#i actually hate this piece so bad but i haven’t drawn seriously in nearly two years i need to just. give up. fuck it !! yk.

[vvenuspng]

it splash when u fuck it ‧₊˚❀༉ ‧₊˚.

[greenygreenland]

Tired: Omega x Platonic! Slicer! Reader

-Hi I’m back from the dead

-i write for females, keep that in mind (sorry, it's what I'm comfortable with, so I hope you understand!)

-but really, I write in 2nd POV, so you can't tell for the most part

REQUESTED

Summary: You're a former bounty hunter who's also a slicer for the GAAR. You meet Omega by chance.

Tired. That was the only thing that could describe your mental state. Being assigned to mission after mission was no fun, especially when it was solo. You were a civvie slicer, one who the GAAR hired by chance due to your reputation.

By reputation, that meant ex-mercenary-who-so-happened-to-have-a-knack-or two-for-technology. The clones were nice to you though. For the most part, they didn't care about your previous occupation because it wasn't the first time anyone's hired Bounty Hunters for the GAAR.

The low hum of the ship helped to ease your building worries. You wondered what the boys of Clone Force 99 were up to. It was no secret that you were part of the complete package. No one knew how you and them got along when you were a civvie. Being outsiders themselves, they hated anyone who wasn’t part of their group. But not you. You were different. Kind. Caring. Understanding.

That thought made you frown. You missed the boys. They had been gone for at least seven rotations without comming you once. The fact that they promised didn't help their cause either. Were they okay? Maybe one of them got hurt, or worse, killed? Maker forbid such a thing.

"They better come back to me in one piece, or I'll have them begging on their knees for forgiveness..."

Beep, beep, beep!

You jolted upright, swinging your legs out form under you as you hurriedly fumbled for the holoprojector. You tapped a button and the cockpit flooded with a soft, blue light. "Tech!" you cried. "It's been seven rotations! Why haven't you commed me?" He removed his helmet with a sheepish shrug. "We've been busy of course. And it's seven rotations and fifteen hours, meaning--"

"Yeah, yeah." you cut in with a sigh. "I don't like the idea of not coming with you guys on missions. I know you're just as capable--more if you want me to be honest--but that doesn't mean I can't worry."

There was a rustle behind Tech and he looked over his shoulder. Hunter came into view, an apologetic look in his eyes. "Sorry we didn't comm you. With all that's gone down, I wouldn't say we've had the time." You flopped down in your chair helplessly. "I know, it's just..."

Hunter smiled warmly. "Don't worry about us (Y/n)." Tech pushed up his glasses and nodded in agreement. "If there's anyone who we should be worrying about, it's you. You go on solo missions six out of nine times. We have each other but you only have yourself."

"Wow, I feel so much better Tech." You sarcastically muttered. "Speaking of mission, I'm on my next one."

Hunter knitted his brows. "Where?"

"Skako Minor."

"Skako Minor?" they echoed. You nodded. "Something strange is going on there. According to Rex, the Seppie battle plans have been drawn exactly like the ones he used to do with Echo--that’s one of his men." You recalled the face of that fallen soldier. He was always so sweet to you, giving a wave whenever you passed and smiling as brightly as he could. To say you missed the poor boy was an understatement.

"Isn't Skako Minor under the Techno Union?" inquired a coiled voice. Crosshair made his way into the frame and unceremoniously squeezed himself between his brothers. "You better not be going alone." You waved it off. "Even if I did, it’s fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Like the time you nearly fried yourself with a loose wire on that rock in the Outer Rim? Yeah, I don’t think so.” You averted your gaze to the side in embarrassment. No one needed to remind you of that rookie mistake. You could have gotten yourself killed. The watts were off the chart there. “That was one time. I’m a master at this stuff, don't worry. And besides, Cody, Rex, Jesse, and Kix are with me." Cross's brows shot up. "You're working with regs?"

"Don't worry, they're seasoned soldiers from the 501st.” That was the truth, and you meant it. Working under Rex for months made it clear to you. During that time, he taught you a thing or two about mechanics. “General Skywalker’s men are more than capable. So is Cody."

Cross looked doubtful, and you couldn't blame him. This was enemy territory you were sneaking into. It didn’t matter who you had on your side, because anyone could make a mistake.

A deep laugh echoed from over Cross’s shoulder. Wrecker set down his gonk droid, Lula in the other hand. “You guys need to have faith in (Y/n),” he reminded with a grin. “She’s smarter than me, and she’s always kept up with us. Is there anything she can’t do?” Tech pushed his glasses up with a challenging look. “Uh, actually--”

“Just be careful.” Hunter concluded. “We want to see you back in one piece.” You nodded in understanding. “Copy that, Sarge.” He smiled, and it was filled with unsaid words of care. Cross sent you a nod, eyes all mushy and soft while Tech knitted his brows together worriedly. Wrecker grinned, and it was so bright that it could have blinded you.

“Same goes to you Batchers,” you stated seriously. “Come back to me in one piece, or I’ll come over there and kill you myself.” Tech looked like he wanted to comment on that, but he sensed the shift in mood and kept his mouth shut. You memorised their faces as best as you could. It would be a while until you saw them next.

The hologram flickered out and the soft glow of blue hues disappeared. The cold, dim lighting of the ship fell over you. “Well that’s that.” you muttered with a weak smile. Rex patted your shoulder comfortingly. “They really care about you.”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t always like that. I used to be a stranger too.”

The rest of the ride was spent with the occasional joke from Jesse. He made you laugh, and it helped to soothe your worries. But then the ship landed, and you were thrust into a battle zone. You were thankful Anakin made you wear heavier armour today. If he hadn’t, then you probably would have been vaporized on the spot.

“We need cover!” shouted Rex. That was a no-brainer. Being out in the open at the bottom of a ravine was not in the least tactical. “SBDs!” you called. “Twelve o’clock!”

Jesse raced past you. “Get down!” He threw an EMP. It wasn’t as effective as you hoped it would be. If the Bad Batch were here, this situation would have been completely different. You were on your own. There was no cover, save for the piles of smoking durasteel and the very armour strapped to your vulnerable limbs.

You were in a head-on battle.

“I guess we don’t have much of a choice.” You charged forward, tossing a few EMPs as you blasted away. The best you could do was nail them in the head and hope for the best. Jesse was right beside you, with Cody, Kix, and Rex following suit.

“I didn’t think you would be this daring!” called Jesse. You blasted a few droids and kicked another in the head. It fell with a clank and you smothered it in a healthy dose of blaster fire. “I wasn’t about to be bested by a couple of rust buckets!” you retorted with shake of your head. “Come on, we need to get to that tower.”

You made quick work of the droids. You were no Jango Fett, but you managed with the help of the Regs. Cody congratulated your work and motioned for the squad to continue on. “It’s obvious the enemy knows we’re here. I have my doubts on sneaking in, but perhaps we can manage...”

Past the commando droids, through the front door, then up the lift and a little further down a couple halls. Before the mission, Rex had pulled you aside to speak in private. He thought Echo was alive and that whatever was sending out those Seppie battle plans had to be him. But you weren’t about to get your hopes up. Not when so many of your friends long marched far, far away.

You stopped by a door and plugged in your datapad. “I need to slice open the door. I’m not about to challenge fate here with a charge.” Jesse nodded in understanding. “I’d rather come back with all my legs and arms, thank you very much.” He turned to keep guard as Cody stood close to your side. “Is this the control room?”

