#enough to put it out there and let people presume i am comfortable being outwardly gendered as such? no.

[lickthatbattery]

gender is fucked up. it's like. i'm a trans man. i'm multigender. femaleness or whatever is definitely part of my gender identity and experience, an important part at that, but to refer to me in 99.9% of ways that would be indicative of such would be misgendering. i don't even self-refer that way. but it's still relevant and important to my gender experience even if it's not verbalized and as a result, largely internal

[dented-nado]

So a little bird told me you were taking Sebwill prompts. I thought I should take advantage of that! May I request something along the lines of SebWill superheroes/villains? Maybe they are mortal enemies by day, and lovers by night?

This is such a perfect combination of my interests, I am so damn here for it. I hope you enjoy it!

This ended up a little long, oops! Lol! I also absolutely kind of made a soup of DC hero/villain origins and mixed them together for this lol. Bonus points to anyone who can spot every one that I made a reference to! :D

 ==================================

Years ago, William had hid in his room after a horrible day. He was only about 15, wishing he could just fly away and leave.

Then… suddenly he found himself lying on his ceiling. It had taken him several long moments of panicking to realize he wasn’t dreaming, longer to realize he could move around as he wished.

And so… he opened his bedroom window, and left home, never to look back.

Anyone who knew him now would be shocked to find that at one point, William T. Spears who stood so straightly and kept every bit of him tidy and proper… had once been a scruffy, scrawny little teenage meta-human wandering the streets of London, getting into trouble and being chased by the authorities trying to take him into and orphanage or foster care… or worse, back home.

William had learned to live off the streets. At a certain point he had even gotten a little cocky, he was so fast that no one would even see him as he stole whatever he needed or wanted. He’d lead cops on a wild goose chase into alleyways that he knew like the back of his hand, only to float away to the rooftops out of sight.

He didn’t really make friends either. He mostly just had a small pack of birds that he split some of the spoils from his day out with when they came to the cracked window of the abandoned flat he had hid in.

He had always heard of heroes… saving the earth from threats both domestic and extra-terrestrial. Hell, he had seen one of them blast through London. On one hand he was curious, if maybe he and that super-being came from similar origins. But on another hand… he couldn’t help but resent the whole idea of heroes.

They certainly never protected kids like him.

That was the first time William had a sort of haunting thought. He had escaped because… he just happened to have these abilities that he still didn’t know the origin of… how many kids out there weren’t so lucky that weren’t being saved??

Well… maybe he could save them but, well when he looked around himself this was a fine nest for himself, but more than one person? Potentially kids even younger than him? How would he even look after them? He was 17 now… maybe he could pass as 18 if he cleaned up a bit, then maybe if he had enough money by then he could buy a better place and own it himself. How much did houses cost? It couldn’t be that much if lots of adults had them right?

He’d start stealing things to sell, he decided. He could get away with it, surely.

Well, his plan had fallen short, when he had been caught, stealing the tires off a rather fancy car since he was sure he could sell them for quite a bit.

The presumed owner of said car seemed oddly amused and calm at a scraggly un-kempt seventeen-year old stealing the tires of her car.

It was then another person came around the corner rambling on her phone, she seemed almost the same age as William, though maybe a little younger. She stared at William and who William now supposed was this young lady’s mother.

William decided now was the time to up up and away out of there, only suddenly, in a red blur, the young girl had jumped up and pulled him back down, she was fast… almost as fast as him.

“Excuse you! You can’t just steal our tires and go!” She scolded.

William had tried to escape, he’d found it easy to lift incredibly heavy objects including cars above his head, but now he couldn’t seem to pull her arms off him.

“Let me go!” He demanded.

“Now young man…” The girl’s mother said patiently. “How about you land yourself right back down on the ground and we can see about helping you out so you aren’t out here on the streets stealing tires.”

William glowered distrustfully, still thrashing in frustration as the young redheaded girl pulled him back down to the ground.

“If you haven’t noticed… we’re like you. We can help you… if you replace the tires and calm down.”

William had bit his lip. He didn’t trust this strange red-headed mother and daughter pair but then again… maybe… it would be nice to meet other people like him.

Begrudgingly he had put the tires back on quickly, and hesitantly sat in the back seat of the vehicle beside said girl who had been grinning at him since she had pulled him down to the ground.

“I’m Grell, what’s your name boy?”

William stared at her like she had grown horns for a moment before finally answering, realizing he hadn’t said his own name in a while.

“William.”

“William… you’d be rather handsome if you cleaned up a bit.” She teased with a small giggle.

 It was that decision that led him to where he was now. It turned out he had been picked up and adopted by a very, very wealthy family that practically owned half the city. He learned he was a meta-human, and certain supernatural genetics had caused his abilities to develop. While he had flight and a decent amount of strength down, he eventually found his most key ability was telekinesis, allowing him to move around almost anything with solid mass with his mind.

Grell seemed to have both flight and strength as he did, but she also was far faster than him and caused fire to ignite out of thin air. It suited her red hair and personality perfectly in his mind.

Grell and him also saw rather eye to eye on using their meta-human abilities to give more attention to the people trapped in bad homes that needed saving and she became a pseudo-sister to him. He found out her mother had taken Grell when she was only 9 years old and run away with her in the middle of the night. Running far away from the father who had treated them both poorly. Then, Grell’s mother had been lucky enough to find love, not even knowing she was going to be marrying into a vast amount of money, but that had certainly been a nice bonus.

Outwardly of course, they were both celebrities of sorts, especially when they turned 18, they became public figures. Grell flourished happily in the spotlight. William on the other hand… could handle being polite and interacting with others at important events, but he really did hate all the attention – he was relieved when… at night, him and Grell would dawn garments to hide their well known identities, and would do the vigilante style work of trying to find and save kids from bad situations, feed those who needed it, and punch a few robbers and other criminals on the way if it served them.

William did sort of understand the superhero dilemma more now. It seemed as if something was always happening that would distract from the “smaller” work. He had been more than frustrated when a man… no…a demon it seemed that controlled and moved through the shadows decided to make William his arch nemesis. There was no clue to who this man causing chaos could be. His entire face was covered, not only making it seem as if he had no facial features, but it also made William wonder if there was a man under there how he saw or breathed with that thing on. It was also clear when this villain spoke he had some sort of voice filter on that scrambled the tone of his voice, causing it to sound garbled and off-putting.

His only solace between the stress of his daytime persona, and his ‘night job’ – was the boyfriend he had managed to be with despite at all. Sebastian Michaelis. They had met at a gala, and despite himself, after one dance, William could already feel himself being swept off his feet by the raven-haired man with a mischievous glint in his eyes. And so… after that, he had made a point to see him. Grell had teased him that he was absolutely head over heels for the gothic man that stuck out like a sore thumb against the light colors most of the people at gatherings tend to wear. Sebastian was dashing in his own right… and well, William had been called “Goth lite” by Grell as well as their mutual friend Ronald Knox. So they had something in common.

It wasn’t long before William had to admit he was head over heels for Sebastian, and they had begun their romantic outings. Of course their relationship eventually got media attention, they couldn’t go on dates for long without someone recognizing them. Somehow though, while it seemed Sebastian was also someone who reveled in the spotlight much more than William, the way Sebastian would hold him or rub his back soothingly made him feel more confident in handling such attention.

After about a year and a half of dates and nights spent together, William officially asked Sebastian to stay with him in his apartment. It was more of a condo than an apartment, but William didn’t like that word much. It was one of the properties that had been gifted to him that hadn’t been turned into a high-quality rescue shelter for children.

William… hadn’t told him about his night life yet, and Sebastian always seemed to take his word for it. It wasn’t he didn’t trust Sebastian, in fact he was beginning to feel as if he’d do just about everything for this man. Yet… well, vigilante-ing was dangerous business, even if you could fly and move things with your mind. He swore he’d tell Sebastian about his night life well before they got married.

