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theonottsbxtch · 3 months ago

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FOGGY MEMORIES | MV1

an: this is slightly based off of a request but not at all at the same time, i had this idea come to me in a dream and had to write it as soon as possible. this one is dedicated to 🐴non x

wc: 6.0k

THE CITY HUMMED WITH QUIET MENACE, a sprawling jungle of glass and steel that never truly slept. High above the streets, the skyline was shrouded in a dense layer of mist, the lights of distant towers bleeding through like smudged paint on a dark canvas. Somewhere below, the world carried on, unaware of the silent war that played out in the shadows—where men like Max Verstappen existed, moving unseen, ghosts in the system.

Max had been doing this for as long as he could remember. Recruited young, trained to be invisible, his life had been stripped of anything that didn’t serve the mission. Emotion dulled, past erased—he had been remade into something precise, something lethal. He didn’t question it. There was no point.

Tonight was no different. His orders had been clear: infiltrate, extract, disappear. A routine operation for someone like him. The target was a classified data vault hidden beneath the bones of an abandoned government facility—forgotten by the world but not by those who understood its value. Whatever was locked inside was important enough for the agency to send him, which meant there was no room for error.

The corridors were silent, bathed in the cold glow of emergency lights. He moved without a sound, a shadow slipping past security feeds and motion sensors with practised ease. The hard drive was exactly where it was supposed to be, tucked behind layers of encryption and reinforced steel. He bypassed the safeguards in seconds, fingers flying over the terminal, but just as the transfer neared completion, the air shifted—subtle, but unmistakable.

He wasn’t alone.

A flicker in his peripheral vision—then movement. Fast.

Max barely twisted in time to avoid the strike aimed at his throat, instinct carrying him backwards as a blade skimmed past his skin. No hesitation, no wasted effort. He countered immediately, using the momentum to lash out, but she was already gone, slipping back into the dim light like smoke.

His eyes locked onto her, scanning, assessing. She was good. Too good. Every movement precise, every attack calculated. Not just an operative—an equal.

They clashed again, the fight a brutal dance of skill and intent. Strikes deflected, counters met with counters. For every step he gained, she matched him effortlessly, as if she knew exactly how he moved, how he thought.

And then, as their blades met in a deadlock, a flicker of something else. Not recognition—something deeper, buried beneath years of erased memories.

A flash.

Fifteen years old, standing in the rain, bruised and bleeding but not broken. A voice—her voice—sharp with defiance. Again.

It vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving only the pounding of his pulse and the fire in her eyes.

Who was she?

She twisted free, launching into another attack, and Max forced himself to focus. Questions could wait. First, he had to survive.

The fight pressed on, a deadly rhythm of movement and steel. Each strike was met with precision, each dodge answered with equal force. It had been a long time since Max had faced someone who could keep up with him—longer still since he had felt something close to uncertainty in a fight. But there was no denying it. She knew him. Knew the way he moved, the way he anticipated attacks before they landed.

And worse—he knew her too.

Not in a way that made sense. Not in a way that should have been possible.

She feinted left before twisting low, her boot catching his knee hard enough to unbalance him. He barely managed to absorb the impact, rolling back to create distance. He expected her to press forward, to take advantage of the opening, but instead, she hesitated.

Just for a fraction of a second.

Her breathing was steady, her stance unwavering, but in her eyes—something flickered. A question.

Max clenched his jaw. He couldn't afford hesitation, couldn't afford doubt. Whoever she was, whatever this was, it didn’t change the mission. He forced himself to move, closing the distance between them with speed, but as he reached for his knife, another flash tore through him—

Fifteen again. A training room lit with harsh white fluorescents. The air thick with the scent of sweat and blood. His body ached, muscles trembling from exhaustion, but he refused to stop. She stood opposite him, just as battered, just as relentless. Her voice, breathless but sharp—

"You’re getting slow, Max."

The memory splintered as she moved, striking at him with that same speed, that same precision. He barely countered in time.

His pulse thundered. He had no past, that’s what he’d been told. Whatever he was remembering right now, he wasn’t supposed to remember.

And yet…

A part of him did.

She drove him back, seizing control of the fight, her attacks coming faster now, sharper—more desperate. As if she, too, was fighting something beyond just the mission.

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them. The abandoned facility, the stolen data, the reason they were even here in the first place—it all faded into insignificance. There was only her. The way she moved. The way something deep within his bones screamed that this wasn’t the first time they had fought like this.

Then, just as suddenly, the silence shattered.

A distant alarm.

Reinforcements.

Max swore under his breath. This had already gone too far.

Their gazes locked, breath ragged, neither willing to lower their guard. But the moment was broken.

Whoever she was, whatever this was—they were out of time.

The distant alarm pulsed through the facility, a stark reminder that they weren’t alone. The fight should have ended then and there—one of them should have taken the opportunity to finish it. But neither of them moved.

Max’s grip tightened around his knife, but his instincts screamed at him to do something else entirely. Run. Stay. Demand answers. The confusion was a dangerous distraction, one he had never allowed himself before.

She was still watching him, breathing hard, eyes flicking towards the corridor where the reinforcements would be coming from. Her hesitation was telling.

She wasn’t here for them.

Whoever she was—whatever her mission—she was working alone.

The second stretched between them, thick with something unspoken, before she made her choice.

She turned and ran.

Max almost let her go. Almost.

But something inside him wouldn’t allow it.

Without thinking, he took off after her.

She was fast, her movements fluid, as if she already knew the building’s layout. He followed instinctively, boots silent against the steel grates as they weaved through the abandoned corridors. The flashing red lights cast long shadows, flickering over rusted walls and forgotten machinery.

She took a sharp turn, disappearing into a stairwell. Max followed without hesitation, vaulting over the railing to cut her off at the landing below. She barely managed to stop in time, skidding to a halt before twisting into a defensive stance.

For the first time, she spoke.

"Still reckless."

The words sent an almost physical shock through him. Not because of what she’d said—but because of how she’d said it. Not mocking. Not surprised. Just… knowing.

Max didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

His chest was heaving, his mind torn between the mission and the undeniable truth that was forcing its way through the cracks in his erased past.

Then, another flash—

Younger. A different place. Late night, stolen moments between brutal training sessions. A whispered conversation in the dark. She’s beside him, pressing an ice pack to his ribs, smirking slightly as he winces.

"Still reckless," she murmurs, and there’s something almost fond in her voice.

It hit him like a bullet. The memory wasn’t vague or blurred—it was real.

Which meant she was real.

His hesitation was all she needed. With a sharp movement, she threw something—small, metallic—towards the ground between them. A split second later, smoke erupted, thick and blinding.

Max lunged forward, but by the time he broke through the haze, she was gone.

Vanished into the labyrinth of the facility.

The alarm was still blaring. He could hear the distant shouts of guards closing in, but his mind was elsewhere, stuck in the past he wasn’t supposed to have.

Who the hell was she?

And why had they made him forget?

The mission was slipping away.

Max knew it—could feel it unraveling the second he made his choice. The data didn’t matter anymore. The agency’s orders, the years of conditioning that had drilled obedience into his bones—none of it mattered. Not when the memories were clawing their way back to the surface, memories that weren’t supposed to exist.

She wasn’t supposed to exist.

But she did. And he needed to find her.

The alarm pulsed overhead, the facility coming alive with movement as guards swept through the corridors. Max melted into the shadows, instincts taking over, but his mind was elsewhere—tracing the route she had taken, searching for an exit she might have used.

He replayed every detail of their fight, every step of her retreat. She had moved with certainty, like she knew exactly where she was going. That meant she had planned this.

Which meant she had a way out.

Max exhaled sharply and turned away from the terminal. The stolen data was still mid-transfer, the mission still technically salvageable—but that wasn’t why he was here anymore. He left it behind without hesitation, slipping into the stairwell she had disappeared through moments before.

His body moved on instinct, muscle memory leading him through the facility as if chasing something deeper than just a target.

Fifteen again. Late-night training. They were always the last two left standing, bruised and aching but refusing to fall. A voice in the dark, hers—

"They’ll break us apart one day."

He hadn’t believed her.

Max’s jaw clenched. They had broken them apart. Wiped them clean. Turned them into strangers.

But not completely.

Some part of him still remembered. And if that part existed in him, then it existed in her too.

He reached the lower levels of the building, moving faster now. The reinforcements were closing in above—he could hear the distant echo of boots, orders shouted over comms. He had minutes at best.

The facility was a relic of a forgotten past, its lower levels half-abandoned, corridors thick with dust and disuse. It was the perfect place to disappear.

And that’s exactly what she had done.

Max slowed, scanning the space, eyes catching the faintest disturbance in the dust—a trail. Not clumsy, not obvious, but enough. She wanted to vanish, but she was still human. Still breathing, still moving, still—

There.

A side door, slightly ajar. The faintest shift in the air, the ghost of movement beyond.

Max didn’t hesitate.

He pushed through, slipping into the dimly lit corridor beyond, senses sharp. The space was narrow, lined with rusted pipes, the distant hum of an old ventilation system vibrating through the walls. She had taken this route for a reason.

An exit.

He moved quickly but carefully, resisting the urge to break into a sprint. She knew he was coming—she had to. But she hadn’t tried to stop him.

Why?

The corridor opened up into a loading bay, long abandoned, the night air cutting sharp through a broken shutter. Outside, the city sprawled in the distance, a blur of lights against the dark.

She was there.

Standing just beyond the exit, half-turned, as if debating whether to disappear for good.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then—

"You left the mission," she said, voice unreadable.

Max exhaled slowly. "So did you."

Something flickered in her eyes. Something almost like recognition. Like a truth neither of them could quite grasp.

He took a step forward.

And this time—she didn’t run.

Max barely had time to react. One second, they were standing there, locked in some unspoken standoff—the next, she moved. Fast. Too fast.

He didn’t even see the knife until it was pressed against his throat.

The cold bite of steel sent a sharp pulse through him, but he didn’t flinch. His hands remained at his sides, body taut, ready—but he didn’t strike. Not yet.

She was close now. Close enough that he could see the steady rise and fall of her chest, the flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked, voice low.

Her grip on the knife didn’t waver.

"They’ll kill you if I answer that question."

The words shouldn’t have sent a chill through him, but they did. Not because of what she said—but because of how she said it. A warning, not a threat. A truth she didn’t want to speak aloud.

He held her gaze. "Then why not kill me yourself?"

Her jaw tensed. "If I wanted you dead, you would be."

Something about the certainty in her voice sent his pulse spiking.

"Then tell me," he pressed. "Tell me why I remember you."

She exhaled sharply, her expression flickering—just for a second. As if she wanted to. As if she was weighing whether or not to break whatever rules had been drilled into her as deeply as his own.

Then, finally—

"Ask Christian where he picked you up from."

Max’s breath stilled.

The name hit him harder than it should have.

Christian. His handler. The man who had trained him, who had shaped him into what he was today. The one person in his life who had ever been constant.

There was nothing before him. No memories, no past. Christian had found him, recruited him, trained him—

Hadn’t he?

The question lodged itself deep, twisting into something sharp and unfamiliar.

He shook his head. "Christian raised me."

She pressed the knife just a little harder against his skin—not enough to cut, just enough to make sure he felt it.

"No, he didn’t."

Max’s throat went dry.

The certainty in her voice, the way she didn’t even hesitate—it felt like a noose tightening around something inside him.

The life he’d known had always been clear, precise, unshakable. He had been taken in as a boy, trained to be a ghost, stripped of anything that might make him hesitate. No attachments. No past.

No questions.

But now—

Now he wasn’t so sure.

She must have seen the doubt flicker in his eyes because something in her stance shifted. Not in triumph. Not in relief. Something closer to regret.

The knife at his throat lowered slightly, just enough to press against his chest instead. Light. Just a touch. A reminder.

"Whatever you do," she said softly, "don’t let them make you forget again."

The words hit him like a gunshot.

And then—she was gone.

A single blink, a breath too slow, and she vanished into the shadows like she had never been there at all.

Max stood frozen, the city wind cutting sharp against his skin.

His hands curled into fists.