“Yes.” The door swished open and you disconnected your ‘pad from the panel. “I’ll slice the computer and retrieve the information we need. Rex, I need you for this portion.” He nodded in understanding and followed suit. You connected your datapad to the communications table. A hologram appeared, where dates and names passed by in the blink of an eye.

“You said this might be Echo.” you quietly stated. Rex nodded. “I can’t be sure, but there isn’t another explanation.” You watched as the information scrolled past at the speed of light. There wasn’t anything of use so far. Only old reports, check-ins and...

The scrolling froze. A file opened up, filling the room with a voice you wouldn’t ever forget. It was scratchy and lifeless, but you were sure it had to be the man who went KIA so long ago. “That’s...”

“Echo’s alive.” Rex affirmed. “It--it has to be him.”

“We’ve got company!” called Jesse.

You transferred the file and stuffed your ‘pad in a safe spot for keeping. “In case anything happens, I’m transferring the data over to you.” you stated. “I wouldn’t want to lose any of this.” The two of you rushed out of the room in a frenzy. Blaster fire sounded above, whizzing way over your head as you sprinted down the hall. The lift wasn’t far, only a couple metres. You just had to run a little more and--

BOOM!

Had a droid thrown a charge? You turned to Rex, eyes wide as he turned to face you. With all of the strength you could muster, you shoved him out of the way. Another BOOM!. You turned just in time to see the flash of brilliant reds and oranges.

The force threw you into the transparisteel windows, which spider-webbed out in long cracks. You were suddenly flying out of the four story building. Shards cut past your face and through your sleeves, tearing away at flesh and fabric without an ounce of mercy. If only you had a doshing jetpack.

“(Y/N)!”

You didn’t scream, but Maker did it kriffing hurt. There was a sickening crack, another blinding flash of sharp pain. You held back a cry.

Just be careful. We want you back in one piece.

Your vision faded in and out. Black blurred the galaxy as you knew it.

I'm sorry, boys.

You fell into the painful jaws of darkness.

-----

The first thing that hit your nose was the sterile smell of bacta. Your eyes fluttered open and you found yourself staring at the blank ceiling of the medbay. The incessant beeping of the heart monitor caught you off guard. How hard did you fall? Much less, what did you break?

A head of dirty blonde hair peeked over the edge of your bed. Her eyes, wide with curiosity made you knit your brows together. She was young, much younger than any girl here should be. You were about to sit up, but the girl frantically straightened.

"You're not supposed to be getting up." She gently pushed you back down. "You have a lot more than a few broken bones." That was when the pain began to settle. You stilled under the thin medbay sheets. "I need to comm someone."

"Now?" the girl incredulously inquired. "You're hurt, you have to rest first." But that was the least of your problems. Where was Rex? Had he completed the mission? How long were you out? Were Jesse, Kix, and Cody alright? You winced and the girl frowned.

"If it makes you feel better, there were a few people who came to visit."

That didn't make you feel better. It meant they saw you like this, in the most vulnerable state you could ever be in. "Who are you?"

The girl pointed at herself like she'd never been asked that before. "Me?" You nodded. "I'm Omega." She smiled and it was a little shy and toothy. "You've been asleep for a while. I thought you weren't going to wake up for another day." You tensed and pursed your lips together. "How long?"

"A week, I think." Omega said. "But it's okay! You're recovering steadily." That wasn't the issue. Recovering steadily wasn't good enough because you were missing out on a mission you needed to complete. If Echo really was alive, then you had to save him. It was the least you could do after he put his life on the line for you so many times before.

"I have to..." You pushed your aching body up. "I have to go."

"No!" Omega forced you back down. "Even if you could walk, you can't fight."

"But I have to..." The look on Omega's face made you pause. She was so small, and in that little body of hers, she stored up a good amount of worry for you. How could you say no to that? A sigh escaped your lips and you begrudgingly relaxed onto the bed.

Omega's shoulders slumped in relief. "I'll get a your holoprojector." You raised a brow with a watchful eye as she scurried away. She rummaged through a lone cabinet in the corner of the room. Your clothes sat there, belt, holsters, blasters and all. Omega pulled out your holoprojector, closed the cabinets, and handed it to you.

"I washed your clothes too if you're wondering," she said with a small smile. "But don't think about going anywhere! You can't walk with broken legs."

A pit formed in your stomach. You can't walk with broken legs. That wouldn't be true if you had seen the blast. If you had ran faster. Maybe you wouldn't have ended up like this, a mess of bandages, casts, and bacta patches. If only you had seen it coming.

"Hey, (Y/n)?" You didn't question how Omega knew your name. Whoever she was, she had to be a someone to wear Kaminoan jewellery anyway. "What is it?" Your voice was quiet, sad almost. Omega played with a loose thread on her sleeve. "That was very brave of you." She stepped closer to the bed and pulled up a chair. "Captain Rex came by this morning. He told me that you saved him from that blast."

You shifted to meet her gaze as best as you could. The holoprojector weighed your hand down like a ten kilo weight. "I just...reacted. Nothing special to congratulate." Omega shook her head. "No, that's everything. If it were me, I don't think I'd be able to do that."

A pull in your gut told you she meant what she said. Your eyes softened. You didn't meet her gaze. Maybe that was because you couldn't. It was a hard enough fact accepting that you were injured, adding on that you were going soft didn't help your cause.

Omega took it as her signal to give you some privacy and exited the room. The doors swished shut behind her, leaving you in a much needed silence. You tapped the projector. It opened up, bathing the snow white room in soft blue hues.

"Rex." you greeted. "I apologize for my absence." His brows were knitted, eyes all sad and cloudy. He tried to keep a straight face, but you knew better. Of course you did. He was your best friend since the moment you joined the GAAR. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "I should be asking that to you. Are you alright? That fall was..." He paused and it was like he was choking back tears. "I-I'm sorry. If I had just been more careful, then you wouldn't be..."

"Rex, I'm fine."

"You can't walk." he muttered. "And you can't do much on your own. I took away your independence, this is all my fault." You knitted your brows together. His words made your heart ache, and the very thought of what he faced on his own without you didn't help. Your lips pulled into a frown deeper than Kamino's oceans. "That's not all, is it Rex?"

He clenched a fist as if it would help cease his rolling emotions. "E-Echo...if you had seen him. I'm just glad you weren't there."

"Is he alive?"

"Yes."

"Well where is he?" You had to fight the urge to sit up in anticipation. He was alive. That sweet, loving boy who taught you about protocols and manuals. As boring as it was, all those regulations embedded into your mind saved you more than you'd like to admit. He and Fives always snuck up on you whenever they came back from missions, or commed you in the middle of the night.

They both kept you up at night, but you never minded. Now one of those boys who had marched so far away had the chance of coming home.

"Where is Echo?" you inquired. Rex's eyes fell to the floor. "He's...Watt Tambor made him more machine than man. I-I can't..."

The doors swished open.

"...If only we had..." You shook your head. "Rex, there wasn't anything we could do. It was a miracle you found him in the first place."

The doors closed with a low hiss.

"Found who?"

Your eyes widened and you ripped your gaze away from the projection. A set of worn, tired eyes met yours. He looked different from the bottom up. His new armor, black and red with a familiar 99 on it. His smile, though a bit dampened, remained the same. He made his way over to you and took a seat by your bedside.

"Echo?"

"That's me."

