#telling me to stand strong and put my foot down and protect the systems while immediately throwing me under the bus when I try to do so

[poundfooolish]

my work is undergoing a lot of restructuring and we're all getting shuffled off to new teams, and my boss just floated to me a team he thinks I'd be a good fit for, basically doing the same stuff I'm doing now with a closer focus on just fixing problems, ie, my favorite part of the job

If I do actually get moved to this new team though the actual new favorite part of the job is gonna be no longer working under this man

[cinnamonest]

Zhongli (Genshin Impact) - Yandere Profile

This man's voice has a POWER over me I SWEAR

tws: yandere, mentions of n/sfw

tws (under the cut): very ddlg-esque vibes, sorta? infantilization, noncon

I'm sorry I get such strong daddy vibes it unintentionally went in this direction, hope that isn't too bad lmao

I’m working on all the prompts I’ve gotten in! I’ve gotten a few so I’ll be working on those.

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's one that might be likely to misunderstand his feelings at first, think that he sees himself as a mentor or maybe even an authority figure, someone to guide you and teach you and serve as a dependable partner to your travels. As time goes on, and he begins to recognize how utterly flustered he gets around you, he's forced to acknowledge the actual feelings he has.

While some yanderes with a slight aloofness or pride to them get worse when in love, such as Childe or Kaeya, his drops completely. You bring out a softer side of him, really, one that's protective and tender and loving, so very loving, wanting to be around you, with you. He's certainly an obsessive, protective type, ultimately allowing his protective nature to get the better of him as he demands to know everything you've done, account for your location at every moment, constantly keep track of your habits, inquire about very personal details of your life. If he realizes you're bothered by it, he might draw back a bit, but he's convinced that that's just your perception, that it's necessary, truly, and not at all unusual.

Pet names. Particularly fond of love, darling, and angel. Sweet things that represent what you mean to him -- something precious, something to represent his adoration and idolization.

The primary form of delusion comes from a perception of you. He's obsessive, and idolizes you to an extent. He perceives you as pure, innocent, angelic. The thing is, this applies regardless of whether or not you actually are. If you are, it will solidify the idea, but even if you're not, he will find a way to see you so, anyway. No matter how wise you are, no, you're naive. No matter how capable you are, no, you're weak and fragile. No matter how experienced you may be, no, you're pure. He can always keep this delusion running by bringing into account age and comparison - you'll never be as strong as him, so you might as well be frail and weak. You'll never have lived as long as him, so really, do you think there's that much difference between you and a child, when compared to someone like himself?

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Actually highly likely, and pretty quickly. As he observes you, it becomes very clear to him how very fragile you are, how naive you are, you are quite literally too pure, too angelic, to be living in this world with such beings as humans. Fragile, beautiful little things have a place where they belong - protected. Where do we put fragile, beautiful things? We put them behind glass, behind ropes, in pretty cages, in secluded rooms. It's only natural that you, too, need a similar environment.

He's one of the ones that will... Elegantly kidnap you, as odd as it sounds. He's not a brute that would do something horrendous like knocking you out or drugging you, no, he'll find an excuse for you to come to his abode, invite you in, and you'll walk in none the wiser. Only after your in, and the doors close, does he guide you to your new room, calmly explaining that he's come to the realization that you're too fragile to continue your journey, and ought to simply give up on your travels. He knows you'll be upset at first. Like a child being denied, you'll get pouty, moody, you might cry, you might lash out at him. It's predictable. He'll dry your eyes and calm you down, brushing off any harsh words you may have, holding your wrists in his hands when you try to push him away, softly reassuring you that it will all be alright, that you're safe now, and you'll learn to accept this with time.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape? 

He would want something... elaborate. He's a man with taste for the most beautiful of things, including yourself, and he won't settle for something as simple as a chain or ropes. No, that would be too simple and brutish, and you, one of the finest things in his life, deserve something equally beautiful and delicate.

He's one of the ones that would go to a great deal of preparation for your arrival. He'd have a room prepared just for you, very ornate, beautifully tailored to you -- the walls your favorite color, the bed made of the same material as your old one, and the whole room completely filled with things you're certain you never even told him you liked. Clothes that fit perfectly to your body. It's frightening how perfect it is, because you know he had to go out of his way to acquire the information to achieve such perfection, but you have no idea how.

