was Half Time Slim. But here he was.

"You've had your eyes on my Saab for a while, human," he croaked. This was an understatement. He'd seen me tenderly massaging chrome oil into its paintwork while it was parked outside the former Moonbase 4's former tavern and nearly killed me over it. He knew I'd do anything for it. Not to have it, just to care for it. I'd do anything it needed. I was putty in its angular silver chassis. But time wasn't on my side.

"In a hurry, Slim," I told him, dropping the moon rock I was holding and sliding its Helium-4 crystals into my saddlebag. "No time to talk chariots." He shook his head smugly. "You'll never make it to the perimeter on foot now, human," he said. I looked up. I couldn't see the shuttles on account of the smoke but with sudden grim clarity I realised he was probably right. I'd scavenged too long. There might be only half an hour until every unprotected molecule in the AtmoDome was incinerated. There might be less.

"So what's the play, Slim?" I asked. "This isn't a donation, is it?" He laughed a horrible gluggy little wet laugh, like a chunk of gristle being sucked down a drain. "You want my Saab," he said, "and I want a keycard for the anti-atmosphere turret to keep the shuttles off long enough for some associates of mine to prise open the Moonbase 4 bunker." I gasped. What he was talking about was mass murder. The anti-atmosphere turrets would bring down the unsuspecting NPN shuttles with no resistance. It would take six hours for the gunships in high orbit to arrive on the scene - all the time in the world for Slim's goons to break in and lay waste to the Earth Federation diplomats cowering in the bunker.

"Tell me why I shouldn't ventilate you now," I snapped, pointing my plasma carbine at him. He laughed again.

"Because I own the only Saab on the moon, and you'll never have it," he croaked. He knew my weakness.

"Take me to it," I said. He led me to a squat hangar in the shadow of the flight tower and there it was: silver, angular, perfect. The car of my dreams. Overhead a sexy mutant model on a holobillboard nodded encouragingly as I reached for my wallet. I tossed him the keycard and hopped behind the wheel. "The very best of luck to you, Slim," I said, roaring out of the hangar towards the interbase highway. As I hit the tarmac I floored it. I'd given him the wrong keycard, and he probably suspected it, and he was probably scanning it right now and as soon as he did he'd be after me. He probably EXPECTED me to give him the wrong keycard. He probably never intended to really part with his Saab. Up ahead the tunnel under the crater lip loomed, and I swerved off onto unsealed moondust. If I was him the tunnel's where I'd plant my goons to recover the Saab and kill the driver. I gunned it up the steep incline. At the top I wrenched the handbrake and looked back. A line of hoverbikes raced up the interbase, but it was impossible to say whether they were Slim's. Then I caught the yellow spark of a missile erupting from the barrel of a pocket launcher. Guess it wasn't impossible.

Overhead, three huge pod-shaped shuttles were slowly swiveling into formation, spacing evenly to extract maximum efficiency from their nuclear payload. Ten minutes, optimistically. And now I had a missile to I'd need to outmanoeuvre. I revved the engine and screeched out over the lip of the crater, only to find a cliff instead of a slope.

Slowly, gracefully, my Saab drifted down 40, 50, 60 metres onto the floor of the crater. I braced myself for impact. When it came it wasn't pretty. My head smashed onto the fine black leather of the steering wheel. Blood cascaded into my eyes and onto the gorgeous black plastic cupholder. I saw stars. I saw flames. I scrambled to undo the seatbelt, then realised the flames weren't from my Saab. Ahead, the missile had exploded harmlessly on moon rocks. With an aching head I turned the ignition and drove. I joined back up with the interbase. Behind me, the hoverbikes swung into view. I swung my carbine out the window and squeezed off a few rounds. One of the goons exploded into green goop. I was reminded of a tender memory from my childhood. My mother calmly helping my brother and I tuck our legs up into a small oxygen vest compartment and closing the doors with a sweet smile. The moment before they clicked together I saw a sliver of her profile turn a beautiful bottle green as a bandit's plasma round struck her. Then she was gone. Up ahead the moondust churned on either side of the highway as a gyrocopter landed. Well, shit. It was Half Time Slim.

"Out of the car, pal," he ordered through a megaphone. Not an option. The edge of the AtmoDome was still a five minute drive away. An unbearable slog on foot through the moondust.

"Forget it, Slim," I yelled back. "I know you'll never goop the car." I revved the engine.

"I'm giving you a chance," Slim called. "There's a kill switch. I could have ejected you long ago. But you have something I need." It was a good story, but I wasn't in the market for good. I needed perfect. "And what is that, Slim?" I shouted back. He paused for a moment, and I realised. I was all he had. Like me he'd left his plan too late. He'd counted on sitting out the coming atomic firestorm in the bunker, and he thought he had time enough for me to betray our deal. But he'd miscalculated. Now he needed a ride out of here.

"Moon rats don't get evac clearance, human," he shouted over the noise of his copter. "Let me in and we'll call it even." I didn't even think about it. Help a fellow creature escape vaporization? That was one thing. But help one who'd shank me and toss my body out onto the highway the second we were clear of the AtmoDome perimeter, all for payback and a little memento of Swedish auto engineering? No deal. I floored it. He hit the kill switch and my body was sucked upwards to the sunroof but I'd already lashed one hand to the wheel with a jumper lead. With my free hand I reached down and leaned on the gas. The car jumped forward. A minute later the vacuum closed up and I slumped back into the seat. A kilometre to the edge. Slim's copter was right overhead, but the ceiling was getting lower with every passing second. Then he was zooming ahead, landing the thing right in front of the perimeter gate, climbing out hands raised imploringly, except there was a grenade in one of them but I was already in moondust, swerving around him, through the automatic gates with his face a mask of insane rage as the rolling cloud of dust smashed him into the AtmoDome force field. A second later I was wincing and cowering as the blast from the simultaneous nuke drop, brighter than the sun, smashed and roiled against the inside of the dome. Not a lick of heat escaped. That's how I got my Saab.

[goldenpineapples]

Six-Fic Six-Sentence Sunday

Hi all! Fics below the cut. I know I don’t use this blog ‘properly,’ but I wanted to try one of these preview posts at least once as a form of self-motivation! I haven’t been able to read or write as much as I’d like this year, but I think that’s finally turning around!

Stay safe out there, everyone! Be seeing you!

Cyberpunk: Xadia

T+ // Sci-fi AU, aged-up characters. Roughly based roughly on TTRPG Cyberpunk setting, and now some video game as well! A sequel to the 2020 Birthday Bash chapter

Rayla lets Callum a little further into her life, and its details start connecting dots in Callum’s memory. The two work to uncover her past, in spite of both gang law and corporate policy.

===

The crowd surged as Rayla stepped into a small spotlight alongside the vocalist, her guitar swinging wide as its now-distorted notes ripped through the charged room. The frontman reared back, microphone raised, and howled with redoubled energy.

“Hunt down- hunt down- hunt down- your self-esteem!”

Then the lyrics were all but lost in the anguished roar of Rayla’s solo, and Callum winced, electing to cover his ears and stay in the crush of bodies to keep from losing sight of her. She wasn’t watching the crowd, wasn’t watching her hands, only mournfully sweeping her eyes along the edge of the stage, her mouth twisted in a grimace as she played.

Vollarian’s Day

T+ // Very Late Valentine’s prompts.

A mix of canonverse / other AUs, to follow the Rayllum Valentine’s prompts from earlier this year (2021)

Excerpt from Chapter 1

===

“So what’s the book for?”

“Oh,” Callum perked up, reaching for the sizable tome, “just a little… story, I guess, that made me think of you. Of us.��

She eyed the book in his hands. “That looks pretty substantial for a ‘little story.’”

“It’s a collection! They’re not bad, but… here we go- ‘Vollaria’s Everlasting Ardor.’ This is the one.

Rayla’s ears twitched at the name. ‘Vollaria’ didn’t exactly sound… human.

“This isn’t one of the stories with the shirtless men on horses, is it?”

Untitled ‘Edge of Tomorrow’ AU

M+ // Xadia AU (?), major character death, potential graphic violence. Based on the concept of the Japanse light novel “All you need is kill,” which was adapted to the hollywood film “Edge of Tomorrow,” this is a not-so-nice time loop story.

Since a certain someone brought it up a long, long time ago...

When the seemingly-random minor devastations began, the pentarchy could do little besides disregard them as magical events of the world. Now, several months into a shaky alliance with Xadia, the military might of both factions is near-spent attempting to contain what the Elves have guaranteed is a calamitous threat. A lottery is drawn to determine which unlucky souls will be sent to the next expected target...

===

The last thing Callum could focus on, as his vision darkened, was the moon over the elf’s shoulder. Visible in the daytime despite the glare of magic light from nearby. Its surface rippled as if liquid, like a drip into a bucket- some trick of death, he was sure…

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

And then he was breathing again- huge gasps of air, forcing his lungs to work again -but they were fine. He was fine. Sitting up in his bed in the castle, the chill of early hours again settling around him like morning dew.

Drought

T+ // Canonverse Non-Rayllum side story related to the fighting soon after the breach was opened. What happened to those that inhabited the lands close to the world was torn open? A one-shot relating the tale of a human that fled the fighting on the Xadian side of the border, who happens across an earthblood elf’s forest, dying as it is too close to the breach.

===

“Even a small amount is enough.”

She watched the human ignore her cupped hands, opening his canteen and carefully pouring a tiny measure of water into its cap- less than she’d hoped, but more than she’d dared believe the man would ever give her.

When she took the offering back to her Tree, pouring the water over its single exposed root, the human roused himself to anger once more.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? We both need that more than your dead tree!”

Already beginning to feel the slight reinvigoration of the water, Milyn offered the vessel back. “Not dead.”

The cap was snatched away, but only secured after the man took a greedy swallow of what precious water was left to them.

Untitled Minority Report AU

T+ // Modern Sci-Fi AU (Yeah, again) Another AU based more closely on the Minority Report movie than its 1950s short story source. 

Prediction of the near-future is now within reach of the modern world, and law enforcement has successfully used it to prevent violent crime, including murder. For Rayla, an officer of this division, it’s a slow day of monitor-watching… until it isn’t.

And yes, pink hair as requested.

===

“He’s still out on that farm?”

Rayla was already pulling on her street jacket and lense-ordering a dropcraft to the address Callum had given her all that time ago. “Far as I know.”

“Rayla?”

She turned. “Yeah?”

“Promise me you won’t run.”

Soren’s face slackened into a deadpan as she hesitated, not saying what they both knew, and Rayla shrugged before leaving him alone in the control room, spinning the prediction’s truecopy between his hands.

Already Dead

Undecided rating // Xadia ‘low fantasy’ AU. This is the... ninth iteration of the very first fanfic I ever wrote, starting in April 2020. Its timeline, story, and characterizations have been rewritten so many times, but I feel like this might be the right story I want to tell? It’ll be my love letter to the fantasy genre that helped me so much in my life, as well as the fanfic world I’ve grown to love.

Callum embarks on an elf-supervised pilgrimage to research primal alternatives to dark magic, while Rayla comes to terms with what being an assassin entails.

===

“What did he do?”

Runaan’s eyes narrowed. “His crimes have been committed, and his guilt recorded. All that’s left is his justice.”

Rayla looked away from the glare, down at her hands, reciting what she knew would please him. “Assassins don’t decide right and wrong, only life and death.”

“Just so.”

She swallowed the rough lump in her throat.

“I’ll do it.”

[imjustwritingg]

partners pt. 2

Hi everyone! I hadn’t planned on writing a second part to this until Jess requested it, so big shoutout to @ilithiyarys because without her this might not exist. Enjoy and let me know what you think lovelies!

Read part one here. 

Part two also on AO3 and FFNet.

It was supposed to be a simple take down. An easy operation. Breach. Apprehend. Everyone goes home. Except it wasn’t easy and all hell broke loose.

The team was doing a raid on a crew selling big guns out of an abandoned warehouse near Englewood. They had geared up, dressed to the nines in their vests and thigh holsters, with their guns at the ready. Hailey and Jay entered through the front while Kevin, Kim, and Adam took the back.

Jay had entered first with Hailey behind him, a steady hand on his shoulder, as he led them inside the warehouse and they cleared room after room.

When a rustling of some kind came from ahead of them, Jay stopped in his tracks and held a closed fist up at Hailey. She stopped behind him immediately and they stood still for a single moment before Jay turned and nodded to the right. Hailey went right as instructed and Jay held the left as they made quick and quiet steps towards an entryway, pausing just outside of it. Jay leaned forwards, poking his head in just enough to survey their path. He gave his partner the all-clear with a thumbs up and the pair of them pushed forward to the next room. They came to a set of closed double doors with dusty plastic windows in the centers of them. Unable to get a clear sight through the windows, Jay reached for the two-way clipped to his shoulder.

“Ruz, report,” he whispered into the radio.

Adam came back seconds later in the same hushed tone. “Back stairwell, south side of the building. We got the eye on the room. Count eight offenders, all armed. Guns are here too.”

“You see a set of double doors in that room with windows in ‘em? They look like hospital doors.”

“Affirmative. Far end of it and they’re closed. You behind?”

“We are. You ready?”

“On your order, brother,” Adam said.

Jay looked back at Hailey, who nodded at his unspoken question, and then reached for his radio again.

“Move in,” he commanded.  

The team breached the room from their ends and began taking immediate fire from the offenders. They took out three of them with ease, going for cover behind concrete pillars and wooden pallets and barrels - anything they could use to help shield themselves from the bullets flying through the room.

Jay and Hailey had separated, each fanning out to return fire – Hailey kneeling down behind a pillar while Jay crouched down by a pile of pallets several yards away.

“5021 Henry...10-1, 10-1! Shots fired at police! Requesting immediate backup...we’re taking heavy fire...” Hailey spoke into her radio.

Jay looked over at his partner as she made the distress call to patrol and the two locked eyes. She nodded once, signaling she was okay.

“Ruz!” Jay called out then.

“We’re good, we’re good!” he heard Adam shout back a second later and then Jay reached for his radio again to make sure the entire team heard his next orders.

“Burgess take center, Ruz and Atwater get her flank...Upton on me...in three, two, one...”

The team popped up from their places of cover together and unleashed heavy fire of their own. They were able to take down three more of the offenders, leaving the remaining two shielded behind a wall of pallets. The team moved in closer, ready to end this with the odds in their favor of six to two. As they neared the center of the room, a loud succession of pops rang out one after the other. The team ducked in an instant at the familiar sounds of an assault rifle firing, its bullets tearing through the wooden pallets like paper and ricocheting throughout the main room.

When there was a single moment of silence Jay spoke into his radio again to give one more command.

“Go!”

The five of them moved forward in a line of side by side formation, the distinct sound of a magazine reload happening within feet from them. Adam and Kevin took one end of the pallets, Jay and Kim took the other, boxing in their offenders, and Hailey stood back at the ready in case someone made a run for it.

There was another succession of pops that rang out as each pair stormed either end, and finally took down the remaining offenders. When Jay saw his three teammates were okay and that the perps were indeed down and disarmed, he took a step back and holstered his gun.

“5021 Ida...offenders down, requesting multiple ambos and the crime lab...”

“Hailey, you good?” Jay called out through the pallets as Adam spoke over his radio.

“Hailey?” Jay called out again thinking she must not have heard him with the radio chatter.

He turned and walked around the wall of pallets in search of his partner. Once he spotted Hailey, his heart nearly gave out when he saw her on the floor trying to reach for her radio that had somehow detached from her vest. And then he saw the blood.

“Hailey!” He shouted as he ran over and dropped down beside her.

Jay looked her over with rushed hands trying to find a wound, praying it was superficial and her vest had caught the brunt of it. He watched as she gasped for breath and tried lifting her arm, but she could barely move. He reached for the straps of her vest, removing them as carefully as he could without causing her any further discomfort, and he saw the hole in her chest just above the left side of her collarbone. He immediately applied heavy pressure with one hand and reached for his radio with the other.

“5021 George...10-1, 10-1! Officer down...I need an ambulance now!”

Jay heard the calls of his partner’s name from the rest of the team and in a flash Kevin was crouched down on the other side of her on the floor.

“Kev, I can’t move my hand. Take off her vest, check for any other entry,” Jay ordered.

Kevin quickly did as he was told, pulling at the velcro of Hailey’s vest until he could remove it completely. He noticed the slight tear and burn residue on her shirt and lifted it up over her stomach to see dark purple bruising already taking form just below her breasts. He scanned the rest of her torso and then looked up at Jay.

“Looks like it’s just the one. Vest caught the other. Dark bruising on her chest, probably hurt a few ribs,” Kevin said.

Hailey opened her mouth to try and speak, but could only gasp for breath as she struggled to breathe. Jay shook his head as he leaned down closer to her. “Don’t talk, Hails. Just breathe for me. Deep breaths. Ambo is coming. You’re gonna be fine. Ya hear me? You’re gonna be fine.”

Hailey’s gasps came out harder, her breathing becoming shallower. She lifted her good arm to try and reach for Jay, her eyes closing and opening as she began to fade in and out of consciousness.

“No! You gotta stay awake Hailey! Come on, stay with me. Please, stay with me,” Jay pleaded with her as he felt tears stinging in his eyes. Hailey blinked her eyes for a moment until they closed again, and her arm dropped down to her side.

“Girl, come on! Not like this,” Kevin whispered as Jay pressed harder against her bullet wound to try and cease the bleeding.

Blaring sirens echoed through the broken windows of the warehouse moments later, and then Brett and Mackey, Voight, and patrol officers were surrounding them. Brett made quick work of patching up Hailey’s wound as best she could to try and contain the bleeding while Mackey secured an oxygen mask over the detective’s face. The pair of them, along with Jay and Kevin, got her on a stretcher and they wheeled her out to an ambulance.

Jay didn’t wait for the rest of the team or his Sergeant as he climbed into the back of the cab with his partner. He reached for her good arm and held her hand in his as they were sped off to Med. When they arrived at the hospital, Jay was held back as the paramedics and nurses rushed Hailey through the doors of the emergency department.

He’d been sitting in the same uncomfortable plastic chair for nearly an hour when the rest of Intelligence entered the waiting room. He stood to meet them, catching his Sergeant’s eyes and shook his head.

“Nothing yet,” Jay croaked out.