You tried a smile, and it was all watery and shaky. "Oh, you've changed." He chuckled. "So have you. I heard about what happened. That was brave of you." No, it wasn't brave. You did it on instinct, without an ounce of hesitation. "It wasn't brave, I just..."

"Who else is crazy enough to jump in front of an explosion without katarn-class armour?"

You could name a few people. Fives, for example. "Whatever. I just--I'm glad you're alive."

He smiled and it was a little broken. "Me too."

---

Before you knew it, you were up and running again. There was no time to walk because you were needed on a mission today. It was completely solo, but thankfully, a simple retrieval mission with little to no chances of a casualty.

You settled in the cockpit, taking in the familiar scents and smells of the well oiled machinery. Mechanics wasn't your strong suit, but you never minded dabbling in it every now and then. Today, there wasn't time to brush up on your beautiful ship. You had a job to do.

The jump to hyperspace was as smooth as ever. There were no creaks, no fumbling through space, and no bursts of smoke. But that was when you heard a crash from the storage room. Last tine you checked, the door had been sealed shut while the weapons and supplies stowed away as they should be.

Had you forgotten to tie them down? A long sigh escaped your lips. "What a pain."

"So is my backside." piped a chipper voice. Your eyes widened. There was no way you heard that voice correctly. Sure, it was young. You knew a few other people with a young voice. Sure, it sounded girly. You knew a couple other female coworkers.

"Sorry I snuck onboard," the voice added. "I promise, I was going to leave, but then you left and--" You swerved the chair around to face Omega head on. She smiled sheepishly, as if it would fix all the problems in the whole galaxy. Maybe it would have if the whole galaxy were as kind as you.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't turn this ship around and bring you back." you stated. Omega fiddled with the hem of her sleeves like it was the most interesting thing on the ship. "You’re short on time?" You resisted the urge to say something snippy in response. The look of uncertainty on Omega’s little face made you feel just the tiniest bit worried.

Maybe that was because uncertainty could get people killed on the battlefield.

"Omega," you placed a hand to your temple, "do you understand what you've gotten yourself into?" This was bad, really bad. Sure, the mission wasn’t as dangerous as it should have been, but intel was like the weather forecast. It was never correct. Taking Omega along with you wasn’t a good idea in any universe, and like Malachor you’d let her into the crossfire.

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sorry. “I didn’t mean to sneak aboard.” She definitely meant to sneak aboard. “I just wanted to do something more than...” She let out a short sigh, as if it explained what she couldn’t put into words. “Being on Kamino all the time is so boring. I want to get out and see the galaxy with my own eyes.”

She threw her arms towards the bright blue of hyperspace. You didn’t miss the look of wonder in her eyes, bright as a sun. “There’s more to life than rain and the ocean and the same people I see every single day!”

You couldn’t argue. Omega was right. Even during your recovery, the frustration of not being on your ship doing anything but sitting settled into you every day. You hated being cooped up in one place more than anything. Poor Omega had to put up with it her whole life, it was nearly unfathomable to understand what she felt.

A sharp sigh escaped your lips. “Fine, you can come. But my only condition is that you stay on the ship.”

Omega did not stay on the ship. More than anything, she was curious. She had no clue what dirt was, what kind of plants were carnivorous and deadly, or how to steer clear of all the battle droids.

You raised your blaster and fired at the rust buckets. “This is exactly why I said you should have stayed on the ship! Can you even fire a blaster?” Omega knitted her brows together and eyes the deece at your hip. More than anything, she was curious. Beyond that? Determined.

“No,” Omega replied, “but I’ll try.” She pulled the deece from your hip and peeked over the top of your hiding spot. The long, durasteel crate was just barely holding up. If you were a Jedi, then you’d say it had to be a miracle only the Force knew about.

The deece wasn’t a perfect fit in Omega’s small hands, but it did the job. She aimed at the droids, eyes focused and hands firmly on the weapon. She fired. Once. Twice. Three times. "Did I hit anything?” You fired your blaster a couple times and glared through the smoky haze.

A collection of bolts and durasteel scraps lay in a pile and you couldn’t help but be proud. Either Omega was a natural or she was incredibly strong with luck. Whichever it was, it helped you through the mission, and before you knew it, you were back on the ship with a data stick and an unharmed Omega.

“See, nothing bad happened!” she exclaimed with a grin. You took the blaster from her hands and strapped it back to your hip. “That was luck, I tell you.” Omega rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t! You saw--I was like, pow pow, and you went and hit that guy right in the face!”

“That was because he called me a filthy bounty hunter.” you said, a small smile creeping up your lips. “I can’t say I took too kindly to his harsh words.” Omega let out a laugh and you joined her. 

Tired. That was the first thing that came to mind when you thought of your mental state. Yet with Omega by your side, smiling, and carefree despite all the action, you couldn’t help but feel the electrifying sense of thrill. 

“Say, Omega? If you want to come back, maybe we can figure out how to get you off that rainy excuse of a planet more often.” you said with a small smile. She beamed, throwing her arms around you with a vigorous nod. “Yes! I’d love that!”

“Me too, kid. We just have to figure out how to convince whoever looks after you.”

BONUS:

A tall kaminoan towered over you with her beady eyes. Omega sheepishly played with her sleeves as you stared down the kaminoan. Stupid long necks. Nala Se blinked. “So this is where you have been, Omega.” That soft, cold voice of hers warmed at the sight of the girl. “Haven’t I told you not to run off? I see you’ve gone somewhere far today.”

Omega frowned shamefully. “Maybe...” Nale Se motioned for her to come to her. “If you would like, you may stay with (Y/n) again--if you are out of harms way that is.” She turned to you and you froze, eyes wide. “Wait, what?”

“I am giving you permission to have Omega under your care, as long as she is out of harms way.” You glanced at Omega, who glanced at you and then Nala Se with the biggest grin on her face. “Really?”

“Yes.” Nala Se smiled. “‘Really’.”

[gasp-iwrotesomething]

ik cal's route is gonna be a slow burn so,, can i request dom mc and sub cal?

Thank you for requesting, I appreciate you! And I know that Cal’s gonna be a slow burn route (they haven’t even kissed yet!) so doing this request is all the more tempting! I hope you enjoy this, anon!

Cal had never been so excited and yet so embarrassed for something more than now. 

Here he was, bound to a bed that wasn’t his own (not like he’s ever been bound to his own bed before or anything) and half-naked, appealing to the infuriating woman straddling him. The smirk on her lips was a reminder at just how far he’d fallen into her clutches. MC had her fingers tracing the length of his jaw, her nails grazing the soft skin. She was slow in her exploration, opting to instead torture with him with gentle touches, learning the expanse of his body in tandem with how he reacted. Every twitch, every murmur, every curse, every uttered word Cal breathed was met with MC’s insistent fingers. She knew he didn’t enjoy being teased like this but she barely cared; all of the repressed rebukes and frustration Cal caused her she felt well up inside her. It was an act of revenge for her, wasn’t it? Something she wanted just to see the cold and callous Cal North crumble beneath her advances. 