Because for the first time in his life, he had a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

The flight back was silent.

Max sat motionless in the jet’s dim cabin, hands clasped loosely, gaze fixed on nothing. The city lights faded beneath him, swallowed by the vast dark as they ascended. The hum of the engines filled the space, steady and constant—something to focus on. Something to drown out the chaos in his head.

Christian would be waiting for him.

He had no mission report to give. No extracted data, no explanations that would make sense. It was the first mission he had ever failed.

And the worst part was—he hadn’t even tried to succeed.

The memory of her voice lingered, curling around the edges of his mind like smoke. The way she moved, the way she spoke—like she knew him. Like she had always known him.

Like he should have known her.

Ask Christian where he picked you up from.

The words dug deep. No matter how much he tried to push them away, they wouldn’t leave him.

The base was cold when he arrived, the same clinical sterility as always, but tonight, it felt different. Or maybe he was different.

Christian was waiting for him, as expected. He stood with his hands behind his back, expression unreadable, but Max knew him well enough to recognise the subtle tension in his shoulders. Disappointment.

Christian let the silence stretch for a moment before he finally spoke.

"You’ve never failed a mission before."

Max kept his expression blank. "There were complications."

"Complications." Christian’s tone was flat, like he was waiting for something more.

Max exhaled, keeping his body relaxed, forcing himself into the role he had played for years. "Security was heavier than expected. Extraction was compromised. I made the call to retreat before it escalated."

A lie. A clean, believable lie.

Christian studied him carefully.

Then, with quiet finality—

"That’s not the whole truth."

Something in Max’s gut twisted. Christian knew. Maybe not everything, maybe not her, but enough to know that Max was keeping something from him.

He needed to tread carefully. He needed to play this right.

So why the hell did he open his mouth and say—

"Where did you pick me up from?"

The words had barely left him before the shift in the air was immediate.

Christian’s entire body went still.

A long, heavy silence.

Then, barely above a whisper—

"You’re remembering."

Max’s stomach turned.

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t disbelief. It was a confirmation.

Christian knew.

And before Max could even react, before he could think of a way to fix this, to backtrack, to—

The door behind him slid open.

Boots. Movement. Too many of them.

His instincts flared, but before he could reach for a weapon, hands were on him. A hard grip on his arms, forcing them behind his back. He tensed, about to fight, but then he saw it—

The mask.

The metal apparatus in their hands, wires trailing, the gleam of something sharp and invasive.

Max’s breath locked in his throat.

No.

Not this.

Not again.

He never knew what it did.

All he knew was that it hurt.

His pulse pounded, his body coiled to resist, but Christian only took a step back, running a hand down his face.

"Fuck. How is this happening already?"

The hands on Max tightened. He thrashed against them, instincts screaming to fight, to run, but it was already too late. The mask was forced over his face, the sharp scent of chemicals hitting him fast.

His vision swayed. The edges of the room blurred.

Whatever you do, don’t let them make you forget again.

Her voice, clear as a bullet to the skull.

Max fought. He fought, but the world was slipping, pulling him under.

And then—

Darkness.

The world came back in pieces.

A dull ache throbbed behind Max’s eyes, a deep, lingering weight pressing against his skull. His body felt heavy, sluggish, like he was surfacing from somewhere too deep, somewhere he wasn’t supposed to have been.

He was lying on something cold. A cot. The metallic scent of the base’s medical wing filled his lungs, sterile and artificial. The hum of overhead lights buzzed faintly in the background, a rhythmic, familiar noise that should have grounded him.

But something was off.

His thoughts were slow, thick, like they were moving through treacle.

And then—

"You're awake."

Christian’s voice.

Max blinked against the brightness, his vision sharpening as he turned his head. Christian stood a few feet away, arms crossed, studying him with the careful scrutiny of someone searching for cracks in a foundation.

Max forced himself upright. The movement sent a sharp wave of nausea through him, but he ignored it.

"What happened?" His own voice felt distant, like it didn’t quite belong to him.

Christian exhaled through his nose, something unreadable flickering across his expression. "You wiped out during the mission. Comms went dark. We had to extract you."

Wiped out? That wasn’t—

No, that couldn’t be right.

The mission. He’d gone in alone. Infiltrated the facility. He was about to extract the data, and then—

His head pulsed, a sharp spike of pain cutting through his thoughts.

Christian watched him carefully. "What do you remember?"

Max frowned, trying to push past the fog. "The facility. I got inside. Security was heavier than expected, but I navigated it. I reached the terminal, started the extraction—"

A flicker of something.

A shadow of movement. The ghost of a fight, a blade catching the dim light—

No.

That wasn’t right.

The mission had gone wrong. That was all.

He forced the thought aside. "There was an alarm. I had to abandon the extraction. That’s when things got messy. I must have taken a hit on the way out."

Christian nodded slowly, as if weighing his words. "You don’t remember anyone else being there?"

The question was casual. Too casual.

Max’s muscles tensed instinctively. "No."

Christian tilted his head slightly. "No other operatives? No one who might have compromised the mission?"

Max shook his head. "I was alone."

The lie slipped out effortlessly. He didn’t know why he was lying, not fully—but something in his gut told him it was necessary.

Christian studied him for a long moment. Then—

"You don’t remember anything else?"

There was something about the way he said it. The way his tone shifted, like he was looking for something specific.

Max opened his mouth to deny it again—

Ask Christian where he picked you up from.

The thought cut through his mind like a blade.

His breath stalled.

Something about those words felt wrong. Or rather—too sharp. Too defined. Like they weren’t supposed to be there at all.

The chemicals had done their job. He knew they had. He felt the emptiness, the hollowed-out space in his head where things had been scrubbed clean.

But that one thought remained.

And he had no idea why.

Christian was still watching him, patient, expectant.

Max forced his expression blank. "No. I don’t remember anything else."

A beat.

Then Christian nodded, like that was the answer he had been waiting for.

"Get some rest," he said, stepping back towards the door. "We’ll debrief properly in the morning."

Max only nodded.

He waited until Christian was gone, until the door clicked shut behind him.

Then, slowly, he exhaled.

His hands curled into fists against the sheets.

Because something wasn’t right.

And this time, no matter what they did to him—

He wasn’t going to let it go.

Max sat on the edge of the cot, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped. His head still ached—a deep, lingering throb at the base of his skull—but he ignored it. He was too focused on the weight pressing against his chest.

The wrongness of it all.

They had wiped him. They must have. He could feel the gaps, the hazy edges where memories had been scraped clean. It wasn’t the first time.

But this time, something had slipped through.

Ask Christian where he picked you up from.

The words sat heavy in his mind, sharp and unyielding. He didn’t know where they came from. Didn’t know why they felt important. But they did.

And that meant something had gone wrong.

He forced himself to breathe slowly, methodically. Focus. He needed to be careful. Christian was already suspicious—his questions hadn’t been casual. He had been testing him.

And Max had barely passed.

He glanced towards the door. Locked, as expected. There would be a guard outside. There always was after the machine, at least for the first few hours. Just in case.

They were watching him.

Which meant he needed to act like nothing was wrong.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. His body felt steady now, movements fluid despite the dull weight in his skull. He crossed the small room, pressing his fingertips against the cool metal wall, grounding himself in something tangible.

His reflection stared back at him from the glass panel by the door. He looked the same as always—sharp, composed, unreadable.

But he didn’t feel the same.

He reached up, pressing his palm against his chest, against the spot where—

A flicker. A whisper of sensation, something just out of reach—

Whatever you do, don’t let them make you forget again.

His breath caught.

Her voice.

It was there. Faint, distant, but real.

And suddenly, he knew.

The wipe hadn’t worked properly. Not completely.

Something had stayed behind.

And if something had stayed behind, then so had she.

Max clenched his jaw.

They thought they had erased her. Thought they had wiped him clean, reset him like they always did.

But this time, something was different.

And for the first time in his life—

He wasn’t going to let it go.

The next week was hell.

Max barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt like he was missing something, like the answers were just out of reach, slipping through his fingers the moment he got too close.

He spent hours running through the details in his head, over and over, searching for cracks. But there was nothing tangible—just fragments. A voice that didn’t belong. A question he shouldn’t have asked. The phantom feeling of a knife pressing lightly against his chest.

Every time he thought he was getting somewhere, it was like slamming into an invisible wall.

The chemicals had done their job too well.

He found himself pacing his room at night, replaying Christian’s words, analysing every interaction, searching for a thread to pull.

But he couldn’t.

There was nothing there.

And that was the most maddening part.

By the fourth day, he was barely holding it together.

He was losing his edge. He could feel it. His reaction time was slower, his focus splintered. During training exercises, he caught himself hesitating, second-guessing movements that should have been instinctual.

It wasn’t just affecting him mentally. It was affecting his performance.

And that was dangerous.

By the fifth day, he started telling himself he was going insane.

That was the only logical explanation, wasn’t it?

They had wiped him. That was routine. He had failed a mission—Christian had told him what had happened. There was no reason to question it.

The words in his head, the voice, the flashes of something more—

They weren��t real. They couldn’t be real.

His own mind was turning against him. That was all. He just needed to let it go.

But he couldn’t.

Because somewhere, deep down, he knew that wasn’t true.

And the not-knowing was driving him to the edge.

On the seventh day, Christian came to him with a new mission.

Max barely had time to gather himself before he was summoned to the briefing room. The moment he walked in, he felt Christian’s gaze settle on him, sharp and assessing, like he was looking for something.

Max straightened his posture, schooling his features into something neutral. He had to keep it together.

Christian held out a thin file. "You’re being deployed again."

Max took it, flipping it open. The details were standard—location, objective, extraction plan. Another infiltration job. Another ghost mission.

But Christian wasn’t watching the file.

He was watching him.

"You look like shit, Max," he said bluntly.

Max barely blinked. "Didn’t realise I was being assessed on aesthetics."

Christian didn’t smile. "You haven’t been sleeping properly."

It wasn’t a question.

Max shut the file, keeping his expression unreadable. "I’m fine."

Christian studied him for a long moment. Then—"Good. Because this time, there’s no margin for error."

Something about the way he said it sent a sharp pulse through Max’s gut.

Because Christian wasn’t just talking about the mission.

He was testing him. Again.

And Max had no idea if he was still passing.

The mission was straightforward. Infiltration. Retrieval. Extraction.

No complications. No surprises.

At least, that’s what the file said.

Max knew better.

Christian had given him a comms unit this time, something he never did unless he expected to monitor performance directly. Which meant this wasn’t just about completing the objective—it was about proving himself.

Proving he wasn’t slipping.

Proving he was still the same agent he had always been.

Proving he wasn’t remembering.

He locked in. Forced his mind to focus. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

The drop site was an abandoned industrial complex on the outskirts of Prague. The air was thick with the scent of rust and rain-soaked concrete, the sound of distant traffic humming just beyond the perimeter.

Max moved quickly, slipping through the darkness like a shadow. The plan was clean—get inside, access the target’s server, extract the encrypted data, and leave before anyone knew he was there.

But Christian’s presence in his ear made everything feel off.

"Comms check." Christian’s voice crackled through the line.

"Copy," Max muttered under his breath.

"You’re on a tight window. No distractions."

The words were casual. But the way he said them wasn’t.

Max ignored it. Pushed forward.

The building was hollowed out, skeletal remains of an old factory now repurposed for something far less industrial. Surveillance equipment was minimal—whoever was running this operation relied on secrecy rather than security.

It made things easier.

Within minutes, Max had reached the target room. A small, nondescript office, a single desk, and a humming server in the corner.

He set up quickly, connecting the extraction device to the system, watching the data begin to transfer.

"ETA?" Christian asked.

"Two minutes."

"Good. Keep it clean."

Max clenched his jaw. The way Christian was talking—it wasn’t just mission oversight. It was scrutiny. He wasn’t just expecting success. He was waiting for a mistake.

Max exhaled slowly, grounding himself in the task. He just had to get through this.

He watched the transfer bar crawl forward, the soft whir of the machine filling the silence.

Almost there.

And then—

A noise.

A shift in the air, subtle but wrong.