Everything about it elegant and detailed, right down to the series of ornate locks on the door. They're some of the sturdiest available, made with essentially unbreakable metal alloys and the most intricate lock systems to date. The windows don't open, and he'd certainly find some way to ensure escape through them isn't an option -- perhaps metal bars, perhaps an unbreakable glass substitute, perhaps merely locating your new home right on the edge of one of Liyue's most beautiful mountains, so that if you were to go out the window you'd plummet to the earth below. He's a bit delusional, but he's not stupid, and he will think through every possibility. Every little detail he needs to keep you safe and confined.

He's certain that, perfect as it is, this room is all you will ever need to be happy. Should you desire anything else, he can bring it to you. You'll never have to leave.

So it goes without saying that it would be exceptionally difficult to escape him. You'd have to find a way through the locks, for which your best bet would be to get some hair pins or tiny writing utensils. Even if you managed it, though, which would frankly be a very difficult feat, you'll have to deal with staying free. Zhongli has ties to the people of Liyue as a whole, and needless to say, he has eyes everywhere. You can't risk appearing in the harbor area, there will be far too many people who would immediately report you, and you'd just be walking right to him anyhow. The surrounding areas also have ties to him, so you'd want to try and reach Mondstadt, as far as it is, which is a difficult travel by foot all alone. You won't get far. He's faster, he's wiser, and he will find you long before you could ever hope to make it there.

However, he's not quite as angry as some yanderes would be about it. He doesn't take your escape personally, no, he blames himself, only calculating his own mistakes as to how it happened. He sees you as something like... a little runaway pet, so naive and dull that you don't know any better than to go wandering off. Or perhaps like a child, just sheepishly curious and wanting to explore, not knowing the dangers of the world. Or, perhaps...

"I haven't been giving you enough attention, have I? That's why you pulled this little act of rebellion... you're hurt by my negligence and wanted to be reassured of my care for you. I'm so sorry... I understand now, love. This was my fault. I've been so caught up with work... I'll delegate some tasks to my workers, and I'll be able to spend more time with you from now on, alright? Don't worry, I'm not angry, I'll take full responsibility. I'll be sure to make it up to you... now, let's go home."

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Much like Childe or Venti or anyone who has been around as long as he has, you really don't stand a chance. He's an incredibly perceptive man. There's not much to say on the matter, as any attempts will be quickly shut down.

He'd find it amusing, really. Like a child trying to lie, but the evidence is all over their face and hands - it's that obvious to him. It's cute enough that he almost hates having to discipline you for it, but, you have to learn.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He wants his little angel to be safe - and unfortunately, you, being so naive and empty headed, don't always know what's best for you. He knows rules can be hard to follow perfectly, but they're there to keep you safe.

Extremely strict, will want to monitor every moment of your life, every little movement you take, and will insist on watching over you in every task. He'll pick out everything you wear, everything you eat.

Occasionally, if you ask very sweetly, he may take you out for walks in Liyue. Honestly, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy taking you to what he knows are the finest locations, shops with the highest level of craftsmanship, restaurants with a high price tag and reputable food. He enjoys showing off his refined tastes and discerning selective abilities. And honestly? There's a certain... Powerful feeling to knowing you're made aware of the costs when he makes high purchases in front of you... even if you don't realize he's not always actually the one paying for it, or that he forgot mora again but promises the owner to pay later - but he'll make sure you don't know that. You hear the numbers, and your eyebrows raise, your eyes widen. You'd nearly faint if that total was on your responsibility, and he knows that. Which is why he'll simply smile at you, and tell you you're worth every last Mora. He'll buy you nearly anything you may desire. It seems like leniency, but in reality, it's his subtle way of locking control and dependency over you, making you respect him, making you love him.

"Don't worry, love. It's not a lot... Not to me, at least. Even if it were, my angel only deserves the best, no?"

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Oh dear. Again, he's very strict, and wants to monitor everything you do, every little aspect of your life. He decides what you eat, portioning your meals to make sure you're eating enough, he worries about you going hungry during your travels, but luckily you'll never have to worry about that again. If you have a sweet tooth, he'll sigh and worry about your teeth and health, but he'll make sure to account for a little bit of sugar in your day, and will even pick up little treats from some of the most reputable places in Liyue.