“This isn’t on you, Jay,” Hank told him.

“How is it not on me? I led that bust. I was calling the shots.“

Hank shook his head. “You did everything right, Jay. It was an accident.”

“She’s my partner. She should have been next to me instead of hanging back. I should have – “

“You didn’t know how it was gonna go down. None of you could have known that. And from what Kevin told me at the scene, you jumped right into action, kept it together for her until the ambo showed up. You did good, Jay,” Hank assured him.

Jay shook his head in disbelief as he sat back down in the chair he had previously occupied and Hank took a seat beside him. He felt the tears he’d been holding back finally fall from his eyes, not caring who saw.

“I can’t lose her Hank,” Jay whispered.

“I know and you won’t. She’s gonna pull through,” Hank told him as he placed a hand on Jay’s shoulder.

Jay looked up and met his Sergeant’s eyes again as he tried to control his heavy breathing as more tears filled his eyes. “I can’t lose her. I – “

Hank squeezed his shoulder as he looked at his detective. “Jay, I know.”

“Jay?”

They both looked up to see Will standing in front of them and rose from their chairs in an instant.

“How is she?” Jay immediately asked as the rest of the Intelligence team and multiple patrol officers stood behind him waiting. He watched as his brother took a deep breath and then locked eyes with him.

“She’s really lucky. The bullet just missed an artery. She’s still in surgery, but Dr. Marcel was able to remove it. She did lose a lot of blood, but she’s hanging on. She’s a fighter, that’s for sure. They’re trying to repair as much of the damage to her shoulder as they can while she’s still under. They don’t wanna have to put her body through another surgery. She has two broken ribs, several others severely bruised, and she’s got some swelling on the back of her head...most likely a concussion from the fall.”

Jay stumbled on his feet as he heard his brother explain Hailey’s injuries and all, but dropped back down into his chair. He rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head to his hands, feeling another batch of tears in his eyes.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Hank asked the older Halstead.

Will took another deep breath and gave a nod. “She should pull through just fine, but we’ll know more once she’s out of surgery and get a scan of her head. I’m not sure how much longer that’ll be. It’s a waiting game now.”

He cast a worried glance down to his brother before looking back to Hank. “I’ll keep you all updated as much as I can.”

Hank gave him a nod and then Will disappeared through the doors of the emergency department. He caught the familiar eyes of Maggie, one of the head nurses, through the doors. He nodded at her and waved her over.

“I heard what happened. Anything you need?” Maggie asked as she stood in front of Hank.

“Can you get Jay cleaned up please?” Hank asked her in a hushed tone nodding down at the detective. She followed his eyes and saw the blood staining Jay’s hands, jeans and jacket.

“Of course. Jay, come with me,” she said carefully as she set a hand on the man’s shoulder.

The contact snapped Jay out of his daze and he looked up with red rimmed eyes. “Maggie?”

“Come with me. I’ll get you some fresh clothes,” she said again with a gentle voice.

Jay nodded and stood from his chair. Maggie placed a hand on his arm and led him into the E.D. while Hank turned to look back at Adam, Kim, and Kevin.

“Did any of those bastards make it?” Hank asked them.

Kim and Kevin shook their heads, and Adam locked eyes with their Sergeant. “Died on scene.”

“Good,” Hank said with a short nod and ending the conversation.

Another forty-five minutes went by before Maggie brought Jay back out into the waiting room. He had been able to shower in the staff bathroom and was given a matching pair of hospital sweats and sweatshirt. He seemed to be more lucid as he glanced around the room. Most of the patrol officers that had once filled it were now gone, most likely having been called back for duty. He saw Kevin sitting in a chair with his head down and his eyes closed; the man really could sleep anywhere. But what Jay hadn’t expected to see was Vanessa Rojas sitting next to the sleeping officer. She was scrolling on her phone and only looked up when Jay took a seat in the empty chair beside her.

“Hi,” Vanessa said, offering a kind smile as best she could given the circumstances.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you. It all happened so fast and I – “

Vanessa quickly shook her head at him and dropped a hand to his arm. “Hey, no. It’s okay. I’m sure you’ve been going through it. Kev called me. The others had to head back to the district, but Voight didn’t want you to be alone so we offered to stay.”

Jay only nodded in reply as he leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. He felt Vanessa’s eyes on him giving him a once over.

“You good?” Vanessa asked a moment later.

Jay glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow, but she just gestured down at the outfit he had on that clearly wasn’t his. He nodded again and looked forward, his eyes staring out in front of him instead of meeting Vanessa’s eyes.

“Yeah, I uh, I had her blood on me. Had to toss my jeans and jacket,” he said.

She gave a short nod as she kept her eyes on him. “Kev filled me in on what your brother said. Sounds like she’s gonna be okay.”

“I just need to see her. Hear her voice. I need to see for myself that she’s okay. I don’t know what I’d do if –  “

“She’s gonna be just fine, Jay. Your brother said as much. Hailey’s one of the toughest people I know, and after everything she’s been through, there’s no way this is what would’ve taken her out. There’s no way she’s leaving you when she only just got you.”

Jay turned his head to meet her eyes then. He saw the knowing smile on her face and gave her a questioning look, but Vanessa just rolled her eyes at him.

“Oh, please. I knew way before either of you were ready to admit your feelings for one another. I wasn’t all that surprised when she finally told me you guys were seeing each other,” Vanessa told him, coaxing the tiniest of smiles from him as he looked down at the floor.

“Ya know, it wasn’t that long ago I was sitting in this same waiting room next to Hailey when it was you back there,” Vanessa said then, pointing to the sliding doors leading into the emergency department.

Jay nodded his head as he recalled the incident with Angela Nelson. How it was Hailey’s face he saw first after he’d woken up besides the doctors and nurses. He remembered the look of relief on her face, the pure happiness in her smile as she stood next to his bed. And then he remembered the day she came to take him home, how there had been something she wanted to tell him. He’d had a feeling of what that something was and he was ready for it then, but he screwed up by almost answering his damn undercover phone and Hailey had closed up on him. He shook his head again at the memory and met Vanessa’s eyes once more.

“I was an idiot then. We’ve wasted so much time. I wasted so much time,” Jay said to the young woman.

“All that matters now is that she’s gonna be okay. You still have time, Jay,” Vanessa told him.

Before Jay could respond, the doors slid open and Will stepped into the waiting room, meeting his brother’s eyes. Vanessa swatted at Kevin’s arm, waking the man from his nap, and the three stood to meet Will as he approached them and gave a soft smile.

“Hailey’s out of surgery and off the anesthesia, but she’s still pretty out of it. They’re gonna take her for a quick CT scan to check her head, and then they’ll get her into a recovery room.”

Jay breathed a deep sigh of pure relief and smiled his first real smile of the day as he stepped forward and clapped his brother on his shoulder.

“Thanks man,” Jay told him.

Will nodded, smiling widely at his brother. “I’ll come get you once she’s settled.”

“Thank you,” Jay told him again and then he was gone as soon as he’d arrived.

Jay blew out another deep breath. She was out of surgery. She was okay.

“You good, bro?” Kevin asked.

“I am now,” Jay replied.

“Well, we all know whose face she’s gonna wanna see when she wakes up so we’ll head out, but keep us posted. Tell her we love her,” Vanessa said glancing between the two men.

Kevin nodded in agreement and clapped a hand over Jay’s back. “Yeah man. If y’all need anything just let us know. I’ll fill the rest of the team in.”

“Thanks guys,” Jay told them.

He bumped fists with Kevin and Vanessa gave him a quick side hug, and then they left him on his own. He sat back down in his chair, finding it easier to breathe as he replayed his brothers and Vanessa’s words over in his head.

She was okay. They still had time.

It was another hour before Will finally collected his brother from the waiting room and led him to the recovery floor.

“We filled her in on what happened after she came to, but the pain meds knocked her out again. She’s a bit pale, but she’s okay,” Will assured him as they stood outside the door to Hailey’s room.

Jay nodded once in understanding before Will opened the door, gesturing a hand at him to enter.

“I don’t foresee you leaving this room anytime soon so text me if you need anything,” Will said from the doorway.

“Thanks man,” Jay told him. Will smiled at him one last time before he closed the door and left his brother and Hailey alone.

Jay turned and took in the sight of her lying in her bed. She was pale like Will said she’d be and her bed was raised just enough so that she was propped up slightly. He could see pieces of bandages peeking out from the neck opening of her gown from the surgery. As he walked over to the side of her bed, he noticed the slight bulge over her chest and stomach through the fabric, and he remembered what Will had said about her injured ribs. More bandages.

He caught sight of a chair in the corner of the room and brought it over to the side of her bed. He sat down next to her on her good side, unable to resist reaching for her hand, and breathed out another sigh of relief at the warmth he felt.

He stared at her face as she slept and found himself shaking his head at the irony of the situation as he remembered the conversation they’d had not too long ago. Back when he and Adam had done an undercover buy with a couple of meth dealers and they were cornered by an unexpected offender with a gun.

“I’m just glad it wasn’t you in my position...”

Jay had said those words to her as Hailey drove them back to the district. After he had held her as she cried for him, thinking the worst had happened to him yet again.

Here they were three months later and she was right where he’d been one too many times before. Laid up in a hospital bed and recovering from a bullet.

He understood then how she must have felt when it had been him in this situation. How frustrated she must have been with him all those times he was reckless and put himself in harm’s way. He made a silent promise to himself and to her in that moment that he’d do better, that he’d be better for her. The last few hours had been his own personal hell and as much as he never wanted to feel this way again, he especially didn’t want Hailey to have to feel it again either.

He kept a hold on her hand, brushing his index finger over the inside of her wrist and felt her pulse beating against her skin. He was sure he’d never felt something so wonderful as he did right then, seeing her alive and feeling it too.

He smiled again as he kept his eyes on his partner, his grin quickly growing wider at the realization that they weren’t just partners. Hailey had become his best friend. His favorite person. She had come into their unit and changed everything for him. Encouraged him to go to therapy, forced him to face his demons, to be better like he tried to be before she came along. He wouldn’t be the man he was now if it weren’t for her.

He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss to her palm before he put it back down at her side. He didn’t let go even as he dozed off.

When he blinked his eyes open sometime later, the first thing Jay saw was a pair of blue ones staring back at him and he smiled instantly at the sight.

“Hey you,” he whispered. He straightened himself up in his chair and leaned forward, squeezing her hand that he still had a hold on.

Hailey gave him a crooked smile, the morphine still making her somewhat drowsy as it continued to drip into her IV bag, and she squeezed back weakly.

“How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” Jay asked her.

“Yeah, get me out of here,” Hailey croaked out.

Jay smiled at her again, glad to see his partner still being her usual sassy self even with the circumstances that surrounded her.

“Yeah, that’s not happening anytime soon. Not until Dr. Marcel clears you,” he told her. She groaned back in response as she shifted slightly in her bed.

“Seriously though, do you need anything?” Jay asked her again.

“Nuh-uh. ‘M good,” Hailey mumbled as she set her eyes back on him and took in his appearance for the first time since she’d woken up.

“You okay? The team? Did we get ‘em?” Hailey asked him.

“You’re laid up in a hospital bed and worried about everyone else. Why am I not surprised?” Jay smirked at her.

“Tell me.”

“The team is good; everyone is back at the district. And yeah, we got ‘em,” Jay told her.

“And you?” Hailey asked.

Jay took a deep breath as he looked back at her. He could see the worrisome look in her eyes and knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to her. She could always read him so easily even before they’d started seeing one another. He reached out his free hand and held her hand with both of his, clutching on to her as tight as he could without hurting her.

“I’m fine now that you’re awake. Gotta tell you though, it didn’t feel too good seeing the girl I love bleeding out the floor,” Jay told her, his voice raspy as he felt another run of tears fill his eyes.

Jay smiled at her as he saw her mouth part open at his confession and then he noticed how her eyes glossed over from sudden tears. He released her hand before standing from his chair and leaned over the side of her bed to press a kiss against her forehead. He felt her take hold of his hand and looked down at her with another soft smile on his face.

“You love me?” Hailey asked him. Her tone was small and questioning as if she’d thought she might have heard him wrong, but Jay just nodded back at her.

“I love you so much, Hails. You have no idea how much,” he told her.

“Come here,” she whispered, tugging on his hand and trying to pull him towards her. He just shook his head playfully at her before leaning back down and kissing her briefly on the lips.

“I can’t kiss you how I really wanna kiss you, but that’ll do for now,” Jay told her as he pulled away. He sat back down, scooting his chair as close to her as possible, and rested his arms on the side of her bed.

“Stupid oxygen tubes. I don’t even need them,” Hailey mumbled making him laugh.

“I disagree and they’re gonna stay exactly where they are,” he told her as he stared at her with a stern look in his eyes.

“Fine,” Hailey groaned again as she pulled her hand out of his and started tracing mindless patterns on the top of it instead.

“So they told you what happened?” Jay asked her as he watched her.

“Yeah, gonna be out of commission for a while. PT and a lot of desk duty for the next month or two. From what they told me, it seems we’re gonna have matching shoulder scars, partner.”

“Now who’s the bullet magnet?” Jay teased in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“If I didn’t have such a headache right now I would roll my eyes at you,” Hailey told him causing him to smirk back at her. Her fingers stilled over his hand and her eyes started to droop. She blinked them open trying to fight the sleep her body was obviously craving and needing.

“Why don’t you rest some more, huh? The quicker you do that, the quicker you get out of here,” he suggested as he took hold of her hand again.

“You staying?” Hailey whispered as her eyes started closing again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.

“Jay?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you too,” she mumbled to him before her eyes closed once more and she gave in to the pain meds.

He couldn’t fight the grin that splayed out over his face as he heard her say the words to him. He squeezed her hand again even though she was fast asleep and leaned back in his chair, content enough now knowing she was alright.

As he sat there holding her hand and watching her sleep, the grin on Jay’s face grew wider as he replayed their conversation in his head. He was so in love with her and she loved him back just the same. He didn’t know what would come next for them, but he was sure that whatever it was they would be just fine. She was okay and they still had time and they would deal with things together because they were partners.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Late July

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Pairing: Agent Whiskey [Jack Daniels]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit explicit.

Summary: Upon hearing about you from Tequila, Jack Daniels seeks you out with a full set of emotional baggage to work through. You happily oblige, helping him craft a scene that just might grant him some peace of mind. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @cookiethewriter @culturalrebel @jackierey09 @crookedmoonsaultpunk @duker42 @agirllovespasta @nelba @pedrosbigdorkenergy @lestrange2703 @youmeanmybrain @luvley-shadow @theocatkov @miscellaneousjunkk @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @buttons-beads-lace @gooddaykate @lackofhonor

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains consensual non-consent (surrender play), light domination, roleplay, unprotected sex, frank discussion of safe words, usage of safe words, dirty talk and light bondage. Remember that fanfictions are not research and that you should never engage in any activity if you do not trust your partner. Stay safe!]

There was just something about you that put people at ease, and Ginger Ale noticed during the interview process. "You have a gift!" She had praised you, her smile unexpected and bright. "I can see why Tequila recommended you for this position."

Granted, being the 'head of first impressions' at a distillery that was actually a front for a secret intelligence agency had its ups and downs, but you enjoyed the work and (if you were honest) the exciting interactions with the Statesman agents. 

Tequila, of course, would practically drape himself across your desk as he regaled you with (hopefully) exaggerated tales of his heroics. The two of you were sexually involved but preferred to keep each other at arm's length out of the bedroom, neither party particularly keen on surrendering your freedom and committing to anything serious at this point of your lives. You admired his dedication to Statesman, and he in turn respected your desire to have a successful career. He also was blatantly mooning over a certain analyst.

Ginger Ale was quieter and sharper than Tequila, her dry humor a joy to witness. She was the one who had done your interview, and she had given you the full behind the scenes tour once your background check went through. She was beautiful, charismatic and smart as a whip. You hoped to one day be as self-assured as she was.

Champ tended to keep to himself for the most part, though you had encountered him several times in the past when he dozed off in a certain chair at the end of a sunlit hallway. The elderly man was like an old tomcat, you decided, able to prowl but more than willing to take it easy.

Whiskey was often away managing the affairs of their New York headquarters and as such, was the one that you interacted with the least. He would come breezing in at all hours, a slow smile and a wink directed your way before he would saunter past. The rare occasions that he engaged you in conversation were nerve-wracking, as you were a little starstruck due to the glowing accounts both Champ and Tequila had given of his prowess in the past.

Ginger Ale was a bit more down to earth, thankfully. "He's just a man who's lost a lot, and his reasons for wanting to change things for the better may not be entirely altruistic." She had informed you concisely when you queried about the origin of one Jack Daniels. You had picked up on the veiled sadness in his dark eyes, the age that seemed to weigh him down that wasn't entirely related to years.

So when the aforementioned Statesman agent had drunkenly expressed a certain desire to you at a company party, you couldn't hide a little spike of curiosity. Mainly because the two of you interacted so rarely. Hell, you wouldn't even call yourselves friends. Tequila must have told him about your side activities.

"Ever since I lost her, I can't fuckin' bring myself to raw anyone else." The confession had come out of left field, but you had done your best to play it off like it was normal. Lord knew you had done enough paperwork in your career at Statesman to understand that agents would just kind of…say things thoughtlessly if they believed they were in a safe environment. A hazard of the job.

"What do you mean, Mr. Daniels?" 

"Call me Jack. Jesus, I ain't that old." He had hiccupped sharply, grimacing. "I just mean I...it's like a mental block. I wanna', I'm excited about it, and everything's fine until I try to come and boom. Python shrivels up like a damn salted slug and I'm left holdin' the bag tryin' to explain myself." He stared into his glass, looking pensive. "Real mood killer."

"Any idea why this might be?" You had prompted, leaning against the bar and idly scanning the throngs of people around you. It wasn't every day that so many of the company's rank and file rubbed elbows with the higher-ups, but you had to assume these economic mixers were what had kept the company (and intelligence agency) on such an even keel. It was a grounding experience, a way to remind the suits of their humble beginnings.

He scoffed out a breath. "Oh I know exactly why. When I lost her, I...we had only learned a little while before that she was havin' a baby. We'd been havin' a rocky time and we were actually thinkin' of breakin' up, but that news…" Jack had tilted his head to glance your way, his brown eyes distant. "If I hadn't gotten her pregnant, she wouldn't have been out shoppin' that day, y'know?" A sad smile had quirked his mouth beneath his mustache. "My fault."