“Are you ever going to do anything else besides be a pest?” Cal murmured icily even as his face resonated heat. His dark blue eyes avoided her’s. MC smirked, dragging her fingernails down to his collarbone. She didn’t miss the way Cal sucked in a sharp breath following her fingers. “Maybe. Are you ever going to stop complaining?” She rebuked, her tone soft and devoid of the mischievous spark she felt in her guts. Ever since MC had tricked him into being tied to her bed earlier that afternoon, he hasn’t stopped moaning and groaning about it--in more than just one sense, MC thought to herself. Cal’s hands writhed in his restraints, desperately searching for a loose knot, a bubble of space to slip his hands through... but nothing. “Damn!” Cal muttered as the rope didn’t give, his handsome face grovelled in a resentful scowl. “Take these off me, MC. I hate this.” The blue sea of his eyes sang a different story, one of desire, need, pleasure. MC found herself skidding her fingers down further, past his pecs to his abs, where she drew insouciant patterns. Cal squirmed slightly, their hips hugging close but not close enough. “I’ve heard it all before, Cal,” MC rasped as she got front row seats to his flexing abdomen muscles, roiling oceans of strength, “how many times have you said something you didn’t mean? That you hid behind a curtain of wit and cockiness, hmm?” MC drifted down to his belly button to which drew a small sigh out of Cal’s parted lips. His eyes gained a fire of hostility and he hissed through clenched teeth. “How many times have I asked you to get me out of these fucking ropes?!”

Cal resumed his struggle again, still earnestly trying to escape, even though MC had made sure the ropes were knotted tight. “Silly Cal,” her unoccupied finger found the swell of his mouth and shushed him, “you should know that someone in your position doesn’t just get what they want without properly asking first.” She saw the blush on his face ignite, if only for a moment, before it was whisked away by his frustration once again. “What the hell does that mean? I’ve been-!” Suddenly it clicks in his head and he cuts off, blushing furiously again. “No. Never. That’s not happening, MC, no matter what you do.” She paused, her smirk widening into a grin. MC cups Cal’s hot face in her palm and frowns, her eyebrows drawn together in mockery. “Oh why not? I want to hear you beg for your release, Cal. Isn’t that the fun of being bottomed?” MC inquired as she bent her head and kissed his cheek, tenderly, to wind him up some more. It works just the way she planned, with Cal huffing and attempting to avoid her questing mouth. “No, there’s no fun in being tied up against my will. I never asked for this.”

Now that was just straight up hypocrisy, MC remarked. She mimics a buzzer sound effect and shakes her head firmly. ���Wrong. That’s not true.” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “In fact, what I remember is a very eager Cal North following me upstairs in my bedroom even after I said I was tied for time.” Cal scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How in the hell does that justify you holding me captive in your own bed?” MC presses her mouth against the side of his neck, speckling lingering kisses against his skin until she reached the curve of his neck. Against her, she felt a ripple of a shiver rip through Cal’s brawn physique. “It doesn’t really, but it’s not nearly as flimsy of a lie as your whole ‘I hate this, release me now’ declaration.” Her voice ghosted against his skin, feather-like and humid against him, something that made him curse under his breath. MC kissed an invisible path down to his chest, flicking her tongue between her lips just to see Cal squirm. “That wasn’t a lie! I really don’t,” Cal’s sentence cracks in half as she wanders to his abs, “...I really don’t like being your little sex slave prisoner or whatever dumb thing you call me.”

“I wasn’t going to call you my sex slave prisoner per say, but now that I have your blessing I just might.” She murmurs against the solitude of his tender skin. MC hears Cal groan and she isn’t sure if it’s from her mouth or her... mouth. That’s a power move, MC snickered to herself in her mind, if I’ve ever heard of one. “No way, I NEVER want to be called that by anyone, much less you.” He emphasizes ‘you’ with a distinct growl to his voice, like he’s describing something groundbreaking. MC actually does snicker this time, her breath wavering against his tense muscles. “Aw, I’m not that bad, Cal. You should take it as a compliment; not that many people get to walk around Vegas with the title of ‘MC’s sex slave prisoner’.” Cal grunts once she descends lower, down to the grey rim of his boxers, her lips edging close to the cloth with purpose in tow. She enjoyed the blaze of power that gripped her as Cal quietly, and as secretly as he could manage, moaned. “MC...” Her name left his mouth in a pleased whisper, as if calling to her. “Mm, I’ll add that name to the list of nicknames I’ve called you, Cal.” He doesn’t object, in fact he moves his hips to meet her mouth; it was like the meaning of her words flew over his head.

Fueled by this, MC gently hooks her fingers into the waistband of his underwear, tugging the teal material down as she dared to venture lower. Cal’s breathing had gone rugged and his eyes were shut in anticipation, his head tilted back against the pillows. “Do you want me to release you now?” MC breathed. She knew Cal wouldn’t plead for release unless he had gotten what he wanted, and what he wanted most was MC’s mouth on him. “...” Cal was speechless, unable to speak even one word out of immense anticipation. MC was no sadist, so she followed the unspoken instructions Cal had given and gave him relief, her lips around him as gentle as she could manage. Cal grunted, repressed pleasure slipping through the cracks of him, as MC moved for him, with him, allowing his hips to rally her movements. She kept her advances tender, as to draw it out and relish in the way it made her feel. A taut coil of molten heat curled around her guts as she continued, making him arch his back and curl his toes. MC loved the noises he murmured. They were low, almost noiseless, but there. 

MC pulls away once his peak was on the horizon, rising from her position to shoot Cal a cocky grin...even though his eyes were tightly shut. When they did open, MC saw two magnificent, bottomless pools of lust, so deep and dark that her heart flipped in her chest. “I didn’t submit to you just for you to gape at me like a painting in a resonance museum, MC.” Cal’s irking charm sparks back to life, resuscitated along with his patented smirk, and MC’s grin turns peckish. “Oh? So now do you accept that I’m dominating you?” She crawls back up his body as he speaks, her breath caressing plains of strong muscle. “No, not at all. Just some good ol’ manipulation to keep you touching me.” MC snorts. Wow, was he confident. “You know what?” MC withdraws from totally, save for her hips resting on his abs, and smirks. “Just for that, I’m gonna do everything over again, since you didn’t seem to get the most of it.” Cal groans, irritated, as MC places her fingers along the curve of his jaw, repeating what did earlier. “Bite me,” he grumbles under his breath.

MC grins down at him, a twinkle in her brown eyes. “That’s what you want, Cal? If so, I can definitely work that into what I’m going to do to you.” And for a while, well into nighttime, MC taunts and tortures Cal with everything she’s got, forcing noises and reactions out that never would’ve been predisposed.

One thing was for sure: MC had scored big that day.

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

Thank you for requesting again, anon! I really enjoyed writing this for you! And I might’ve gotten a little carried away and wrote a long ass fic for Cal but seriously, I love him to pieces and this was so refreshing to write.

If you want to request something, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

[monabela]

Day two of ship dominoes, where I write twelve ships using their members as domino stones, each set in a different month, over the twelve days of Christmas. I’ve never actually finished a fic with this pairing before! I remember starting to ship them during the time I wasn’t much into Hetalia, somehow. Purely for the Aesthetic(TM) I think. But they’re also just an interesting duo!

Message to Me

February

pairings/characters: Luxembourg (Noah)/Romania (Dragos), Moldova (Luca), Portugal (Simão), Netherlands (Maarten), Belgium (Manon)

word count: 3102 summary: It's Valentine's Day, Noah Krier keeps receiving mysterious letters over the course of the day, and his assistant seems to be hiding something. What is going on here?

<< Bulgaria/Romania || Romania/Luxembourg || Luxembourg/Seychelles >> [all parts]

also on AO3 

“Luca, what’s this letter?”