He picks out clothes for you with each day. They're not... Normal clothes, per se. Certainly not what you'd normally wear on your travels. And it's not like anyone will see you except him - which is exactly why you'll have clothes he would never want anyone else to see you in. Frilly, lacey things, somehow both highly sexualized but also incredibly infantile, soft pinks, baby blues, gentle off-whites. They accentuate the curves of your body so perfectly, while just barely letting him see the parts of you normally kept hidden.

You'll have a schedule - a bath time, a bedtime, a wake-up time. He's weak to your requests, though, and may let you stay up a little late every now and then, or sleep in just a bit, if you make that soft pouting face and beg. He'll insist on bathing you, dressing you, so that you don't have to - and can't even if you wanted to - lift a finger even to wash yourself or put your clothes on.

He has a set of rules for you, very simple ones he hopes you can easily follow. No trying to leave. No doing anything dangerous. No talking to strangers when you go out. You must hold his hand whenever you're walking together, don't go wandering off.

He'll feel ashamed of the thought for a while, but eventually he'll cave and give into the desire, no, the security precaution, of a nice little collar for you. It's not too embarrassing, no, he went out of his way to find one that was delicate, almost like a necklace, made with fine materials, the engraving only visible up close. If you look closely, though, it clearly bears his name.

Breaking the rules is expected, he anticipates it. You're not the brightest, he might even view it as a mistake. A benefit is that you can easily pass it off as simply forgotten, or an accident. Hence, he's not too harsh - normally. He'll sigh, forgive you, and pat your head, contemplating how to prevent your access in the future.

Perhaps you wriggled out of his hand and ran off while walking? You were just excited, distracted, like a child. He might be able to procure a small leash, one that wouldn't be immediately obvious or embarrassing, to attach to your collar. Perhaps some cuff-like links to latch your arm to his.

You forgot the rule about not handling the kitchen knives and cut yourself? He'll have to get some kind of lock and simply keep them safely away from you. No big deal. Any measures are worth your safety.

If you push the limits, or have a defiant attitude, he might reach the point of punishment. As for not-unwholesome things, this would usually include taking away privileges, such as walks or sweets, but overall, punishment will mostly come in more impure forms.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Not too much to say here - he has connections. He doesn't need to dirty his own hands. For all his supposed humility, if he truly dislikes someone, they're no more significant than an insect to him. He has no reservations about ridding the world of people who, in his mind, are obviously trying to deceive you, abuse you, corrupt you.

Thankfully, he is very capable of keeping a neutral face, even when he feels laughter building up. It would probably look strange if he were smiling over the newest body to come into his parlor.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

It's a slow buildup. He views restraint as a virtue, and looks down upon those who lack control over their own tempers. He's a man who strives to meet his own standards of character, and that very much applies to self control and ability to maintain a controlled demeanor, even when he feels a bit of frustration due to you being intentionally and deliberately defiant.

It's his responsibility to be a good role model for you and make sure you understand how to behave. However, in the end, he's very keen on properness and rules. If you have a tendency towards brattiness and pushing your limits, you may drive him to a boiling point.

However, even when expressing his anger, he's remarkably controlled. It's very mature, really. Nonetheless, he will have you shivering and tearful with his voice alone, booming with that depth that reverberates off the walls, that vibrates against your very core. His true anger is one that can strike fear even in the most courageous individuals - he's terrifying when he wants to be, fierce and intimidating, a sort of power just eminates from him.

Nonetheless, it's quick, he calms down very quickly, wipes the tears from your eyes, and sighs.

"I do hate having to be firm with you... but I can't have you thinking you can just act however you want. You understand that, don't you?"

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Both? It's difficult to describe. You're an angel to him. You're the finest work of art, the most intricate creation, the kind of person whose body and likeness deserves to be preserved in art and tradition, one of those women who should be renowned for beauty even centuries long after you're gone from the earth. It's almost goddess-like. At the same time, there's a beautiful, tragic duality to your essence, he thinks. A fragility and a dependency that leaves you in need, but an inherent status of perfection that makes you deserve the utmost perfect of care. You need to be coddled, cared for, protected, but you deserve it. Like a deity incarnated into a mere fragile human form, a queen that needs support to retain her grace.