At the time, you had made a noise of sympathy and gone to lay a hand on his arm before you could think better of it. He, instead of shrugging off your touch, actually ended up twining his fingers through your own and giving your hand a light squeeze.

Agent Whiskey's past was a shadowy affair in the Statesman organization. Though to be fair, no one really asked anything about anyone. Ginger Ale reasoned that the less people knew, the safer they and Statesman were in the event of a security breach. 

Anything you learned from any of the agents, you tended to keep close to your heart. It was your nature to gather useful information and foster trust for a rainy day. That personality facet had served you well as you had climbed the ranks from intern to head of first impressions, and knowing that you were someone that could be counted on to hold your cards close put many people at ease.

Including one Agent Whiskey.

"Tequila said you were good at helpin'. I'd be much obliged if you'd consider takin' a crack at my sexual baggage."

...

"Alright so for your words, you've decided on 'sixth' as your 'yes I'm into this', followed by second for 'slow down but don't break character', first for 'slow down and do break character' and finally neutral for 'full stop'." You tapped the customary notepad on your lap, glancing over at the man across the table. The two of you were currently sitting in the kitchen of the vacation cabin that your parents had willed to you, the modest dwelling often your staging ground for affairs like this. The warm wooden decor tended to make your partners feel more at ease and less vulnerable. Perceived safety was, after all, incredibly important when crafting scenarios.

Jack nodded. "Gears are easy for me to remember. Simple." 

"Got it. And no kissing on the mouth. Can I kiss you in other places, or would you prefer I didn't at all?"

"Kissin's fine." Jack allowed. "Whatever you wanna' do is fine, just not on my mouth." You jotted that down. "Hey, I uh...I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate you agreein' to help. I dunno' if this will work, but…" Whiskey rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Thanks. When Tequila mentioned your...extracurriculars, I figured he was jus' bein' outta' pocket again."

You grinned at that, giggling a little. "Does he get weird a lot?"

"I mean, he's uh...well, he's got his moments." Jack replied with a smile of his own.

"So," you hummed once you had checked your notes again, "after looking over all the information we've compiled, and the ideas you gave me an outline of, I'm thinking that you may want more of a 'surrender-play' kind of experience." 

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask how that's different from what I already suggested?" 

"Look, you and I both know that I couldn't keep you from moving if you wanted to. Now, if we had a real working dynamic going on and I believed that you would listen and trust me implicitly so that you don't end up hurting yourself or me, then we might have something. But as we are right now, that's not gonna' happen." Whiskey inclined his head with a rueful chuckle, acknowledging the truth of your words. "So I propose that it's more of a scenario where all the agency is removed."

The agent leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "Explain."

"You need a scenario where you aren't in control and there's not even a chance of you being in control, taking any responsibility or guilt from the equation." You elaborated. "Basically, you would surrender your control so that you can indulge guilt-free. A lot of people do this coupled with a roleplay aspect in order to test new things that may be out of character for them."

"You coulda' jus' said you wanted to tie me up, sugar." Jack drawled. "I'll show you some good knots."

"You don't have any issues with being secured to...I guess a chair, probably? We'll keep you upright. If we sprawl you out on a bed that might be a little too vulnerable." You reasoned, waiting for his nod before you wrote it down. "I know it sounds contradictory, but I want you to be comfortable in what we do. Should I leave your clothes on?"

"If you can stand to, I'd appreciate it." The man answered with a cheeky wink. "Bein' naked and restrained is a little too close to the job description." He sighed after a moment, tipping the chair backwards as he laced his fingers behind his head. "Now I warn you, if I'm supposed to be an unwillin' party, I may display a little less Southern hospitality and a little more Southern history with my language, if you catch my drift."

You pursed your lips, squinting at him. "...is that your way of saying you might use a naughty word or two?"

You received a lazy finger-gun in reply, "bingo, cherry pie. You got any names you ain't a fan of bein' called?"

"Oh! I mean, I've heard just about everything in the book." You straightened up as a thought occurred to you, and then pointed back at him sternly. "No slurs."

"Ma'am," Jack sounded aghast, "I am not that breed of Southern gentleman. My lingo can verge on the spicy, but I sure as hell wouldn't stoop to that level." 

You narrowed your eyes to drive your point home. "I really hope not." The agent inclined his head once more, putting a hand over his heart in a display of sincerity.

The front legs of the chair met the floor with a soft clatter, once again putting him on stable footing. "Now, I been wrackin' my brain tryin' to drum up a good premise like you asked, but I ain't exactly big in the screenwritin' department. I figure it could be kinda' like I'd been kidnapped? Drawin' a blank on why my kidnapper would be rawdoggin' me, maybe you can come up with somethin'?" He queried hopefully. 

You furrowed your brow in thought, going silent as you carefully considered the hodgepodge of contributing factors. "Oh, I think I can manage."

...

This deck had been rigged from the start. In theory, you knew that he knew that. Still, he was certainly acting like it stung his pride a bit that he'd fallen into your 'trap' so cleanly. 

Everything was going according to plan. 

Whiskey struggled against the binds that secured him to the kitchen chair. His whip was safely confiscated. Lasso out of reach. Hat was still on his head. He had specifications, after all. 

You left him to wriggle for almost half an hour while you got yourself ready. The man was a secret agent, after all. If he hadn't been restrained for much longer than that at any given point you would be very surprised. 

You finally opened the bathroom door, sauntering out into the cabin's small kitchenette. "Miss me, love?" You crooned, committing to your role as villainous vamp stereotype number six. You had worn a plain set of underwear and an oversized white t-shirt, soft and see-through from the amount of times it had been washed. You got the feeling that if you went more elaborate, you might scare Whiskey off or make him too uncomfortable to really get into it. This scene was all about trust, and he hardly knew you. But he had sought you out for this. All you had to do was follow through.

"Was beginnin' to worry that you forgot about me, ma'am." The agent drawled back, his smile tightly sardonic and his low voice curling hot in your belly. "You fixin' to untie me yet?"

You clicked your tongue, the noise disappointed. "Whiskey, sweetheart, where's the fun in that? If I untie you, you'll just kill me."

"Can't blame a man for tryin'." Jack was absolutely in his element right now. He looked furious. 

You ambled around behind him, slinging your arms around his neck and resting your weight on him briefly. "Remember," you murmured in his ear. "If you need me to slow down, or need to stop entirely, you say…?"

"Second, first and neutral." The agent replied readily. You patted his cheek.

"Good boy." You praised. 

"Ain't my first rodeo." Whiskey's tongue darted out nervously to wet his lips and you wanted to reassure him, but you knew you had a job to do.

"Now, can I get you a light refreshment? Something to drink? Maybe some chips?" You offered, moving to the small refrigerator that you had stocked a little earlier in the day. Planning was imperative for engagements like this. "I have water, sweet tea, Coke…"

"Dammit woman, stop beatin' around the bush! Why the hell do you have me hogtied to this damn chair?!" Jack erupted. 

"So rude." You chided him, removing a water for yourself and then leaning casually against the counter. "You really want to know, Mr. Whiskey?"

"Obviously." He scowled.

"Well be a patient boy and maybe I'll tell you." You hummed, not making eye contact as you unscrewed the cap on the water bottle. "It was more than enough trouble for me to get you here in the first place, big shot. Don't rush me."

"Listen, I'll be the first to tell you that I probably ain't who you're lookin' for." He said bluntly. "I'm just a simple liquor tycoon, nothin' more."

"Mr. Whiskey, if you continue to insult my intelligence maybe I will decide I've got the wrong man. And then I'll just get rid of you." You swirled the water in the bottle, fixing him with a thoughtful look. 

"You're talkin' a mighty big game, woman." Jack grumbled. 

You sloshed some of the water on your thin white shirt as if by accident, and began daubing at the gauzy fabric aimlessly. "Whiskey-"

"It's Jack." He spat.

"Oh, we're on a first name basis? How exciting!" You teased him, laughing when he muttered angrily under his breath. He was clearly enjoying the role of 'belligerent definitely-not-a-spy'. "Alright then, Jack. I won't beat around the bush, as you so tactfully put it."

"Hallelujah, some goddamn cooperation." He replied in a sulky tone.

"So, Jack, I need you to come inside me. Strictly so I can bypass Statesman's biomechanical security systems. It's nothing personal, I just assumed you would be the easiest target, you know?" You remarked with a shrug. "The flirty cowboy with the filthy mouth." He stared at you and you raised an eyebrow, half-convinced that his reaction was legitimate. "What? You do have a reputation."

"I hate to break it to ya', but you got the wrong beverage. You're lookin' for Tequila, ma'am." Jack retorted, his voice a little raspy. "You want...what?"

"I need you to come inside me so I can use the your genetic signature to bypass the security." Granted, you were pretty certain that Statesman used exclusively fingerprints, retina scans and time locks, but Whiskey had told you to weave a good story for the setup, not necessarily an accurate one.

Jack swallowed hard. "You've got bats in your fuckin' belfry, woman. You expect me to-"

"Oh no, that's the beauty of this arrangement." You interrupted him, still smiling. "I don't expect you to do anything aside from sit there and stay still while I ride you." 

"Jesus fuck woman, you--shit, isn't there some other way to do this? I ain't keen on the prospect, but if there's literally any other way…" 

"Sorry. This is the only solution that my superiors could get behind." You sighed, feigning regret. "And we might be here a while, from what I've heard." Jack's eyes darted to yours and he flushed, working his jaw. "Don't look so glum! I'm one of the best in my field. I'm sure I'll be able to compensate for your...lack of investment."

"You touch me and I swear to God-"

"Ah ah, naughty boys get gagged." You threatened gently, walking your fingers up the side of his face to stroke them back down his jawline. Jack glared at you, his dark gaze fairly luminous with fury and maybe just a touch of poorly-veiled interest. "Be a good boy and I'll let you talk as much as you want. Maybe I'll even let you play with my tits, hmm?" You asked, cupping your breasts through your still-damp shirt. "Would you like that, love?"

"I…" Jack trailed off, then snapped his eyes back up from your chest. "No!"

You tapped his nose, winking. "Oh I think you would. Don't be so stubborn, Jack." You cocked your head to the side. "No one from Statesman even knows you're gone. No one is coming to rescue you." You informed him, all the playfulness evaporated from your voice. "You're mine now, Jack. My own personal key-card."

"You won't get away with this." Jack snarled.

"I think I already have." You knelt between his legs, running your hands over the jeans that covered his thighs. He squirmed, trying to dislodge you, but you just moved with him. You dug your nails into his thighs. "You keep wiggling and I'm going to have to tighten the ropes, Jack. Is that what you want?"

"Oh you filthy fuckin' woman, you absolute bitch, let me go!" 

"Hmm," you tapped your chin as he kept jerking and straining against the knots. "No." 

Jack froze when your fingers unbuttoned the button at the top of his fly. "Now wait, wait just a damn minute, y-you can't--" he tried to plead.

"Oh I can. And I will." You looked up at him. "As long as we're in the right gear?"

"Sixth, sixth." He affirmed, flashing you a quick smile. You nodded and seamlessly resumed your play.

The zipper of his fly opened devastatingly slow, the agent exhaling raggedly when you pulled up his shirt and palmed his groin gently through the fabric of his boxer briefs. His cock was already half-hard, and you pointed that out with a mean little smirk on your face. "Oh no, looks like someone's interested." You crooned, rubbing your index finger over the head of his still-clothed dick.

"Fuck off, you...y-you-" he swore, rolling his shoulders as if he was testing his bonds. "You little bitch."

"Temper temper." You chided, ducking your head down to mouth over the fabric of his boxers. Jack gasped out another swear over your head, his hips twitching up to meet you before he slammed them back down. "Methinks someone doth protest too much." You snorted, splaying your fingers on the newly-revealed skin of his stomach. "We could make this so much simpler if you would just give in, Jack." You didn't miss the way his skin jumped at your touch, and you smiled against his boxers.

"You'll--you'll have to do better than that." Whiskey breathed. "You think just any ol' woman can get me up?"

You stood, leaning in close and pressing your mouth to his ear. His whole body flinched when you wrapped your fingers around his cock and gave him a nice, slow stroke. "Oh, poor thing. You must believe you're really special, hmm? God's gift to mankind every time you take someone to bed." You mocked, your teeth and tongue laving over his earlobe. "We're all so lucky to have you, Jack."

"Hhn-" Jack's shoulders went stiff, the man obviously biting his tongue. 

"You don't have a choice, sweetheart. I'm going to get you hard. Then, I'm going to use your cock. And all you have to do, my lovely, handsome cowboy, is come inside me." You informed him, drawing a finger beneath his chin. "More than once, preferably."

"I'm not usually a man to voice my own shortcomin's, but I must warn you that this will be a futile-" Whiskey's words hitched in his throat when you stroked him again. "Fuck, no, don't touch me like that, you--"

"Stop playing hard to get, Jack." You murmured, slinking your free hand up the back of his neck to massage his scalp right beneath the band of his hat. "Give up."

"Never." He hissed even as his head lolled forward, granting you more access to rub his neck. 

"Pity." You settled back down between his legs and wrapped your lips around his cock. 

"No, no, dammit-" Whiskey growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Don't you fuckin'...no, no, don't use your tongue the-ah f-uck--" His protest died in a pitiful groan when his cock met the back of your throat. "Oh, you--fuckin'--you've got to be shittin' me woman, the whole-?" He grunted out haphazardly as you relaxed your throat and took him all the way down to the base. "You think y-you can take advantage of me jus' cuz' it's been a while since I got laid? Fuck you."

You hummed around his cock, wanting to giggle when he twitched and swore loudly. Your fingers dove past the hem of your underwear, and you moaned against him as you ran your index in slow, steady circles around your clit. 

"I ain't fuckin' you, and I sure as shit am not gonna' come in your pussy." Jack snarled. 

"Oh yes you are." You sang, rising to your feet and slipping your panties off. The white t-shirt came next, baring your breasts to the air-conditioned environment. 

Jack seemed to forget that he was supposed to be vehemently against this yet again as he just...watched while you teased your nipples. You tugged at the taut peaks, rolling them between your fingers and making a show out of the whole bit. 

"I can't wait to have you inside me, filling me up, just pumping me full of your come." You said with a smile, sauntering over until you would be in reach if his hands were free. Jack's tongue made a nervous reappearance and you tugged his chin upwards so you could see his eyes. "Are we still in gear? Or do we need to shift?" You asked. He seemed slightly dazed.

"Oh! Uh, sorry, s-sixth." He stammered. "Sixth, holy shit."

"Mm. Don't disappoint me and maybe I'll let you live." You remarked smoothly, swinging one leg over his lap and straddling him. Jack's shoulders were rigid again and you kneaded at them surreptitiously, trying your best to keep him in the scene and out of his own head.

You were well on your way to soaking wet with arousal. There was nothing better than when you had a partner that trusted you, regardless of whether you had truly earned that trust. Just the fact that they had blind faith in you to execute the endeavor that they needed...it was heady and sweet and you loved every second. 

You rutted your pussy against the underside of Jack's cock, the man snapping his teeth at the sensation. "Too good?" You taunted, laughing when he swore again.

"I can't believe that you think I'm fuckin' enjoyin' th--look, any dick perks up at heavy pet-" 

Cutting Whiskey off mid-sentence was quickly becoming a favorite pastime, you realized as you angled your hips and let the head of his cock push past your pussy lips. "In, just a little, give you a taste, sweetheart…" you sighed, rocking your hips forward and back but not allowing him to sink any deeper into you. "There, that's not so bad, is it?" You cajoled as he shuddered beneath you. "Just keep being good, my sweet cowboy, and this will all be over so much sooner." 

"No, no-" He struggled to move, to do anything, but you had made certain to tie him exactly as he had specified. "Dammit, when I get free of here, I'll--"

"Shh, you think too much." You tapped your index finger to his lips, smoothing it over the bristle of his mustache. "Focus on your job right now, and everything will be fine." 

Jack turned his face away, inadvertently presenting the thick column of his neck to you. And you, channeling your inner villain, leaped at the opportunity to lick and bite at the bared skin. He made a strange noise, a combination of a moan and a whine that had you raising an eyebrow. 

"Is someone a little sensitive there?" 

"No, I am not." He answered through gritted teeth. "I hate that you're touchin' me, that's all!"

"Hmm, it doesn't sound like you hate it." You mused, suckling gently at the spot where his jaw met his throat. You were very careful not to leave marks, as that had been another specification. Whiskey struggled underneath you again, only succeeding in pumping his cock up into you slightly.

"Don't, don't--" His voice actually cracked and you smiled, nuzzling your nose beneath his jawline and letting his dick settle deeper.

"Oh no, it seems like you do want to fuck me after all." You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back and stroking over the base of his cock with two fingers. "Warming up to the idea of being my little fuck toy, Jack?" You teased, noting the way his knuckles whitened from his grip on the rope and his Adam's apple bobbed with the force of his convulsive swallow at your words. "I could just keep you here like this forever, you know. All tied up, helpless for me…" You squeezed the base of his cock and he gasped, trying to stifle the noise. "Soon, I'd have you trained so that you couldn't come from any other pussy aside from mine. Wouldn't that be fun?" 

Without waiting for an answer, you let the last few inches of his dick enter you. You leaned back on his thighs, feeling the muscles coil and strain beneath your touch as you reached down and grazed your clit. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, those brown eyes fixated on the motions of your fingers even as his cock split you open. You were grateful that he was secured, you weren't sure if you would have been able to take him otherwise. His cock curved thickly against your back wall, the engorged head throbbing back and forth over the area that made your whole body shudder in delight. 

Whiskey's jaw was taut, his shoulders set in a rigid line that made you ache to get him to come undone in you.

"You're so quiet." You pouted, raising your hand and brushing your wet index finger over his slack lower lip. "Aren't you having a good time?"

His chest abruptly expanded, like he had forgotten to breathe for a moment or two. "Fuck you." Whiskey seethed, making you chuckle softly. "I ain't nobody's goddamn fuck toy."