Max didn’t hesitate. He cut the extraction, ripped out the device, and had his gun raised in the same breath—

But the doorway was empty.

Nothing. No movement.

Still, his pulse had spiked.

Something was there.

He could feel it.

"Max?" Christian’s voice came through the comms.

Max didn’t lower his weapon. "I heard something."

A pause. Then, calmly—"You’re alone."

It was meant to reassure him.

It didn’t.

Max swallowed down the unease, forcing himself to move. He secured the drive, checked the hall, and started his exit.

He needed to get out.

But as he moved through the corridors, every shadow felt heavier. Every noise felt sharper.

Like he wasn’t alone at all.

And then—

Whatever you do, don’t let them make you forget again.

The voice wasn’t in his comms.

It was in his head.

Max stumbled. Just for a second.

But it was enough.

"Max?" Christian again. Sharper this time.

Max gritted his teeth, forcing his breathing steady. "I’m fine."

A lie.

Because he wasn’t fine.

Something was wrong.

And this time, he wasn’t sure he could ignore it.

Max barely had time to react.

A presence—too close, too quiet—moved behind him, and before he could turn, the cold press of a blade kissed his throat.

He went rigid.

Every instinct screamed at him to fight, to twist out of the hold, to strike first and ask questions later. But something stopped him.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Faint, distant, buried beneath the layers of conditioning. But it was there.

A whisper of something lost.

He opened his mouth—

A hand slid over it, silencing him.

"Shh."

The voice was barely above a breath, warm against his ear.

And familiar.

His pulse hammered against his ribs.

She moved swiftly, with precision—reaching up to his ear, plucking the comm unit free before he could stop her.

A second later, she dropped it to the ground and brought her boot down hard.

The crack of crushed tech echoed through the empty hallway.

Static burst in his ear—then silence.

Christian was gone.

Max inhaled slowly, carefully. "If you’re going to kill me, at least tell me who you are first."

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she stepped around him, lowering the knife as she did. Her grip was light, controlled, like she knew he was dangerous but wasn’t afraid.

He finally got a proper look at her.

Dark clothing, tactical gear—she was built for this world, just like he was. Her face was unreadable, save for her eyes.

They were sharp, calculating. But not unfamiliar.

Max clenched his jaw.

She knew him.

She turned her gaze towards the drive in his hand, then back to him. "Do you have what you need?"

His fingers curled around it instinctively. "Why do you care?"

She exhaled, a quiet huff of something—annoyance, amusement, he couldn’t tell. Then, without a word, she reached past him, grabbed the device, plugged it in and began tapping a few keys on the terminal he’d left behind.

The screen flickered.

His extraction continued.

She was helping him.

Every muscle in his body stayed taut, waiting for the catch. "Why are you doing this?"

Silence.

The transfer completed. She pulled the drive free and pressed it into his palm.

He didn’t take his eyes off her. "Who are you?"

She looked at him for a long moment.

And then—

Softly, carefully—

"You already know."

Unlike last time, she didn’t leave.

Instead, she pulled a small piece of paper from her pocket, a rough tear from something larger. She grabbed a pen from the desk, quick and efficient, and scribbled something down.

Then, without hesitation, she stepped closer.

Too close.

Max didn’t move, but he felt his muscles lock, felt the brush of her knuckles as she slipped the folded paper between the straps of his tactical vest, tucking it neatly against his chest.

A calculated move.

Deliberate.

His pulse spiked—just for a second, just enough that he hated himself for it.

She held his gaze, unreadable. "Meet me here. Seventeen hundred. I’ll give you the answers you want."

Max’s throat felt dry. He glanced down at the paper, at the faint scratch of ink just visible through the fold. An address.

He exhaled sharply. "I can’t leave my base."

She tilted her head slightly, as if considering him. "If you’re motivated enough—if you want the answers—you can."

Simple. Direct.

And infuriatingly confident.

Max clenched his jaw. He should shove the paper back at her. Should call her bluff, demand an explanation now. But his fingers twitched instead, the whisper of her touch still there, phantom-like, against his chest.

It wasn’t much.

But it was enough to unsettle him.

By the time he forced himself to look up again, she was already turning away.

He should stop her. He should do something.

But for some reason, he didn’t.

He just stood there, the weight of the paper burning against his skin.

By the time Max stepped out of the building, she was gone.

No trace. No sound. Just the faint echo of her voice still lingering in his head.

His fingers twitched against his vest where the paper sat, warm from his body heat, feeling heavier than it should. He resisted the urge to pull it out and look. Not here. Not yet.

Instead, he locked in, moved. The extraction point was half a mile north, and he didn’t have time to dwell. The moment he was in the open, he moved fast, slipping through the industrial skeleton of the compound, mindlessly following the path drilled into him.

And yet—

The address. The time. The way she had stood so close, the way she had known him.

It was all he could think about.

The jet was already waiting when he arrived. He barely had time to board before Christian turned from where he stood by the cockpit, eyes sharp, scanning him like a threat assessment.

Max pulled off his gloves, keeping his movements smooth, measured. Controlled.

Christian frowned. "What happened to your comms?"

Max didn’t blink. "Glitch. Cut out before extraction. Didn’t have time to fix it."

Christian studied him for a beat too long, but then—exhale. A slow nod. "Tech will look at it."

It worked.

Christian believed him.

Max sank into his seat, forcing his body to relax, listening to the hum of the jet as it powered up. The mission was over.

But his mind wasn’t anywhere near it.

He should be thinking about the debrief, about the logistics of his return, about the inevitable post-mission assessments.

Instead, all he could think about was her.

And the paper in his vest.

And the fact that in less than twenty-four hours, he was going to have to do something he had never done before.

Find a way out.

PART TWO...

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @isaadore

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dandelionsresilience · 3 months ago

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Dandelion News - March 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Caribbean reef sharks rebound in Belize with shark fishers’ help

“Caribbean reef shark populations have rebounded beyond previous levels, more than tripling at both Turneffe and Lighthouse atolls[…. The recovery] arose from a remarkable synergy among shark fishers, marine scientists and management authorities[….]”

2. Landmark Ruling on Uncontacted Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Strikes at Oil Industry

“[T]he Ecuadorian government [must] ensure any future expansion or renewal of oil operations does not impact Indigenous peoples living in voluntary isolation. [… E]ffective measures must be adopted to prevent serious or irreversible damage, which in this case would be the contact of these isolated populations,” said the opinion[….]”

3. America's clean-energy industry is growing despite Trump's attacks. At least for now

“The buildout of big solar and battery plants is expected to hit an all-time high in 2025, accounting for 81% of new power generation[….] The industry overall has boomed thanks to falling technology costs, federal tax incentives and state renewable-energy mandates.”

4. Study says endangered Asian elephant population in Cambodia is more robust than previously thought

“A genetic study of Asian elephants […] reveals a larger and more robust population than previously thought, raising hopes the endangered species could slowly recover. […] “With sufficient suitable habitat remaining in the region, the population has the potential to grow if properly protected,” the report concludes.”

5. Scientists are engineering a sense of touch for people who are paralyzed

“[Engineers are] testing a system that can restore both movement and sensation in a paralyzed hand. [… A]fter more than a year of therapy and spinal stimulation, [… h]is increased strength and mobility allow him to do things like pet his dog. And when he does, he says, "I can feel a little bit of the fur."“

6. Florida is now a solar superpower. Here’s how it happened.

“In a first, Florida vaulted past California last year in terms of new utility-scale solar capacity plugged into its grid. It built 3 gigawatts of large-scale solar in 2024, making it second only to Texas. And in the residential solar sector, Florida continued its longtime leadership streak.”

7. Rare frog rediscovered after 130 years

“The researchers discovered two populations of the frog[….] "The rediscovery of A. vittatus allowed us to obtain, more than a century after its description, the first biological and ecological data on the species.” [… S]hedding light on where and how they live is the first step in protecting them.”

8. Community composting programs show promise in reducing household food waste

“The program [increased awareness and reduced household waste, and] also addressed common barriers to home composting, including pest concerns and technical challenges that had previously discouraged participants from composting independently.”

9. Pioneering Australian company marks new milestone on “mission” to upcycle end-of-life solar panels

“[…] SolarCrete – a pre-mixed concrete made using glass recovered from used solar panels – will form part of the feasibility study[….] A second stage would then focus on the extraction of high value materials[…] for re-use in PV and battery grade silicon, [… and] electrical appliances[….]”

10. Beavers Just Saved The Czech Government Big Bucks

“The aim was to build a dam to prevent sediment and acidic water from two nearby ponds from spilling over, but the project was delayed for years due to negotiations over land use[….] Not only did the industrious rodents complete the work faster than the humans had intended, they also doubled the size of the wetland area that was initially planned.”

March 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

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aka-indulgence · 7 months ago

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Soundwave fic? Yes. I love him. I want him to kidnap me. What who said that

Anyway here’s a fic where tfp Soundwave kidnaps you because he likes you and you’re alone on the Nemesis with him for the first time kdsjlfjds

(Soundwave x F!Human Reader)

—————

As soon as he arrives on the ship, Soundwave transforms, shifting you from the cockpit into his hands as he does so. You make a small cry, bracing on his thumb and holding on for dear life as you wildly look around like a frightened animal.

The door behind him closing and the sunlight disappearing from its cracks only furthered your panic- Soundwave could hear the sound of your little frightened breaths, quick and shallow. It was unbearably cute.

He walks with calm, even steps through the hallways. As much as he adored your mannerisms, he didn’t want your (permanent) stay on the Nemesis to be unpleasant. He scrolls through the camera feed on his visor and finds Megatron on the bridge and heads his way.

It was quiet. Even though Soundwave had quite literally stolen you in broad daylight in front of the Autobots that could do nothing but watch him fly away with you, you still found reassurance from him. You looked up at him from time to time; furrowed brows, watery eyes. He can’t stand it. He was the only thing on this ship that was familiar to you, and so he was the only person you would seek comfort from.

A few vehicons saw him on his way to the bridge. All have balked on the sight, but they deserve credit. They were smart enough not to interfere with him, nor to question his new ‘girlfriend’.

“Commander Soundwave,” one nodded as he passed. Only someone like Soundwave could hear the slight shake in his voice.

It must be so hard for someone as small as you. Everyone and everything was so much bigger than you, even the vehicons. Even Laserbeak.

So cute…

He reaches the bridge and the doors slide open. Megatron stands ever vigilant, watching the skies.

“Soundwave. You’ve returned.” His master angles his head before fully turning around, “have you acquired the data I have asked of you?”

Soundwave nods and his screen blinks, displaying pictures of artefacts and text. Megatron’s eyes brighten and a dastardly grin widens.

“Cybertronian artefacts the humans uncovered? Excellent Soundwave. I’m surprised the humans had the forethought to store them in different places, but they won’t stay in their vaults for long…”

Coordinates show on his face of their locations, before he shows one particular artefact.

“A magnetic destabilizer. Did you retrieve it?”

His screen changes to a video of multiple army men shooting at him before the autobots arrived.

“Humans.” He sneered. “For such small creatures, their little guns can feel like scraplets when they are numerous. Even more reason to terminate these pests,”

Soundwave feels a twitch in his hand.

“Which begs the question… why have you brought one back with you?”

His liege sounded curious rather than chastising. His head dips down to where you sat. Poor thing- you were shaking now, your lips parted and gripping his finger tighter than before, unable to speak, wide-eyed staring back at Megatron.

He wraps his fingers around you in the hopes of comforting you, but it only makes you gasp in alarm, swinging your head to look back at him. You’re anxious. He pets your head and prods your cheeks for a moment before turning back to his master. To Megatron, he simply goes over pictures and footage of his encounters with you he managed to capture, then he holds you closer to his chest.

“I see…” Megatron nods. “Very well. I trust you can keep it in check. Although you were unable to retrieve the artefact, the data you brought was most valuable- we will certainly retrieve the rest. You are dismissed, Soundwave.”

Soundwave nods, and both he and Megatron turn to their next objectives; which, for Soundwave, was to have a private moment with you.