Unlike some, he doesn't view his care and protection as some kind of favor that should be repaid with your gratitude, no, really, he is grateful that he is the one who is even deserving of being your caretaker, your provider, your lover.

Even if he is the one who determined that he deserves that role.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's convinced that he can show you that he is your protector, your lover, that it's fate itself that has locked you together, not just his own will.

And he is, above all else, patient. One of the most patient you could encounter. You think a year is a long time? It's nothing to him. A century for you? More than a lifetime. For him? Nothing. He can and will wait, as long as it takes, and he will never falter in his continual care. He'll remind you frequently, he'll shower you in affection, but if you don't return it? It's not that bad. He has all the time in the world to fix you.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Moraless Sugar daddy

But in all seriousness, he is definitely of the gift-giving love language. He sees beautiful things, and beautiful things make him think of you! It's sweet, he thinks. So many little things he sees throughout his day make him think of you, and he has to have all of them, see your face when he gives them to you. He likes making you happy, for one, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a sort of satisfactory pride he gets from the power dynamic of it all. He wants to be the sole source of provision in your life, he wants your dependency.

If we're talking prior to the events of the game, it will be even more extreme. He treats it like it's truly nothing, throwing around massive purchases, seemingly as if he's not thinking about it at all. But he is - rest assured, he's taking it into consideration, at least, that is, how it will affect your attitude and perception of him.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

On the reserved side. He'd never conduct himself improperly in public, of course. It's out of the question. He cares about proper behavior and public image, and he'd never behave in a vulgar manner.

Even in private, he's certainly one of the ones that struggles with a certain guilt. To some degree, he would feel like you're so innocent and pure that he doesn't want to corrupt you. He goes through stages. First, he'll lie to himself, telling himself that the feelings he has for you are simply protective, platonic, a natural sense of responsibility for you. That becomes more and more difficult to convince himself of, the more excited he becomes around you, the more he finds his eyes drawn to whatever bits of skin are exposed on your body, finding himself drifting off to impure thoughts, trying to push them away. 

Second, once he's forced to acknowledge the true nature of these feelings, he'll simply practice restraint, something he's rather good at in this area. He tries, he really does. He tells himself he can't do something so impure, that it would violate you, that he should be ashamed of himself for it. It becomes more and more and more difficult to restrain himself with time, the feelings rising and the thoughts become more difficult to push away, eventually entertaining the fantasies in his head in an attempt to rid himself of the urge in real life. It doesn't work, no, it only makes the urges worse, and he can't be around you without his body nearly commanding him to do something. And finally, he'll take a different stance entirely, telling himself that, no, it's not going to corrupt you, rather, it's taking care of you. If he really wants to love you, really wants to care for all of your needs, then surely that would include your physical needs, and therefore, really, it would be wrong of him not to help you.

As that shift in viewpoints goes on, he'll become more and more bold, hands lingering just a little longer, face coming just a little closer. It's a slow build of tension, just waiting to boil over. 

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He understands you're nervous. Again, no matter how experienced you are, somehow in his head he makes it out to be insignificant. Even if you've had other relationships, he convinces himself - and tries to convince you - that they were inadequate, they didn't care about you, not like he does. And he'll treat it as that -- any resistance you put up is nervousness, nothing more, nothing less. He'll reassure you a million times that you won't feel pain, that he'll be gentle, that you'll feel good, even if his size and strength frankly is rather intimidating regardless of experience. He'll keep cooing in your ear, softly whispering reassurance, softly running hands over your skin, holding you in place as the last inch stretches you apart. 

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Infantilization

Again, no matter how smart, experienced, and capable you may be, you're none of those things to him. You're a fragile, little thing. He has to take care of you at all times. It may not be evident at first, and he himself likely doesn't fully realize it, but there is something highly sexual to this for him. Caring for you puts him in a position of dominance, control. It gives him access to your privacy, dressing you up, fingers running over your skin, bathing you, watching your skin glisten. He'll talk to you in this way, too, often softly, remarking every little way in which you need him, and even condescendingly so. He wants you to be his, not only in a sense of love, but of possession.