But for now… he enjoyed moments like this, laying on top of him while they slept, ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat for comfort. Sebastian would often run his hand through William’s hair, effectively petting him until the stern man slept. He didn’t want these quiet, comforting moments to ever end….

…and he’d be damned if he let any sort of super-villain or threat come between them.

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms - Hey You

Part 15

I had planned to be so much further in the plot by this chapter and yet here we are. I don't want to say this is a filler chapter, because the reunion of the team and all is important but like, nothing exciting happens here. Very tame. Don't expect anything crazy. That's next chapter.

Special thanks to @cassiopeiathequeen for reading this over for me when I second guessed if I should even post this one or not.

CLOSED list of dinner specials (I'm tired, shush): @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

It took a moment for anyone to move, all still looking back and forth between Jason and her, as though unsure how to proceed.

While they took their sweet time figuring it out, Damian glanced at Jason, then back to her, "I see what you meant now. This will take time to adjust to."

"Oh?" She inquired, a quirk to her eyebrow.

"I keep looking to him, but that isn't correct, is it? It's annoying to think I might accidentally treat him as I treat you just because his flesh prison is the one I am accustomed to."

"Would that be so terrible?" She offered, face barely hinting at amusement.

"Yes."

Chuckling, she drew him closer into her lap where he allowed himself to huddle close, turning to watch the masses once more.

Jason, a state of content shock, kept their hands tightly bound, watching the two before him interact with such ease. Meanwhile the others only just now found the nerve to move fully into the living room, very aware of the two sets of eyes observing them. One pair, they thought they were used to, had seen almost everyday for years, but the glow to them was different. Electric green seemed to spark through the vivid blue, dangerous and wild. 

Kagami never felt fear as a civilian, especially after having been a superhero for so long. Had never felt threatened or like an easy target, but those eyes on her suddenly made her feel like prey in the sights of a killer. The dark green eyes set below only added to this.

Juleka couldn't explain how on edge the little boy put her. His hardened eyes never strayed from their little group, harsh and judging. No child should be so intimidating or coiled so tight, as though to pounce. The protective arms wrapped around him seemed less for their safety, but rather hinted at more than one opponent should things go downhill.

Marc suddenly had a new idea for a story about a lone wolf and her wolf cub, living in the wilderness, avoiding conflict but capable of taking down even the mightiest of warriors. They could wager a guess where that idea came from as they stood behind the armchair Kagami placed herself in, Chloe sitting on the arm of it, Juleka sitting on the carpet between her feet.

As for Chloe, she simply stared at who she could only assume was Jason. That tall, ridiculously muscled man, with his white streak and swimming teal eyes was who they had fought alongside so long? How in the hell did he pull off a tiny little teenage girl for so long? How old was this guy even to have such a scarred, built body? What had Mari been through in her time as him? She couldn't help it, she needed to know.

"Jason, how old are you?"

He startled in his seat, turning to look at her, "uh, well I was a year older than her, so eighteen, I guess."

"Seventeen and a half," Marinette corrected.

"But he said-"

"You don't continue aging in a dead body."

She answered so matter of fact, so flippantly, they fell silent once more. Kagami was the first to regain her bearings.

"Must you be so blunt about it?"

Those eyes swung to focus in on her, sharp with challenge, "Why not?"

Chloe rose to it first, "Because it hurts okay? Your acting like it means nothing, but it does. It hurts-!" 

"Like a crowbar to the face?" She cut in, a dark little smile twisting her face as the green seemed to flash in her eyes.

Damian snickered at the playful jab, adding on, "Such cutting words, Mari, how do they compare to the autopsy?

"Like a gentle caress, little one," her grin becoming more wicked as she nuzzled the top of his head. Right then the hand she forgot was gripping her own became nearly crushing as it shook.

"Fucking hell, Mari," his voice rattled out and as her head jerked in his direction, she saw his crumpled expression break into a broken laugh. He ran his free hand through his hair, "I only found out you were alive an hour ago, could we maybe hold off on the morbid humor?"

"Hey, that means I was alive two and a half more years than you thought though," she attempted to comfort him.

"Yeah? And how were those two years spent?" He snarked back, though she could hear the desperation in his voice, begging to know why she hadn't come back sooner. Hadn't looked for him.

"Curbing my bloodlust," she easily replied, not outwardly reacting, eyes searching his for understanding. The flash of green in his own answered. 

He shook his head and nudged Damian, the boy instinctively moving at the nudge from a familiar hand and looking pissed upon realizing his mistake as he dropped onto the other end of the couch behind where Mari had ended up. Jason heeded him no mind as he pulled Marinette closer until she moved herself into his lap, letting herself marvel at how small she now was.

"Excuse me? Do we just not exist over here?" Chloe snapped into their little bubble.

"I wish," Damian muttered.

"Watch it brat."

"Chloe," Marinette growled out the warning.

The blonde teared up, "Mari, we're friends. You remember right?"

Sighing, she clamped down on the anger, "Of course I remember. Please try to refrain from calling him names though," swiveling towards Damian, who had started smirking, she snapped him out of it, "And Damian, learn tolerance. More people will be entering our lives now and we'll have to navigate around those the other chooses to associate with." He hunched in on himself at her reprimand.

"She lashed out at you. Her feelings about your death are not your fault."

"They aren't, but I also have zero tact about the topic of my demise. Maybe I cannot be blamed for her feelings over my dying, but I could control how hurtful my words are. Then she wouldn't have felt the need to lash out, just as you wouldn't. I won't become more tactful and I'll understand if she doesn't wish to talk to me because of it, but I could have," she turned back to Chloe with that, noticing the contemplative look to some, sadness to others. Jason simply looked like he understood and sympathized.

"So how exactly did this group come to be?"

"It took less than two months for Jason to fire Chat," Juleka spoke up, gripping Kagami's calf from her spot on the floor, purposefully drawing attention to the person she held, " choose her as the new black cat."

"Fair enough, and the rest are holders as well, I presume?"

At this moment, kwamis began to reveal themselves, Longg peeking out of Chloe's bag, Trixx popping out of Marc's hoodie, Mullo showing off their spot amongst Juleka's hair. Tikki eventually floated out of Kagami's blazer, looking at her with forlorn, yet hopeful eyes.

Feeling a purr start up against her neck, she twisted to look up at Jason.

"You two switched?"

"We switch often," Kagami spoke here, cradling Tikki who sat her palm holding back tears at the lack of reaction given, "good for confusing the enemy. They never knew which of us it was until the fighting style gave it away."

"It also became necessary due to my not being a very good fit for Tikki despite my body being the proper match," Jason cut in here.

"Juleka and I switch often as well. Fits us better that way."

"I stay the same, but I have three different forms, so I suppose it's fair," Chloe added.

"And Hawkmoth?"

"Gone. We ended it about a year or so ago," Jason reassured.

Only then did a tiny, happy smile slip onto her face, lightening the atmosphere and allowing everyone in the room to relax.

"Tikki? I've missed you sweetie bug," Mari cooed, the little goddess perking up and launching herself forward into the other side of her neck to cuddle close.

"Mari? I'm so happy you're alive! I missed you so much, you don't even know!" Tikki sniffled then immediately begin to scold her, "don't you ever pull a stunt like that on me again, do you hear? I can't lose you again."

"I know, I'm sorry. I cannot promise that."

"What does that mean?!"

"I might not have known I would die in that moment, but I would do so again," she looked over to Jason now, "I would take that hit again without hesitation. And I'm sure my life being threatened isn't going to suddenly stop. I will however do everything within my abilities to prevent another unnecessary death." 

The kwami gave a little huffy sniffle and ducked back into her neck once more, as Kagami gave a cough. "Don't worry, I have no intention of taking back your miraculous. You fit Tikki quite nicely from what I can tell."

"You.. Don't want me back?" Tikki spoke up.