"Sweetheart," you chided as you sat up. "That's not a very nice thing to say to the person warming your cock right now." You deliberately clenched down on him and Jack swore under his breath, shaking his head. "I can make you feel so good, Whiskey, if you just give me what I want." You insisted, cupping his face and pulling halfway off of his cock. 

"N-N...No." He replied weakly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and shaking out your shoulders. "Well, I tried." Your hands landed on his shoulders and you gripped down to steady yourself, your hips meeting his own with a wet slap! of skin. Jack's chest heaved, his eyes closed and head tilted back as you began to ride him roughly. "All I wanted was for you to come in me. I don't feel like that's asking for much!" You complained petulantly, rolling your hips against his when he was hilted in you with an agonizingly slow grind of your body.

Jack bit out a low "fuck," those tense shoulders trembling under your touch. You tucked your face into his neck to tease the sensitive area even more, your tongue tracing random patterns that made him squirm and writhe underneath you. "I don't--can't, can't, don't make me--" he tried to protest, his words fractured and pitiful. 

"Yes you can, and you're going to." You snapped, taking a handful of hair at the nape of his neck so you could urge his head back further, leaving his throat at your mercy. "You're coming in me, Jack! Give up!"

...

"First!" He choked out, and you immediately slowed to a crawl. Your touch on him gentled significantly, no longer demanding but cradling, caressing. 

"Easy, easy." You soothed, the unrelenting assault of your perfect hips gone to a slow and careful rhythm, back and forth like a porch swing in the summer heat. Your eyes searched his own, concern shining through.

Jack was speechless, his blind panic melting away at the sound of your regular voice. What the hell just happened? He licked his lips, only now realizing how dry they had gotten. "Sorry, I uh-"

"No apologies." You murmured. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Would you like to stop now?"

Whiskey took a long moment, running a mental check on his body. Nothing was sore, nothing seemed out of line. Everything was raring to go. 

Everything aside from his brain, that is. The damn thing wouldn't stop conjuring up scenes of you pregnant and everything going to absolute fucking shit. It didn't matter that he had zero attachment to you, it didn't matter that you were on birth control. This was how it always was. 

Every damn time things got serious with a new interest, "oh, let's start a family," Whiskey just wanted to curl up into a ball. Without fail, like clockwork, he would shut down. 

And then the accusations would start, the distrust, "How come you can do it with protection but not without?" and it was disheartening, crushing to go through again and again. Explaining didn't seem to do a lick of good, it was always just that he was stringing people along, that he was a damn selfish prick, that he didn't care about what his partner wanted.

That couldn't be further from the truth, of course, but maybe that was his own fault for not dropping the bomb before getting attached to someone. He just couldn't ever seem to justify asking a person on their second or third date, "hey so what's your thoughts on having kids?" It felt manipulative, cheap, and if he was being honest, he knew for a fact that sometimes just the idea of having children was enough to scare a potential interest off. 

You were the first person to try and help Jack really wrap his head around this whole issue. And yeah, that was the whole point in sussing you out, but…

Tequila didn't tell him that you actually gave a shit, or at least you were damn good at acting like you did. Whiskey bit his lip. "I'm okay." He said finally, trying for a smile.

"Anything chafing? Do you need some water?"

"I…" Jack trailed off. "Huh, I admit I am a bit parched. But that means you'd have to get up." He realized unhappily.

"Were you enjoying yourself?" You asked, sounding curious. 

Whiskey got the hysterical idea in his head of you pulling out some sort of satisfaction survey at the end of your engagement, the notion making him smirk slightly. "God, yeah. I...yeah." He flushed a little bit. "Dunno' if I ever got this far after…after all my mental hangups and stuff. The fact that I don't have a say in the matter seems to be helpin', though."

"Okay, don't go anywhere. I'll get you some water." You patted his thigh, cautiously settling your feet on the floor and then going to stand with a quivery little gasp that absolutely stroked his ego.

Jack couldn't help his own groan at the loss of your heat, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Damn it woman, has anyone ever told you that your pussy is fuckin' perfect?" He muttered, his usual honeyed words suddenly clumsy in his mouth. "I mean, hell."

You laughed, bending over to dig in the small fridge for another water. Whiskey felt his entire body throb at the sight of you presenting yourself to him like that, and he sucked in a breath at your obvious teasing. Even in the soft light of the kitchen, he could see the glisten of the wetness between your legs. Hell yes, he found himself thinking stupidly as you turned back around. 

"I'm just glad that you're doing alright. That's the most important part to me, after all." You assured him, unscrewing the cap on the water and tipping it to his lips.

Jack gulped greedily, feeling a few droplets escape his mouth and run down his neck to blot his collar. "I am. One hundred percent." He said firmly after he had slaked his thirst. "Let's keep goin'."

"If you're sure, absolutely." You acquiesced, smiling again. Placing the water bottle on the kitchen table, you then swung your leg over his thighs like you were vaulting back into the saddle. Jack held his breath, waiting for you to welcome his cock back into your body. And God he was so hard, he couldn't remember ever being this hard, what the hell--

But strangely, you didn't immediately resume from where you had left off. Instead, you put your arms around his neck and actually rested your forehead against his own, bumping his hat upwards. 

Jack swallowed roughly, confused. 

"Let me take this from you." You whispered. Whiskey felt pinned by your stare, he felt as if you could see every terrible thing he had ever done, every transgression laid bare under the weight of your gaze. "Let go of it. I have you. I won't let anything happen to you." 

The words washed over him, soft and sweet. Your fingers slipped up into the hair at the nape of his neck to toy with the mussed ends that lurked there. The whole exchange was oddly intimate and Jack found himself at a loss yet again, simply grating out, "sixth," when he couldn't come up with anything else to say.

You reached down and stroked his cock, rubbing the head of it against your clit. And Jesus he could feel you, the difference in heat, the slick--

"Are you gonna' take it from me, sweet girl?" He hissed through his teeth like it wounded him to ask, trying desperately to cling to the illusion that he wasn't willing. "Take everythin' I've got?"

The blur between reality and this playdate was getting messier by the second. He wanted to fuck you, wanted to bury himself in you, spend every last drop inside the hot embrace of your quivering cunt. He wanted that. Jesus Christ, this wasn't part of the bargain.

This was a pantomime, specially designed pornography that existed only to coax a very specific reaction from his confused body. So why did he wish he had met you years ago? Why was he suddenly hoping and praying that the sounds you were making were legitimate instead of exclusively for his benefit, hoping that you were also enjoying this?

You angled your hips and sank back down on his lap, your hands going to your breasts where you proceeded to fondle and tease them until your nipples looked like they ached.

Whiskey fucking ached himself to wrap his lips around one pert little peak, swirl his tongue across the tip and make you come undone, rut his dick up into you until you cried out his name and soaked him--

Whoa cowboy, he chastised himself, a little startled by how sharp the longing was. You just kept fucking yourself on his cock, that hot, wet little pussy molded perfectly to every ridge of his member and he had never been this hard, this ready in his life. Despite the air conditioning in the cabin, your skin shone with sweat from all the work you were putting in and Whiskey couldn't recall a time where he had been more appreciative of someone else accomplishing a task within his field of vision.

Your hand slipped down, down, and Jack found himself following the trajectory until it delved between your legs and you started playing with yourself. "Jack," you crooned his name and it was like a prayer, reverent and soft, tender enough to coil itself around his lungs and choke him to death without a whisper of protest. You parted your legs even wider in his lap, exposing yourself to him so he could watch his cock slide in and out of you, so he could see himself fucking you open.

"Are you gonna' come for me, sweet girl?" He gasped, craning his neck and managing to tilt his head so he could mutter into your ear, "you just gonna' wrench one out for me, beautiful?"

"Mm, no, I'm not coming until after you come." You whimpered, still moving your hand. "But I'm so close, Jack. I want to come."

Your plaintive whine had him ablaze. God, he had never wanted to please someone so damn badly in his life. "I know you do, sweet girl." He murmured huskily, exhaling hot over the shell of your ear and loving the way you quivered in his lap. "You're so good, lettin' me blow my load before you get off--gonna' pump me dry when you come, aren't you? Just keep me inside you until that little pussy is all fucked out," he growled, barely aware of the words that tumbled from his mouth. 

All he knew is that you were all a-tremble at his voice, your body as hot as late July against his chest, your eyes heavy with adoration that he did not deserve and God, he couldn't get used to that look even if it was fake. What if you stayed? he wondered absently. What if you stayed?

Oh fuck, he was about to come. Panic jabbed like the blade of a knife between his shoulder blades and Whiskey went silent, his teeth bearing down on his lower lip and his eyes slamming shut as he focused harder than he ever had in his life.

The smell of you, the sounds, the heat, the little spasms of your cunt around his cock…

Yes. Yes, God yes, he could do this-- 

"Come in me, sweetheart." Begging him, pleading, demanding, "Jack-!" You cried his name.

Whiskey groaned hoarsely, so low it was almost painful, and let go. He bucked his hips up against you as best as he could, minute little thrusts while he came harder than he had in years. "Oh," he snarled, gritting his teeth, "fuckin' Christ woman, I think you've ruined me, Jesus fuck."

Your hands threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck again and you held him, not tightly, but just enough to keep him steady, anchored. "There," you said abruptly, the snide, put-upon tone of your role contrasting wildly with the gentleness of your touch, "was that so difficult?"

Jack burst out laughing, not overly concerned with how strange of a reaction that was. Hell, was he relieved? "Jesus fuckin' Christ, you're great." He remarked breathlessly. "I don't even know what just happened."

"Oh?" You replied, raising an eyebrow. "The mess between my legs seems to allude to you possibly having an orgasm. Jury's still out though."

He grimaced apologetically, glancing down. "Sorry darlin'. It's been a while, y'know?" You rose up off of him again and he grunted as his cock slipped free from your body. Whiskey felt half-drunk, relief and release combining into a potent cocktail that left him boneless in the chair. 

You quickly put your shirt back on and then crouched at his feet, beginning the arduous process of untying him. Jack just sat there, watching you drowsily. He couldn't do much else, really. "Any numbness or chafing?" You asked quietly, stirring him momentarily from his daze.

"Nah, nothin' yet." He replied, straightening his freed left leg and rotating his ankle in his boot. "A little stiff, but I've survived worse than that." 

"And how do you feel?" You questioned, "physically and emotionally."

Jack gnawed at his lower lip, trying to force his sluggish brain past the haze of serotonin in order to give you a satisfactory answer. "...good." He said finally, scrambling to elaborate, "or uh, better, I guess. More okay than I've been in a fuckin' while." It wasn't a lie, he was surprised to discover. He hadn't actually put much stock into this endeavor, figuring it would be a fun little diversion that would end just like every other time. Of course, it didn't hurt that you were easy on the eyes, prettier than a peach if he was being honest with himself.

Your smile was bright and Jack's stomach knotted confusingly. "I'm glad."

His right leg was released and he shifted his weight in the seat, groaning happily when his hip popped. "Hey, wait." The agent belatedly realized, "you didn't-?"

"We were here for you." You reminded him. "Not me."

"Whoa now, that don't seem fair at all!" Whiskey protested, taken aback by your nonchalance. "You just put in all the work!"

Your laugh tripped down his spine like an aftershock. "Don't get bent out of shape! It's standard policy, Mr. Whiskey. Once the desired result of the scene has been acquired, the scene ends and I start with aftercare."

"B-But--you didn't get to get off though!" 

"Me 'getting off' wasn't specified in our planning." 

"I needed to specify that shit?! I figured you'd just kinda'..." His right arm was free now and Jack seized the opportunity to make a certain gesture, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, I was at your mercy!" He continued, bewildered. "You totally coulda' just kept goin'-"

"Yes, and that's exactly why when the desired result has been achieved, the scene ends." You interjected firmly. "Because you trusted me enough to let me take control, and I'm not about to break that trust by doing something selfish on a whim."

Jack exhaled hard, scooting his hat a little further back on his head so he could study you. You didn't look disappointed, or annoyed with him. He wondered how many times you had fielded ignorant questions like his own and he cringed at himself. "I'm...shit, I'm sorry. I don't have any right to be all shitty about it." He apologized as you moved out of his field of view to untie the rope securing him to the back of the chair. "I just feel like you worked so hard an' got nothin' out of your end of the bargain."

"It's sweet of you to be concerned about that, but don't take it personally, okay?" You assured him, "I do this because I enjoy it. The whole experience, not just the finale." The ropes around his chest sagged and Jack slid forward a bit in the seat, relaxing. 

"Can I get that water again? Christ, I need a cigarette and a tumbler of the strong stuff after all that." He joked, clumsily tucking his cock back into his boxers. You pressed the bottle to his hands and he nearly dropped it, chuckling self-consciously. "Whups, sorry. I had my fists all bunched up so my fingers are stiff." Jack proceeded to down the rest of the bottle, wiping his mouth and mustache with the back of his hand after the fact. "So...what exactly is it you do for Tequila?" He queried nosily.

You laughed at him and God, God he loved the sound of your laugh. "That, Mr. Whiskey, is on a need-to-know basis. Just like this little soiree between the two of us." You chided, your eyes bright with good humor. "I would never violate a partner's trust in me."

Jack tipped the bottle in your direction, as if making a toast. "I'll drink to that, partner. What's next on the menu?"

"We'll talk out the scene and wind back down. Get cleaned up. I'll probably…" you paused, squinting at the clock over the sink. "You want some pizza? There's a joint not far from here that serves pies and chicken wings until midnight."

Jack groaned appreciatively, "I knew you were my kinda' gal. Lead the way to the debrief, ma'am."

It didn't really matter in the long run, he supposed. You obviously weren't interested in anything serious (if only because he figured that your flings with the stereotypical 'bad boy' Tequila would have become more regular in spite of the younger man's painful crush on Ginger Ale), and he could respect that. Still though, he couldn't help feeling a touch morose over the possibility of never engaging with you again. 

He toyed with the idea of asking you for another 'appointment', but dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it arrived. Better to quit while he was ahead.

Or rather, he amended ruefully as he settled down across from you in the diner booth, his hair still damp and curling slightly beneath his hat from the quick wash he had indulged in at your cabin, better to quit now before I make even more of a fool of myself.

Part Two

[tinyboxxtink]

"Doppelganger" *Part 23*

WHOO, y'all. I don't know what it is about this story but I am just...rolling it all out with the tragic backstory. No angst, I promise-- It ends happy chill out. But damn. Maybe I'm working out my own issues in here...lulz.

This gif will make so much sense you have no idea.

PART 22

Part 24

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------

“....And how did that make you feel?”

You tried not to laugh out loud as the question left Dr. Crestview’s mouth. Did she really just ask you that?

“...I mean it makes me ‘feel’ bad,” You rolled your eyes with a laugh while looking out the window. When you turned back to the doctor she was not laughing, and she was writing something down.

“...That was a joke,” You clarified.

“Oh yes, I get it,” She nodded as she continued writing.

“Do you?” You asked her frankly. The question caused her to stop writing and look at you.

“Mrs. Barba--”

“Ms. YLN,” You corrected. “I’m not married yet,”

“...Hmm, interesting,” She wrote something down. Seriously? She even had an insight on what-- technicalities?

“I’m sorry, was that some sort of test?” You asked sarcastically.

“Actually, it was,” She said to your surprise.

“Excuse me?” You looked at her, baffled.

“You know when most women get engaged, they start imagining their last names as their husbands. You know such as changing their signature, gathering documents, and the like,”

“...Are you serious?” You laughed again. “This is 2021 lady, half the women I know didn’t even take their husband’s last name at all,”

“And is that what you’re going to do?” She asked. “Keep your last name?”

“...If I say yes are you going to psychoanalyze that too?” You crossed your arms.

“In my experience Ms. Y/L/N, women who don’t want to change their last names tend to do so because they want to keep their independence, their…’identity’. They think taking a man’s last name is ‘giving up’ something. Giving up their identity,” She explained.

“...And?” You gestured with your hand as if waiting for her to continue.

“And in my educated opinion, it also signifies a woman going into a marriage with one foot out of the door already,” She simply stated.

“Wow,” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh. “Did I come here to resolve my trauma, or for marriage advice?”

“I think they’re one and the same, Ms. Y/L/N,” She stayed completely calm and emotionless.

“Are they?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Given what you’ve told me in our last few sessions, you’ve given off a tone that you don’t think you deserve good things. Maybe you’re keeping on foot out of your relationship so that when it falls apart, you’ll be ready,”

“Wow....wow,” You started to stand up and storm out of the office, but she stopped you with a question.

“I’m sorry if I offended you with my observation Y/N, but be honest. Am I wrong?”

You thought about all the talks you had with Rafael about ‘not being good enough’ for him, or ‘stealing his love’. And on the one hand you felt that you were ‘connected’, you felt safe and secure. After everything you’d been through, it was almost impossible not to be, right? Right?

“....And what is your magic solution to this feeling, doctor?” You crossed your arms.

“You need to forgive yourself,”

“...Jesus Christ,” You rolled your eyes with another laugh as you paced the room. “Really? That’s your solution? Telling me something I already know?”

“No, my solution is this: You need to apologize to your parents,”

“EXCUSE ME?” You practically screamed.

“You blame yourself for their death, correct? You think that because of their desire to make you happy they risked their lives driving into the city and therefore got into their accident,” She looked over her notes from past sessions with you.

“...Right,” You looked down at the floor.

“And I don’t think that you have ever forgiven yourself for that. And in not doing so, you haven’t forgiven yourself for anything you’ve done since then. All these things you say you’ve ‘done’ to Mr. Barba that you should be ‘punished’ for-- he doesn’t see it that way. Other people don’t see it that way. Your parents' accident wasn’t your own doing, getting kidnapped wasn’t your fault. I think that you need to find closure with your parent’s death before you can even begin to ‘forgive’ yourself for whatever transpired between you and Nevada Ramirez,”

“....So you want me to apologize to my parents? How are they going to ‘forgive’ me?” You asked her.

“I think you’ll find Ms. Y/L/N that just the act of apologizing will bring about its own form of forgiveness,” She smiled.

“.....Right…” You tried not to sound condescending, but for a shrink she sure sounded crazy.

“Or don’t listen to me, I can’t force you to do anything. But that is my advice,” She shrugged.

“Noted. Thank you, doctor,” You nodded and walked out the door.

----

You walked out into the streets of the city from your doctor’s office and thinking about just how or when you’d have a chance to go to your hometown where your parents were, when you were stopped by a young girl on the street.