Oral

Primarily giving. Even on its own, he loves the taste, but the effect it has on you makes it that much better. He loves anything that forces you to depend on him entirely for pleasure, that puts you at his mercy. And he'll be torturous about it too, restraining your arms and legs so you can't control anything, hold your hips down so you can't roll into him, so that only he can determine exactly how much pressure and speed you get. And he won't rush it, no, he'll go so slowly it's torturous, and telling you very simply that if you want any more, you'll have to beg.

Edging

For a variety of reasons. The power trip is as exhilarating as it is pleasurable, but he also loves watching your body writhe. Each little muscle that moves under the flesh when your arms strain against his hand holding your wrists together, the convulsing of your stomach muscles, the way your toes curl and legs spasm and the sweet little whimpers you make when he draws back just short of your high. He's mastered watching your reactions, knowing exactly when to stop, even if you try to mask it. He'll want you to tell him, though, nonetheless, tell him when you're close, if for nothing else but the sense of you obeying his commands.

Collaring

Similarly to infantilization, it gives him something of a sense of control, of possession. He loves seeing his name engraved on it, marking the whole of your being with his ownership. In his somewhat rare moments of roughness, he'll want to pull on it, use it to draw you towards him, in a moment of your defiance, in particular. If you're being mouthy, whiny, disobedient, and you finally make him snap, especially if you try to walk away from him, he'll yank you back with force, pulling you close to him, and when the force of it shuts you up, changes your demeanor, forces you to acknowledge your submission - the satisfaction he'll get from that is incomparable.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

As much as he likes the idea, to him, you're already like a child, naive and fragile. Could your body even handle a pregnancy, a birth? He'd likely try to avoid it, but in the end, if it happened by accident anyway, rest assured you'd be getting the best care of any woman to ever be pregnant in Teyvat, and he'd do everything in his power to ensure you were always comfortable, taking his caretaking to another level, almost never even letting you get up, insisting you stay still and calm and needy.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

He'd be one to pull the "it doesn't hurt you as much as it does me" line, but really, even if he refuses to admit it to his own self, having you bent over his lap is just as much for his own enjoyment as it is a disciplinary measure. It's more humiliating than it is painful -- he'd hold back, afraid of hurting you with his strength, but taking in every little flinch and whimper you make as he brings his hand down on your ass, keeping your head pressed down, kneading at the flesh. He'd insist it's the most effective punishment measure, but you can feel the hard-on digging into your stomach. The worse the behavior, the worse the beating, but every time, after it's over, he'll hold you upright, wiping the tears from your eyes and asking you if you learned you lesson, if you intend to do it again, and smiling when you insist you won't.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Your skin. It's beautiful, and he loves the way that light from the moon and sun look on your naked form. He loves the way your skin feels, soft and delicate, smooth, so paper thin and fragile, and so, so deliciously prone to showing marks from the slightest of harm - a simple smack can make the plump flesh darkened and reddened, the lightest suckling will leave beautiful hickeys all down your neck and chest. There are so many ways to mark his property, to stake a visible claim all over you, it's irresistible.

He also will go out of his way, when picking out all the things he wants you to wear, to find colors that best go with your skin tone, in a contrasting sense - particularly lacey, sheer things that contrast very well, so he can see your soft flesh perfectly defined against the little lace patterns.

[nopelleen]

Perish, Pretty Please (5/5)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Rick Flag was known to be a pretty good leader, it was the reason why he had been chosen to lead a squad of infamously reckless and idiotic criminals, however it was a lot harder to maintain his authority when one member of the team despised his guts for seemingly no reason.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Rick Flag x Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.7k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: it took me so long, but it’s finally there -- the last part! I started this fanfiction knowing I had a tendency not to finish them and I’m honestly so proud right now, I hope you’ll enjoy this last part as much as I enjoyed writing all of this! (also please let’s all have a moment of silence to remember the moment my hopeful, foolish ass actually posted the first part with “1/2″ in the title)

“Nope, there’s something we gotta take care of first."