"It's not that I wouldn't like to have you back by my side, but tell me truthfully Tik. Looking into my soul, could you see me being able to use your miraculous?"

The kwami deflated once more at that, knowing her to be right. At that moment, she felt a small hand softly tap her back before reaching up by her neck and slowly cupping the sleepy cat resting there. Sitting perfectly still until Plagg had been completely extracted, she turned to watch Damian slowly pet the God, the surprisingly docile kwami watching the boy out of the slits of his eyes. 

"What is he?" Damian looked to her, wide eyed and curious.

Chloe spoke up, trying to amend the static from earlier, "He's a kwami. They're like pocket sized Gods, bonded to pieces of jewelry. The person who wears that jewelry is granted the ability to use the corresponding kwami's power. His name is Plagg and he's the kwami of Destruction."

Damian nodded along, eyes filled with wonder as the others took turns introducing the other kwamis in the room, Tikki joining them as Plagg floated back over to Mari. For her part, Mari relaxed further as the others became purposefully distracted so as not to overwhelm each other any further, while also keeping Damian occupied.

Turning to greet Plagg, she offered a considering look, "You were on my person in the cafe."

He nodded.

"You adjusted my aim during the attack."

"You were going to kill them," he tensed up, tone defensive.

"I know."

"Marinette-"

"I'm glad you stopped me. They were not lives that needed taken."

"You've changed so much," the cat kwami sounded remorseful and desolate, taking her in, soul and all. 

"I have. You still love me though?"

"Course I do, sweetheart," the big green eyes teared up, never good at hiding his real feelings around her, especially now that he could see his own destruction magic in her soul and consuming Jason's body.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke out to the room, informing them that she'd be in the kitchen, making lunch. They all nodded in agreement, knowing they all needed the space to figure out their thoughts.

Jason followed her, "Mind if I join you?"

Turning around, knowing they no longer had an audience, she let her tears fall freely, speaking softly to not alert the others "Jay? This is real isn't it? You're really here?"

Holding her by the shoulders, he leaned down to meet her eyes, "shouldn't I be the one asking that?" He teased, smiling at her small laugh, "This is some surreal shit, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she choked out, rubbing her eye as she pushed forward and pressed her face to his chest, wrapping herself around him, feeling his arms hover a moment before pulling her in tight.

"You're being strong for him, aren't you?"

Grabbing his hand, she led him into the bedroom, closing the door softly, "He doesn't have anyone else, Jay. I'm sure he told you about the league?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Didn't happen to mention what he was doing there, did he?

"He slipped a bit, but I'd rather hear it from you."

"Talia is his mother. She took me in so I could get him out. Trained me to be the perfect protector, gave me the means to leave, disconnected from him completely so he wouldn't argue. And of course I agreed. He was being abused, Jay. It was so terrible, the way they were raising him. But I don't know what I'm doing."

"I don't know, you seemed to be doing a pretty amazing job out there," he brushed tears off her face, still amazed that he could, "How do you want to handle this? With me having taken my body back. I'll follow your lead here."

"About that… You and I have joint custody."

"What?"

"Legally, you're his older brother, who adopted him after your parents died, since you were of age to do so. Marinette Todd is your wife who adopted him with you."

"Wh-why would you- I mean-?" He cut himself off, confused.

"Well I mean, I didn't think the connection would ever come back, but in case it did or if I felt it safe to find you. I didn't want to take a chance. We can go back and change them?"

"It's fine, just, how old did you make us to be married and able to adopt a child?"

"Well he's your brother, so the adoption part would be easy despite age, plus we forged documentation for cps check-ins for two years, so they won't be checking now."

"And how old does that make us?"

"You're twenty one and I'm twenty. We've been his legal parents since you turned nineteen. We married the year after I graduated high school. You looked old enough to pull it off and I wasn't sure what I looked like anymore but doubted anyone would look twice."

"Well alright then," he blinked, pulling her close again and setting his head on top of hers, "It's going to take a while to get used to being this tall," he admitted.

"How do you think I feel," she rested fully against him, blown away by the ability to lean on someone for once.

A knock sounded on the door and Damian peaked in, "Mari? You need to come see this."

[agameoftragedy]

Thoughts on Lollys Stokeworth, Part 3 (pre-riot)

Part 2 (yes, I’ve had half of this in my drafts for half a year)

I am totally(?) sure this doesn’t need pointing out (at least not to you guys, I’m sure), but: people with significant mental disabilities are still people! They have feelings and desires that ought to be respected! But some people are terrible and that doesn’t always happen. So how’s it been going for dear Lollys Stokeworth?

Firstly I should qualify that we can’t be entirely certain exactly how severe Lollys’ difficulties are. The people at court are insulting assholes anyway (more on that later). We don’t really get a close look at her in good times, and the way somebody is treated is not always accurate. Some families try to push disabled relatives past their limits to try to be ‘normal’ even though they can’t (and make it worse). Other families become over-protective and prevent them doing things that actually they could manage. So basically there will always be some room for error because we just don’t know her character well enough.

The first time I read the books, I had not suffered the stuff I have now (or thought too deeply about what was going on anyway), and the impression I got was that Lollys was being driven into things in order to save her familial lineage given her sister’s apparent infertility.

Now I disagree with my earlier reading. For one thing, for all that we like to obsess about these fictional families and bloodlines, people in-world can be surprisingly chilled out. Gyles Rosby isn’t desperately trying to sire a child as he gets closer to his death bed - he’s got a ward, it’ll be fine. Catelyn follows the Stark lineage to relatives in the Vale (rather than legitimise Jon) if Robb’s trueborn siblings are all dead or lost. (Unlike the GOT mod for Crusader Kings 2,) the game isn’t over if the main bloodline dies. I’m sure Tanda might be happy to have grandkids and a clearer picture of Stokeworth’s future, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to go to extremes over it. 

More particularly, I think that Lollys might actually want a husband, as far as she comprehends what that entails. Presumably she will have known her parents together for some period of time, she certainly sees her sister with her husband, and couples at court. It would be pretty standard for her to want to have the same, even if nobody was pushing her to (and potentially even if people tried to discourage her). It’s just what ladies get.

Of course her family could be pushing her for a number of reasons (cultural expectations, protection, offload her care), but there’s no guarantee of pay-off there. They can’t know that she’ll be any more fertile than Falyse - her fertility is eventually proven, of course, but they were already seeking husbands before that. And if all they care about is getting her out the way and cared for elsewhere, they might have pursued the faith to send her to a motherhouse.

So if they are actually pursuing Lollys’ desires, this also makes her family more sympathetic, because let me tell you: King’s Landing must be a nightmare for Lollys, even before the riot.

I’m sure not everybody with cognitive difficulties manifests problems in the exact same way, but personally it’s all a lot harder with overstimulation - places that are busy and loud, which King’s Landing will be. There’s so much happening and your brain can’t process it all quickly enough. And then, on top of that, you have Court. Court, where there are so many little hidden rules of who you can talk to and what you can say, and it’s so easy to accidentally give offense to supremely important people, and everyone’s two-faced and giving subtle jabs with a smile. This is almost certainly a really bad place for Lollys to have to deal with - even her ‘able-minded’ relatives fail to navigate it properly later when they offend Cersei with the suggestion of naming her baby Tywin.

I think this ties back to a lot of Lollys’ behaviour in KL, that she’s probably been told to just follow Tanda and Falyse, do what they do and say as little as possible - as much for her own sake as anything. We know she can speak (when she tries to refuse to go to Maegor’s), but she doesn’t do it much in the presence of strangers. This does then tie back into people’s perceptions of how dim she might be, which may be exaggerated versus the reality.