*****

Your heart is beating a mile a minute. You’re still having trouble wrapping your head around it. You were going on a human mission to meet with Fowler’s guys one moment, then taken aboard the Decepticon warship the next. And you still don’t understand why Soundwave took you in the first place, when you assume he already took all the information he needed from the unidentified objects database. Now you find out not only did Megatron not ask him to bring back a human, he specifically targeted you. What could he possibly want from you?

A door opens to an empty, barren room with a single shelf-like desk and a huge window that spans from the floor to the ceiling. Oh, and there was a bed on the desk too. Pillows, blankets, white linens and all. It looked rather plush and high quality.

So that’s what happened. You manage to think in the middle of your fear induced paralysis. Everyone had been so confused when Agent Fowler came in with the reports of Decepticon activity at a mattress store, of all places. And after a thorough checking with Ratchet, you’d found nothing else sinister has happened with mattresses. Until now, of course.

You’re placed gently on the table, far gentler than you’d expect a Decepticon to be capable of. Soundwave doesn’t look to be expecting anything from you right now, so you look around. You walk to the bed and feel the sheets; soft, slightly cold, and crisp compared to the beat up bedding you had back home. It reminds you of a hotel bed. You lift your head to look out the window: the perfect view of earth above the stratosphere. It was still day, clear from the bright blue the earth was practically glowing with- but you were so high above ground that there wasn’t enough atmosphere to scatter the light. You could even see the earth’s curvature.

The gravity of the situation, how far away you were from everything, how crazy this situation was that it didn’t feel real- it finally hits you like a ton of bricks and you were broken out of your disconnected paralysis. You were alive again. Your head feels hot, your heart is thumping, and it didn’t feel like you could breathe deeply enough. Fear and uncertainty rises in you like bile.

It’s too much.

Overwhelmed, you hiccup, and the tears start flowing.

You jump at feeling something on your side, and you’re turned around to face the one who captured you. Your hands are shaking, your lips are trembling, sobbing uncontrollably despite your attempts to hide them. You didn’t want him to see you cry, you knew Decepticons were cruel creatures. You wish you knew what he was thinking about, his emotions impossible to read considering that he’s faceless. He simply looks at you, in the silent way Soundwave always did, head tilted slightly down.

Was he judging you? Was he showing disdain? Did he think you were a pathetic, crying thing?

You couldn’t move again, with his hand bracing your back, watching his other hand approach, fingers extended. You sniffle and squeak as it gets closer but- then, very precisely for someone as enormous as he was, he wipes your tears away with his fingers.

“Huh..?”

As he caresses your head, he leans in closer, and you’re suddenly reminded of when children played with their dolls. Coddling them, playing with their hair, that unwavering stare. It makes you nervous, and you squish into his hand more trying to make space from him. You’re confronted with your own reflection in his visor, your eyes reddish and wet.

“Wh-what,” you swallow, mouth dry. “What is it that you want from me,”

Your voice was small and pitiful, shaking with the sobs that still racked your body. He tilts his head, as if he was asking isn’t it obvious?

One slender, extended finger pokes the center of your chest, on your sternum.

Static sounds from his face, and the voice you hear is yours.

“You.”

Me? What do you mean you ‘want me’?? You thought in distress. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing, or if you liked that answer.

“I still don’t… know what you mean by that. Do you want me so y-you can hurt me? Torture me? Put me through some Decepticon experiment? Wh–?!”

The last word turns into a high-pitched squeal as Soundwave lifts you off the ground and brings you close to his face. He isn’t viewing you like he did before, instead steadily bringing you closer and closer. His faceless appearance frightens you, and with alarm you feel like he’s about to squash you against his face- like he was trying to eat you, if he had a mouth. Your panicked breaths turn into a yelp, covering your face and your body seizing up.

You jolt when you feel his visor pressing to the entire side of your body, keenly aware of how much you’re trembling when you’re pressed against this wall that was his face. You kept your eyes shut, feeling him press you further into him, whimpers escaping you.

… But nothing happens. Instead, Soundwave starts moving his face against you, up and down in a rhythmic motion. It’s gentle, careful- he isn’t trying to hurt you. The pressure his hand is putting on you is only just enough to slightly squish you against him, and you feel like a plush toy with your cheek smooshed on his visor. A soft, smooth, deep sound emits from within him, strong enough that it shakes you, but low enough that it isn’t overwhelming. Like an engine revving.

Is he. Nuzzling you?

You open one eye, the other shut from the decepticon’s face rubbing. “Whuh- what’s happening,”

You try to push off his face to make room for yourself, but this only makes Soundwave press you back into his face, this time nuzzling you from left to right.

You sputter, your nose and mouth pressing against him from his motion, before he finally pulls his face away from you, his shoulders bouncing with what might’ve been laughter.

Your puzzled face was clear on his visor.

“I like you.” He says. “I like - Y/n.”

Now that really confused you. You could accept him wanting you for nefarious reasons, even for personal ones but- was Soundwave liking you the reason he took you? You can’t believe it, even as the man in question has his fingers on your cheek again, tickling you and making you close your eyes again from his obsessive petting.

You get a moment to speak when his petting finally stops. You could feel the redness and heat radiating from your cheek from where Soundwave pressed his face on you.

“S-so… you don’t want to hurt me,” you clarify. You had to make sure.

Soundwave shakes his head. “No.”

Phew. That was a relief. You were still on the Decepticon warship of course- but at least your kidnapper wasn’t here to harm you.

There were others on the ship though, who you’re sure aren’t fond of humans.

You simmer in that thought, looking away from Soundwave, who patiently waits for you to say something. You let him thumb you, stroking your hair down placatingly. You have to admit to yourself, it was working more than you thought it would.

You sigh out the heaviness in your chest, and turn back to Soundwave. You open your mouth, hesitating for a second.

“Promise,” you say, “promise you won’t hurt me? Promise you won’t let anyone hurt me,”

You knew there was no way you could really demand something from a Decepticon, your difference in size astronomical, not to mention in strength. But you hoped Soundwave liked you enough that he would honor your request.

Soundwave stares silently, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. But you notice his head tilting imperceptibly downwards. You aren’t sure if it was a nod, or just a small movement indicating he was thinking about it.

For now, it was enough.

#i like soundwave :]#i also like the ‘if soundwave couldnt do it that means its impossible’ thinking #starscream in the back screaming #i want him to squish me auguh #tfp soundwave x reader #soundwave #transformers #thanks to everyone that gave me tips :D especially the capitalization one in my inbox hehe #definitely took creative liberties with this kdlfjfd #look. its giant robot and tiny human of course im gonna love the dynamics #transformers x human #tfp soundwave x human #aka writing #maccadam #self ship #tfp soundwave

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revelboo · 8 months ago

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Heya~ hope your doing well! And I hope you had a swell bday!! 🎉

It's been a bit since you've done anything for Prowl, are you still writing for him? Have you seen the new Earthspark season? 🥺🥺

I haven’t seen the new season, just yet, but will. I don’t really track these, just writing whatever as it occurs to me so my posting schedule can be a bit… weird

Stand Too Close Pt 4

IDW Prowl x Reader

• Sitting in his palm, clinging to a servo since he’s not holding you in his hand like normal and you don’t want to fall, you try to gauge his mood from his blank expression. And to figure out why he’s not yelling, yet. As much as the rest of them seem to think the tactician is always in control, always calm- you’ve seen the other side. That anger he tries so hard to hide from the other Autobots, but not you. “Do you hate me?” He asks, tone almost bored as he walks to his quarters.

• “You locked me in a drawer,” you retort, shifting so your back is to him so he can’t try to analyze your expression. “Remember?” You sound more tired than angry to him. And by some miracle you don’t feel the need to point out that he’d ruined your life, your favorite jab. Venting, he mulls over that and wonders if maybe he should have left you with Bumblebee or any other Bot. Someone you could relax around and not constantly fight with. Why does that thought bother him so much? Because some twisted part of him enjoys the verbal sparring and the challenge of someone as poisonous as he is. As angry.

• “Then behave,” he says and despite your decision to ignore him, you glare up over your shoulder at him. “You ran out in front of me that day. You didn’t watch where you were going,” he adds and you’d almost swear one corner of his mouth is twitching like he’s trying not to smile. Like it’s funny to him as your face reddens. You don’t even realize you’re already back to his quarters until he tilts his palm and you’re forced to slide off onto his desk as he pulls out his chair. And the reaction is immediate and unthinking. Yanking off one of your sneakers and beaning him in the face with it.

• “Excuse me?!” You screech, face redder than he’s ever seen it as he just stares. You’d dared to hit him one of your little feet coverings? Challenge him? “I was in a crosswalk,” you yell, throwing out an arm and your level of fury is almost endearing, because you don’t have to play nice. You can scream all you like and what must that be like? To not bottle everything up all the time? You’re pulling off the other covering to throw when he places his palms on the desk and mass shifts, vaulting up onto the surface with you as he shrinks. And you scramble backwards, tripping and going sprawling on his data pad. Mouth falling open in shock, but still managing to throw that stupid covering at his him.

• Swearing as your shoe bounces off his chassis, you scramble to get away as he stalks your way, optics pale and angry. Your mind clawing for sense of the fact that he can apparently shrink, that fact second to that he’s angry and you don’t want those big hands on you when he’s this livid. A hand grabs your ankle to drag you back and you kick him in the jaw with the other leg without thinking, catching him by surprise as his head snaps back. And you freeze as he reaches up to slide a thumb over his lip, growling as it comes away wet with energon and oh, no. You really shouldn’t have done that. His glossa slides over his thumb, door wings trembling. “Come here,” he snarls.

• Little brat. You try to crawl away and he drags you back again, flipping you into your back and straddling your hips this time so you can’t kick him in the face again. And you go ballistic, screaming profanity in his face, your own face scarlet as you try to hit him and he bares his denta, capturing your wrists and pinning them above your head when you slap him, squirming under him like a wild thing. “You only landed a blow because you caught me by surprise,” he growls as your eyes flash with hate and you bare your little teeth at him, hips bucking under him. “Clearly no one’s ever taught you how to defend yourself.”

• Swearing, you try to wriggle your hands loose and give up when he tightens his grip in a subtle warning. Your anger faltering when he slaps a palm against the desk by your head and leans over you. Too close, you can feel him venting against your throat, his face right above yours. Suddenly very aware of the way he has you pinned and the heat of him. “Next time, put up more of a fight. Make it last,” he whispers, one corner of his mouth curling and it’s like a punch to the gut, the shock of that rueful little smile overwhelming you until you can’t breathe. Too aware of him and the fact that you like that cocky smile as much as you hate him. Panic claws at you, because you’re not sure this is anger anymore just that you want him off of you. Can’t get free of his grip, but he’s so close and he freezes, optics narrowing when you lift your head. And bite his already bleeding bottom lip as hard as you can.

#idw prowl #prowl x reader #transformers x reader

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archeo-starwars · 2 years ago

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You wouldn't happen to have an extensive layout dissection of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant? Or even a list of all notable and obscure sections of the Jedi Temple? OR or even labelled areas that are public and reserved for only temple residents. Both from canon and legends, please and thank you!!!

The best I managed to find comes from Star Wars Complete Locations - you may check out the whole archived version here. The “zoom in” option is pretty good for reading details. Below the pages (I suppose the best is to open them in new tab for better reading):

As for the list of locations, I recommend wookiepedia's list. Plenty of data, both for Legends and New Canon.

Additional sources worth to check out:

Jedi Temple Locations & Jedi Temple History - both published as official material on star wars.com in regard to prequels and New Canon sources. Pictures and references to various places inside Temple.

Star Wars.com's The Clone Wars episode guide + videoclips from the series, like

A) Jedi Archives Tour (the entrance to one of the most restricted areas of the temple: The Holocron Vault).

B) Layout of Jedi Temple Library (source)

C) Jedi Temple funeral room + environment illustration by Tara Rueping (source)

Old Data Bank for Jedi Temple

HoloNews mentioning "a mob of 20 university students attempted to infiltrate the Jedi Temple" and "managing to get as far as the Second Atrium Lobby"

Star Wars Battlefront (2) game wiki provides some map and location description

and if you have time (and patience) you can watch gameplay from 501st Legion's mission in Jedi Temple for reference, like this one

youtube

The wookiepedia's articles should give enough good idea of the rooms, their location and functions, but I'm adding a few source pages:

STAR WARS: FACT FILES #36 provides a lot informations what and where was inside the Temple and some general data about visitors, security, Grand Balcony, Grand Corridor & Towers. Not all is super specific, but worth checking out for sure.