“Oh my god...you’re Y/N!” She gasped.

“...Yes?” You stared at her blankly.

“You’re that girl who killed Nevada Ramirez!” She squealed, causing a few people to stare and take pictures of you as they walked past.

“Oh good lord…” You muttered nervously. “Yeah well um--”

“Can I get a selfie with you?”

“Um--” You looked around, not sure of what to do. You wanted to run down the street screaming, but you thought better of it. You turned back to her with the fakest smile you could form.

“Sure!” You threw an arm around her and smiled as big as you could as she snapped a selfie with her phone.

“Thanks!” She beamed at you. “ And by the way, your fiancé is REALLY sexy,”

“Oh girl I know,” You faked a laugh and a toss of your hair as she walked away with a laugh.

It really creeped you out that girls were ‘fangirling’ over your fiancé. As if you weren’t worried about keeping a hold of him all on your own. Also how did she even know what he looked like?

The article.

You grabbed your phone and did something you told yourself you’d never do: You googled yourself.

The first thing that popped up was an article on the NYTimes.com front page:

“Fairy Tale Romance Or Horror Movie?”

...What the fuck?

The article contained your video as the main focus. Then under it the article basically dictated the video, with Tasha’s opinions thrown in here and there. Then most of the photos from the photoshoot of you and Rafael were at the bottom of the page. They were gorgeous, you had to admit. Granted you were both airbrushed to hell, but Rafael in a suit drove you nuts. Even if it was just on a screen. You dialed his number as you continued walking down the street.

“....Hola, mi amor. How is my pinguino feeling?”

“Well she’s currently feeling like she’s got the sexiest man in New York City,” You grinned.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” He asked you curiously.

“Check out the picture I’m texting you,” You grinned as you texted him one of the photos from the spread.

“Oh Christ…” You heard him mutter through the phone, causing you to giggle.

“Oh yes, you even have your own fangirls now,” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“No I do NOT,” He argued in disbelief.

“Yeah I’d be careful leaving your office there counselor, a group of tweens might be waiting outside,”

“Oh my god...they’re breaching the doors!” He acted terrified, making you laugh harder.

“Oh I think I see one,” You whispered as if you were sneaking up on someone. “She’s holding a ‘Barba 4Eva’ poster board,”

“You better be kidding,” He warned.

“No, in fact I think she’s right outside your door,” You bit your tongue with a smile.

“Oh well I’d better call security then,” He chuckled as he sauntered over to his office door and swung it open.

“Oh my Gooodddddddd it’s Rafael Barba!!! The sexiest ADA in New York City!!” You giggled wildly, jumping into his arms like a crazed fan.

“I should definitely look into some armed guards at my door,” He laughed as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

“Oh most definitely, wouldn’t want to let the crazies in,” You nodded as you kissed him again.

“Well I think it’s too late for that…” He teased you while tousling your hair.

“Shut up,” You playfully hit his hands away.

“Speaking of crazy, how was therapy today mi amor?” He asked cheekily.

Wowwwww, sexy AND sensitive, how did I get so lucky?” You rolled your eyes. “Actually, she gave me homework,”

“Did she?” He inquired.

“Yes,” You suddenly got very serious. “She um, she told me I need to go see my parents,”

“...Your parents?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, something about needing to ‘apologize’ to them or some weird shrink thing like that,”

“....Do you think it will help?”

“I mean...” You sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t know. But I’d like to try,”

“Bueno,” He nodded walking closer to you and kissing the top of your head. “So are you going to go now or--?”

“Well I was kind of hoping you’d come with me,” You bit your lip. You didn’t know if asking him to come along on your shrink homework assignment was allowed, but you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Maybe that was the point.

“Really?”

“I mean, I met your family,” You half laughed, trying to make light.

“Right,” He nodded his head with a chuckle. “Well then, let’s go,”

“...Now?”

“Why not?” He started to walk towards the door.

“Don’t you have a job?” You pointed to his desk.

“Oh they just like to pay me to sit in here so nobody robs the place,” He joked as he grabbed his coat. “I have nothing going on today baby, they won’t miss me.”

“Okay then,” You shrugged uneasily. “Guess we’re going to Jersey,”

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

After a train ride and a taxi later, you arrived in your small town of Shallow Meadow.

“Christ Almighty, I knew Jersey was in the dark ages, but not even having Uber??” Rafael grumbled. He hadn’t been in the back of a dirty cab in such a long time, and now he remembered why.

“Alright Daddy Warbucks, chill,” You laughed as you started walking with him through town.

It was a quaint little town; one stop light, one grocery store, two bars, something out of an old movie really You know the movies where the car breaks down in the tiny shitty town and all the townspeople are flesh eating zombies or something. The people of Shallow Meadow were pretty much like that. Well, to you anyway.

“So why didn’t we just have the Mayberry Express drop us at the cemetery?”

“...Because we don’t have roads you can drive on up there,” You answered with a nervous smile.

“...Right,” He shook his head as he noticed people coming out of shops to stare at the two of you. “...Do I have some kind of weird sign on my back that says NEW YORKER or what?”

“No, but that thousand dollar suit screams “moneybags” out here,” You smirked. “Besides, they’re not staring at you they’re staring at me,”

“...What? How do you know that?”

As if it was answering his question, a girl with bright red hair dressed in farm clothing and holding a baby on her hip came sauntering up to the two of you.

“Well lookie here,” She smirked. “Miss Prissy Pants brought back herself a Prissy Papa,”

“Excuse you?” Rafael was taken aback by such rudeness by such a poorly dressed person.

“Marla back off,” You scowled at her. “Just because you’re upset I found treasure and you’re stuck with trash--”

“OH, is that what we are now? Trash?” Marla spat. “You have a lot of nerve coming back here and saying that, murderer,”

“WHOA,” Rafael stepped in front of you. “I’m sorry, what-- what did you just call her?”

“Did she not tell you the story? Oh no wait I bet she did, her version. The version where she’s the victim and we’re all just the villains. Isn’t that right, Prissy?” She glared at you.

“...I never said you were--” You tried defending yourself.

“Really?” She scoffed. “Then why did you not even bother to show up to your folks’ funeral? Their ONLY daughter, the ones they DIED for. Couldn’t even be bothered to leave her high rise in the city to pay respects to the parents she KILLED,”

“It wasn’t like that and you KNOW it, Marla! And why was I going to come back? The only two people left in this town that tolerated me were gone--” You got up in her face.

“AND WHY IS THAT, Y/N?” She got back in yours, her baby almost falling out of her arms.

“Alright lady I don’t know who you are, but you’re going to back the hell off my fiancée--”

“Oh good God, your fiancé?” Marla laughed. “You would find yourself a sugar daddy, since you killed yours,”

“Alright you know what we’re leaving--” You grabbed Rafael’s hand and stomped away towards a huge hill that had a sign reading “CEMETERY” at the top.

“I hope you’re heading up there to beg their forgiveness Y/N, ‘cuz you sure as hell ain’t getting any down here!” Marla yelled angrily after you.

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

“...Well I think we just figured out where your forgiveness issues came from,” Rafael tried making light of the situation.

“Ya think?” You nodded.

“This whole time,” Rafael shook his head. “This whole time I thought you just had it in your mind that you were responsible for their death. But-- but you had an entire town telling you that,”

“...Yeah,” You shrugged.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, baby?” Rafael took your hand as the hill got steeper.

“Because I thought they were right, Rafael!” You said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I tell you that an entire town thought that I was a murderer? That’s not really a selling point on a partner,”

“...You thought they were right?”

“...Well, yeah,” You nodded softly with a small smile.

“And now…?”

Before you could answer, you reached the entrance of the cemetery. Luckily it wasn’t that big; you were ashamed to admit you didn’t even know where they were buried. But you found them in a small corner under a shade tree. You walked up to their mutual headstone:

“Y/M/N AND Y/D/N: Beloved Husband And Wife, Mayor and First Lady.”

“...Mayor?” Rafael looked at you in surprise.

“Yeah, well--” You shrugged. “You see why they were so beloved, and I was the hellish daughter that killed them?”

“Y/N…” Rafael put a hand on your shoulder.

“I was supposed to want to ‘take over the city’, like I would ever want to be in charge of anything in this stupid backwards hick ass town,” You scoffed angrily, tears stinging your eyes.

“...But didn’t you say that your parents wanted you to go to Juliard? Pursue your dreams?” Rafael asked in confusion.

“They did! My grandparents-- they had a different view,” You shook your head. “The...the hierarchy here it’s-- well it’s not really a democracy,”

“...How so…?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Because everyone just loved and accepted my family as, I don’t know, the ‘royal’ family?” You felt so stupid comparing your family to the Royal Family, but you didn’t know how else to explain it.

“The Mayor and First Lady titles were just...passed down, in my family. And not because they were dictators or something,” You quickly added the last part, you didn’t want Rafael to think any less of your family than he probably already did.

“People here are just...simple,” You sighed. “They accept things the way they are, they hate change. So it was just assumed that my family would always be... "the family’,”

“But you didn’t want that,” Rafael said again.

“Of course I didn’t want that!” You scoffed. “I didn’t want to just get a high school degree and then marry some ‘Cletus’ redneck man from here and have ‘heirs’ just to keep the family going!”

“But your parents understood that,” Rafael reiterated.

“It didn’t matter what my parents did or didn’t understand. My grandfather had more clout with the townspeople here,” You rolled your eyes. “My dad was the ‘mayor’, but his dad controlled everything. His father had been the mayor for over thirty years before he passed it onto my dad, who didn’t really want it either” You walked up to the headstone and ran your fingers over your father’s name.

“....So when he tried to ‘save’ me from that life, my grandpa wouldn’t hear it. He blamed me for...for manipulating them into giving me anything I wanted, like I was a spoiled little child. He blamed me for them giving me their life savings to go to Julliard instead of putting it back into the town treasury. Then he blamed me when they got killed, and he just reinstated himself as mayor! Which, I haven’t checked but I’ll be damned if he isn’t still rattling around his old ass bones in our house! He’ll just haunt this place forever!” You threw your hands up and looked down angrily at the town down below.

“Carino…” Rafael came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You took his hands in yours and kissed them before turning to face him. You looked into his sparkling green understanding eyes for a moment, before directing your attention back at the headstone.

“....This is Rafael Barba, mama and daddy,” You pulled him gently forward. “We’re getting married soon,”

“...Nice to meet you folks,” Rafael said awkwardly.

“...Raffi they’re dead,” You smiled jokingly.

“Right, right,” He shook his head with a small laugh.

“...He’s a very good man, daddy. I know you always wanted that. And he’s very handsome, so you’ll have beautiful grandchildren mama, just like you wanted,” You smiled while Rafael softly chuckled.

“...I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come,” You finally said with tears rolling down your cheeks. “I should have been here sooner,”

“But you’re here now,” Rafael softly rubbed your back.

“Yeah…” You nodded softly. This was the hard part.

“...I’m---I’m sorry, that I made you feel like horrible parents that night,” You tried not to cry, but the memories of that night flooded your memory the more you spoke.

“I’m sorry that you thought you needed to come see me, that you weren’t good parents if you didn’t,” Your lip trembled, you fell to your knees.

“...I’m sorry the last words you heard from me were ‘I hate you’,” You finally broke down sobbing.

“Y/N…” Rafael knelt down next to you and held you in his arms as you cried.

“Do you get now why...why I don’t think I deserve you? Why don't I think I deserve anything? Why I think I have to take everything? Fake everything? Because I am such a terrible person my own parents died thinking I hated them because I was that horrible to them!”

“They didn’t think you hated them, carino,” Rafael rocked you back and forth. “They knew you loved them, I know they did,”

“You know you’re probably right, Rafael. But it--I needed them to hear it,” You nodded at the gravestone.

“And?”

“...And I feel a lot better,” You smiled as Rafael wiped tears from your face.

“Really?”

“Yeah…Really,” You chuckled. “I guess that therapist really knows what she’s doing,”

“She should for the amount of money I pay her,” Rafael shook his head with a laugh as he helped you stand up.

“...Thank you for doing this with me, amor,” You sniffled, pressing your forehead against his.

“Of course, penguino,” He kissed you softly. “And, for what it’s worth--” He added as you two walked back down the hill towards town.

“I think that if your parents were alive, they would be proud of you,”

“Oh, I know my mother would take one look at you and be DAMN proud,” You both laughed at that.

“And I also think they would be appalled to see how their townspeople treat their daughter,” He glared at the town.

“Yeah well,” You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore,”

“I’m glad to hear it,” He took your hands as the sun started to go down in your sleepy little town. “Now can we please get back to the city before I catch something out here?”

“Yes,” You giggled, staring at him lovingly.

“Let’s go home,”

[mymothershumility]

neverflownwithme asked: “Princes bleed just like other men.”

past transmissions || { always accepting }

{ Part 1 } & { Part 2 } & { Part 3 } & { Part 4 } & { Part 5 }

{ Part 6 } & { Part 7 } & { Part 8 } & { Part 9 } & { Part 10 }

{ @neverflownwithme }

Though the room about them is small in size, it is packed to near bursting with all manner of items. Leather bound tomes are piled upon shelves, scrolls arranged atop desks, and trunks stacked along the stone walls. For then, such items pale in comparison to the painting that had drawn her eye when the room had been flooded with light.

Eyes drift over the portrait, gaze flickering across the seven figures painted upon the canvas. She knows them all save for one. The youngest of the seven is little more than an infant with her dark mahogany curls and shining amethyst eyes. She is swaddled in deep grey and white silks and cradled in the crook of her mother’s arm.

Saera.

Laira recalls the name as if it is an extension of herself... as if it is a part of her. As she ponders the state of her dreams of late --looks upon the physical manifestation of them-- she cannot help but think such a thing might be true. Her visions have been too detailed --have felt far too real-- for there to be another explanation.

And, now, there is all of this.

“There has never been a recorded recount of the Targaryens and the Starks marrying,” Hal says, eyes still trained on the painting.

His voice surprises Laira, has her own gaze turning to look at him. He has been quiet since their discovery, focus devoted to the portrait before them. Still, there is no disbelief or confusion in his voice. As Laira looks to him, he seems almost relieved by what they have stumbled across hidden within the walls of her solar.

“None before the two of us,” Laira offers, pausing as she considers her next question. She is hesitant to voice it aloud.

‘Ask him if he knows,’ something whispers to her. ‘Tell him what you have seen while you have slumbered.’

It is not the taunting voice from King’s Landing that speaks to her. Instead, it is the comforting one that had soothed her when she had first woken upon Dragonstone. Again, fear seems to slither its way down the column of her spine. Is she losing herself to grief and anger once again?

Has the damage already been done?

Is she going mad?

Has she already slipped into the abyss?

“It is Visenya Targaryen,” Laira begins, her voice hesitant, “and Tor...”

“I know,” he interrupts, eyes still trained upon the portrait. “I know who they are.”

His words shock her, make her body go rigid as she reaches for him. Her hand sets itself upon his arm, fingers practically trembling as she holds on to him. “How?” Laira asks, fearing what he may say to her. Has she told him of her dreams in some past conversation? Has she confided in him and forgotten it?

When he reaches and sets his hand over the top of her own, thumb ghosting across the bumps of her knuckles, some of her fears abandon her. She feels as though his coming answer is not so dire... that, perhaps, her fears are unwarranted. All the same, he seems hesitant himself to speak after her inquiry… if only for a moment.

“I’ve had dreams about them,” Hal finally admits, the words low. His brow has pinched together in thought again, a look of practical relief fluttering across his face the longer he gazes upon the portrait before them. “All of them,” he goes on, giving a nod towards the portrait.

Laira cannot keep herself from clinging to him all the tighter, relief bleeding through the press of her fingers and the gaze that she casts across to him. “I have seen them as well,” she admits aloud. There is something freeing about the admission, something that lifts the weight that has been settled over her shoulders since she had awakened screaming not so long ago. “I have been dreaming of them since arriving here.”

“So have I,” Hal returns. He lets his gaze linger a moment or two longer on the portrait before he turns to look at her. “I thought, perhaps, all the trials and the losses we have faced might have been to blame for it. Some sort of wishful thinking on my part.”

He pauses in his explanation once more, a sigh working its way from him. When he does, Laira speaks before he can continue on. “I do not believe that our dreams are so simple in their origins,” she admits. Not now. Not after the bloodstained stones within her solar. Not after the portrait that seems more mirror than painting to her. “Do you?” she asks him.

“No more than you do.”

They keep their positions just on the outskirts of the room, neither wishing to breach the threshold and pass through the open doorway before them. Too much uncertainty lingers ahead of them. Far too many questions are brewing. Though Laira wishes to find some sort of answer to all that has been occurring in the capital and there among Dragonstone’s ancient walls, there is also a part of her that worries what she may discover.

“It’s late,” Hal murmurs over to her, arm moving so that he can set it across the plain of her back. His hand finds a home at her waist, fingers dipping into the fabric of her robe. “We can investigate matters further when morning comes. You need to rest,” he reminds. His statement is punctuated by a brief kiss to her temple and the press of his cheek to the crown of her head. “We will find the answers to our questions.”

She cannot deny his observation, does not even think to try. Her body is sore in all the ways that she anticipated it would be from their lovemaking mere hours before. And, though her nightmare has faded away to nothing more than a passing discomfort, her head now aches and throbs because of it. Rest would be wonderful, yet Laira is uncertain how much she will be granted now.

The Queen allows her husband to draw her away from the room and back towards the main living area of their apartments. She allows her magic to slip, watching over the line of her own shoulder as the sconces upon the walls flicker before extinguishing all together. 

Returned to their bed, there is little rest to be found despite the exhaustion that clings just at the back of her mind. Buried beneath the sheets and the heavy duvet atop their bed, back pressed to Hal’s chest, Laira attempts to let the calming hammer of her husband’s heartbeat and the grumbling roar of thunder sooth her back to slumber. Disquiet awaits her each time her eyes slipped closed. She sees the portrait in the back of the hidden room within her solar at times. But, mostly, she sees Shiera Seastar, gasping and dying among a pool of blood in ruined silver and pearl silks.