Luca’s head pops up around the corner of Noah’s office, pencil wound tightly into his hair as always and expression inquiring.

“This letter was on my desk.” Noah waves it at his assistant. “It’s, ah… Pink.”

“It is Valentine’s Day, Mr Krier,” Luca offers, but he looks confused by the presence of the letter as well, and sorting through Noah’s letters is part of his job. “I definitely would have remembered seeing that, though, and I didn’t.”

Noah eyes the soft pink envelope, on which his name is written in an unfamiliar, spindly longhand. It doesn’t feel like there’s anything in it but paper, so he reckons he could open it without risk.

“Thank you anyway, Luca, never mind it.”

The man is definitely pulling an amused face as he turns and walks back to his desk just outside. Noah shakes his head after him before leaning against his own desk, crossing his legs at the ankles, and grabbing the letter opener to rip the little envelope open.

Out comes a letter in the same handwriting on thin, plain white paper, with an elaborate, honestly quite beautiful, pen drawing of thorny roses around the words.

Noah—

I should forewarn Though you surely see Not unlike me These roses have thorns

The day is still young There’s much to be seen Places to be And rhymes yet unsung

Noah stares at the poem, reading it three times. It doesn’t make it any clearer. The loops on the letters are long but neat, and the lines themselves are perfectly straight, and none of it helps. Is this a prank? It must be a prank, mustn’t it? Surely, no one would go through the trouble of writing a poem for him seriously?

He’s still busy doing that, when Luca pops his head in again.

“I hate to interrupt, but we should get going if we want to make the ten o’clock, Mr Krier.”

“Yes—yes, of course.” Noah quickly fumbles the letter back into its envelope and shoves it into his briefcase.

“Love letter?” Luca asks teasingly as they walk to the elevator, because for all that he’s great at being a professional assistant, he’s also Noah’s friend and a horribly nosey person.

“I’m not actually sure,” he replies. The poem isn’t necessarily romantic, but Luca was right, it is Valentine’s Day, and then there’s the pink paper… The roses… “It’s strange. I think it’s a prank.”

Luca nods, pulling a quasi-impressed face, and Noah smiles.

They reach the ground floor of the building, and after quickly checking with the receptionist that there aren’t any more messages—or poems, as it were—, make their way to the car waiting outside.

The driver, Simão, nearly jumps against the roof when Noah opens the passenger side door. He raises his eyebrows, shaking his hair out of his face.

“Alright there?”

“You scared me. Good morning, Noah. Luca.”

Luca flashes a smile from the backseat. Simão rakes his fingers through his dark hair a couple of times, fidgets with the clutch.

“What is it?” Noah asks, watching him with half an eye. “Do you want to leave earlier because you’ve got a date? Because I’ve told you before, I’m terrified of your girlfriend, so you can leave whenever you want.”

“What, no—I mean, I appreciate that. I think.” He blinks, finally starts the car, and pulls away from the building. Luca types busily on his phone. Noah, who can’t do anything useful in traffic because of his motion sickness, watches Simão with suspicion.

He’s known him for a long time, and his driver has always been a bit of an odd one, but this is strange even for him. He doesn’t say anything else about it, though. Who knows, maybe the guy’s planning to ask his terrifying girlfriend to marry him or something like that, and he’s nervous about that.

However, when they reach the house Noah is supposed to look at and see if it can be sold, and Luca has already leaped out of the car as if he’s twelve and not 23, Simão tells Noah to wait a minute.

“Hm?”

“There’s something… Uh, check the glove box.”

Frowning, Noah does so, and there’s another pink envelope in there, lying innocuously on a box of mints. He looks back at Simão, who holds both hands out defensively.

“It’s not from me! This dude came up and handed it to me, said to give it to you. It just seemed so weird.”

As he examines the envelope—same paper, same thin handwriting—Noah considers this information.

“What did that man look like?”

Simão shrugs apologetically. “He was wearing a scarf and had his hood up. Tall, though, maybe even taller than you. He had a red bike.” He shivers. “Way too cold to bike.”

Luca knocks on the window of the car, jumping up and down outside and pulling an impatient face. Simão laughs, and Noah quickly stuffs the envelope into the inner pocket of his woolen coat.

“Thank you, Simão. We’ll be back soon.”

The driver wink cheerfully, apparently not nervous anymore, and Noah shakes his head while opening his door and walking over to Luca and the current owner of the house.

“Apologies for the hold-up, ma’am.”

A while later, having gotten lunch down the street and walking back to the company’s building, he remembers the envelope, and then it suddenly seems to be burning a hole through his coat.

“Are you okay, Mr Krier?” Luca asks from next to him, somehow eating at the same time. It’s kind of morbidly impressive.

“I got another one of those letters,” he says faintly. “Simão gave it to me.”

That does make his assistant look up.

“What does it say?” he asks, sounding almost excited.

“I… Don’t know.”

That makes Luca halt his step in the middle of stairs to the doors of the building.

“I haven’t looked yet!” Noah says defensively, in response to his almost accusing look.

“Well, look,” Luca urges.

“In a minute!”

Luca is laughing at him, Noah’s sure, as they walk to the elevator and ascend to Noah’s office, and then he’s sitting down on Noah’s desk, thin legs swinging back and forth.

“Sometimes I don’t remember why I hired you,” Noah tells him, but Luca just grins, so he fishes the envelope out of his pocket. It’s a little wrinkled, but the text on the paper that comes out is perfectly legible.

Noah—

Don’t be alarmed I mean you no harm I just want to say On this certain day

I am fascinated And often captivated In more than one way You make me gay

Noah reads the text again, eyes the little envelopes drawn around the edges of the paper. No, this is too bad, it has to be a prank. That, or someone actually really likes him and isn’t afraid to be embarrass themselves like this. Himself, probably, if that’s what the gay line is referring to.

“Well?” Luca asks, and Noah is speechless, so he just hands his assistant the letter, watching as his eyes widen.

“See?”

“Well, that’s… Something,” he says, seemingly unable to stop looking at the piece of paper. “What do you think?”

“Honestly, Luca, I don’t know.” He takes the letter back, smoothes it out, and puts it on his desk, laying the first one down next to it. “If it’s genuine, it’s… It’s so weird it’s sweet, really, but Simão described the man who gave the second one to him, and it could very well be my brother, so it could also be a prank.”

“Your brother plays pranks?” Luca seems surprised.

“Don’t all siblings?”

“Well, I mean, my brother definitely does, but you know Dragos a little, and he’s just weird. Your brother always seems so serious.”

Noah smiles, because he knows that’s exactly what Luca thought of him at first, a couple of years ago.

“Believe me, Maarten and Manon are a terrifying team.”

“That’s definitely true,” Luca says faintly.

Unsure how to proceed with this, Noah claps his hands and announces that it’s about time they got back to work, giving Luca a push when he lingers by the desk, chewing on his lip. That’s odd, really. Luca is a forward person, which Noah deeply appreciates about him, yet now it seems he’s hesitant to tell him something. He figures that he’ll find out if it’s important. For now, he works through his normal messages, and it isn’t until three in the afternoon that the routine is disrupted again.

“Mr Krier?”

Noah looks up at Luca, who is standing in the doorway to the office with his hands clasped behind his back and his hair escaping from its ponytail as if he’s been messing with it.

“Yes?”

“Message for you.” He steps into the room.

The emphasis on the word message alerts Noah, and he stands up to take the pink envelope from his assistant.