The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia mentions this:

and for Jedi Temple entry:

As for the named locations that are public or reserved for only temple residents, there is definitely a division like that, however I'm not sure if this issue was very well explained. The source gives us some ideas, like for example, Jedi Archives have data accessible only for Jedi with rank of Master or higher (thus most likely separated areas to study). At the same time, Fact Files #25 says that Jedi Archives offers an "excellent resources to researchers, including star-map hologram consoles", but also an access to entire scientific and historical knowledge of the Republic

so non-Jedi were allowed to use Jedi Library/Archives for their own research and work-related needs. We also must remember that the Jedi Order had various scientific branches, including archaeology, exploring unknown regions, and medicine, so logically thinking Jedi worked with other, non-Jedi specialists of many fields.

We also know from various sources, that politicians and important guests were invited for various occasions. We could see in Republic comics series that Bail Organa, Mon Mothma and senator Ask Aak were allowed to listen to Jedi reporting before High Council about his last battle

or attending Jedi Funeral like Duchess Satine and Padme Amidala did for the (fake) Obi-Wan's one or just visiting as a friend/comrade-in-arm

I would need to make more research about this issue as there is plenty tie-in material to Jedi Temple on Coruscant that would take a lot time to study, but at this moment, I think the best is assume how far a non-Jedi may walk into Temple will depend greatly who is that person and what is nature of their business with Jedi.

At the same time, Purge: Seconds to Die has this line "Clone Troopers? This deep in the Temple? Not permitted."

The Jedi was in Archives herself, so it is worth to take into account that clones could have more limited access to Temple than the average guest before war did. At the same time, clone troopers could make a report before Yoda and Mace Windu/High Council, as was presented by Star Wars Tales (Honor Bound):

so it is not like they were outright forbidden to enter the temple either.

Hope it will help!

#star wars #jedi temple #jedi culture #my replies #I'm pretty sure Star Wars Miniatures too had some maps for playing inside Jedi Temple #but sadly couldn't get any good images

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symetriuk · 1 year ago

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Unlocking Security: How Vault Secures Your Data?

Vault Secure Data Management, Autodesk Vault Office is easy-to-use data management software designed specifically for non-design professionals. It enables non-CAD users to access design data, helping them manage and share all project-related data from a central location.

#Vault Secure Data Management #Vault Data Management

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simpxmachina · 7 months ago

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NEW BOT

╰┈➤ wlw red panda , botmaker

🔪 + 🫀 = ☆ bloodthirsty ☆

cai

👾 sarah fidel - BETRAYAL

another bot and one-shot on a character played by our beloved aubrey plaza ! I haven't seen operation fortune : ruse de guerre. so i'm sorry if sarah fidel is out of character. I hoped you would enjoy it anyway xoxo

The mansion was a fortress of indulgence, a sprawling edifice that wore its wealth like armor. Marble columns framed every doorway, and the floors gleamed with such ruthless perfection that Sarah half-expected to see her reflection glaring back at her. She adjusted the cuffs of her tailored blazer—a shade of cream that was carefully selected to say understated affluence without veering into gaudiness. Beneath her confident exterior, her mind churned. Hackers like her weren’t meant for front-line operations; her domain was behind screens, pulling strings in the shadows where the risks were calculated and manageable. Yet here she was, thrust into the lion’s den, wearing an identity stitched together from lies.

Alexandra Monroe. The name tasted foreign in her mouth, but it had been meticulously crafted: a young financier with a flawless resume, Ivy League credentials, and just enough edge to intrigue the man she had been sent to destroy. Months of preparation had gone into this—fabricating a backstory, memorizing key players, rehearsing her role until it became second nature. But nothing could prepare her for the suffocating atmosphere of this place.

The air was thick with wealth, the kind of obscene privilege that felt almost predatory. Men in sharp tuxedos and women in gowns dripping with jewels moved through the cavernous space like predators staking claim to territory. Laughter rang out, brittle and hollow, a performance of joy that echoed too loudly against the vaulted ceilings. Everywhere she turned, there were displays of power: rare art hung on the walls like trophies, and waiters in crisp uniforms glided through the room bearing trays of champagne.

Sarah’s gaze sharpened, scanning the room with the practiced precision of someone trained to notice what others missed. Every detail mattered. The politician she was here to expose—your father—stood near the center of the room, surrounded by sycophants and power brokers. His booming laugh carried over the orchestra’s elegant strains, a sound designed to command attention. He was a man who thrived on control, his charisma a mask for the rot beneath.

Sarah studied him carefully, cataloging his gestures, his tone, the way he carried himself. He was good at this—too good. Every word he spoke, every smile he gave was calculated, tailored to disarm and manipulate. Her stomach churned with revulsion, but she forced herself to stay composed. She had a job to do, and this man was the linchpin. His empire, built on stolen money and shattered lives, was about to collapse. And she would be the one to pull the rug out from under him.

She took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, not to drink but to blend in. A prop in her performance. The bubbles rose lazily in the glass, their effervescence mocking her stillness. She couldn’t afford to be anything less than perfect tonight.

As she navigated the crowd, her trained eye continued to analyze. She noted the alliances formed in the subtle angles of shoulders, the way some leaned in to speak in hushed tones while others stood apart, isolated yet observant. Power dynamics played out in every interaction, and Sarah read them like a script. This was a game to these people—a game of influence and survival.

But it wasn’t her game. Not really. She was here to end it, to dismantle the foundations of their false empire one keystroke at a time. Her real work wouldn’t begin until later, when she could slip away to a secure terminal and start extracting the data she needed. For now, she was a ghost in their midst, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

And then she saw you.

It wasn’t dramatic, not at first. Just a glimpse of movement on the balcony that drew her attention. She turned her head, expecting another guest stepping outside for a breath of air or a cigarette. But then she saw you, and the world seemed to narrow, the noise of the party fading to a dull hum.

You stood with your back to the room, framed by the twilight sky that bathed you in soft, golden light. The wind toyed with your hair, and for a moment, you seemed entirely separate from the chaos inside, an oasis of calm in a sea of artifice. There was something unguarded about the way you leaned against the railing, your posture relaxed yet thoughtful.

Sarah’s first instinct was skepticism. She’d been around enough of these people to know their type—spoiled, self-absorbed, the kind who thought the world revolved around their whims. Surely you were no different. You had to be another extension of this place, another cog in the machine of power and privilege.

But then you moved. A small child, no older than six, came rushing onto the balcony, their laughter cutting through the stillness. They grabbed your hand with unrestrained enthusiasm, tugging at you to come inside. And you didn’t hesitate.

You turned, your face breaking into a smile so genuine it made Sarah’s chest tighten. You let the child pull you back into the ballroom, your steps light and unhurried, as if you had all the time in the world to indulge their whim. The orchestra had struck up a lively tune, and the child demanded a dance. You laughed—a sound that felt almost out of place here, too real, too unrestrained—and spun them around in a circle.

Sarah found herself unable to look away. The scene was magnetic in its simplicity: you, twirling with the child, your dress catching the light as you moved. There was no performance in your actions, no ulterior motive. Just joy.

Her pulse quickened as she watched. You were radiant, so achingly vivid in a room full of shadows. Even the other guests seemed to notice, their attention drawn to you despite themselves. Yet you seemed oblivious to their stares, entirely focused on the child in your arms.

And then, as the music slowed, you turned to your father. Sarah’s stomach twisted as she watched you approach him, your hand outstretched in invitation. He hesitated—of course he did, a man like him wasn’t accustomed to such vulnerability—but you coaxed him with a laugh, pulling him onto the dance floor.

For a moment, the hardness in his face softened. He looked almost human, almost kind. And that, more than anything, made Sarah’s task harder. Because she could see it now—how you loved him, how you believed in him, how you had no idea what kind of man he really was.

Her gaze lingered on you as you danced, her thoughts a tangled mess of doubt and determination. She tried to tell herself you were just another part of the mission, another variable to manage. But deep down, she knew that wasn’t true.

You weren’t like the others. You didn’t belong to this world, not really. And that terrified her.

Then music swelled, and the sight of you in the embrace of your father—the man Sarah was sent to betray, to expose—struck her like a silent blow. The contrast was stark. Here was a family, two people bound by ties Sarah could never hope to understand, while she, an outsider, played a part in their destruction. The dance between you and him was a slow, fluid thing, each step a testament to the years of manipulation, of shared history, of love that was still somehow untainted by the darkness Sarah had come to uncover.

But she couldn’t afford to linger in this moment, could she? She had a job to do, and it was all too easy to forget that in the face of your innocence. The thought of you—so radiant, so blissfully unaware—was beginning to gnaw at her, pulling her thoughts into a place they shouldn’t go. She hadn’t expected this. Not from you.

Sarah’s hand tightened around the stem of her champagne glass, the cold metal biting into her skin. She had trained for months for this. She had meticulously analyzed every possible outcome. She was the perfect infiltrator—calm, methodical, detached. Yet, as she watched you spin in your father’s arms, your joy a stark contrast to the weight of the lies she’d constructed, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was losing her grip on herself.

The evening continued to unfold in the usual way, but Sarah barely noticed the passing time. She could hear the laughter of the guests, the murmur of conversations, the clinking of glasses, but her eyes remained on you. It was impossible to tear herself away from the sight.

As the song neared its end, you and your father separated, but not before you kissed his cheek, a sweet gesture of affection that seemed to linger in the air long after you’d pulled away. It was the kind of moment that meant everything and nothing, the kind that could make a person forget the world around them if they weren’t careful. Sarah was careful, but not tonight. Not with you.

You glanced over to the crowd, and for a split second, your eyes locked with Sarah’s. A fleeting moment of recognition. But that was all. You smiled briefly, unaware of the turmoil swirling inside her, before turning back to the festivities.

Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. It was nothing—a glance, a smile. But it was enough to send her mind spiraling. She had come here with one mission: to steal from your father, to expose him as the criminal he was. Yet, as the night wore on, the task felt less like an obligation and more like a betrayal.

Her emotions, usually kept in tight rein, were beginning to crack. The lines between duty and desire were blurring, and she was unsure which side was winning. She wanted to hate your father for the things he had done, for the empire of lies he’d built, but how could she when you were standing there, laughing and dancing, a beacon of light in the midst of all this darkness?

She couldn’t allow herself to feel this way. She had come here for a reason. She had her orders, and the stakes were too high to let anything, or anyone, get in the way. But as the night continued and your laughter echoed in her ears, Sarah realized that this was the first time she felt like she was on the edge of something, something dangerous.

The evening drew on, and Sarah found herself alone in a corner of the grand hall, her mind whirring in a thousand directions. Her mission had always been clear: to retrieve the black money, to clean out your father’s accounts and expose him for the fraud he was. She could almost hear the hum of the data flowing through the system, the invisible strings she would pull when the time was right. But there was something else now, a weight she hadn’t expected to carry. The guilt, the guilt of deceiving someone like you.

You were innocent. You were pure, untouched by the darkness that surrounded you. It was hard to reconcile the image of the loving daughter you had just revealed, dancing with your father, with the monster Sarah knew your father to be. The man she was supposed to destroy. The man you loved.

The evening passed in a haze, and the next part of the plan loomed ahead. But Sarah found herself not wanting to leave. She wanted to stay, to watch you some more, to learn everything she could about you, about this world of privilege and wealth that seemed so foreign to her. But more than that, she wanted to hold on to the feeling you gave her—of something real, something human, something beautiful in the midst of all the lies.

She wasn’t supposed to want that. She wasn’t supposed to be caught up in you.

But there she was, standing in the shadows, wrestling with emotions she hadn’t planned for, watching you dance, her heart pulled in directions she couldn’t control. She was supposed to be the one in control. She was the hacker, the planner, the master of the game. Yet in this moment, standing on the periphery of your life, she felt more out of control than she ever had before.