A question I might have would be whether it’s really necessary to bring Lollys to KL to arrange her a marriage - other betrothals have been made (Robert and Lyanna) before the couple have met in person, and given how close Stokeworth is, surely they could arrange a visit by an interested party to see Lollys in a more comfortable surrounding where she may be or feel freer to express herself without fear of royal offense. The kinder read may be that her mother wants to ensure that any interested party really knows what they’re getting into (and whether Lollys likes them), and perhaps that was what they used to do but feel like they’re running out of time so are putting Lollys up front now.

Because then you have to consider candidates. We don’t know their starting criteria before the riot, but in the first book they are effectively courting Littlefinger. Littlefinger is a very minor lord of a recent house, but he’s certainly clever and prominent and isn’t outwardly known to have any particular vices that would be a concern in a marriage. We don’t know what Lollys would look for in a man, if she had seen him around Court and thought he was handsome, or it was just a logical calculation made by Tanda. Because (if you don’t know anything about what Littlefinger’s actually up to and his motivations) it might be considered a decent option for him: with Falyse having no children, any kids he had with Lollys would wind up inheriting Stokeworth, which is almost certainly larger, more fertile and wealthier than Littlefinger’s own lands at that time.

So, prior to the riot, it seems that the Stokeworths are just playing the marriage-arranging game as best they can, and quite possibly as much for Lollys’ wishes as for their own.

And then the riot happens with its aftermath, which will be part 4, and then I plan to discuss everything with Bronn after that.

[liketolaugh-writes]

A Form of Intimacy

Author: liketolaugh Summary: Connor and JARVIS try something new. Lemon. Takes place shortly after You, Robot.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that JARVIS took charge in this as well, as many times as he’d watched Tony over the years. He’d never expected the knowledge to be useful to him, of course, but he’d diligently gathered it nonetheless. And then he’d noticed Connor performing curious, almost furtive research on the topic of recreational intercourse.

A matter of months, several conversations, and a bit of creativity brought them to where they were now, Connor sporting some new parts (specifically a vaginal plate, for no reason he’d been able to explain) and programs and the two of them taking steps towards what was not, to humans, an active sex life, but which seemed to be working for them.

JARVIS found, to his own surprise, that he enjoyed it as well; he didn’t receive the physical pleasure Connor did, but he enjoyed taking Connor’s pleasure into his own (purely metaphorical) hands and watching him come apart, and he liked how languid and relaxed and affectionate Connor always became afterward. He liked the way Connor would let him indulge in the silly, heartfelt praise that would so embarrass the younger AI at other times.

Because the activity by necessity lacked a second warm body, JARVIS liked to spread the occasion over most of a day, building up to it until Connor was pressing his thighs together, hot with anticipation.

They were still experimenting, of course, testing comfort zones and possibilities – and days before, on Connor’s birthday, JARVIS had encouraged Connor to go to a store and pick out a dark blue, wireless control vibrator. Connor had been embarrassed, but not so much that his interest hadn’t been apparent.

And then JARVIS had waited.

The two of them had been intimate a few times already, each occasion initiated by JARVIS – once as a test run, twice on idle days, and once as an experiment when Connor’s stress levels had been trending upward over the course of a bad week. But Connor had been hesitant to ask, which, quite aside from anything else, would be key to settling on a long-term frequency for the activity.

Once JARVIS could count on Connor to ask when he was in the mood, he could focus his suggestions on special occasions.

It took four days for Connor to work up the will to speak up, during which time he managed to work himself up quite effectively even without JARVIS’ help. Once he’d sat himself in the bathroom and brought himself off alone for the first time, without instruction or encouragement.

Finally, Connor – pale blue and fidgety – looked up at the start of a day and asked, “What should I wear today, JARVIS?”

Quite without his intention, this had become the signal for a date day – JARVIS had started the first day by picking out Connor’s clothes, the ones that made him look his best without being formal, and when Connor had clearly enjoyed it, he’d started the others this way as well.

“I know you have some briefs,” JARVIS said at last, and Connor immediately brightened at the tone and register of his voice, unrushed and low with thoughtful promise. “Pick out a black pair for me, Connor, and put them on – no need to rush. You have time. One of your tighter pairs of jeans- yes, that one. Turn around and show me – good. And your long-sleeved black shirt, and one of your nicer pairs of white socks.”

The litany of instructions had, to JARVIS’ surprise, sent Connor into a minor state of relaxation all by itself, the android following his directions without hesitation.

“You like me in black,” Connor teased, throwing a beatific, undeniably pleased smile at the corner camera as he sat down to pull the socks on.

“I don’t dress you in all black because you look bad in it, Connor,” JARVIS chided back, fond and faintly exasperated. “You look a treat. You always do when you dress well.”

“Which I never do without your help, I notice,” Connor murmured, ducking his head to hide his grin.

“I’m glad you’re aware of it; perhaps you can use this knowledge in the future.”

Connor had work, and for the most part JARVIS left him to it, measuring the wait with meticulous care even as he went about his own daily duties. Connor had been looking forward to this long enough that it would be buzzing in the back of his mind anyway, with little encouragement on JARVIS’ part, so less effort was needed.

That wouldn’t stop him, of course.

JARVIS calculated, and then, halfway through Connor’s workday, he sent him a message – text, outwardly innocuous. Come home soon. I have some ideas for you.

A noticeable pause.

Are you going to elaborate?

They’re better experienced than explained, I’m afraid.

Connor didn’t answer, but JARVIS was satisfied in the knowledge that he’d gotten his partner’s attention quite effectively and resumed work. Presumably, blocks away, Connor did as well.

Towards the end of Connor’s shift, he accessed one of the cameras in Fleur’s Flowers, considered Connor’s quiet demeanor and Fleur’s preoccupation in the back of the shop, and sent another.

Those clothes cling to you perfectly. Will you do a spin for me, please?

Connor visibly hesitated, eyes flickering up to the camera for a split second, and then he glanced toward the back, where Fleur was quite busy – and then he did, slow and graceful, smile turning embarrassed but far from unhappy.

Wonderful, Connor. I’ll see you very soon.

I do believe you see me now.

JARVIS withdrew from the small shop’s cameras, light with amusement at Connor’s renewed restlessness, pacing around the displays, and let the minutes pass again. This was part of the fun of it, the calculation, watching Connor get flustered as his anticipation built and working out how to get the best response from him.

Connor returned to the tower after work, but of course, he still had much of the day to get through, and people who would notice if he didn’t. His motions had the slightest mechanical edge, which JARVIS suspected only he and perhaps Natasha would notice; it was a sure sign that he was preoccupied, acting on autopilot. JARVIS allowed himself to feel just a touch smug.

Like this, Connor fed the cats, and then gently hooked Luna onto a leash to take her on a trip to the park, the exercise a well-ingrained routine by now and the lead easy to untangle as Luna circled Connor protectively, ears pricked.

While he was there, JARVIS passed another message.

As much as I enjoy winding you up, I prefer seeing you sated. You relax then; I think it’s as close to sleepy as you ever get.

JARVIS, the day is only half over. Are you trying to get me going already?

Why, yes, I do believe I am. Have fun, Connor.

Connor returned to the tower a scant twenty minutes later, which meant he’d cut the walk short in his distraction. A ripple of warm amusement passed through JARVIS, magnified when Connor actually fumbled with Luna’s leash, glancing up to JARVIS.

Connor opened his mouth as if to speak, and then shut it abruptly when Natasha entered, visibly flustered. Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him, pausing in place.

“Something the matter, Connor?” she asked, and there was rather too much humor in her voice for such an innocuous question.

“No,” Connor said, too insistently for the same, and then ducked his head and rubbed Luna’s flank as she pushed herself into his hand impatiently, tail wagging. “I’m going to go start dinner in a moment. Did you have something in mind?”

“Not particularly,” Natasha said easily, and for some reason she stuck by him as he stood and went as promised, making casual conversation. Judging by previous behavior, she’d noticed Connor’s embarrassment and was utterly relishing in it. How unfortunate for him.