If Hal sleeps, she cannot be certain. Too many times she feels his breathing change, feels his muscles bunch as if in anticipation of some sort of strike. He keeps still despite all of that, holding her to him as they both attempt to rest. It is a hopeless attempt, in the end; however, Laira welcomes the comfort he gives to her all the same.

When dawn begins to break, casting a hazy gray light through the windows of their apartments, Laira slips out of Hal’s hold to go in search of clothing to change into. She has fresh dresses and gowns available to her, all of them hanging pristinely within her armoire. She sees very little use in donning them, though. With all that she is planning to do that day, it seems senseless to ruin a dress or a gown among the dust of the hidden room. She pulls out a pair of soft riding leathers and one of Hal’s worn tunics, slipping on both in relative quiet. Taking up her abandoned pair of silvered hair pins, she sweeps her hair up into a tangled nest of curls atop her head before securing the hair in place.

Feet bare, but dressed otherwise, she steps back into her solar. The doors are left ajar as she enters, the sconces upon the wall bursting to life with flame. Those within the hidden room do the same, yellow light reflecting off the dark stone within it and casting dancing shadows across the space.

Everything is as it was those few short hours before. Leathered journals, tomes, and heavy trunks are stacked in every available space. There is another Myrish carpet set along the floor, one that stretches from wall to wall in all directions.

Pausing for only a moment at the threshold Laira steps into the small room, breath momentarily hitching in her chest. She anticipates something. What, she cannot say. A vision, perhaps. Or some other oddity. When none manifest, her breath leaves her in a relieved sounding sigh.

Stale air still lingers in the space, clinging to the walls and carpet beneath her feet. Everything seems to loom about her as she stands just inside the doorway. It’s near overwhelming, the stacks of tomes, scrolls, and sealed trunks. The portrait at the end of the space, lit by the dim rays of dawn breaking through the windows of her solar, is all the more striking.

Turning, she reaches and begins sorting through the stacks of leather bound journals and scrolls that are piled upon a desk near the doorway. She does not know how else to begin, does not know if there is even a correct place to start. Among the stacks, one journal above all the others draws her attention. She recognizes the Lyseni craftsmanship, the deep amethyst leather impeccable. Moreover, the three headed dragon of House Targaryen is emblazoned in silver along the front cover.

Flipping through the pages, she finds them filled in their entirety in a foreign --yet strangely familiar-- hand. The pages are filled with various journal entries, recounts from as far back as 193 AC. Laira begins reading from the first entry, eyes traveling across the page and the carefully penned words that are written upon it.

The first several entries are short, snippets of encounters and happenings. Some of the entries contain notes, reminders for the recorder. Others contain desires or wishes. Some, even, list grievances and fears. It is not until a quarter way through the journal that the entries seem to shift. They become longer, more detailed. It is easy for Laira to pinpoint the cause of the change. By then, she has seated herself in the middle of the room, legs drawn up so she is sitting cross-legged upon the Myrish carpet. The journal is resting in her lap, fingers ghosting along the silvered edges of the bound parchment as she devours the words.

She does not start when two familiar presences join her. The first comes to rest against her side, black fur brushing against her legs and the exposed skin of her arms. Moone whines for attention, going quiet only when she is granted the sweep of Laira’s hand over the top of her head. The second presence comes but a moment later. Hal slips up behind her, bending until he is sliding into place behind her with a tired sounding sigh. She recognizes the exhaustion all too well… feels it herself bearing down upon her shoulders.

Still, she slides back to sit between his legs at the press of his hand to the crook of her elbow, her own legs uncrossing to help push herself back. She folds them underneath one of his own when she settles, toes momentarily curling against the carpet.

“You did not sleep,” Hal speaks, leaning over her shoulder to see what she is reading.

“Neither did you,” Laira returns, mouth quirking when she feels him press a kiss down onto the bare line of her shoulder. “I hope that it was no fault of mine.”

“You know better.”

“Perhaps,” Laira concedes. Another smile lifts the corners of her mouth when a porcelain cup is passed over her shoulder to her. The porcelain is warm under her fingers when she takes it from Hal. The contents swirling within it smell heavily of orange and ginger. “Thank you.”

His initial answer comes in the form of a quiet grunt, arms moving until they are wrapped around her. The flats of his palms rest against the plain of her stomach, fingers intertwining until they are steepled together over her. “Mira gave me a rather scandalized look when I granted her entry.”

“I pray you were clothed,” Laira murmurs. When she sips from her cup, she releases a quick sigh of approval. Her tea is sweetened perfectly with honey. There is a hint of lemon lingering in the background of the brew as well. Her husband’s doing, she knows. Laira holds the cup back to Hal in offer, keeping hold of it until she feels one of his hands rise to take it from her hand.

“Partially,” he admits, drinking from the cup himself. His sip is more careful than his wife’s, not wishing to scald his tongue or the roof of his mouth. “My tunics have begun disappearing once again.”

“A curious mystery.”

Laira welcomes the ease of the conversation, welcomes the way that they are able to converse in such a manner despite what they have stumbled upon just hours before and what surrounds them even now. There is some sort of unspoken vow there between them, Laira thinks. A vow that they will find the answers that they so desperately hope to, yet will not allow anything to sway what they already are to one another. They cannot allow a desire for answers to ruin what is already there between them.

And, they shall not.

“What have you found?” Hal finally asks her, taking another drink from the cup before passing it back to Laira. “A maester’s recount of something?”

“A personal journal,” Laira answers, fingers plucking the cup back from him. She takes her own sip and then sets it aside on the carpet beside them. “It belonged to Shiera Seastar.” As for all of the other items within the room, Laira cannot say. “Aegon IV’s final mistress, Lady Serenei of Lys, has been mentioned among the pages I have read a number of times. Queen Naerys and the Dragonknight have been as well.” She goes quiet. Then, she admits, “I dreamt of her last night. Shiera, that is. She was in my nightmare.”

There is little known about the Star of the Sea. That, Laira already knows too well. Yet, Laira can recall the various dates that surrounded Aegon IV’s last Great Bastard. Those recorded, thus far, within the journal intersect perfectly with the life that Shiera Seastar would have lived. What baffles her most, though, is the mystery surrounding the latter portions of her life.

Why was there such secrecy? Why was there so little known of her?

As she ponders such a thing, additional questions spring to mind. Why was Visenya Targaryen surrounded in mystery? Why was Rhaena of Pentos?

“This entry,” she begins, fingers lightly tapping the edges of the pages, “is of particular interest.”

“What does it say?” Hal asks. Some of the script he can read over his wife’s shoulder.

Laira lifts the journal from her lap, holding it closer to her so that she may read from it while allowing Hal the opportunity to follow along with her if he wishes. “The Wolves have journeyed to the capital at Daeron’s request. More have come in tow than originally anticipated. I encountered the Heir of Winterfell earlier in the day out among the gardens. Having listened to my good-sister speak of him, I had expected him to be older than he was and not of my own age…”

The Queen’s private gardens are her favorite. Here, she can sit and read without being bothered by the stares and the whispers of others. The Queen and the King are always kind to her -- have always been kind to her. The King calls her little sister and dotes upon her in a way that her father never had in the few short years that she had known him. And, the Queen is as near a mother to her as she can desire.

All the same, the King and Queen’s pleasantries cannot undo the gossip and the sneers that members of their court give to her when she walks among them. Even at the age of five-and-ten, she has garnered a reputation for herself. It is a reputation fanned into flame by slander and misunderstanding, yet it is a reputation all the same.

It is such a reason that she prefers the solitude of the gardens to the chattering halls of court.

Silver skirts bunched beneath her knees, Shiera bends forward to snip pieces of lavender from the bush in front of her. The trimmings join the others in her basket. She has found all manner of things in her trek among Queen Myriah’s gardens that day. There are pieces of lemon thyme, lavender, and mint in her basket. There are also pieces of tansy, basil, wormwood, and pennyroyal among half a dozen other plants and herbs. And, Shiera has use for all of them.

Some, she will use in medicines and tonics. Others, for cures that some ladies of the court dare not speak of aloud.

Humming softly, she is leaning to snip pieces of rosemary from a nearby plant when a shadow falls over her. She feels the presence clawing faintly at the back of her mind before the voice comes.

Both are uninvited. Both are unwelcome.

“Shiera.”

The young girl scowls, focus devoted to the rosemary plant that she now cuts. She drops the sprigs into her basket alongside all the others, refusing to acknowledge the presence that still hovers just behind her. She hates Bloodraven and everything that he brings forth with him in his wake.

How someone as kind as Lady Melissa Blackwood could birth a son such as Bloodraven truly baffled her.

“Don’t be cold,” Bloodraven says.

There is a hint of a growl to his words. Shiera hears it as well as the birds chirping in the trees all about her. The growl sends a shiver up her spine… or, perhaps that is Bloodraven’s tampering once again. She feels the clawing at the back of her mind once more, a desperate attempt by something dark and incredibly dangerous to gain access to her in some forsaken manner.

Shiera refuses to yield, has long since proven to be a host that Bloodraven cannot gain access to. The daughter of Serenei of Lys would never be one to be so easily controlled. Her defiance only serves in fanning Bloodraven’s temper. Such a feat seems to be a more common one as of late. There is a great deal of pride in that for Shiera.

Let him know that he has met his match in her. Let him know a girl five years his junior already holds more power than he does.

When the shadow above her moves, and Shiera sees a hand stretching out for her, she whirls and slaps the hand away from her. Her gardening shears are dropped, another blade snatched up from the amethyst belt at her waist and thrust in Bloodraven’s direction. The dagger in her hand had once belonged to her mother, had been an heirloom of Serenei’s Lyseni family for generations. Forged from Valyrian steel, Shiera grasps the handle of it tightly in her palm, the blade gleaming smoke gray in the early afternoon sun.

Bloodraven stares at her, having stopped in his advance. He stares. And then, all at once, he begins to laugh. The sound makes Shiera’s skin crawl.

“What are you going to do, Shiera?” Bloodraven taunts. “Kill me? Our dear brother will have your head for such a thing.”

He moves again and, when he does, Shiera slashes with merciless intent. The blade drives home, slashing deep across the other’s untainted cheek. There is nothing that has ever sounded so sweet as the surprised yell that Bloodraven gives in answer to her strike.

Her victory --no matter how small-- is short lived. In the next moment, Bloodraven’s hand is connecting with her own cheek. The force of the slap sends her stumbling to the ground, body upsetting the contents of her basket in her fall as her dagger jolts out of her grasp and scitters across the brick pathway winding through the garden. She attempts to scream when Bloodraven’s weight falls atop her, finds that the sound is muffled, though, by the press of his palm over her mouth and nose. She can’t breathe. She thrashes and shrieks behind his hand, screams louder and louder when she feels his free hand attempting to yank the bottom of her skirts up.

Just as quickly as Bloodraven’s attack starts, it stops.

Shiera feels the other’s weight leave her, hand torn away from her mouth and nose. She gasps for breath, half screaming in the process. Over the sound of her panicked gasps, she hears the sound of flesh connecting against flesh. The sound of snapping bone comes and then Bloodraven is howling and cursing. Shiera looks about her at the sound, searching for her dagger. She spots it only a second later, shining just across the garden pathway. She nearly trips twice over the length of her silver skirts as she bolts to retrieve it.

“You bitch!”

Shiera hears it screamed at her, turns just as she is snatching up her dagger to see Bloodraven making another bolt for her. His cheek is still bleeding from the strike she dealt him. But now, there is additional injury. His nose looks crooked. There is blood pouring openly from it. Broken, Shiera realizes. She cannot temper the fluttering satisfaction that rises within her at the sight. She anticipates another slap from the man, braces herself as she clutches her dagger tighter in her hand. Another body is stepping between her and Bloodraven in the next moment, an unmoving shield between her and her demented half-brother.

“Northern dog!” Bloodraven yells.

Bloodraven never advances beyond the man standing before her. When he tries to bull through him, the man --a Northman, Shiera gathers-- takes hold of Bloodraven’s doublet and throws him back onto the brick pathway. The Northman’s arm extends back while Bloodraven attempts to collect himself upon the ground, urging her to remain hidden behind him. Shiera makes no move to depart from the safety of her spot. She does not move to relinquish the hold upon her dagger, either.

Stumbling back onto his feet, Bloodraven growls low in his throat, glaring over to where Shiera still hides behind the safety of her rescuer. He spits blood at the two of them, wiping his bloodied nose upon the now ruined sleeve of his doublet. A finger is jabbed in Shiera’s before he skulks away, a threat growled out as he retreats.

“I will have you.”

The words send fear cascading down the column of her spine. She takes half a step closer to her rescuer, her free hand touching at his shoulder to steady herself. She’s surprised when she feels his own hand set itself against her arm. She flinches --unwillingly-- with the contact, but does not shrug away from it.

Neither she nor her rescuer make an attempt to move, not until Bloodraven is retreating down the garden pathway in a near whirlwind of black and crimson silks. Each and every step that he takes is framed with a loud curse. It isn’t until he is out of sight that Shiera finds herself willing to move. She steps away from the remaining man, hurrying back across the pathway to where her herbs now lay scattered among the grass. Half of them are bruised and flattened. She will be able to find some purpose for them, she knows, but it will not be what she originally anticipated using them for.

With a sigh, Shiera bends and sets her knees back into the soft grass, skirts bunched up around her again. Her basket is righted before she begins collecting all that has been scattered in Bloodraven’s strike. She keeps her dagger in hand, working slowly. When a presence settles down beside her in the grass --the Northman, she realizes a moment after--, Shiera pauses in her gathering to watch him out of the corner of her eye. He has short-cropped dark brown hair and eyes that are a near match. As she watched him, she thinks his eyes are actually a shade darker than his hair.

“Are you all right?”

Shiera nearly laughs at such a question. This is not the first time that Bloodraven has acted in such a way. She knows that it shall not be the last as well. This is the first time, though, that he has come as close as he did in succeeding in his attack. He is becoming bolder each time.

“Would you like me to find a maester for you?” the Northman asks, a bundle of herbs placed back into the young woman’s basket. “Or one of the Queen’s guards?”

Shiera immediately shakes her head, gathering another fistful of herbs. “They do not need to know,” she tells him. And, then, “You should not have done that. He will be angry now…”

“Princes bleed just like other men,” the Northman tells her. “I should have done worse for what he was attempting to do, Princess.”

She smiles at his response, less from his reasoning and more from what he calls her. “I am not a princess.” To many there at court, she was barely even a lady. The Westerosi courts had little favor for bastard born daughters and sons… even those of royal and noble birth. “And Bloodraven is no prince.”

The thought occurs to her, just a moment later, that the Northman assumed such about Lady Melissa’s son… that he’d defended her in such a physical manner against a man he thought to be a royal.

“He’s not even a man.”

That makes Shiera smile. There have never been truer words spoken. “No, he is not.”

At times, Shiera thinks he is something entirely inhuman. She had thought so since the very moment she met him.

With her herbs back in her basket, Shiera gathers her shears and begins to stand. She’s surprised when her basket is taken up ahead of her. She is even more surprised at the hand that the Northman offers down to her in aid. There’s a moment of hesitation before Shiera reaches to take hold of it and climbs back to her feet. Shiera expects him to relinquish her basket back to her and be on his way. Instead, he keeps his hold on it and offers his free arm to her.

Shiera watches him for a time before slipping her dagger in her hand back into the belt at her waist. Then, she reaches to slip her arm through the other’s own.

“Do Northmen make a habit of defending ladies from unwanted advances and then acting as their escorts?” she asks him, walking with him as he leads her back to the garden pathway. He turns them back towards the Red Keep as they begin walking side-by-side. “Or is it merely a personal code for some?”

“My father would be angered if he discovered I had left a lady to journey anywhere on her own after such a harrowing encounter.”

Shiera makes a sound of understanding. Then, she asks, “And, what would he say to not formally introducing yourself to the lady you aided?”

He laughs at her question. “He would likely be angered all the same,” he admits. “My name is Donnor.”

“Donnor,” Shiera repeats. “Thank you for coming to my aid,” she tells him. Most of the men visiting court would not have… would have been turned away by the reputation that followed her about the court.

“You owe me no thanks for that.”

“That does not mean it is not owed to you.”

It’s Donnor’s turn to hum in understanding. He follows it with a question of his own. “Would my lady grant me her own name?”

“Shiera,” she tells him. When she turns to look at him, she finds him already watching her. “My name is Shiera.”

{ @truetargaryen & @fullrangeofemotions & @xcoatlicuex & @thequeenmaker & @ialwayswasthebest & @viperparamour & @hisvipereyes & @nolongerhispawn & @adornishviper & @shewhoisironborn & @anunfailingkindness & @therosesofhighgarden & @aladyofwinterfell & @fairytalesandstars & @iveneverbeenagoodgirl & @zaldrizo & @arisiarrxb & @alionessroars }

[crystal-moon-101]

Generator Rex - Rewrite!

So I’ve mentioned and drawn things tied to my rewrite of Generator Rex, made between me, my friend and brother. I thought I’d give a basic timeline in what happens in this version through the notes I have, so feel free to read and see what we have to offer. I hope you enjoy what we’ve made, and feel free to ask any questions because I have probably left out many things still. Warning, this does get quite long to read, so you’ll need the time to do that, lol. I am also in the process of writing the Ben 10 Rewrite me and my brother wrote, though that is far longer so it will be a while for it come out, but let me know if you are interested in seeing it! 💙

-History-

Prior-Nanite Event

Violeta, as a child, is adopted by Abuela, raised in the small village/family she looks over.

A young teenager Black Knight, back when she went by her real name Ebony Hale, lived with her single father, who she was close to. Unfortunately, during a break-in gone wrong, he is killed by a burglar. Sadly, not enough evidence was found to convince the suspected murder, despite Ebony’s claims, mostly because of the corrupt and lazy criminal justice system. She is placed into foster care, and starts seeing all the dark sides to the world, due to troubling systems and powerful people, causing Ebony to grow this need for control and dreams of setting the world straight in her own ways.

Van Kleiss is kicked out of his home around when he turns 18, unable to live up to his parents’ expectations, doing what he can to scrape by in life, taking odd jobs and even living out on the streets a few times. He has many failed friendships or relationships of any kind, and starts to distance himself with people because of this.

Ebony jumps around studies, learning things such as law, psychology, basically anything that ties into her goal of making the world what she thinks is best suited for it.