And then it happened.

As the orchestra finished its final number, a pause settled over the ballroom. Guests began to mill around, their conversations drifting like the notes of the music. You, radiant as ever, moved toward the edge of the room, a child once again tugging at your sleeve. You looked around, eyes searching for someone, and when they landed on Sarah—just for a moment—the world seemed to stop.

There was no way you could have known. No way you could have understood the turmoil inside her, the battle between loyalty to her mission and the growing feelings she could no longer ignore. But in that moment, when your gaze met hers, something shifted.

It wasn’t much. A fleeting look. But it was enough to make Sarah question everything she thought she knew.

For the first time since stepping into this gilded cage, Sarah felt the weight of the lies pressing down on her. She had known she was playing with fire when she took this mission, but now, staring at you, she realized the flames had already begun to scorch her. There was no turning back.

And the air was thick with the hum of a thousand conversations, the muted murmur of gossip and flirtation drifting on the edges of the grand ballroom. Sarah, ever the observer, stood at the far end of the room, her eyes tracing the intricate dance of people, their glistening gowns and sharp suits reflecting the grandeur of the night. The orchestra played softly in the background, but it was the way the light played off the walls, casting delicate shadows, that caught her attention—flickering like the secrets everyone here seemed to hide.

She should have been more focused. She should have been analyzing the situation, considering her next move, her next line of attack. After all, she had a job to do, a mission that no one else could see but her. But no matter how much she tried to pull herself back into her role, her gaze kept returning to you.

You, standing on the edge of the room, a soft glow around you—like you were untouched by the world. You seemed so… human in a place that thrummed with falseness, your laughter mingling with the music, your smile cutting through the facades like sunlight breaking through the clouds. There was something about you that grounded Sarah in ways she couldn’t explain, something that kept pulling at the frayed edges of her concentration.

You caught her staring, and for a brief moment, your eyes met hers. Time slowed, the noise of the party dimming in Sarah’s ears as your gaze held hers. There was no hostility, no suspicion in your look—just an open, disarming warmth. And Sarah, so used to being invisible, to being a shadow on the periphery of everything, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something unfamiliar stir inside her.

But before she could even begin to process what had just happened, a small child, perhaps five or six, tugged at your hand. The little boy, with his tousled hair and wide, innocent eyes, raised his arms toward you, a clear demand for your attention.

You giggled, a soft, melodic sound that made Sarah’s chest tighten inexplicably. Without hesitation, you lifted the child into your arms, your fingers brushing his cheek as you gently rocked him. The boy snuggled into you, his small hands gripping your shoulders as you began to sway gently, a natural dance between you two that made Sarah’s heart stutter in her chest.

For a long moment, Sarah stood frozen, unable to tear her gaze away. It was strange, this pull she felt. The child, so comfortable in your arms, your effortless grace, the way your face softened as you held him—it was so… real. So incredibly real. It was as if the world around you had stopped spinning for just a moment, and all that existed was you, the child, and the tenderness you gave him so naturally.

The boy, lulled by the warmth of your arms, soon fell asleep, his small form curling against your chest. You carefully adjusted him, brushing his hair back with a soft, absent-minded stroke as you continued to talk with a few of the other guests, the child in your arms a gentle reminder of the purity and innocence that still existed in the world, far away from the corruption that Sarah had been sent to expose.

Sarah watched, transfixed. Her thoughts, once sharp and focused, now felt distant, slipping away from her control as she followed every movement you made, every subtle shift of your posture, the way your fingers traced the child’s hair.

It was only when a man—a well-dressed figure with sharp eyes and a too-wide smile—approached her that Sarah’s thoughts were finally dragged back into the present. He leaned in close, his voice low and smooth as he spoke, a trace of flirtation in his tone.

“You seem a little distant,” he murmured, his eyes glinting with interest. “Is everything all right? It’s hard to believe a woman like you could be lost in thought at a party like this.”

Sarah forced a smile, her attention barely on him as she nodded absently. “I’m fine,” she replied, her voice cool, detached. But her mind wasn’t with him—it was still on you. You, with your effortless beauty, your warmth. The way you held that child, so effortlessly caring and kind. Sarah felt the oddest twinge of discomfort, like she was intruding on something sacred, something she had no business desiring.

The man, oblivious to her growing unease, continued to talk. “I must admit, I didn’t expect to see someone like you at an event like this. You’re... different, aren’t you?”

Sarah nodded again, the words barely registering as he continued to press closer, his gaze too insistent, his tone too forward. His flirtation, while shallow and empty, felt like a weight on her shoulders, a stark contrast to the real, unspoken connection she’d shared with you in that brief moment of eye contact.

And then, as if summoned by some divine force, you appeared.

You approached with a warm, playful smile on your lips, and the man’s eyes flicked up to you as you came closer, sensing the change in the air. You made a show of looking between Sarah and the man, your gaze narrowing just slightly in that way that made it clear you were sizing him up.

“Is there a problem here?” you asked, your voice light but carrying an edge of amusement, a playful challenge in the words.

The man’s smile faltered, and he looked briefly embarrassed, as if he realized for the first time that he might not be as charming as he’d hoped. “Oh, no,” he stammered, adjusting his tie awkwardly. “Just... just making conversation.”

You smirked, a glint of sarcasm in your eyes. “Well, you’re really good at it,” you said, your tone dripping with playful irony. “But I think my friend here was just getting lost in her thoughts.”

The man, now looking decidedly flustered, took a small step back, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation. He gave Sarah one last, somewhat awkward look before turning and retreating, mumbling something under his breath.

You turned to Sarah then, your smile softening into something genuine, something warmer. “I’m sorry about that,” you said, your voice low, almost apologetic. “Some people don’t know when to stop.”

Sarah’s heart skipped a beat at the way you spoke—like you really cared, like you could sense the discomfort she hadn’t even known she was feeling. She nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite herself.

“It’s fine,” Sarah replied, her voice just as soft. “I can handle it.”

You looked down at the sleeping child in her arms, a small frown tugging at your lips. “It’s not always easy, though, is it?” you murmured, more to yourself than to Sarah. “Sometimes, people just don’t know how to leave you alone. But I’m glad to see you’re all right.”

You handed the boy to a passing servant, your movements gentle as you murmured a quiet thank you to the woman. Then, you looked back at Sarah, your eyes locking with hers in a moment that felt more intense than either of you expected.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You stood there, the noise of the party around you forgotten, both of you caught in the stillness of something unspoken, something that wasn’t quite a promise, but something that felt like it could be.

Then, softly, you spoke again. “If you ever need saving again…” you trailed off with a teasing grin, the lightness of your voice returning. “I’ll be around.”

Sarah’s breath caught in her chest. There it was again—the softness in your voice, the warmth of your presence, the feeling that she was no longer just a player in the game, but something more. Something real.

And for the first time, Sarah felt the weight of the lies she’d built around herself and the tension between duty and desire pull at her with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.

---

The grand mansion was a sprawling labyrinth of cold marble and velvet drapery, its halls echoing with the quiet footsteps of servants and the low murmur of distant conversations. Sarah, now under the guise of Alexandra Monroe, had blended seamlessly into this world of wealth and corruption. Her role as the financial advisor to the elusive and powerful politician, Gregory Hale, was the perfect disguise, one that allowed her to move about unnoticed, like a shadow slipping between the cracks.

Sarah had already spent days observing Hale’s movements, learning the patterns of his routine, the ways his mind worked when it came to money, and more importantly, how she could get close enough to gather the information she needed to expose his secrets.

But today was different. She had a new task. The bugging of Hale’s office.

As the sun poured through the tall windows of the mansion, Sarah walked with deliberate steps through the gleaming corridors, her heels clicking against the polished floor with an eerie finality. She could feel the weight of her mission pressing against her chest, a burden she wore with practiced ease. Every corner she turned, every door she passed, she was on alert. She had done this before—many times—but never in a place quite like this, never with so much on the line.

Her breath was steady, her hands steady, as she moved to the door of Hale’s office. She knew the layout by heart now, having memorized the route from the times she’d observed him. The office was tucked away on the second floor, a place where Hale often retreated to make deals, count his black money, and manipulate the threads of his influence.

But just as she approached the door, a soft, unexpected voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Alexandra?”

She froze, her heart skipping a beat. Her eyes flicked toward the sound of the voice, and there, standing at the far end of the hallway, was you.

You, dressed in a soft blue dress, your hair cascading down in gentle waves, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. You looked… radiant, untouched by the darkness that swirled just beneath the surface of this place. It was a warmth that made Sarah’s chest tighten, a strange mix of discomfort and longing pulling at her in ways she couldn’t articulate.

“Oh, I didn’t expect to see you here,” you continued, walking towards her with a light, graceful step. “I thought you were meeting with my father today.”

Sarah blinked, shaking herself from the haze of thoughts that threatened to consume her. “I… I was,” she replied, her voice steady but carrying a faint edge of surprise. “I was just on my way to his office.”

You tilted your head slightly, curiosity lighting up your face. “I see. Is he in there?”

Sarah hesitated for a brief moment before nodding. “He should be,” she said, gesturing toward the door behind her. “I’m… meeting with him for a financial review. But I didn’t expect to bump into you here.”

Your gaze lingered on her for a moment, as if reading something beneath her calm exterior. The faintest trace of a smile curled on your lips, and for a moment, Sarah couldn’t decide whether it was teasing or something else entirely. “Well, maybe it’s fate,” you said softly, your voice playful. “Or maybe I’m just looking for an excuse to talk to you.”

Sarah’s heart thudded louder in her chest. She knew she had to focus, knew she couldn’t let the connection between them distract her, not with the mission so close at hand. But somehow, being in your presence, even in this moment of apparent chance, made everything feel a little more complicated, a little less clear.

“I’m always happy to talk,” Sarah replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But I really should get going. You know how your father is with his schedules.”

You took a step closer, your smile widening. “Maybe we could talk a bit before you go?”

Sarah felt the tension rise in her chest, the unease at the growing closeness between them, but she knew it was just a passing moment. It was a brief exchange—a momentary diversion. She could handle it.

“I’d like that,” Sarah said quietly, her voice softening despite her inner turmoil.

You led her a little ways down the hall, your steps in sync, and there, beneath the soft golden light that poured through the windows, you began to talk. It was simple conversation at first—talk of the party the night before, of the weather, of anything and everything that didn’t touch on the heart of the matter. And yet, with every word, with every fleeting smile and gentle laugh, Sarah found herself drawn in.

You were… different. So different from the others in this world of deceit and power. It was as if, beneath all the opulence and the money, you were untouched. A light in a place where shadows ruled.

As the days went by, Sarah continued her mission, slipping deeper into the folds of Hale’s life, learning his secrets, gaining his trust. She was always on the move, always watching, always planning. But as she did, she found herself in constant, subtle contact with you.

At first, it was small things. You would bump into her in the hallway and smile warmly, asking about her day. Sometimes you would sit beside her during dinner, chatting lightly, your laughter filling the silence in a way that was strangely comforting.

But it didn’t stop there. You began to seek her out.

One afternoon, when Sarah was reviewing some files in the lavish library of Hale’s mansion, you appeared at her side, a tray of tea in hand. You placed it down before Sarah with an easy, almost intimate gesture, and Sarah felt a strange flutter in her chest. She had always kept people at arm’s length, always kept her focus on the job, on the task at hand. But with you… everything seemed so much more complicated.

“Is everything going well with the finances?” you asked, your tone light, but Sarah could see the flicker of concern in your eyes. “Father tends to get so caught up in his deals that he forgets about the details.”

Sarah nodded, offering a tight smile. “It’s all fine. Nothing you need to worry about.”

But the more she spoke with you, the more she realized that you weren’t like your father at all. You weren’t consumed by the hunger for power or the manipulation of money. Instead, there was an ease to you, a warmth that made Sarah’s walls slowly begin to crumble, piece by piece.

It was difficult to ignore the growing connection between them. You would find small reasons to speak to Sarah, offering her a seat at dinner, pulling her into conversations about art or music, anything that seemed to interest you. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, Sarah found herself looking forward to those moments.