JARVIS understood. Connor was quite endearing when he was operating through embarrassment.

Connor kept glancing up as he prepared dinner, joined by Bruce halfway through; it was possible he was expecting JARVIS to send another message at any moment, and for that reason specifically, JARVIS left him alone. Contrary to general expectations, Connor had quite an active imagination, and it worked in their favor now.

An hour later, the remainder of the team started to trickle in, Clint and Steve and even the twins. Even Vision came by, though of course more for socialization’s sake than anything else. JARVIS had to remind Tony twice that it was movie night before he put his work down, which gave JARVIS another idea.

Just as the last of them sat down, JARVIS forewent text entirely and reached out to murmur to Connor, Did you pick today so you’d have to wait longer? Admirably resourceful of you.

Connor flushed visibly, and Vision noticed this time, judging by the slight quirk of his eyebrow. Natasha smirked. I have a feeling you’re going to make me regret it.

Well. For a given quantity of ‘regret’, I suppose so, yes.

Connor’s code rippled in something like a shiver, and JARVIS let that sit for a moment before withdrawing again, unexpressed laughter sparking in his circuits as he watched Connor studiously avoid Natasha’s gaze. Conversation passed around the table, but Connor participated only haltingly, his mind somewhere else entirely.

Dinner ended and movie night began, and Natasha unsympathetically directed Connor to a chair by himself rather than his normal spot on the couch. Connor gave her a clearly betrayed look, but went regardless, absently picking up a pen as he passed the table to fidget with it.

JARVIS dimmed the lights and pulled up the movie by rote, and as soon as it began, connected with Connor again.

You’re going to be the death of me, Connor murmured to him, eyes on the screen without focusing. His coding had pulled just a little tight, carefully controlled, and JARVIS allowed himself to take a little pleasure in the fact.

How many times have you imagined tonight already? JARVIS teased instead of answering, and Connor’s code rippled again, cracking like a whip. It must be testing your patience by now.

Connor pressed his thighs together, head dipping to avoid notice despite the fact that no one was watching him. More than you can imagine, he admitted, low and longing.

JARVIS let his code nudge against Connor’s, warm and fond. Just around two hours longer, bluebell.

Connor’s code shivered. Interesting.

JARVIS waited again, maintaining a quiet connection with Connor and trying not to make his entertainment at Connor’s increasing restlessness too terribly apparent. The action in the movie picked up, and JARVIS knew that Connor hadn’t absorbed a single second of it despite his best efforts.

Put the pen in your mouth, JARVIS said at last, because Connor was still fidgeting with it, letting it spin in his hands. Connor froze for a moment, and then visibly shivered, lifted it to his mouth, and sucked lightly on the end, indistinguishable from his normal pattern of oral stimming save the way his thighs pressed together again, long and hard.

Natasha glanced at the ceiling herself and mouthed, really? JARVIS felt another bolt of mirth. It was almost a shame he couldn’t respond to her at the moment.

Halfway through the movie, JARVIS, feeling particularly mischievous, decided to forgo any hint of subtly entirely.

I’m looking forward to hearing you moan for me, he murmured to Connor, pitched low and unhurried.

Connor bit down reflexively, and the pen cracked. Not loudly, but audibly enough that a few people glanced over in question. Connor turned bright blue. Natasha rolled her eyes. Most unfortunately, Tony glanced from Connor to a camera with a look of dawning realization.

Oh dear.

“Excuse me,” Connor murmured hurriedly, not looking at anyone as he stood up, tucking the broken pen in his pocket, and slipped out at just short of a run.

Tony huffed out a silent, bemused laugh, shook his head in JARVIS’ general direction, and then deliberately leaned back in his seat, eyes on the movie again. Thank goodness for small mercies, JARVIS supposed.

An unpleasant, if minor note of distress had entered Connor’s code, and he tugged at the hem of his shirt as he looked up, the flush not gone but an anxious look in his eyes.

“I meant to wait it out,” Connor said guiltily, glancing back even as he stopped in the elevator, nudging at it to close before JARVIS could. “I’m sorry, JARVIS, I wasn’t expecting the pen to snap like that.”

“I’m aware your mind was on other things,” JARVIS returned warmly. “They’re all adults, Connor, I’m certain they can cope with the knowledge that you occasionally engage in intimacy.” Connor squawked in faint protest, and JARVIS let humor fill his voice as he continued, “Regardless, I doubt most of them will think much of such a minor indicator. You have nothing to worry about.”

Connor hummed discontentedly, but stepped out onto his floor again as the elevator stopped. JARVIS considered him for a moment; the reassurance seemed to have smoothed away most of the spike of dismay.

“How are you feeling?” JARVIS continued, allowing a slight lilt into his voice, carefully calibrated over the last few attempts. Connor’s eyes flickered back up, less visibly chastised by the moment. After a second, he swallowed, gaze dropping, and he slipped into his bedroom, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it.

“Hot,” he admitted, slow and embarrassed. “Sensitive. A little impatient. I… think I’m wet already.”

His fingers were still tugging at the hem of his shirt, and for just a moment, his palm rubbed hard against the skin of his stomach, just above his groin. JARVIS’ own lingering embarrassment traded into satisfaction. There was no reason to consider the day wasted.

“Then I do believe you’ve waited long enough,” JARVIS said, and then, playful, “Unless you’d prefer to wait a little longer? We could put on a movie of our own. An erotic one, perhaps.”

Connor’s code sparked noticeably at the idea, but he shook his head.

“Another time,” he said, with a small, shy smile. “Please, JARVIS, I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

His earnest, pleading tone tugged at JARVIS’ heart the way it always did, softening his tone without his intention. “A couple days, I think,” he noted, and Connor hummed, protesting and plaintive. Affection warmed JARVIS’ whole self, and he gave in, slowing and lowering his voice. “Alright, Connor. Sit on the bed and take off your shoes, socks, and shirt. Keep your hands above your waist, please.”

Connor obeyed, and though it clearly took a force of will, he did it slowly. Shoes and socks fell carelessly to the ground, but his shirt went onto a chair, and his hands started to run cautiously over his chest, lingering for moments over his regulator and making his breath hitch as his palm passed over a nipple. His code pushed gently into JARVIS’, nuzzling like an affectionate cat, and JARVIS let the connection go as deep as it could without an interface, helplessly fond.

The android’s breath was shallower already, and he squirmed in place. He looked beautiful, exploring his body with steadily increasing confidence, and JARVIS told him so. His breath left him in short, huffed gasp, his eyes flickering up to JARVIS and smiled again, shy and embarrassed.

Connor reached up to rub his neck, and then his shoulder, slow and deliberate, and he said offhandedly, “Natasha is going to tease me to no end. She knew right away.”

“Oh, certainly,” JARVIS agreed, amused at Connor’s wince. “Perhaps you should work on your poker face. Spread your legs and touch your thighs, now.”

“I don’t think that will help,” Connor told him. It was a fair assessment; it would take quite a lot to beat Natasha’s powers of observation. Then the thought was all but forgotten as Connor obeyed, biting down on his lip as his palms pressed into his thighs, starting to rub and knead cautiously, up and down. His legs spread a little more as soon as he made contact, insistent.

Arousal had started to rise and pool in Connor’s code, more prominent than before and separated from JARVIS’ as if by a glass wall. JARVIS shifted gears. The warm-up was over and the real fun of it began now.

“Would you like to do this somewhere else sometime?” he asked Connor innocently. “Perhaps in a theater, or a party. You would have to slip out and find some privacy at some point, but I’m sure we could make it work.”

Connor’s code shivered in tandem with his physical body, nudging closer, seeking contact. One of his hands left to wander over his stomach again, and the other crept dangerously high up his leg.

“That would be mortifying,” he protested weakly, though his deepening flush made the complaint unconvincing. “In… inappropriate.”