“The receptionist said a woman handed it to her downstairs. Tall woman, she said, with light hair.”

That could be Manon, Noah reckons. His whole family is tall, and although her hair is darker than his, it could still qualify as light. Light brown, at least.

He opens the envelope nonetheless, as Luca hovers curiously.

Noah—

You must think me strange To have this arranged And that may be true But that’s what I do

I think it could be More than a dream If you give me a chance This could be romance

“That’s it,” Noah says. “I’m calling my siblings.”

“Why?” Luca, who has read the letter from next to him and huffed an exasperated laugh at the text and the tree drawn in the background in sure pencil lines, asks. Noah knows nothing about trees, but it looks like one you could sit under without getting wet even in a storm. It looks certain, steady.

He dials Manon’s number, then presses his lips together irritably when she doesn’t answer and the call goes right to voicemail.

“Maarten, then,” he mutters, ignoring the bemused look Luca is giving him. He needs to get to the bottom of this. Somewhere, he wants it to be a prank, but he also really doesn’t, flattered that someone would go to such lengths for him.

Maarten picks up the phone with a hello. “Noah.”

“Yes, Maarten, I’m—”

“Before you go on, I got… Well, I got a message for you, apparently.” He sounds bewildered. Noah blinks.

“A message?”

“Yeah, I got a letter delivered at work addressed to you. I think it’s a poem?”

Luca is now obviously trying to stifle laughter, muffling snorts into his hands. Noah swipes his hair out of his face brusquely and glares at him.

“That’s what I’m calling about, actually,” he tells his brother, aware that he sounds just as confused now. And, when his brother makes a confused noise, barely audible over the background noise of his workshop, “Never mind that. What’s the message?”

A rustle of paper. Maarten clearing his throat. Luca snorts into his hand again.

“Noah—

If you hear this You must have doubts But nothing’s amiss You’re what I’m about”

Noah blinks. “That’s it?”

“Yes. Were you expecting more?”

“Kind of.” He shakes his head and swipes his hair away again. “Who did you say delivered it to you?”

“I didn’t. And I have no idea, one of my employees handed it to me.”

“Right. Alright.”

He sounds honestly confused about the situation, and Noah likes to think he’s known Maarten long enough to tell when he’s acting, even when he can’t see him.

“Well, do you think it could have been Manon?”

Maarten laughs. “Sure. It wouldn’t be the first time she pulled something like that. We still have to get her back so much.”

Noah shoots Luca a significant look, at which the man rolls his eyes, and then he thanks Maarten, saying he’ll call their sister and hopefully find out more about this.

“You know, I believe you now,” Luca comments while he scrolls through his phone to find Manon’s number. “Your siblings are just as weird as my brother.”

“Maybe not quite that weird,” Noah replies, because he’s met Dragos Bălan, and the guy was great but also the most eccentric person ever.

Finding Manon’s number, he tries it again, and this time, she answers quickly, cheerful as always.

“Hi, Noah! I saw you called just now, but this telemarketer was trying to talk me into getting a subscription to razors or something. What’s up?”

“Razors? Why would—sorry, I’m calling about the poems, Manon.”

“The poems? There’s more than one?”

Confused, Noah doesn’t reply, and Manon continues.

“I got an email to my blog address. It said to relay a message to you if you called. It’s a poem.”

“Of course it is,” he sighs. “Well, let’s have it, then.”

A laugh, then, “And if you feel That way about me Let’s make a deal Under the linden tree”

“The linden tree?” Noah groans. It just keeps getting weirder. Manon just laughs again, teasingly, and he can just imagine how she looks, with her mouth pulled up in that familiar mischievous smile.

“Have you got a secret admirer, Noah?”

“Shut up,” he replies, and then he hangs up when his sister just keeps laughing at him. He pushes the hand still holding his phone through his hair, now just even more confused. If it isn’t a prank, at least by his siblings, then what? Someone evidently knows a lot about him, and, “Isn’t this creepy?”

“I don’t know,” Luca replies. “Not necessarily. You’re a public figure, you know, and everyone knows your family.”

Noah sits down heavily on the edge of his desk, trying to figure out if his ‘secret admirer’ has left any clues as to his identity. He’s a man, apparently, and what is that about the linden tree?

“Luca, you know things about poetry. What connotations does the linden tree have?”

“Many.” He shifts from one foot to another, turns his phone over between restless fingers, and grins awkwardly when Noah frowns. “Noah, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course?” It must be something personal if he’s calling him by his first name during work hours. He’s always maintained the weird distinction between Noah and Mr Krier.

“What do you think of the person who wrote these? Are they creepy?”

Considering this—with some amount of suspicion, because what is Luca getting at?—Noah chews on his lower lip. Like his assistant said, all the information used wouldn’t be terribly hard to figure out with some determination, nothing untoward was written in the poems, and the writer seems aware that he’s being strange, but that’s just who he is, apparently.

“No, I think he’s sweet, in some odd way,” he replies, and Luca’s expression shifts to the strangest mix between relieved, pained and amused.

“I guess that’s one way to describe it.” He laughs a helpless laugh. “Figures.”

Noah shakes his head at him in confusion.

“The linden tree is an important symbol in many Slavic countries,” Luca explains. And, with a deep breath, “As well as in the Romanian-speaking ones.”

“The Ro… Luca, for god’s sake, you’re the only Romanian-speaking person that I know! Don’t tell me you—”

“No!” He holds both hands out. “No offense, but no.”

“Then who…”

It dawns on him when he searches Luca’s guilt-stricken grey eyes.

“Your brother? Did you know?”

He shrugs in apology. “Not until I saw the handwriting.”

Groaning, Noah collapses onto his back on his desk, swinging his legs out in a manner unbefitting of his position or his age. Luca’s brother. He must have gotten his schedule for the day from Luca somehow, without Luca knowing. True, Noah liked Dragos when he met him, but he barely knows the man when it comes down to it, and he’s sure Dragos barely knows him in turn. And yet, and yet. He’s genuine about this, if Luca is to be believed.

“What do you think he expects me to do?” he asks the man, sitting up.

“Who knows with him, really. He’s way too impulsive for his own good.”

“Maybe not.” He swallows. “Give me his phone number?”

“You’re both as bad as each other,” Luca says, but he sounds thoroughly amused and turns his phone screen towards Noah so he can copy Dragos’s number. “I hope you’ll be very happy. Also, can I leave earlier? I’ve got a date.”

Noah just stares at him.

An hour later, Luca has gone home to prepare for his date, and Noah is staring at the new contact in his phone. He’s tempted to send the elder B��lan a poem back, but, maybe fortunately, Maarten used up all the poetic talent in the family, and he isn’t that shameless even if Dragos is.

In the end, he receives a message from the number.

Luca is a traitor. I hope I didn’t creep you out, but he says it’s fine. Dragos

Deciding to act on his impulses for once, Noah presses the call button instead of texting back.

“Hello?” comes the voice he vaguely remembers, with the hoarse note to it and the same lilt that Luca has.

“I’d say Luca is a very good assistant,” Noah says, and smiles at the skyline of the city outside of his office when Dragos laughs at that, easily and openly.

“He’s a great kid, but a terrible brother.”

Noah wets his lips, takes a deep breath, and tries to think of something to say, but he’s forestalled.

“I really hope you don’t think I’m creepy.” Some creaking and rustling. Noah imagines Dragos fidgeting. “I mean, a lot of people would argue that I am, but not in the stalkerish way, I promise.”