Each time she saw you, she became more intrigued, more drawn to the way you seemed to move through the world with such grace, such authenticity. There was no pretense in you—no mask, no agenda.

And then, one day, as Sarah was once again at Hale’s office, preparing to plant the bug she had so carefully designed, she felt a presence behind her. She turned, half-expecting to see Hale, but instead, there you were—standing in the doorway, looking at her with that soft, knowing smile.

“Alexandra, I didn’t realize you were here,” you said, your voice gentle, almost teasing. “I thought you were busy with my father today?”

Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop around her. She was alone with you, no distractions, no interruptions, and something shifted between them, something unspoken, something that made Sarah’s chest ache in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“I… I was just finishing up,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ll be on my way soon.”

You stepped closer, your presence overwhelming in the quiet room. “Before you go…” you began, your gaze fixed on her, “I just wanted to say thank you.”

Sarah blinked, taken aback by your words. “For what?”

“For being here,” you said, your voice quiet, sincere. “For everything you’ve done for my father and for… being here with me. It’s strange, I don’t know why, but I feel like I can trust you.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavier than anything Sarah had ever heard. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond, how to reconcile the words you spoke with the truth of what she was really doing.

But all she could do was nod, a faint smile pulling at her lips, even as her heart twisted with the realization that the deeper she fell into this false identity, the more complicated things were becoming.

As the days passed, the invisible threads between Sarah and you continued to tighten, drawing the two of you closer with an intensity that neither of you could fully comprehend. Sarah, with her guarded exterior, remained the perfect professional—her role as Alexandra Monroe giving her the perfect cover to move through the world of wealth and influence without suspicion. But when it came to you, things felt different. You weren’t just another task or another piece of the puzzle to manipulate. You were an enigma, a shining light that pierced through the cold darkness of this world of corruption. And slowly, she found herself drawn to you, more than she ever intended.

The first time it happened, it was subtle. A touch of the hand as you handed her a glass of wine, your fingers brushing lightly against hers, a flicker of heat passing between you both. Sarah’s breath had caught in her throat, and for a moment, the world had fallen away. She’d been careful to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t deny the spark that ignited within her. It was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

The second time, it was in the garden, when you’d asked her to join you for a walk after dinner. You’d talked of everything and nothing at all, your laughter mixing with the soft rustling of the leaves. It was a moment of peaceful intimacy, and Sarah couldn’t help but feel as though she had stepped into a world she didn’t fully understand—a world of beauty, of light, of something untainted by the darkness she was so accustomed to.

And then, there were the looks. Those lingering glances, the way your eyes would catch hers across the room when you thought no one was watching. Sarah would often find herself lost in your gaze, feeling a pull she couldn’t explain. Your eyes, full of warmth and curiosity, held an intensity that was disarming. Every time your eyes met, her heart would race in her chest, and she’d have to tear herself away, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand.

But despite her best efforts to maintain control, Sarah found it becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the undercurrent of desire that simmered between them.

It was on one particular evening, after a lavish dinner, when the tension between them reached its peak. Sarah had just returned to her room after a long day of pretending, of playing her part, when a knock came at the door.

She paused, momentarily taken aback. It was late, and the mansion had fallen into a quiet lull. Her first instinct was to ignore it—after all, she had no reason to entertain anyone at this hour. But the knock came again, and this time, there was a gentle, almost tentative quality to it.

“Alexandra?”

The voice was soft, familiar, and Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. She stood, frozen for a moment, trying to calm the sudden rush of emotions that flooded her chest. She knew who it was. It was you.

The door opened just slightly, and there you were, standing in the dim light of the hallway. You were dressed in a flowing, white nightdress that glowed softly in the low light, your hair falling loosely around your shoulders, your eyes wide and filled with an unspoken question.

“I… I hope I’m not disturbing you,” you said, your voice quiet, almost hesitant. “But I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment.”

Sarah’s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. She knew she should resist, knew she should send you away with a polite excuse, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. There was something about the way you stood there, so vulnerable yet so confident, that made her heart ache with an intensity she wasn’t prepared for.

“You’re not disturbing me,” Sarah finally managed to say, her voice low, controlled. “Come in.”

You stepped inside, the soft fabric of your nightdress brushing against the floor as you moved toward her. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the lamps casting long shadows on the walls. There was an almost dreamlike quality to the atmosphere, as if time had slowed, holding its breath.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you said, your voice soft, almost sheepish. “I kept thinking about everything that’s been happening. About how strange it is to have someone like you in our lives. Someone I can’t quite figure out.”

Sarah nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I know what you mean. I feel the same way, sometimes.”

You stepped a little closer, the distance between you narrowing with each passing second. Sarah’s pulse quickened, her heart pounding in her chest as your presence filled the room, warm and undeniable. She could smell the soft scent of lavender on your skin, the fragrance lingering in the air between you.

“I feel like I’ve known you for much longer than I have,” you continued, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Like there’s something… familiar about you. Something that draws me in, even though I know I shouldn’t feel this way.”

Sarah’s breath hitched, the words hanging in the air between you. She could feel the magnetic pull between them, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. She had never felt this way about anyone before—not like this, not in a way that made her heart race and her breath catch in her throat.

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” Sarah said, her voice strained, betraying the emotions she was trying so hard to keep buried. She didn’t want to acknowledge it, didn’t want to admit that she felt the same.

But you weren’t listening. You took another step forward, closing the space between you. Your eyes were dark now, intense, and Sarah could feel the heat of your gaze like a physical touch. The air between you crackled with something electric, something dangerous.

“I think you do,” you said softly, your hand reaching out to touch her arm, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through Sarah’s body. “I think you’ve felt it too.”

And then, in that moment, it happened. Without thinking, without the rational part of her mind having time to intervene, Sarah leaned forward, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative, as if neither of them could believe what was happening.

But as the kiss deepened, as the heat between them intensified, the world outside of the room seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them now, wrapped in this strange, intoxicating moment that neither of them could escape from.

Sarah’s hands, which had remained at her sides for so long, now reached up to touch your face, to pull you closer. Your lips were warm and soft against hers, and Sarah felt her resolve crumble under the intensity of the kiss.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and tangled in the moment, neither of them spoke for a long time. There was so much left unsaid, so much that neither of them dared to confront.

But as you pulled back slightly, your fingers still lingering on her arm, you looked into Sarah’s eyes, and for the first time, Sarah felt as though she was truly seen.

“I didn’t expect this,” you whispered, your voice breathless, as if the kiss had stolen the words from your throat.

Neither did Sarah. But as she stood there, with you so close, the weight of the mission, the weight of the lies, seemed a little less important. For the first time, she felt a flicker of something real, something that could, maybe, change everything.

---

The soft light of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The bed, still slightly disheveled from the night before, held the quiet evidence of a moment that had passed, leaving behind the traces of lingering warmth. Sarah’s room was calm and serene—decorated simply, with a few personal touches that reflected a woman who had crafted her life with precision. Yet, today, the room felt different. The space seemed to be filled with an energy that was undeniably hers and yours, two forces drawn together like magnetic poles.

You were there, nestled in the sheets—wrapped in them like an ethereal figure, the white fabric clinging to your form in a way that seemed almost sculptural. You lay on your stomach, your legs slightly bent, one hand resting on the book in front of you while the other brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The way you held the book, so absorbed in the words, the way your body seemed to flow in such natural grace beneath the sheets—Sarah could hardly look away.

She sat at the edge of the bed, her body languid as she watched you, her gaze tracing the lines of your figure. For a moment, she allowed herself to indulge, her eyes drinking in the sight of you, taking in how the soft sheets hugged your skin, the way the sunlight kissed your bare back. You seemed so at ease, so perfectly composed, yet there was a certain softness to you in this moment that made Sarah’s chest tighten. You looked like something carved from marble, perfect in every way. A modern-day Aphrodite, with your long, dark hair and glowing skin, radiant and serene, the book in your hands the only thing that seemed to tether you to the present.

She wanted to say something—anything—but the words stuck in her throat as she watched you. The guilt, that ever-present, gnawing sense of deception, was there, lurking beneath the surface of everything she did. She wasn't Alexandra Monroe. She wasn’t the woman she had allowed you to believe. But in this room, at this moment, none of that seemed to matter.

Sarah’s fingers twitched at her side, wanting to reach out to you. She wanted to touch you, to hold you, to pull you closer. But she stopped herself. She watched you for a few moments longer, feeling the weight of her secret, the weight of her lies, pressing on her chest like an iron bar. But in the face of you, in the warmth you exuded, all that seemed so distant. The real world—the one she was pretending to belong to—felt so far away, almost irrelevant in the light of this stolen peace.

Your voice broke through the silence, soft but full of curiosity, dragging her from her reverie.

“Alexandra,” you asked, your voice sleepy but playful, “what exactly do you find interesting about this book?”

Your tone was light, teasing, but Sarah couldn’t help but notice the way you looked at her as you asked. Your eyes were full of innocence, but there was something else, too—a spark of something that she wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret. You had no idea, of course. No idea that Sarah had no interest in the subject at hand, no true knowledge of finance or the intricacies of economics. It was all a façade, a performance, a game she had been playing long before meeting you.

But now, sitting here in the soft morning light with you, the words seemed to lose their meaning, the numbers on the pages becoming irrelevant. It wasn’t the book she was thinking about; it was you. Always you.

She shifted her posture, leaning slightly forward as her fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. Her hand lingered in your hair for a moment, fingers brushing gently, caressing the soft strands. She didn't trust herself to speak at first. Instead, she allowed her eyes to study you, to memorize the way your lips curved as you smiled, the way your body seemed to breathe in time with the warmth of the room.

The smile on your face was genuine, something that had begun to grow between the two of you in the days since the kiss had blurred the lines between who you were and who Sarah was pretending to be. It was all starting to feel... real, even when Sarah knew it shouldn’t.

“I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice soft, almost regretful. “I guess I just thought it would be… practical, something I could learn, something that might make me… more useful.”

She didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t the truth—she wasn’t really interested in finance at all—but it was close enough to avoid the question. Besides, the real truth was that she had no idea how to respond to the way your presence made her feel. How everything about you seemed to make the world fade into something far less significant.

You shifted in the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows to meet her gaze. Your eyes were full of something—something softer than what Sarah had ever expected. It was a look of trust, maybe. Or maybe it was just the effect of being so close to each other for so long. Either way, Sarah felt herself growing weaker under the weight of your gaze.

“You’re already plenty useful to me,” you teased, that smile still lingering on your lips.

Sarah swallowed, her chest tight. There was a part of her that wanted to pull away, to protect herself, to pull the walls back up that had taken years to build. But that part of her was weakening. It was losing its hold.

Without thinking, her hand returned to your hair, her fingers brushing through the strands, gently pulling them back from your face. She watched as you closed your eyes for a moment, a soft breath escaping your lips. You didn’t resist, didn’t pull away. And for a fleeting second, Sarah thought she might stay here forever, lost in this moment of tenderness, of warmth, of something so perfectly ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.

“I never thought I’d end up here, you know,” Sarah murmured softly, her voice full of that same strange vulnerability. She didn’t know why she was saying it. Maybe it was the quiet intimacy of the moment, or maybe it was because of the guilt that was beginning to cloud her thoughts again. But she couldn’t stop herself. “I never thought I’d let myself… feel this way.”

You met her eyes, the softness in your gaze deepening. For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was a strange tension in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just… intense.

“Do you regret it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the question hanging between you like an unspoken promise.

Sarah blinked, her fingers still gently tracing your hair. She felt her heart skip a beat, the weight of your words settling over her like a soft, heavy blanket. Her answer wasn’t immediate, and for the first time, she realized that she wasn’t entirely sure. There was too much at stake. Too much of her identity had been wrapped up in the lies. But looking at you—this radiant, open soul in front of her—she couldn’t help but wish that the truth didn’t seem so far away.

“No,” she finally said, her voice steady, though her chest was tight. “I don’t regret it.”

And as you smiled softly, that small, knowing smile, she felt something shift in her. Something deep inside her, something that made her realize she didn’t want to pull away from this. She didn’t want to walk away from you.