You watched with blatant bafflement as the three men nonchalantly walked away from the blazing truck that had been transporting them merely minutes ago. There was almost a bit of disappointment in your heart as you watched the plan you and Cleo had so meticulously orchestrated on your way here vanish into thin air. It was a shame – your rescue plan involved a lot more wow factor. Had you known the outcome of this small drawback, you wouldn’t have put so much effort into it; but how could you have guessed the three of them would find a way out of a van guarded by multiples soldiers all the while handcuffed and therefore supposedly incapacitated? That was absurd.

“Don’t look so surprised, it’s insulting.”

You shot Flag a tight lipped, mocking smile as a response to his friendly jab, clearly recognizing the words you had used against him in the afternoon. Your sardonic grimace poorly mirrored the playful smirk the colonel adorned as he walked towards the van, and you were surprised to feel your heart swell a bit when you noticed his smile spread into a genuine one as he walked past you, slightly shaking his head in amusement.

Without even questioning how they had gotten themselves out of that prickly situation, you whirled around and followed suit as Rick climbed back into the van, telling Milton the small change of plan. That one enthusiastically nodded before happily informing the squad that you’d reach the city by dawn, making you realize you had spent a good chunk of the night at that bar and yet did not feel that tired yet – which might just have been from the adrenaline released into your system at the sight of your three teammates walking out of a blazing vehicle.

“You sleep, I watch Thinker,” Nanaue suggested as he heavily lumbered towards the back of the van, where the hostage was surprisingly staying very still, wise enough not to attempt anything while sharing the same space as King Shark.

Your steps faltered as you entered the van, your gaze hesitatingly flickering towards the seats in the back which appeared way too crowded for your liking. You usually would’ve simply gone back to your seat at the front, but Rick was now occupying the one near the window, probably as a way to stay close to the driver.

With a reluctant sigh, you were about to follow King Shark towards the back when Rick casted a pointed look towards you before patting the seat beside him in case you did not understand.

Relief washed over you and you didn’t even need to give it a second thought before flopping onto the space beside him, glad not to have to settle for a spot anywhere near Peacemaker. Your muscles were stiff as you quite literally bounced onto the cushion, and as soon as your back did as much as graze the backrest, the entire day of walk, hours of dancing and minutes of worrying about Flag’s well-being caught up with you with a dizzying speed.

If earlier that day you had been able to fight off sleep vigorously, you now found yourself melting into the cushion of your seat as soon as you flopped onto it. At first, you remained steadfast, refusing to yield to your basic human needs as you forced yourself to sit up straight, but then there was a strong gravitational pull making you sway a bit on your seat as your head started lolling forward, and then another pull – Rick’s hand, this time – gently steering you back into your seat. Incapable of fending off the drowsiness any longer, you surrendered and finally allowed yourself to loosen up, feeling your head snugly land upon Rick’s shoulder as you drifted off into a soundless sleep.

-----

“Outburst, hey!”

“She’s sleeping.”

From his seat at the very back of the van, Peacemaker frowned as he craned his neck in an attempt to peer at your figure still slumped over Rick’s shoulder. “Well, wake her up,” he groused, tinges of annoyance seeping from his usually polished tone. “She’s… spewing her emotions all over the place. It’s reeking of sadness in there.”

◦◦◦

“It’s reeking in there; crack a window open, will you?”

Your finger harshly jabbed the switch, your gaze remained firmly fixed on the buildings passing by in a blur as the window lowered just a bit in an abrupt, choppy motion. From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of your mother shooting you a brief, curious look. You hadn’t uttered a word ever since you two had left the family reunion. You knew it hadn’t been a good idea to agree to come.

The car then lapsed into another uncomfortable silence. You were both acutely aware of the thick, sweltering acrimony flooding off of you and yet still refused to address it, instead letting you bask in it with your mouth clamped shut, letting it gnaw your insides until your lungs felt charred, incapable of drawing oxygen any longer.

Why had you agreed to this? You were an adult; you didn’t need to expose yourself to this anymore.

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to breathe in deeply, only for your chest to constrict, becoming painfully hollow. Tears started brimming at the edges of your vision and you finally allowed your lips to part, letting a bated breath stumble out of them with urgency.

“I heard you earlier.”

◦◦◦

“I’m not waking her up,” Rick scowled in one curt sentence, already feeling a bit on edge and therefore not wanting to dwell on the matter.