“I don’t think that,” Noah assures him. “Maybe a little strange, but aren’t we all?”

A chuckle. He smiles.

“Dragos,” he says, the name sounding like a thrill.

“Hmm?”

“I’m not sure if there are any lindens around here, but I’d like to meet you somewhere.”

A pause, then a reply in a tone that sounds more unsure than anything so far.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Noah smiles, glad he’s not the only one out of his depth. “Yeah, I’d really like that. You seem like an interesting man, I’d like to get to know you. Plus, I know from experience embarrassing one’s siblings is a great pastime, and I happen to know where your brother is now. He’s on a date.”

“I knew I made a good decision,” Dragos says, grin obvious in his voice. “I can’t wait.”

[sapphic-scylla]

Cassus, Chap. 2-The Vault of Glass

I grew very quickly in training. My work as a soldier, bounty hunter, and assassin only improved my class skills and refined my ability. All of these were a mix of things taught by my extensive “family”, past and present. I learned everything from close-quarters from my great grandfather to sniping from my great uncle, Garrus, to technical tinkering from my great grandma and mother to silent quick kills and knives from Aunt Kasumi. It was ingrained into my brain at a young age and only because I was willing to learn and practice. I also took lessons from Cayde, as he passed through our little camp in Manhattan back then. He filled in the gaps.

Eventually, I had mastered these new powers as well. The Traveler’s gifts were like being in a new relationship. You have no idea how it works, but somehow, You already know what you’re supposed to do. Eventually, I became so proficient that Cayde offered me the most challenging of the subclasses: the Nightstalker.

I had always dabbled in bows, in fact, I thrived in using them, but this was so much different. I had always respected the use of a bow and arrow. It had an elegance that my gunslinger heart had always been jealous of. It required a calm I struggled to possess. It took me almost two years to master and it drove me to the point that I wondered if I’d ever get it. Little did I know, it would become my greatest advantage and my greatest strength.

I spent days sitting in Bannerfall practicing, trying to hold the tether in form for more than a second but it proved almost impossible. As I sat on the edge of the tower, exhausted from use of light, a booming voice nearly knocked me off. “GUARDIAN!!”

“Shaxx, what did I say about yelling when I’m sitting. You are gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Sorry, but I haven’t seen you in the crucible lately. You love the Crucible. Cayde said you were here.”

“Yeah. This Void thing, Shaxx. I’ve been trying and I don’t know how Titans and Warlocks wield it so easily.”

“Ahhhhh. It’s why Cayde is the only Nightstalker this tower has at the moment. He was waiting for a student.”

“But how? It takes far more skill than he thinks I possess. Maybe it’s just not me.”

“Guardian, as your combat mentor, we’ve talked a lot about your fire for battle, but that is not the point of using Void. Both warlocks and titans...have you seen them use it? It’s not about unleashing something, it’s about focus. Reigning in the darkness for your control.”

“But I am ADHD? How do I use focus when I can’t even finish a game of poker?”

“Guardian, a bow is much like the hand cannon you carry. You can’t just fire and hit something. You of all people know that.” he said as he walked away. “The Crucible beckons, guardian! Will you answer?!?”

Shaxx had taken a special interest in me. As I had walked into the Tower on the second day, still unsure of all of this, I found myself drawn to wielding this new power, but I wanted to protect people. Most people had always wanted to pit their light against each other, but I wanted to be a force of good to counter my more aggressive side. As I asked to join the Crucible, somehow, Shaxx had seen this and immediately took me under his wing and taught me himself. It was never easy. God, that Titan didn’t give a single inch, but I’m glad he didn’t.

As I pondered his words, I formed the bow in my hand. I felt all of tension and mistrust fade into a bow. This wasn’t darkness though. Void had a perfect combo of light and dark, each vying for domination, but blending perfectly. My heartbeat slows and darkness swirls to the arrow tip as I pull back. I fire the arrow and the tethers spring to the targets pulling them to me as I bullseye each and every one.

“That was so much cooler than I could have ever done it. And that’s saying something because I am awesome.” Said the snarky voice of my mentor.

“Cassus, my favorite Guardian, you have far exceeded my expectations and if I could leave the tower, I would want you on my fireteam.”

“Technically, you’re always welcome, Cayde.”

“Yeah but apparently I am a pivotal part of the Vanguard.” He mocked the Tower Commander in his not-as-deep voice.

“And Zavala said this, did he?”

“Maybe. I can never remember. Come to think of it, it might have been Ikora, actually, and with a lot more crying and much more undaunted respect.”

“Hilarious.”

“Keep at it, Cassus. You’re gonna do great things.” He said as he walked away.

“Cayde?”

“Yes, Cass?”

“Thank you for teaching me how to wield a bow.”

“Cass, I may not remember much about my past life, but I will always remember those days. That’s why I trust you completely with this bow. You’re the one I want at my back in a fight. You have more promise than anyone and you’re damn good in a firefight like when we faced the Cavanaugh uprising.”

I laughed. “That was a fun fight. Still have never seen someone put three people down as quickly as you.”

“What about you, my man? 28 headshots in a row! Not even I in all my glory have that good a precision.”

“Love you, dude.” I said

“You’re the best, dude. Always remember that. Or I’ll have to kill ya.” He said as he walked out.

Cayde knew better than most the shit I’d been through. Cayde had been my father figure for who knows how long. As a child, I’d been an active learner. I had to be prepared for anyone and anything. I studied fighting as I had a penchant for violence. By the age of ten, I had learned swords, pistols, sidearms, bow staffs, short knives and throwing them, archery, and especially hand-to-hand. All of those were refined and personalized by Cayde. He was known as the Ace of Hearts then, but he has been rebooted a few times since. He was a gunslinger by trade and had lived in our town and used it as a place to hang his hood before he left for god knows where. When I turned twelve, he said “Cass, no one is going to protect you or anyone else but themselves. Be someone people can count on.”

Those words rang true to this day. At 15, the town began tearing itself apart. People were stealing from people, murders were sky high. When the end of the world came about, people didn’t take it well, so me and my best friend Dredgen became the law. We kept people sane through fear. We made the hard decisions. We became vigilantes. Hellfire and Thorn. My parents never found out. Eventually, when we had to defend the wall, I juggled the two duties. No one ever figured it out except Cayde. Before he left, he said “That’s what I’m talking about. You are going to be great. People may think of you as a criminal or a bounty hunter, but Hellfire is who you are and those instincts will be crucial one day.”

It’s been years since I thought about those days, but two things were true. He was right and that it was time to return to the crucible.

I could never be beat in close-quarters combat. Crucible showed that as the Last Word I had acquired and I dominated in stealth and melee. That's not to say I was the best, but as it always had been, people fell like flies within five feet and people learned distance was best. Sniper rifles helped me close the gap and fusion rifles helped me cover the in between.

I became adept in all of the weapon classes and as I moved higher, Shaxx applauded my efforts. Zavala eventually called me to Vanguard headquarters to my surprise.

It was a cool October day. Years didn’t matter at that point and, honestly, I just couldn’t remember. I was just getting back from a patrol and I was about ready to keel over.

“You really shouldn’t be pushing yourself this hard, ya crazy.” Sapph said. Snarky ghost.

“I know, but I hate being cooped up in the Tower all day. It’s bad enough I’m relegated to known areas only, working with this piece of shit is the worst.” I said, holding up this old hand cannon called Ill Will. Clunkiest damn thing I’d ever used and it handled like a brick of solid iron ore counted as a pistol.