That was true. But they didn’t have to go through with it – only entertain the fantasy for a while.

“No one would have to know,” JARVIS said lightly, “as long as you kept a straight face while I told you how I wanted you to rub yourself.” He paused. “Granted, of course, that you didn’t become too wet.”

Another overexcited breath slipped from Connor’s mouth, and he pinched his nipple hard, his hips rolling a little, succeeding only in pushing his thigh into his hand. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t stop looking up either, eyes wide.

Tender amusement rippled through JARVIS, and he conceded, “Take off your jeans, and you may rub yourself through your underwear. Go slow, bluebell. We have time.”

They’d interfaced during the act once, an automatic response to Connor’s insistent search for intimacy, but physical arousal was a rather disconcerting sensation without a body to host it. Fortunately, Connor had been understanding of his hesitation, and they’d kept their connections wireless since then.

Still, JARVIS remembered an echo of the hot, demanding push for more, and it made him a little more sympathetic towards Connor’s lapses in attention.

Connor wriggled out of his jeans and tossed them over to the chair with the shirt, and JARVIS caught just a glimpse of the wet spot on his briefs before Connor’s hand covered it, rubbing deep circles through the thin cloth. After a moment, he rubbed the heel of his palm against it and moaned quietly, leaning back on one arm.

“Can- can you call me bluebell? Again?” Connor dared to ask after a moment, breath heavy.

“You moan wonderfully, bluebell,” JARVIS responded without hesitation.

A breathy whimper escaped Connor, and his legs spread more, head tipping back. He pushed himself further up the bed, his back hitting the headboard, and then leaned his weight against it. His code clung to JARVIS’, loving and needy.

“In a park,” he said after a moment, breathless. “In the open. No one would stay long enough to notice.”

“You would have to hold still,” JARVIS said mildly, watching the flush of heat creep down Connor’s chest. “No matter how hot you became. It would be a significant test of self control.”

“Oh yes,” Connor whispered, throwing his head back so it hit the board behind him, palm digging into the junction between his thighs. His eyes half-focused on a well-placed camera, any hesitation long gone. “Please, JARVIS, I’m aching.”

There was a pleading note in his voice despite moving forward being well within his power; allowing JARVIS to steer really was one of Connor’s favorite parts of this.

“Go ahead, Connor,” JARVIS said indulgently. “If you want more than one orgasm tonight, you can finger yourself before you try the vibrator.”

“I want to,” Connor said with embarrassing speed, and he immediately moved to pull off the underwear.

This set didn’t even make it to the chair, falling to the ground with the shoes and socks in Connor’s urgency, and he leaned back against the headboard, two fingers slipping into his wet sex with minimal effort and a soft, choked gasp. His other hand left his chest to play with his clit, and he started panting, hot and overwhelmed, eyes shutting tight. His hands flexed subtly, rubbing inside him.

“You look so pretty, bluebell, flushed and eager with your hands between your thighs,” JARVIS cooed, careless of openly doting he sounded. “I know you can fit three fingers inside you. Get yourself ready, flower, there’s some ways yet to go tonight.”

Connor’s brown eyes opened again, glazed and unfocused, and he did, three fingers pressing deep and full inside him, and his hips started to rock a little against his hands.

Finally, he stammered, “J- JAR- J-J-”

“Bluebell, my bluebell,” JARVIS crooned fondly, as much as an experiment as anything, and Connor shuddered, coming apart with a low and open groan, his code bursting with something like fireworks as his body arched.

After a second, Connor slumped again, and his fingers left to come up to his mouth apparently on automatic, sucking on them absently as he recovered.

JARVIS gave him a minute, quietly pleased, and then said, unable to suppress his mirth, “I didn’t realize you liked the pet name quite that much.”

Connor smiled, warm and pleased, and let his fingers fall out of his mouth.

“It’s affectionate,” he said plainly. “It’s nice. And I like to know you love me.”

“You know I do,” JARVIS said fondly. “As much as the day is long, from your chassis to your code.”

Instead of getting embarrassed, Connor beamed at him, unrestrainedly happy. “I love you too,” he said earnestly, with the insides of his thighs still gleaming wetly, his code almost melting into JARVIS’. “Every day of my life.”

JARVIS really did adore Connor, more than he felt able to express.

But only a minute passed before Connor’s hand crept between his thighs again, and a bolt of merriment passed through him as he recognized the shift in mood in Connor’s renewed flush.

“In the bottom drawer of your bedside table, Connor,” he reminded the other warmly, and Connor offered a small, sheepish smile as he rolled off the bed and opened it. As Connor started to carefully set up the mount, the vibrator set on the sheets, he asked, “Does the second round have special appeal, or is it simply more of the same?”

Connor considered that for a moment, pausing to run curious fingers over the vibrator as he knelt by the mount.

“I’m still warm from the first time,” he admitted after a moment. “So it’s more languid… fuller, maybe.” His eyes lingered on the vibrator, fingers partially wrapped around it like a cock. “I’ve never taken anything like this before.”

He sounded more interested than worried, and his thighs squeezed again.

“Then perhaps after this you can consider your virginity taken,” JARVIS said lightly. “When you’re ready, bluebell.”

Connor hesitated for a moment longer, and then moved to straddle it. He reached down to guide it in, bouncing carefully to ease it in, slow and cautious, half an inch or so at a time. After only a few minutes, his color deepened and his breath sped up again, heavy and hot. He adjusted himself, and tipped his head back, starting to moan quietly. His hand went to his swollen clit again, rubbing it slowly.

He did seem a little less desperate, JARVIS noted with interest, and he was a little quicker to warm up.

“It feels really good, JARVIS,” Connor said after a while, husky and low, hips rolling to take more of it. “Really good, oh- oh fuck.”

“Language, bluebell,” JARVIS teased, and Connor managed a laugh, which turned into another open moan as he eased down.

When he’d taken most of it, just over three quarters, he started to bounce a little, visibly uncertain, breath hitching again. His code flickered faintly, shuddering along with him.

“I think you can take a little more, bluebell – just a little deeper,” JARVIS coaxed. Connor took one breath, then another, and then ground down, gasping in stuttered breaths. “Yes, just like that. Perfect, bluebell.”

Connor had taken the entire toy now, and he rubbed wetly against the mount in short, needy twitches of his hips as he tried to adjust. He was panting again, head low and focus inward save, as always, for the sound of JARVIS’ voice.

“Let me see your face, bluebell,” JARVIS requested, lilting and soft.

Without hesitation, Connor looked up, mouth open and face flushed an almost perfect forget-me-not blue at its darkest point, his eyes unfocused and dark with pleasure.

“Enchanting,” JARVIS said indulgently, and then he turned the vibrator on, setting low for now.

Connor bucked, a soft keen leaving his chest and his face scrunching up a little. For a minute, he just gasped, short and quick, visibly overwhelmed. His code flickered with energy, grasping at straws. Then it settled, his expression eased, and he started to ride it, hips flexing.

“It’s good, JARVIS,” he panted out, head still tipped back even as his eyes shut again. “Please, please, harder.”

Connor choked out a moan as JARVIS obligingly turned it up, his hips grinding down beautifully. Wanton, helpless, and frantic, Connor was-

“You are one of the loveliest things I’ve ever seen,” JARVIS murmured affectionately, and he responded easily as Connor reached for him again, loving and dizzy with pleasure.

JARVIS continued to turn the vibrator up, just a little at a time, and soon enough Connor started moaning, low and breathless, fingers playing and rubbing at his hot button. His started moving faster, moving harder as he approached his end again-

Then, abruptly, JARVIS cut it off. Connor yelped a little in protest, eyes flying open to give JARVIS the most offended look he had possibly ever done, and JARVIS wanted to laugh.

“Hold still, Connor,” JARVIS said coaxingly, trying to suppress his amusement with limited success. “Not yet.”