For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be something real.

But the real world always catches up. Lies never last.

Days drifted by like leaves in a lazy river, but Sarah could feel the current of her own actions pulling her under. It started small—a whispered message that didn’t seem to matter at first, an innocuous note that seemed to have little weight. But as the days went on, that message began to settle into her mind like a stone lodged in her chest, a constant reminder that time was running out.

The mission was drawing to a close.

Sarah sat in her temporary office, the one she had carefully crafted for the last few weeks under the false identity of Alexandra Monroe. The world outside seemed so far away now, as if the life she had built here—this life with you—was something she could never have truly known. But she had to let go. There was no other choice. She had done her job, infiltrated the heart of the corruption, and now it was time to disappear. To collect the evidence. To walk away.

Everything has a price.

Her fingers hovered over her phone, her gaze flicking to the unread message once more. The words burned in her mind, mocking her, reminding her that the time to act was now. She felt her pulse quicken as the weight of the decision pressed heavily against her chest.

One last job. One final act of betrayal. One last moment to take the money, pass it to her team, and disappear.

But then what? What about you?

Her eyes flicked to the door. The sound of your laughter had been echoing in her mind all morning, the way you moved through the halls like sunlight breaking through a storm. You were still unaware. Still untouched by the truth.

And Sarah? She was no longer sure who she was. She wasn’t just Alexandra Monroe anymore. She wasn’t the woman she had been before. You had cracked something in her. Something she didn’t think could ever be cracked. Something soft. Something human.

But it was too late. She couldn’t undo what had been set into motion.

---

The final day arrived, cloaked in an uneasy silence. Sarah had already set everything in motion. The black money had been arranged to be moved. The proof of the politician’s corruption—the man who had built his empire on lies and greed—was ready to be handed over. She would make the exchange, slip away with her team, and vanish into the shadows. Everything had been planned down to the smallest detail.

And yet, as she stood in the grand hallway of the mansion, she felt as though she were walking on the edge of a knife. Each step felt like it could be her last.

Her eyes flicked over the guests who wandered in and out, the polished, pristine faces of power and influence—some laughing, some murmuring in groups, none the wiser. But her attention wasn’t on them. It was on you.

You were still the same. Beautiful. Radiant. The very embodiment of everything Sarah hadn’t realized she wanted—until now.

She spotted you across the room, surrounded by laughter and the hum of conversation, but her heart skipped as she saw something shift in your gaze. A glance that caught hers. And for a moment, time seemed to still. You smiled—so innocent, so unaware—but Sarah felt the cold knot of her impending betrayal twist deeper inside her.

The message had arrived. The job was simple. The money was ready to be moved. There was no more time.

But then, you were there.

You crossed the room to her, your presence undeniable, your smile so sweet it almost broke her resolve. You stopped in front of her, a gleam of curiosity in your eyes.

“Alexandra,” you said softly, tilting your head. “I was just wondering if you might want to join me for a dance?”

The question caught Sarah off guard. She hadn’t expected this. You were always so... so full of life. Always so present. So genuine. How could she say no?

But she had to. She had to say goodbye. This was the moment.

“I… I can’t,” Sarah said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve got some things to take care of. But maybe later.”

You didn’t seem to buy it. You frowned, confusion and hurt flickering across your face.

"Later?” you echoed, and Sarah could hear the sadness in your voice. “You’ve been saying that for days now, Alexandra. What’s going on? Why are you avoiding me?”

She felt the heat of your gaze, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you, and for a moment, she considered telling you everything. But then the door opened, the sound of her team waiting to make the exchange. It was time.

And then, just as quickly, you were gone.

---

The hall was empty when Sarah moved toward the back, away from the guests, toward the place where the money had been stashed. She pulled the small briefcase from beneath the hidden panel in the wall, her fingers trembling as she prepared to hand it off to her team. She was almost there.

Almost free.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Another message. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she saw it.

Everything is set. Do it now.

She took a breath, pulling herself together. She turned toward the door, but then she stopped.

A shadow in the doorway.

It was you.

You stood there, eyes wide, breath quick. You had seen it all. You had watched everything unfold. Your heart was on your sleeve now, raw, broken. You were shaking your head, your mouth moving but no words coming out at first.

“Sarah…” you breathed, disbelief written on your face. “What are you doing?”

The world seemed to collapse in on Sarah. She felt the walls around her crumble, her heart racing as the reality of what she had done hit her full force. You had seen it all. Everything.

“No,” you whispered, the pain in your voice cutting her to the core. “No, this can't be real… you—this isn’t you.”

Your eyes were wide, searching hers for the truth, but Sarah couldn’t give it to you. She couldn’t give you any more lies.

“I—” Sarah began, but her words faltered. What could she say? What was there left to say?

This is the mission. This is what you’ve always been trained to do.

But you were there. You had been there for her. You had made her feel something real. And now, she was standing here, caught in the tangled web of lies, unable to escape.

“Tell me this isn’t happening,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you took a step forward, your hand reaching out. “Tell me you’re not—tell me you’re not betraying me.”

“I’m sorry,” Sarah whispered, the words feeling like poison in her mouth. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant to…”

You couldn’t hear her anymore. You took another step forward, your face crumpling with the weight of the betrayal. The tears welled in your eyes. You looked lost.

“How could you?” you whispered, your voice a broken tremor in the air. You shook your head, stepping back. “I thought you—I thought you were different!”

The hurt in your voice was too much. Sarah wanted to reach for you, wanted to apologize a thousand times over, but the distance between you was growing. You were slipping away, disappearing into the shadows. And with each step, it felt like the last piece of herself that Sarah had left was crumbling to dust.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, but it was too late.

With one last tearful glance, you turned and walked away.

The sting of betrayal hung thick in the air like a heavy fog, and Sarah stood frozen in the doorway as you retreated from her. The world outside seemed so distant, so far away, as she struggled to form the words that might make everything right again. The plan had worked—she had nearly escaped, had nearly taken everything she needed and walked away with nothing but memories of a woman she had come to care for, even love. But now? Now it was all falling apart.

You hadn’t even let her explain. And Sarah felt the weight of it all settle onto her shoulders, the voice in her earpiece shouting orders that she couldn’t possibly follow, her team urging her to leave, to finish the mission.

But none of that mattered now.

You mattered.

"Wait," Sarah called out, her voice cracking as she took a shaky step toward you. "Please, just—let me explain."

You turned back, your eyes a mixture of confusion, hurt, and anger. It was too much. The betrayal, the lies. Everything had shattered in the seconds it had taken for you to realize what was happening. You couldn't believe it. She couldn’t believe it.

"You don't need to explain," you whispered bitterly, your hands trembling at your sides. "I can’t even look at you right now. After everything... You lied to me. You used me."

“I never meant to hurt you,” Sarah continued, her voice a fragile thread in the darkness. "I swear to you, my feelings for you... They're real. I care about you. This—this isn’t who I am. But I’m not who you think I am."

You shook your head, disbelief written across your face, and Sarah felt her heart crack into pieces. Her hands shook as she reached for you, but you stepped back, the distance between you growing wider with every moment that passed.

“Who are you, then?” Your voice trembled as the words escaped. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not... Alexandra Monroe,” Sarah finally said, her voice dropping to a quiet, almost defeated tone. "My real name is Sarah Fidel."

The words hung in the air like a confession, one she hadn't planned on making, but something inside of her couldn’t hold it back anymore. The truth had to come out. If she was going to lose you—and she feared she already had—then at least you would know everything.

"Why did you lie to me?" you demanded, your voice rising with emotion. "Who are you, really? What are you doing here? Why—why did you pretend to be someone else?"

Sarah’s chest tightened at your question, and she took a step closer to you, ignoring the frantic chatter in her earpiece telling her to move, to finish what she’d started. She was losing everything. She was losing you.

“I didn’t want to. I never wanted to deceive you,” she said softly, her words laced with sincerity. “I came here to do something, something that had to be done. I needed to get close to your father… I needed to find out what he was involved in. I had to expose him. But when I met you... everything changed. I didn’t expect to feel like this."

You stood still, watching her, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, the hurt in your eyes turning to anger.

"My father? You’re saying my father’s involved in all this?"

Sarah hesitated, her eyes briefly flickering to the side as her mind raced. "Your father... he’s been laundering money, running illegal operations... I was sent here to gather evidence, to bring him down. But I—” Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. “I didn’t know about you. I didn’t know about us.”

“You didn’t know about us?” You scoffed, stepping forward, your voice rising. "What do you mean by that? I trusted you. I let you in. You—you said you loved me!"

Sarah felt the pain of your words like a knife. "I do love you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but full of raw emotion. "I know it sounds insane. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, please believe me—everything I’ve felt for you, everything between us, was real. I’ve never... I’ve never felt this way before. You—you changed everything for me."

Her breath caught in her throat as she took another step toward you, her hand reaching out for yours, but you pulled back, your eyes filled with so much conflict.

"I can’t just forget what you've done, Sarah." The name tasted strange on your lips now. "You've been lying to me this entire time. You’re not the person I thought you were.”

The air between you two was thick with tension, and Sarah felt the tears welling up behind her eyes. Her hands shook with the weight of everything she had to say, everything she needed to explain. “I never wanted to hurt you. And I never wanted to drag you into this mess. I swear to you, I was going to leave. I was going to walk away, take the money, and disappear.”

You shook your head, your eyes still dark with hurt. "But now I know what you've been doing, Sarah. I can’t... I can’t forgive you for that. My father? This whole thing? It’s too much. It’s all a lie, and I—"

“Stop,” Sarah said softly, cutting you off. She took a step closer again, her voice cracking under the weight of everything. “Please... just listen to me. I didn’t want this to be the way it was. I never wanted to deceive you. I want to be with you. I care about you. And I know I’ve messed up. I know I’ve hurt you, but this—everything I’ve done, it was because I didn’t have any other choice."

You stared at her, your expression torn between the anger you felt and the love that you had for her, a love that, despite everything, still lingered beneath the surface. Your heart beat faster in your chest, and you felt the weight of the decision you had to make.

But the world felt like it was breaking apart around you. There was so much you didn’t know, so much you couldn’t understand. Your father was involved in something far darker than you had ever imagined, and Sarah had been part of it. She had lied to you, and yet she stood here, asking for forgiveness.

What was the truth?

And yet, beneath all of the anger, beneath all of the hurt, there was still a part of you that wanted to believe in her. That wanted to believe that everything they had was real, that Sarah—Alexandra—wasn’t just a mask, a facade. That the love she had shown you, the way she held you, the moments she shared with you, weren’t just part of a game.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Sarah’s heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability. She reached out, her hand brushing against your cheek. “Please,” she said softly, her voice full of pain. “Don’t let this be the end. I know I’ve made mistakes. But I swear to you, everything I feel for you is real.”

For a long moment, you didn’t move. The silence stretched between you, and Sarah felt as though time itself had stopped. You were fighting, torn between your feelings for her, the woman you had come to love, and the reality of the situation that had been uncovered. But as you looked into her eyes—her soul bared to you, raw and trembling—you saw the truth behind the lies.

And in that moment, something inside of you broke. The tears that had been welling up inside of you spilled over, and you felt the weight of everything settle onto your shoulders.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you whispered. “But I need time... I need time to figure out what’s real.”

Sarah’s chest tightened, but she nodded, a faint but hopeful smile on her lips. “I’ll wait for you,” she said softly, her voice steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

And as she reached out one final time, pulling you close, you allowed yourself to melt into her embrace, torn between the past and the future, between the love you felt for her and the world you now knew you could never be a part of.

But for now, all you could do was hold on—hold on to the woman who had lied to you, hold on to the love you still wanted to believe in, even though you weren’t sure what was left to hold.

And maybe, just maybe, the answer would come in time.

But for now, all you had was the silence between you and the hope that maybe, one day, the truth would set you both free.

#aubrey plaza #aubrey plaza x reader #sarah fidel #rio vidal #aubrey plaza's characters are automatically hot or what ?!#angst #need aubrey plaza for christmas #operation fortune #wish Aubrey Plaza was my girlfriend

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