The Tower armed us with Vanguard issue gear until we prove ourselves worthy of stronger gear for the field. Materials were hard to come by.

“Oh come on, you only missed that dreg by a couple hundred meters.” Sapph laughed.

“The gun jammed! I can’t work with this junk! I need me a real weapon!” I grumbled as I dismantled it.

“Cassus Shepard, please report to the Vanguard immediately.” Zavala said over the intercom.

“You’re in for it now, you engram-stealing, sweet-talking ass BITCH!” Sapph laughed and giggled as I shuffled my way into the Tower.

“It was ONE TIME!!! Ok, two...maybe three tops, but that fucking cryptarch talks like a goddamn New Monarchy rep. I could spill a boiling hot coffee on the guy and he’d have an aneurysm because the colors didn’t match.” I ranted.

I walked in to see the Vanguard all standing together.

“Cassus, we’ve brought you here with an offer of assistance.” Ikora said, emotionlessly as always.

“We’ve opened some old files and recorded some happenings on Venus and we’ve discovered the Vex are up to something. We’ve sent fireteams, but none have reported back. The last time this happened, the Tower commander was exiled for overextension of authority and bad judgement, so we are taking every precaution in this decision.” Cayde-6 said in all seriousness, which was totally a first from him.

“What do you need from me?” I said, interested.

“Are you familiar with leadership, Cassus?” Zavala said, authority practically oozing from his armor.

“I’m solid enough for whatever you need from me, sir.” I said, even though I loathed running with big groups.

“Then it’s settled. A week from now, you will be heading a team into the Vault of Glass. The main objective is intel and possible elimination. Infiltrate the Vault and assassinate any and all high value targets. Take this relic in with you. I hope it serves you well.” Zavala said, passing me some kind of Vex shield…? I don’t know what it was. Don’t ask.

“I won’t let you down, sir.” I said, nervously.

“Go talk to Banshee when you have a sec. He’ll have some new gear for you. And study up as much as you can. We have little but hopefully it helps.” Ikora said.

“And of course, good luck. We don’t know all of what’s down there, but we trust you’ll handle it. Light go with you, Cass.” Cayde said. And with those words, I was dismissed.

I'd studied late into the night to learn all there was to know about the vault. It wasn't much. Apparently, Kabr’s fireteam was obliterated by the oracles and, while Pahanin was the only one that had survived and he forgot the trauma and practically became a tortured soul. Kabr, the Legionless, he became known as, sacrificed his life and his free will from the Vex collective to ensure that someone could lockdown the rituals they were performing. Praedyth had gotten trapped in the everlasting loop of time and was doomed to an eternal “fall” as all time exists all at once. Praedyth and I were never close, but he was the smarter of us three. As for Pahanin, I had come across info that Dredgen had killed him. I did not stand to believe it. Pahanin and I fell from the same tree, but he was a million times more cautious. Dredge knew that. And yet still…

Something must have happened and eventually, I would find out that story. They say Shin Malphur killed Dredge in a shoot out, but Dredge was the fastest draw I had ever seen outside of Cayde himself. Something felt off about the whole thing and I didn’t know what.

This info even spoke of Osiris and his time as Warlock Vanguard and that bastard could rot in hell for all I cared. His obsessive personality eventually got him exiled from the tower. A terrible fate, but that’s not to say he didn’t deserve it. The Vex and his interest in them had become too much before. I would be a fool to say he had changed now.

Before we left, I stopped by the gunsmith to arm myself and do a final check through. Banshee pulled me aside and said that as I had mastered the three subclasses and partly because I was his favorite and loved spending time weapon crafting, he presented me with the pride and joy of his creations.

It balanced perfectly in my hands as a hand cannon and the mechanics moved smoothly and flawlessly. I was a risk taker and being as much of a gambler of life as I was at cards, the name Ace of Spades suited it and me well.

As I tested the firing on the range, the first shot I took, a headshot, led to the combustion and incineration of the target.

“What the FUCK?!” I said, jumping as far back as a thrall could lunge forward.

“The light a guardian has not only extends to physical ability. Weapons forged in light gave unique abilities to the user depending on their style.” Banshee said in his usual dead pan.

“Mine is explosions?! Why the hell did I...ok I guess that does make sense…” I said, realizing mid thought.

“Your gun is rewarding precision and accuracy. It must sense you have a steady hand.” Banshee offered.

Now that you mention it…

“Like you wouldn’t believe, actually.”

This weapon and I would become very good friends.

I slid it into my holster. The next four days were spent studying and preparing. Days and nights flowed together and eventually the day came.

Two titans, two warlocks, and a hunter. All geared up and ready to go at the crack of dawn.

“Orders, sir.” One Titan saluted. It made me cringe oh so badly.

“First up, no formalities. No “sirs”, ok? Good. Guys, our job is intel and elimination. Watch each other’s backs, trust each other. Our ghosts will have limited power due to Vex countermeasures, so remember to keep your heads on a swivel. I want to see each of you fine ladies and gentlemen alive at the end of this, ok?”

“Ok!” They all said, eager and ready. God, I loved these people.

“Then what the hell are we waiting for, my friends?” I grinned. “Everyone, to your ships! Let’s get this show on the road!”

As me and my fireteam pushed our way to the Vault, I felt a heavy sense of foreboding. Venus was lost to the Vex years ago and the fact that the place was still this much of a mystery scared the hell out of me.

As we opened the Vault, the Vex obviously tried to stop us, but with little success.

“That seemed a little too easy…” Sapph muttered.

“Glad I’m not the only one thinking that…” I agreed.

The huge door shifted open and we moved inside, quietly as a group as the lights slowly flickered into an eerie darkness.

As we proceeded further, the ring of pieces of architecture and potentially creatures fading in and out of time chilled me to the bone or what little I had left. We had heard of a vengeful Hydra aptly named the Templar, but when and where it would show up, we hadn't the foggiest idea.

We come to a big platform only to discover that we were blocked by a heavily encrypted door. The Vault of Glass was not one vault but several.

“Maybe they are taking a coffee break…?” The other hunter offered.

“I hope so. Last thing I want is Minotaurs grumbling at us because Starbucks wasn’t open yet.” I remarked jokingly.

Without warning, a hellish mechanical screech, the likes of which I have never heard before nor since, shook the earth.

“What the actual hell!?!” I yelled, more annoyed than anything.

After all of us recovered from being deaf, we looked up to see the most decorated yet the most menacing Hydra I’d ever seen floating near the next Vault door. With what looked like a vengeful stare, his blocky shield turned green and started fluctuating to reveal conflicted and dozens of drones started rushing to sacrifice themselves for the cause. We immediately began shooting them to stop their advance.

All of us knew what this was. The Templar War Machine and his demented trials were upon us.

We were told of the trials of the Templar: the confluxes and the oracles, but we were treading new ground beyond that. As we destroyed the final oracle, with a demon cry, the Templar unleashed its weaponry as it charged at us.

Without warning, as I dived aside, a relic fell from who knows where to where I was in cover. I picked it up and without really knowing how to use it but somehow embracing its strange familiarity, I activated it’s defense protocol, defending my team before wielding it as a weapon against the shields as the rest of my team hunkered down and loaded every clip we had into that thing. After what seemed like forever, the Templar crippled and exploded opening the way forward. From now on, we were in unseen territory.