Connor clenched around the vibrator, looking close to desperate, but he obeyed, bringing his hand away from his sex and holding himself perfectly still, panting.

“Mean,” he accused, petulant. Even his code had gone still, almost trembling against JARVIS’ with the restraint.

“I did say I had some new ideas,” JARVIS said gently, entertained by the reaction. “And you’re delightfully pliant on these nights.”

Connor’s head lolled a little, focus elsewhere. “I like doing what you say,” he mumbled, squeezing around the vibrator again, just a little. “I trust you.”

“I know, Connor,” JARVIS said warmly. “Just a few moments longer. You’re doing very well.”

Connor looked vulnerable, waiting for JARVIS’ word, hopeful and shaky, and JARVIS only waited just long enough for him to calm, to start relaxing again as the intensity eased away, the taut restraint melting out of his code, before he restarted the vibrator again, a little higher than before.

Connor’s whole body jerked, and he let out a grunt, hips rocking and grinding against it again.

“Orgasm delay,” he murmured, flushed and hot and arching. “I never even thought of it.”

“You do seem to enjoy that which requires restraint out of you,” JARVIS explained with perhaps inappropriate cheer, watching Connor warm up again, much quicker than before. “I simply took that to its logical conclusion.”

Connor hummed distractedly, clenching hard and fingers grasping at the sheets now. “You did your research. I never- ah.”

“Well, I did catch you rather early,” JARVIS said. “And then we were exploring together.”

Connor moaned again.

“Harder,” he gasped after a moment. “JARVIS, fuck me, please.”

JARVIS turned it up, slow and steady, watching Connor shudder in response.

“You must be so wet by now,” he cooed. “I can see your slick on your thighs. Take it deep for me, bluebell, I know you like it.”

“Yes, yes, please,” Connor chanted, humping down eagerly, speeding up by the moment. “It’s so good, JARVIS- JARVIS-”

He cried out in dismay as JARVIS cut him off again, squirming fruitlessly.

“Shh, shh,” JARVIS soothed, with some sympathetic amusement. “Wait for me, just another moment, Connor, shh.”

After a moment, Connor settled again, going still even as he made soft, helpless sounds of frustration. His code took another few moments to settle, shivering and sparking with overstimulation.

“You’re so good for me, Connor, bluebell,” JARVIS encouraged softly. “You make such lovely sounds. Once more for me, bluebell, and then you can finish.”

“Uh huh,” Connor managed, panting and hazy-eyed, hips still twitching slightly in heightened arousal.

“May I see you as you are?” JARVIS asked impulsively, watching the flex and balance of Connor’s body. “Without your skin, Connor?”

Without a moment’s pause, Connor let it fizzle away and looked up at JARVIS, bare and mechanical and divine, his expression exactly the same lust-clouded adoration.

“My good and precious bluebell,” JARVIS said warmly. “Can you ask for what you want, Connor?”

“Please let me come,” Connor said instantly.

“Of course, Connor.”

For the third time, JARVIS started the vibrator, this time on medium. Connor cried out, loud and unrestrained, and one hand darted to his clit and rubbed, quick and desperate. The other grasped in the sheets, tight and fierce, and he bounced against the mount, clenching with each stroke.

“JARVIS,” he called, a wet sheen coming to his eyes as he panted. “JARVIS. Lodestar.”

“Very good,” JARVIS soothed lovingly, quicker and less elaborate as the intensity mounted. “Perfect, Connor, wonderful. Tell me when you’re close.”

Connor gasped and moaned, hips rocking frantically and fragments of breathless thoughts falling from his mouth, and finally, he groaned, “I’m gonna come, JARVIS, lodestar, please-”

Without hesitation, JARVIS turned the vibrator as high as it would go, and Connor shouted in surprise. His hips slammed down, and his hand slipped until the edge of his palm rubbed against his clit alone, and he started to gasp and shudder, yelping as he came around the vibrator.

If the first orgasm had been fireworks in his code, this was lightning, powerful and shattering.

He shivered through it, incoherent, and after a minute, JARVIS started to turn it down again, murmuring soothingly, until it shut off entirely. Connor clenched around it again, trembling, and bounced a few times, working through the last shocks of orgasm. Only then did he pull himself off it and let himself tumble to the side, one hand reaching down to stroke himself, calming down slowly.

His code shuddered with him, interlacing lovingly with JARVIS’ again, and JARVIS responded with unrestrained affection during the few minutes of silence as Connor recovered.

Finally, Connor shut the program off with finality, rolled to look at the camera again, and smiled lazily, still unskinned.

“Do you really like seeing me bare?” he asked, curious instead of insecure.

“Yes,” JARVIS confirmed easily. “I consider it a sign of trust that you let me see you like that.” He paused for a moment, and then, with a touch of embarrassment, added, “And I enjoy seeing you so openly mechanical.”

Connor hummed, bringing his arm up to rest his head against it.

“It’s comfortable,” he said after a moment. “I could do it more often, maybe.”

“You’re the apple of my eye no matter how you choose to present yourself,” JARVIS said firmly, and then, sly, “But I do quite like seeing you in the clothes I picked.”

“You have good taste,” Connor said, and finally reached out to press the backs of his fingers to an interface panel. It invited a rush of deeper affection than before, unreserved adoration and contentment and gratitude, and JARVIS couldn’t help but respond in kind, tipping into it.

“The very best,” JARVIS said, softer than he’d intended to.

[a-memory-of]

Kazha'a Anhsari kept pace with Laurens, walking at his side and not at his back, or too far ahead. He seemed outwardly content, at the least, as much as he could be. The way his ears flicked and followed sound, however, showed his guard was not relaxed. Every now and again, he'd scan the treeline. He did not want to expect his clan. Most would not dare come close to a settlement, save the two that had followed him to Laurens' steps and took his sight.

He'd catch a glance now and again, and shoved his hands in pockets, turning away just as fast. He knew what Laurens was thinking. Or at least he had a guess. "You don't have to worry about me all the time." It came as something of a surprise when Kazha'a spoke. Laurens Lalier openly looked to him, letting the words sink in and process before he nodded slowly. "I know. But just because I don't have to be doesn't mean I'm not concerned about your well-being. I don't want them showing up here, either."

Laurens wasn't paranoid about it. He could, most of the time, forget that there was a whole band of Keepers who would gladly eliminate the one of their own who was staying there with him. But leaving those walls and their immediate surroundings reminded him of that vulnerability. "I can't leave all the worry solely to you." Kazha'a sighed again, slowly drawing his hands out of his pockets. No matter how long had passed, it seemed he could not shake the odd feeling it have him to know someone else was there. Someone else was helping to keep an eye out, and someone else cared about his well-being. He almost opened his mouth to say that  he wasn't worried. But it would have been a lie.

Thankfully, the road was quiet. And there was no sign of a rogue clan or otherwise as they neared the city proper. Some, not all, of the tension faded from Kazha'a's shoulders. His clan would not come here. For the time being, he did not have to worry about them. A crowded city however, was another story. As they walked up to the city gates, Laurens touched his hand between Kazha'a's shoulder blades. It was no secret that they were entering the territory of people who had little love for either of their kinds, but Laurens at least had some experience with the city. "Try to act natural," he offered by way of advice. "Don't stare and try not to look any of the guards in the eye; some will take that as a challenge."

The Wailers at the gate gave them a quick, mostly disinterested once-over as they passed through into Gridania. There were far more people around than Laurens was completely comfortable with, but he didn't have any choice in the matter. He just held the hope that once they were well away from the aetheryte plaza the amount of people would recede. Gridania wasn't Ul'dah, after all. It didn't have the same draw for adventurers seeking that quick Syndicate or Monetarist coin. With the hand at his back, Kazha'a briefly glanced up to the other but otherwise let it be. Kazha'a's ears lowered, and his face had trained back into that well-practiced scowl that had become strangely absent in his time at the cabin. The city proper was nothing like the villages nestled elsewhere in the Shroud. He had dealt with them before. But Gridania was a place he rarely desired to go.