Violeta meets Rafael Salazar during her school studies at university, the two becoming friends and eventually sparking a romantic connection. Violeta is also introduced to Rafael's long time friend Gabriel Rylander. 

A young Six is found and taken in by One, and begins his training with the other members. 

Van Kleiss is involved in a horrific accident that takes his arm. But during his recovery with a prosthetic, he meets Cassandra who is his physiotherapist, who manages to build a connection with him, the two even eventually falling in love.

Early in their marriage, Rafael and Violeta have their first son, Caesar Salazar. It would be another 13 years before they have their next one, as the family gets busy with travelling due to all the job opportunities they get.

Plans of the nanite project slowly start to become something over time.

Rex Salazar is born during the time the family is staying around Switzerland. A few others like Noah are also born around this time or closely to this year, including Circe from both Van Kleiss and Cassandra.

At the young age of five, Rex and his family are brought onto the nanite project by the suggestion of Rylander.

Van Kleiss’s wife, Cassandra, unfortunately, contracts an untreatable disease and passes away. This is the start of Van Kleiss building up his walls once more, but he tries to ignore his guilt and grief for the sake of himself and his daughter. 

After doing his best to hold his life together and finishing up his schooling, Van Kleiss ends up joining the nanite project in honour of his wife. He has many strained relationships with his co-workers due to misguided judgement on both sides, even gaining quite the rivalry with Caesar. However, he and Circe end up befriending Rex, and Van Kleiss somehow ends up babysitting the two quite often.

Meanwhile, a young girl named Emiri (Breach), is adopted into a family, even gaining a younger sister named Mary.

New main nanites are made for the project. The first being the Alpha Nanite, which is the leading nanite that can control them all, used mostly to keep them under control or pass out orders or new updates. The other is the Omega, which can control a selected group of nanites that are nearby, but it is also the key to using the Alpha, as only those who have access to the Omega can have access to the Alpha. The Omega is mostly used for maintenance and testing, perhaps to select out nanites that need fixing or to make the Alpha do something. 

Unfortunately, Rex and Circe sneak away at one point when Van Kleiss is distracted, keen to play hide and seek. Rex ends up finding himself in a nanite room with the Omega, and after messing around with his soccer ball, get caught in a lab accident. Heavy damage if done to his body, and the nanites in the room were broken out of containment and were altered by the lab damage in some ways, finding themselves in Rex. When the others finally got him out of the room and into the medical centre, a decision was made to keep the nanites in Rex, and have the Omega help in his recovery, making him the first patient to be using the nanites. He survives but with...unusual side effects, giving him technological powers that let him control tech around him, and even understand and talk to it, including the nanites. This also drives a wedge between the Salazars and Kleiss family, so whatever peaceful grounds were forming them are gone, even if Rex still tries to remain friends with Van Kleiss and Circe.

Eventually, a new member joins as an assistant, Ebony Hale. She mostly takes care of the minor things, and even ends up becoming the new person to watch over Rex, and the two do form a friendly dynamic with each other. However, what the scientists don’t know is that Ebony is really a spy for the Consortium, their main benefactor, as they wanna keep an eye on how the project is going.

Rebecca Holiday, a young and wild college student, learns that her parents died in an accident, and ends up having to take care of her younger sister, while studying. She calms down in her wild ways, and pushes through so much for her sister and herself. 

After a while, it is eventually figured out that one, there is a spy among them and they don’t know who, and second, the Consortium actually plan to be in the ones in charge of the nanites, including the Omega and Alpha, as that would give them a lot of control over the world. Given they are greedy rich businessmen. With this learned, the series of events that lead to the nanite event begins to unfold.

Nanite Event

The scientist begins to debate what to do about the project. One section of the team suggests they simply destroy everything to do with the project, deeming it too dangerous for anyone like the Consortium to get their hands on, people like Peter Meechum and Rex’s parents agreeing to this. Another section of the team suggests finding away to remove the Consortium from the plan and get another benefactor, just being careful with the project as there is too much to just throw away, people like Rylander and Van Kleiss agreeing to this. And one other section of the team didn’t really care if the Consortium did get their hands on it, as this was what they were paying to do, Caesar actually being in this group (He was often too absorbed in his work, which made him narrow-sighted unfortunately.). After much debate, it was eventually settled to just end the project.

However, Ebony caught wind of this, and informed the Consortium. Wanting to save the project, they hired arm soldiers to...clean up the members of the project, planning to replace them all with a new team eventually. But Ebony secretly did not agree with this, as she has been doing her best to play both sides, given she had her own plans for the nanite project. Plus, she will admit that she had formed some quite nice relationships with members of the project, so she ended up quietly tipping them off to the up-coming assault anonymously. 

The day comes when chaos comes. Some members had already fled, like Rylander and Meechum, who wanted to find their families and vanish. The rest stayed behind to begin destroying all of their work, even Caesar who, while not agreeing with it, helped out in the end. But when armed soldiers started coming in, killing scientists, time was running out fast. 

It became apparent they didn’t have time to destroy the Alpha or the Omega, not with the resources they had. So a plan was devised that someone would take the Omega and flee, as without it the Alpha was mostly useless on its own. But the plan ended with giving Rex the Omega, as his connection to tech and the nanites meant he could hide it in him longer than anyone else could, and would head to the docking bay where Caesar would meet up with him to fly out. It was quite a harsh debate, wondering if it was a good idea to put Rex through this, even his parents hated to do this, but they couldn’t risk letting the world being controlled by these people. Van Kleiss and Circe were originally going to accompany Rex to the docking bay, as they had been planning to up and leave too, but a surprise attack from the soldiers caused everyone to split, including Rex with the Omega.

Distressed from everything, Rex finds himself stumbling his way around, unable to focus properly due to everything going on around him, and the effects of the Omega being inside him. He does run into a group of soldiers at one point, but he is let go by them when Ebony appears. The soldiers knew she was the spy and working with them, so when she ordered them to just let the kid by, not knowing what he was hiding, they let Rex go. Ebony supposes she did owe Rex after everything going on…

Van Kleiss and Rex’s parents get into an argument about all that happened, especially with how they involved Rex in everything and how this project went in the end. Van Kleiss leaves the room with his daughter, planning to run, when he is confronted by soldiers, who demand he open the door to where the Salazars were, or else they would kill him and his daughter. Van Kleiss ends up agreeing, despite how hard it was, and ends up letting them kill Rex’s parents as he tries to shelter Circe from everything. 

Caesar finds his way to the docking bay where his ship/mobile lab is, but sees no signs of his little brother. He looks around and sees and hears everything the Consortium has done to his home, work, friends and family...It makes him feel guilty and hurt for being so narrow-sighted, for actually thinking it was ok to let these people have control over the times. He wants to go back in to find his family, his brother, but he realises that with everything going on, the lab is about to explode. Due to all the gunfire, violence, scientists messing with machines and computers, and even Rex’s stress affecting the Omega which affects the nanites around him, everything was about to burst. With a heavy heart, Caesar flies off just as the labs explode, creating the nanite event. 

Some others managed to escape just before everything went off, including Ebony and some soldiers, but most others don’t survive. However...some were protected by nanites that infected them, as they begin to spread across the globe. Rex also survives thanks to his nanites and the Omega, but all the trauma and stress results in him losing his memories, as he couldn’t handle it, with the nanites wanting to erase it all as a means to ‘help’ Rex cope, in a way…

The mysterious nanite event in history has been marked down….

Post-Nanite Event

The entire world, of course, falls into a panic when people randomly begin turning into monsters after an unknown explosion occurred, the source of the mutations discovered to be tiny machines called nanites. Governments are quick to try and calm the public, and begin starting research on how to stop the nanites and cure those turning into creatures. But fear starts to take control of the world pretty quickly.

Broken from what happened, the small surviving members of the nanite project split off from each other. Peter Meechum returns to family life with his daughter, Rylander tries to confront the Consortium but ends up going on the run from them, having to abandoned his family to keep them safe, and Caesar goes into hiding, in despair over all that he’s lost, believing his parents and Rex to be dead. He isolates himself from the world, working on personal projects to distract himself over the years. 

Meanwhile, in Abysus, Van Kleiss discovers his connection to the lands and learns what the nanites are doing to the world. After everything he’s gone through in life, he starts to grow this odd idea that this is the next step in humanity, that it’s time to start fresh and starts his plans on making the entire world creatures like him. Slowly, he builds Abysus into a haven for those who have turned and are still sane, or are sane enough, Abysus turning into this strange yet beautiful overgrown jungle-like place. Circe stands by her father’s side, as he’s all she has left, even if, at times she grows doubtful of who her father is becoming.

Rex, however, wanders out of Abysus sometime after the nanite event, with no memories of what happened. He blacks in and out for the first few weeks, losing his memories over and over again due to the trauma of everything, his body and mind weak but slowly start to recover. But, every time he’s evolved in something highly dangerous he can’t handle, or is close to death, his nanites kick in and take control, kicking him alive until they find somewhere safe to change him back, but this results in him losing his memories again. The Omega, still inside him, slowly begins to evolve and connect with Rex in a deep way that does not notice for a long while, unaware of what’s inside him.

After a few months, Rex somehow finds himself in Hong Kong, first meeting and befriending Tuck. Tuck used to live with his father in an auto shop, but after some bad run-ins with some gangs, his father is killed and Tucks ran out onto the streets, eventually turning EVO. The two of them are picked up by Quarry, who has been making EVO gangs and sees potential in the two, especially Rex. Their team begins to grow when running into ‘Chen Tsui’, who they end up calling Cricket. She uses to be from quite a rich family, that sadly had high expectations for their image, and kicked Cricket out of their home when she turned EVO. Then they run into John Scarecrow, who had quite the sucky life before due to neglectful parents and bullying issues, and eventually ran away from home before turning EVO. Rex and Scarecrow end up butting heads alot. Finally, their last member is Walter Martin, who ends up getting the nickname Skywdd. His parents died when he was very young, and so he was raised by his loving grandmother, even when he turned EVO. However, she passed away one night and while Skywdd called to have the body removed and buried properly, he ran before anyone came as he knew him being EVO would cause problems. The five of them become quite the trouble-making team.

Meanwhile, Emiri’s family undergo many issues when their hometown is invaded by EVOs, the main one being an overgrowth of plants. Sadly, her adopted parents are killed, while she ends up turning EVO, her mind and memory becoming iffy, broken, now having powerful portal powers. She and her adopted sister, Mary, end up fleeing and have to survive on their own, Emiri soon going by the name Breach due to not properly remembering who she once was.

Governments around the world begin to put money towards creating a group called Providence, an anti-EVO force that not only removes and capture dangerous EVOs, but also research on finding a cure. The Consortium become key benefactors towards Providence, with no one knowing their true involvement with the nanites past. 

After her sister turns EVO, Holiday convinces them not to kill Beverly by helping and working at Providence, eventually working her way up to become the assistant to their leading scientist Doctor Fell, even if she doesn’t agree to their methods of research.

After some time, Rex starts to drift from his friends in Hong Kong, feeling this longing to be somewhere, to find out who he really is. He tosses around the idea, but after finding some clues that point him in the direction of America, Rex decides to hand over his leadership to Quarry. He hates to leave his friends behind, but due to some emotional manipulation from Quarry and Scarecrow, Rex truly believed it was the best thing for his friends, and that Quarry would protect them. But after he vanishes, Scarecrow pretends to be him for a voice recording, planning to blackmail him if he were to ever return.

The Six’s mostly tried not to get involved with the whole world burning due to the nanite event, but things take a turn when One turns EVO. The group splits, either continuing their mercenary lives, or to find One help. Six ends up joining Providence, after his old friend, Robinson White, convinces him to join the cause, especially when he mentions they’re looking for a cause. Six used to be one who didn’t care much about the life of others, he will admit, but after what happened to one and now actively helping people around the world...he does start to question how this war is affecting people, especially with them killing EVOs who use to be normal people.

While working at Providence, he ends up running into Holiday fairly soon. She catches his interest due to her speaking up about finding another way to look for a cure, even if Dr.Fell and White put her down. Six ends up agreeing with her, to her surprise, and a silent partnership begins to form between the two as they make plans to try something new. They just need something to work in their favour…

Then, one day, they are called to flush out a bunch of EVOs in a ruined city. Things are going normal for them, as normal as they can be, when reports of a mechanical EVO is seen running around, something that looks like a person wearing a parasitic robotic suit. Wild and dangerous. When the EVO shows itself, Holiday and Six are quick to realise that underneath the mutations, there is a young boy. They urge Providence not to attack him, but a twitchy soldier causes a fight to break out and the group is forced to split, with Six guiding Holiday away from the fight. But the two end up running into the strange tech EVO, though after some peaceful gestures, they actually get him to calm down, only for him to turn back into a young boy. Confused of course, they decide to try and take him back to Providence, only for them to learn three things. One, he has no memories beyond knowing his name, second, he is still EVO, and third, he can cure EVOs after saving Six from one.

Holiday and Six decide to keep him a secret for now, not trusting White and Dr.Fell with Rex. They plan to later move him somewhere safe, and for the next few days do their best to hide what Rex is, using the excuse of Holiday looking after him until he can maybe recover some memories.

Rex becomes a bit of a handful, due to his powers sometimes affecting the tech around him, befriending an EVO chimp called Bobo, and even getting scared when learning that Dr.Fell dissects and kills EVOs. However, despite how hard they tried, White does eventually learn what Rex is. White and Fell try to do to Rex what they’ve done to all the other EVOs, but a fight breaks out between them with Six and Holiday. After a brutal fight, it ends with White saving Six, him getting bleached with Nanites, but narrowly saved by Rex.

With the discovery of Rex becoming more open to their benefactors and governments, things change up in Providence. Holiday becomes the new leading scientist, Six becomes Rex’s mentor and partner, Dr.Fell is fired and White becomes the new leader of Providence due to being the one person who can’t turn EVO, now going by the name White Knight.

Meanwhile, the Consortium, knowing Rex’s old ties to the nanite event and where Providence is heading, decide to call in their old Spy, Ebony, to join Providence to keep an eye on things in the background. She agrees, them not knowing that she too is making her own plans when see where Providence is going.

Meanwhile, Abysus has grown to be quite the EVO community, many EVOs seeking refuge with Van Kleiss after he offered them shelter. His main group by his side is called The Pack, which consists of him, Biowulf, Skalamander, Breach and his daughter Circe. And yet, despite how pleased he is seeing his Kingdom grow, seeing the good he has provided for the outcasts like him, he still acts distant, not wanting to build up any more personal connections due to his bad history with them...Circe being the only person close enough to him, and yet even that is cracking. 

Found at the age 13, Rex begins to train for the next 3 years in secret from the public eye, becoming Providence’s secret weapon.

-Generator Rex Series-

Season 1

After training for 3 years, Rex ends up introducing himself to the world after a quite large EVO invades a town. Word spreads quickly through the media when learning what Providence has been hiding, and the reception is quite mixed. Some finally glad there is a somewhat cure and help, some terrified for hating the idea of having an EVO help, some thinking this will go down hill quickly, and some merely standing by to see what will happen. 

Rex has, unfortunately, become a bit of a rebel, as he is tired for hiding away all the time, curious about teenage life styles and wanting to feel more human. He does, after all, want to learn about his past and who he is. This results in him wandering off after a mission at one point, and running into a boy named Noah Nixon, the two bonding over some basketball, mostly because Noah didn’t know who Rex really was. Not until Six came to pick him up. However, this does cause White to take notice of Noah, seeing how he managed to get Rex to stay still for once, and reaches out an offer to help keep Rex in line, saying Noah will receive payment and help in the war. Noah ends up agreeing.

Word reaches out to Van Kleiss eventually, and he is surprised to learn that Rex is alive. He decides quickly that it would be a good idea to get Rex to join Abysus, as not only is he an EVO like them that suffers from negative gazes and comments from the general public, but also because he would be useful due to his EVO powers, Van Kleiss knowing he has the Omega in him. But there are hints that a part of Van Kleiss may or may not still care about Rex, but he mostly denies this. Other EVOs in Abysus are also eager to have him join, wanting to welcome their new members. So The Pack, minus Circe, does eventually snatch him away and offer him a chance to join Abysus, and Rex does get tempted, especially when Van Kleiss reveals he knows who Rex once was, but turns away when learning that Van Kleiss wishes to turn everyone EVO and fleds. Van Kleiss realises he’s gonna have to start pushing it if he’s going to get Rex to join.

However, a lot of what Van Kleiss and the other EVOs said does get to Rex, who starts butting heads with Providence more, especially after learning that his friend, Noah, was a spy for them all this time. While he and Noah do make up eventually, it’ll take some time before Rex starts to trust Providence again, especially with him and White often arguing at each other. Really, it’s mostly thanks to Six and Holiday that Rex hasn’t up and ditched Providence yet.

Circe does eventually run into Rex again, flabbergasted by the fact her childhood best friend his alive, and does yell at her father for not saying anything sooner. However, he convinces her to not tell Rex anything about the past, telling her they need him on their side and they must do what they can, even if they have to be harsh about it. Still caring for her father, and not having a backbone for herself, she does agree to help with him, often trying to convince Rex to join as she does feel like the world is unfair to EVOs like him, her and the others, but Rex often pulls away from her and instead tries to convince her to leave Abysus, noting that while Van Kleiss may think he’s doing the right thing, he’s clearly pushing everyone away out of fear, including his own daughter.

Rex also develops a secret friendship with Breach, after some mishaps of her kidnapping him, then the two of them saving each other at separate times, and Rex connecting with her when seeing there is more to Breach than a broken person.

Still being a spy unknown to Providence, Ebony starts pulling her strings her own way in secret, even anonymously reaching out to Van Kleiss to be a spy for him, doing her best to play all sides. 

Rex runs into his old Hong Kong friends, reconnecting with them and trying to help them deal with Quarry. There is an issue that splits him and the others when Quarry tells them Rex was the one to ditch, along with playing the voice recording. But Rex eventually comes back to help them, while also learning that Scarecrow tried setting him up, mostly because Scarecrow thought it was unfair that Rex gets to forget everything bad he’s done or gone through, and gets to ditch everyone behind to get what he wants. Eventually, Quarry is captured, while Scarecrow runs off, and Rex and his friends reconnecting once more.

Eventually, Rylander is found, still having been running from the Consortium all this time. However, he’s not quite himself, under a lot of stress after what happened, and doesn’t tell much to Rex before he’s killed by mistake during a brief scuffle with Van Kleiss. However, Rex does know that he does have family out there, even a brother.

Eventually, Van Kleiss does strike Providence directly, and manages to swipe many of Rex’s own nanites, that not only improve his powers and keep his nanites stable, no longer dying when out of Abysus, but he also gains the power to turn people EVO. However, something happens to Rex with his small amount of remaining nanites, as if he’s body is under some kind of stress. It’s revealed that the Omega is inside him, and has upgraded his powers to defend him and fill him back up with his nanites, helping him win the day. Though Providence does need to go under some repairs. 

Season 2

Rex has become quite well-known by now, his public image not so great due to people’s fears towards EVOs, and people like Hunter Cain causing some uprising. So whenever Rex does hang out with Noah, he wears a ‘civilian’ outfit that Noah, Claire and Annie picked out for him. 

Meanwhile, Caesar, who has still been in hiding to this day, finally catches wind that his brother is alive, along with the Omega still being with him (Caesar hadn’t really been paying much attention to the news up until now.). He runs into Providence, finds his brother, and does try to leave, though Rex convinces him to just stay at Providence. Rex is excited to finally have family back and some connection to his past but...his brother wasn’t exactly what he was expecting, as Caesar, as much as his loves his family, does seem to often put his work first without realising it, and is more keen to create something to prove he can do it, rather than how it can benefit people or the consequences of it. But, he does try to connect with his little brother, even if it’s hard for the both of them. 

Rex’s EVOs powers start to develop more, in a noticeable way. Not only is he getting new builds, but his connection to nanites and tech become something more, even starting to get strange dreams from the nanites, as if they’re trying to warn him or tell him something. He is mostly use to this way of life, though it is strange for an outsider to see.

With Caesar back, Rex starts to get hints about the past, and not the good parts of it. This mostly comes from Caesar’s one off comments, but he’s mostly keeping things a secret for some reason, while Van Kleiss gives him hints and clues, even stating things for Rex that what happened in the past wasn’t happy, and that Rex’s dreams to have the family he wished for isn’t going to be what he wanted, especially since Caesar struggles with connecting and family life. It seems Caesar doesn’t want to tell Rex much, for fear of them growing more distant if Rex were to learn the truth about how distant and busy their family used to be in the past, especially between the two brothers, and exactly what went down to create the nanite event. 

Tired of waiting, Rex does start to call out people like Caesar and Van Kleiss here and there more often than he did before, and even starts snooping at times to find his own answers, but he doesn’t seem to dig up much.

Eventually, things come to a head between Providence and Abysus when Rex finally convinces Breach to leave the Pack, after seeing how harsher Van Kleiss has become, the man getting frustrated that things aren’t working out (Along with secretly trying harder to push away people he starting to get attached too). After a fight, including a point where Breach snaps and her powers go highwire, Rex manages to calm her and eventually Van Kleiss gives up and lets her go, calling her a traitor, becoming more aggressive due to his lack of control, along with parts of him not wanting to let go. 

Circe follows soon after, finally unable to take anymore of what her father is doing, leaving her for own sake, even if it’s hard for the both of them. Rex does his best to support her, and eventually takes her to live with the Hong Kong Gang, knowing they can help her and give her a home she deserves. 

After losing two key members of his team, Van Kleiss ends up recruiting Scarecrow to join The Pack, using the man’s shapeshifting ability to help him out many times. Van Kleiss is also becoming more desperate to reach his goal, becoming more snappy towards everyone, especially to those who try to reach out. Rex does call him out on this many times, but Van Kleiss just pushes him away in the end.

Eventually, Van Kleiss decides to take proper action, heading to purgatory, where Rex normally offloads his nanites. He activates them and plans to create another nanite event, one that will turn the majority of the world in EVOs this time, given there aren’t enough nanites there to change the entire world, but he was planning to deal with the rest later. The Pack and Abysus members protect him as he begins his plans, and by the time Providence can reach him, he’s already started the meltdown that can’t be stopped. But Rex decides to try something, planning to enter Purgatory and connect with the shield system, going to make it cover the entire building to contain the explosion, and hopefully if his nanites protect him, he will then proceed to shut down every single nanite that is let loss in the shield, even if it takes him weeks, months of even years to do stop, maybe even dying in the process. Of course, everyone tries to change his mind, not wanting to lose him, but they know it might be the only way. Rex does succeed in stopping another nanite event from happening, trapping him, the nanites and Van Kleiss, as he begins to shut down each nanite.

Season 3

Six months end up going by when Rex finally finishes, shutting down the shield with no more wild active nanites that could cause any harm to be set onto the world. He is quickly greeted by Providence soldiers who had been waiting at the sight, taking him and Van Kleiss to Providence. Van Kleiss is taken somewhere else, while Rex is taken to White Knight’s room, learning how long he’s been gone. However, he learns that someone else is in charge now, Ebony Hale, who now goes by Black Knight, who happily greets Rex back to Providence. There she explains that White Knight went rogue, while people like Six and Holiday left after losing Rex, and they don’t know where they’ve gone. Caesar and seemingly Bobo are still around, and Black Knight convinces Rex to take his old job back.

While working at the new Providence, Rex starts to learn a few things, including a little more about the original nanite project. Black Knight even shows him something they found while he was away, the Alpha nanite, which had been damaged during the nanite event, sending out signals that were causing the random mutations. It is in the process of being repaired, but they need the Omega to finally stop the mutation order and fix it completely soon. Something feels off to Rex, and he assumes right when Black Knight and Caesar suddenly turn on him, saying they just want to remove the Omega from him, but Rex doesn’t trust them, knowing something is wrong. A scuffle breaks out, and when Rex is knocked out, he is unknowingly saved by Six and Holiday, learning also that the Bobo at Providence is a fake and spy for them. 

Six, Holiday, Bobo and White update Rex on a few things that happened. They explained to him that the Consortium took control of Providence, claiming they failed too many times, putting Black Knight in charge. However, they learn what they’re really after is full control over the Alpha and all nanites in the world, and there are rumors of a project called ‘The Meta Nanites’ going around, though they don’t exactly know what they are. For now, Rex finds that him and his group have to be on the run and in hiding for a while now. He also learns that Providence is now mind controlling EVOs, presenting it as something good to the public, when really it’s something horrible in reality, hunting down any and all EVOs they find. 

Rex starts running into old friends and people, learning how things have changed. Circe and the Hong Kong Gang are on the run from Providence. Noah has to be careful as Black Knight knows of his connection towards Rex. Abysus is now run by Biowulf, who still had faith in what Van Kleiss built for them. Members of the old nanite project are being tracked down, along with any blueprints and info that could help fix the Alpha. Breach hopping around the place, helping EVOs get to Abysus where they can be safe from Providence. All a mess really, with Rex being the centre of it all due to him having the Omega.

Tensions are high between Rex and Caesar, as Rex is convinced that Caesar is helping them because he wants too, like in the past where he didn’t really care who had the nanites as long as he got to do the project. Caesar tries to explain things, but is still distance and lying, not telling the whole truth still.

Meanwhile, Van Kleiss refuses to help Black Knight or the Consortium, but after the fight in Abysus, they catch Circe, and use her as leverage to get Van Kleiss to help.

There is a brief time where Providence catches Rex, having Caesar make the Omega talk to them through Rex, planning to remove it from him with simple voice commands. But to everyone’s surprise the Omega has evolved quite a bit since they last saw it, the piece of tech deeply connected to Rex to the point it seems to only follow his command, wishing to protect “The Catalyst”, and is unable to be controlled by any member of the original project, taking control of Rex and helping him escape (With subtle help from both Van Kleiss and Rylander). 

The Consortium starts getting more involved personally, much to Black Knight's annoyance, but she still puts on a front to keep playing them and everyone else.

Eventually it is discovered that The Meta Nanite project is really just creating five different Omegas, so that each Consortium member can have one to control the Alpha and all nanites in the world. This is the main reason they keep trying to take the Omega from Rex, in hopes to clone it. 

After a partially bad battle, the Consortium and Black Knight eventually confront Rex, pushing him too far physically and emotionally which results in Rex accidently turning them EVO. The Consortium turned into a hybrid monster and Black Knight turning into an EVO that can turn solid and into a liquid form. Narrowly, Rex manages to escape, while Black Knight gets the Consortium under control, ‘promising’ them that they can be cured eventually. 

Things reach to a head when the final battle takes place, everyone aiming to get to the Alpha and taking the Omega first. Unfortunately, Black Knight and Consortium’s new forms provide an issue, especially when they also used mind control EVOs. However, Caesar ends up mildly sabotaging them, managing to free half of the EVOs before he is caught by Black Knight. He reveals he’s been playing them, as there was no way he was actually planning on helping the people who killed his family. Black Knight too reveals that she doesn’t want to help them either, instead was helping herself the entire time, and takes control of the operation and throws Caesar away.

Because half of the EVOs were freed, Van Kleiss joins the battle with any members of Abysus around, still wanting to create the EVO paradise they all wish for. This results in the fight being four ways, Abysus’s side, Providence’s side, the Consortium Side, and Black Knight’s side. Rex is caught in the middle of it, but after much growth with his nanites, he allows himself to go full EVO, even at risk of losing all his memories. The fight reaches the point where Rex, Black Knight, Van Kleiss, White Knight and the Consortium reaching the Alpha, all of them realising that Rex has full control of the situation and it’s his choice to make, each leader prompting him to follow their goals. After a long debate, Rex reaches for the Alpha and fixes it, now able to take full command over all nanites in the world. But instead of curing everything, turning everything, or mind controlling everyone, he merely stops the process of any new mutations from happening, though does cure people like Black Knight and the Consortium so they don’t become a problem again. Rex knows that he can’t make a sudden massive decision that will do something bad to the world, even curing it would create unwanted side effects. Instead, he wants to take the time to use the Alpha to cure/fix what needs to be fixed, but in a safe and slow manner. After all, what the nanites did to the world is not going to be an easy fix, and sadly some things are going to stay.

Black Knight and the Consortium are arrested, while Van Kleiss and members of Abysus flee back home, needing to make plans but...maybe willing to listen if Providence wants to make a deal. The Alpha is handed to Providence, with White Knight taking back charge, and begin making plans on how to set the world back to normal, or as normal as it can be, Rex still being the one to hold the Omega and able to control the Alpha. 

While not perfect, Caesar and Rex begin to try and patch things up, deciding it might be time to actually start being a family, though with people like Six, Holiday and Bobo also involved (And Six and Holiday would totally be dating at this point). 

Rex also reaches out to Van Kleiss, with the help of Circe who wants to reconnect with her dad, and while things aren’t good between any of them, there are hints it could be better in the future.

[densi-mber]

Paramnesia, Part 3

A/N: The highly requested third chapter of Paramnesia. In our last chapter, Deeks was called into work and Kensi, still believing they are married, insists on coming with.

***

Deeks blew out a long breath as he and Kensi walked up to OPS together. He’d been hoping to catch Sam and Callen on their own to explain Kensi’s current “condition”. Unfortunately everyone was already upstairs.

Kensi had been slightly less affectionate in the car so he was hoping it was a sign her memory was starting straighten itself out.

“Kensi, what are you doing here?” Callen asked as they walked through the sliding doors. Nell immediately rushed over to give her a quick hug.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be in bed with an ice pack and a dozen doughnuts?” Sam added.

“Guys, it was just a little bump on the head. There’s no reason for me to stay home and go stir crazy,” Kensi said, sounding reassuringly like herself. “My head barely even hurts anymore.”

“She had the doughnuts to go,” Deeks revealed, smirking at her. “And she didn’t even share.”

“You would take doughnuts from an injured woman?”

“Hold on a second, you told me you were perfectly fine.” Kensi shrugged unapologetically.

“That’s cause I knew you’d try to make me stay home,” she said, knocking his shoulder with hers. “And force more chicken soup on me.”

“Hey, I am an excellent cook. Unlike someone I know, at least I didn’t try and pass off Walmart cookies as my own,” he added.

“You two have obviously been spending way too much time together again,” Sam commented with a roll of his eyes.Deeks found himself grinning down at her and hastily straightened up. He was getting way too comfortable with this less inhibited version of Kensi.

“Um, I’m really glad you’re ok, Kensi, but is anybody even a little bit interested in hearing about the case?” Eric asked, pointing to the big screen.

“Go ahead, Eric.”

“Last night someone broke into the home of Marine Colonel Aaron Summers and attempted to steal his laptop which contains sensitive information. Colonel Summers walked in on the intruder, one Danny Werner, and successfully subdued him. Werner is currently in the hospital.”

“Although Werner didn’t have a chance to gain access to the laptop, the Colonel is very concerned about finding out how Werner was able to breach His elaborate security system,” Nell continued.

“Ok,” Callen said, nodding to Deeks. “Since you’re solo today, go to the hospital and find out what you can from David Werner. We’ll take the Colonel’s house.”

“And since you’re here, Kensi, Hetty said she wants a detailed report of the accident,” Nell said, turning to Kensi.

“Well, that’s going to be pretty short because I still don’t remember anything,” she sighed. Turning to Deeks, she grabbed his hand and added, “Be careful out there, baby.” Before he could say respond in any way, she leaned in, brushed her lips against his, and patted his his chest before she left the room.

The silence that followed her exit was nearly painful.

“Okaaay, what was that?” Nell asked, turning wide eyes on Deeks. He chuckled awkwardly, still feeling the pressure, however brief it had been, of Kensi’s lips.

“I can explain that.” He gestured vaguely to his lips and then the door.

“Really?” Sam said in a tone filled with disbelief. “I’d love to hear it.”

“Kensi is still experiencing some symptoms from her head injury,” Deeks told them reasonably.

“You said she had some mild surrounding the car crash amnesia,” Callen reminded him, sounding skeptical. “You didn’t say she’d lost her mind.”

“I feel like I should be offended by that.” Deeks paused and drew in a short breath. “Along with the amnesia, Kensi is also under the impression that we are, uh, married. Apparently it’s called paramnesia, or false memories.”

“And how did she come to that conclusion?”

“I have absolutely no idea. The nurse told me she was waking up and when I came in, she was acting a little strange and called me her husband. According to her doctor, it should resolve on its own in a few days,” Deeks continued, realizing how ridiculous it sounded. Especially since Kensi was acting perfectly normal in every other way.

“Deeks, you can’t let her believe this for that long,” Nell said. “Imagine how upset she’ll be when she finally does remember.”

“What do you want me to do? Her doctor said we should try to let it happen naturally,” Deeks said, starting to feel a little frustrated. It wasn’t like he’d planted the idea in Kensi’s head.

“So you’re prepared to pretend be her husband for the next however many days it takes her to realize what’s going on?” Deeks shrugged, not feeling confidant in his ability at all.

“I think I can handle it.”

“Oh yeah, you handled it really well,” Sam said sarcastically. “That explains the kissing and the “be careful, baby”.”

“It hasn’t gone any further than that,” Deeks insisted firmly. For his own physical safety, he would definitely not be mentioning this morning’s cuddle session.

“It better not.” Deeks felt his anger flare a little at Sam’s comment and crossed his arms, mirroring his position.

“Sam, do you honestly think I would take advantage of Kensi like that?” There was a tense moment as Sam stared him down and then he reluctantly nodded.

“No, I know you wouldn’t,” Sam admitted. “I’m just worried about the possible fall out once Kensi realizes the truth.”

“I won’t let it get to that point,” Deeks said, not sure who he was reassuring at this point.

***

“Hey Nell,” Kensi said a couple hours later. She was supposed to be “helping” with research, but all she’d managed to do so far was build the world’s longest paperclip chain. Unfortunately, it gave her uninterrupted time to think about her and Marty.

She had a few flashes on them together, weirdly enough in another house, but most of what she “remembered” was pure guess work.

Based on those snippets, she’d assumed their romantic relationship was as strong as their professional one. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“No, I don’t have anymore paperclips,” Nell answered without looking away from her computer.

“That’s not what I was going to ask. Actually, it’s kind of personal. Really personal.” She was glad that Eric had left to grab some coffee. This would be awkward enough with just Nell.

Nell finally turned around, her brows narrowed.

“The kind of personal where I’m going to want to wash my ears out when you’re done?” Kensi made a face at that, shaking her head.

“Ew, no. It’s about Marty,” she said, noticing Nell’s face shift suddenly.

“What about Deeks?” she asked slowly, almost cautiously.

“Is he-are we happy? I mean together. Are we happy with our marriage?”

“I don’t think that’s something I can answer for you Kensi.” Kensi made a frustrated sound and slammed her hand against the desk, making Nell jump slightly.

“Nell, Marty barely touches me. Every time I try to kiss him or hold his hand, he pulls away,” she said, glancing at Nell to gauge her reaction. It wasn’t promising and her stomach clenched painfully. “Nell, I can’t remember anything about us as a couple, please tell me what’s going on.”

“So you don’t remember anything?” Nell repeated.

“I mean, every so often I get these little flashes of memories, but they’re super fragmented...and I don’t even know if they’re real or if I’m making them up.” She felt tears springing to her eyes for the first time since waking up in the hospital and pressed her lips together trying to keep them back. “What do I do?”

Nell leaned forward and squeezed her hand, her expression sympathetic.

“Kensi, I think this is something you need to talk to Deeks about.” Kensi started to protest, but Nell held up a hand, cutting her off, and added, “Before you do that I want you to answer a question for me. How do you feel about Deeks?”

Kensi almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the question.

“I trust him. More than anyone,” she said simply. “When I’m with him I feel safe and loved.” Maybe she should have felt vulnerable or self-conscious being so open with Nell, but she didn’t. It was the truth.

Nell made a face, inclining her head.

“Ok, uh, not exactly what I was expecting. Follow up question. Do you feel...married to Deeks?” It was a strange way to phrase it and Kensi almost said “yes” without thinking. Instead she held back her reply, tilting her head as she really considered the question.

“I don’t know,” Kensi whispered numbly. Nell squeezed her hand again, pulling her in for a brief hug.

“Then I think you know what you need to ask Deeks,” she said.

***

A/N: I am well aware that no reasonable doctor would likely give this advice for dealing with amnesia. This is just for fun.

And, yes, there will be a part 4.