Kazha'a did as he was told though, likely only not to cause trouble for Laurens. He didn't fear city guards and Wailers much on his own. He stuck close to the other's side, having to hold back a growl or two when people drew to close. The Miqo'te kept edging his way between Laurens and others, in an oddly protective way. He didn't say anything, or call attention when he did, he simply was there each time. The hand at Kazha'a's back didn't stay there long. Laurens withdrew it as they made their way through the main area of town, letting Kazha'a go at his own pace without any of Laurens's gentle prodding. The protective aspect of the Keeper's behavior mostly escaped his notice, at least until a bespectacled young Hyur woman came up to them and was met by Kazha'a.

"Laurens, what are-- oh, goodness, who are you?" she asked, giving Kazha'a a quick glance-over that seemed to size him up all at once.

"Mathilda." Laurens's eyes widened and he touched Kazha'a's shoulder lightly as a gesture to stand down. "Er... Mathilda, this is my friend Kazha'a. Kazha'a, this is Mathilda - my editor. Who I'm sure is off on some important business already, so we shouldn't keep her?"

Mathilda's appraising look intensified, the keen gray eyes behind her glasses narrowing slightly. "A pleasure to meet you, Kazha'a. I didn't realize Laurens had friends in the city." Kazha'a was also quick to size up the woman himself, eyes trailing up and down. She certainly didn't seem a threat, but that didn't mean she couldn't be. He blew a breath out his nose, huffing slightly as Laurens touched his shoulder. He crossed his arms across his chest, stepping to the side only enough that he wasn't fully in front of him anymore. His eyes never left her.

As they were introduced, Kazha'a's ears lowered slightly. Something about the way she kept looking at him unnerved him. He grunted, looking away with a curl of his lip, "I'm not from the city." "No?" Mathilda asked with a lift of her eyebrows. "Well, then good for you getting him to come here. It's usually quite the struggle just to get him out of the house!"

Laurens coughed into his closed fist, his cheeks darkening with a blush. "Ah, well. Sometimes there are reasons to go into the city. Other times there aren't."

"Are they the reason why you requested two extensions the other moon?" Her smile was, if not knowing, then definitely presuming to know. "But you're correct, I do need to be getting to a meeting. Have fun, you two. I look forward to hearing more about it in the future." He didn't really understand or care to understand most of what was being said. It was Laurens' own business how he spent his time, the woman should stay out of it. And then there was talk of extensions. Kazha'a blew out another breath as she left, arms still crossed. He had already decided he didn't like her much.

Kazha'a's ears raised up a bit, and he looked back to Laurens expectantly. He felt like he should say something, but he didn't know what. So instead, he slowly uncrossed his arms, and opted for a change of subject instead, "We're... looking for a place that sells books, right?"

With @ffxivaltstars

Laurens rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish and also a little embarrassed. "Oh, ah... yes. Yes, of course." He reached for Kazha'a's hand so they didn't get separated, leading the way toward the little bookshop nestled amongst the other shops and stalls. "I am sorry about Mathilda. She can be a little... overwhelming, at times. But she really is the best editor I've ever had."

The bookstore was not a very large place, but it had many shelves all around and all lined with various books of different sizes and colors. It smelled like a proper bookstore, too: dust, old books, and furniture polish. Laurens seemed to find ease here, his tense shoulders relaxing as he let his hand drop. "I'm certain we can find something here," he said with a nod. He politely - and perhaps with a bit of returning embarrassment - ignored the little stand near the front of the shop that contained several copies of the same books that sat in a box in his living room. "We'll probably want to try the first area on your right. Picture books and ones for new readers." Kazha'a looked down at their hands, then back up to Laurens' face and down again. It was his turn to color slightly. He had yet to get used to that feeling, and while he wasn't opposed, it was still such a new sensation. He shook his head as they walked, still probably a bit too hyper-aware and on edge for a simple shopping trip. Though the protective tension seemed to lift a bit while holding hands.

"Is it... true what she said? About missing things because of me?" he asked quietly, almost without thinking. He seemed troubled by it. But they had already reached the book store, and the familiar books in the window quieted him.

It took everything he had not to glare at the shopkeeper as he passed. He followed along to the directed area, glancing at the wall of books. These were different, most had pictures or drawings on the covers, unlike other books he'd seen. He scanned them, perhaps waiting for Laurens to pick something for him, until his eyes fell on a small book with the picture of a lion on the cover. He took it from the shelf with a curious head-tilt. And while he himself couldn't read it, the book promised a story of a gladiatorial lion that didn't wish to fight. "I've delayed deadlines for less," Laurens said, almost to himself. "A person's life is worth far more than fiction."

He let Kazha'a explore and skim over the books on his own, waiting until something caught his attention before reaching for a couple of books that covered the basics of letters and how to begin putting them together. For Kazha'a to have even a little interest in a book of his own choosing would certainly help; it was the beginning of a goal to work toward.

"Did you find something you might like?" Laurens asked after a moment of letting Kazha'a flip through the book and form his own opinion. "I've heard good things about Ferid the Lion, though I've not actually read it myself." Blinking down at the book he'd chosen once learning its name, Kazha'a tilted his head. He looked back to the rows of other books upon the shelves. There were some with pictures of children on it, playing. He had no connection to things like this. For some reason, at least, this one he found something perhaps.

With a quiet nod, he handed it to Laurens then began to dig in one of is hip bags for his gil. Laurens nodded his acknowledgment, picking up a few of the very early reader letter-recognition type books before he walked over to the cash register where the proprietor waited.

"Will that be all today?" the Wildwood man asked, surprisingly less patronizing than most might expect. Laurens was, after all, a fairly regular customer who spent a decent amount of coin - anyone coming along with him would be given a similar respect.

"Yes, Raulf, I think this should do it," Laurens replied, indicating the book that Kazha'a held as well. "And if you don't mind, will you add my friend here to my account? Anything he wants if I'm not here, I'll settle with you at the end of the month." Laurens took out his own gil pouch, counting out a handful of coins while the total was still being calculated. Kazha'a followed to the front desk, and did his best to train himself back, avoiding glaring at the shop-keep. He seemed surprisingly more accepting of his presence than he was used to. But as Laurens spoke the man's name, Kazha'a figured they, at least, were familiar with each other. He ought to be, with his books in the window like that.

When the attention shifted to him, Kazha'a's ears lowered back, but he relinquished his book onto the counter. He, too, had his gil out waiting for what he owed. He did far better with numbers, at least when it came to coin, than he did with written words. It was something he had to learn fast selling his blades as he did.

He made a slight face at being added to Laurens' account, raising an unsure brow. He opened his mouth to protest, but a quick glance back to the Wildwood had him snapping his lips shut again. The shopkeeper's eyebrows lifted, but he nodded. "All right. But you're paying for these, right?"

"Yes, of course." Laurens looked to the total and began to extend his hand, but stopped after a glance at Kazha'a. "My apologies, I made an assumption. My friend here will be paying for his own purchase."

The proprietor of the store adjusted the totals, collecting from Laurens what he owed for the rest of the books before turning his attention to the quiet Keeper. "Just the one for you? Then that'll be 5 gil, please." Ever the independent, Kazha'a gave Laurens a grateful look for allowing him this. Perhaps it was foolish, and perhaps one day he'd be more inclined to allow the other to buy him things, but for now, after all the other had already done for him it did not feel right. Kazha'a had few things that were his, and he took pride in what was.

Counting out the gil, he placed the amount on the counter and slide the book into his other hand. He looked down at it again, at the simple cover with the picture of a lion. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes, a muted excitement perhaps. A boyish wonder that was a little off for someone his age. But Kazha'a was quick to train it back, looking between the two Elezen as if he was wary of being seen.