Peacemaker’s eyebrows furrowed even deeper at Rick’s unwavering tone. He usually dealt easily with negotiation and compromises, he worked well under authority and was a suitable soldier because of it, but at the moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to be patient – maybe because of how thick with tension the atmosphere had become because of you.

“We can feel her,” he insisted again, spitting the words out in an irritated hiss.

◦◦◦

“Honey, I can feel you, tone it down,” your mother complained as she kept her eyes on the road. Either your words went completely over her head, or she refused to acknowledge them, knowing that with the amount of resentment she could feel rolling off of you in waves, there was no way a discussion could lead to a good outcome at the moment. She was already having a hard time not letting the irritation get to her in spite of the smoldering atmosphere.

“I heard you talking to aunt Matty,” you reiterated. “You said it was my fault.”

“What was?”

“Dad leaving.”

The uttered words dropped like thunder in the car, leaving the air charged with electricity.

“I didn’t say that,” she rebutted with a bit of an acerbic tone. The tension was starting to get to her, slowly but steadily eating away at her mind in spite of her resolve. She could feel the resentment seeping into her like a foreign body infiltrating her immune system, but paradoxically, the angrier she got, the less willing she was to fight it off. “Don’t twist my words, you know I hate when you do that.”

◦◦◦

“I didn’t say she wasn’t allowed to sleep,” Peacemaker clarified, starting to sound a bit agitated as the tensed atmosphere got more and more on his nerves. “I’m simply saying she shouldn’t until we are.”

“She’s not hurting anyone.”

◦◦◦

“You said I was hurting him.”

“I said he was often on the wrong end of your temper. Listen, it’s—”

“Back off!”

◦◦◦

“Back off,” Rick sternly admonished him as soon as Peacemaker made a step towards the front of the bus, protectively wrapping an arm around your sleeping form. “She needs to rest. She got shot acting as a distraction so your team could make a smooth entrance, remember?” he reminded the man scornfully.

Peacemaker’s face remained calm in spite of the irritation coloring his eyes. His gaze briefly flickered from you to Flag, hesitating.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

◦◦◦

“You know how you made him feel,” your mother uttered, efficiently putting an end to the exchange.

You remembered the times during which you were moody, when you came back home after having spent the entire day feeling everyone’s emotions around you, when your father did as much as try to talk to you about it, thus instantly setting you off. He was always the spark that ignited you. Whether he was inquiring about your day, or commenting on your behavior, or even just standing a bit too close to you… He’d end up angry, hurt, aggressive – whatever you were feeling at the moment, he’d always end up feeling it too.

Your mother was just wise enough to stay away.

But you also remembered the shouts in the kitchen, the jabs, the constant bickering between them. You remembered listening to it from the stairs and then being blamed for their bad tempers. You’d be blamed for the anger, the aggressiveness, the slaps that so often echoed through the house.

She was wise enough to stay away, and yet be close enough when she’d need an excuse.

“It wasn’t just me,” you whispered through gritted teeth.

“I never said it was.”

“It was you,” you spat out as you whipped your head towards her. “You made him miserable.”

Your eyes were completely focused on her face, her pursed lips and closed-off features, and never once did you notice the way her foot slowly started pressing further onto the accelerator.

◦◦◦

You woke up with a start and instantly casted a frantic gaze around you, expecting the usual blaring horns and shouts that followed this exchange. You were surprised to find yourself in a safe environment, all wrapped up in an unexpected warm, comforting atmosphere. Usually, the second you woke up, your instincts picked up on the foul aura of anguish you had unconsciously secreted into the air, and yet, here, you could feel nothing but utter peacefulness.

One of your eyebrows formed an elegant arch as you lowered your gaze to glimpse at the warm weight wrapped around you, only for your eyes to land on a familiar calloused hand hanging from your shoulder and almost grazing your cheek. You felt a faint smile tenderly pulling at the corners of your lips before even turning your head to confirm the identity of the owner of the arm wrapped around your shoulders, and when you turned your head to direct your gaze towards Flag’s sleeping face, you simply found yourself incapable to fight it off anymore.

Then, with a fond smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you snugly nestled you head back into his side and shut your eyes, this time knowing for a fact that you wouldn’t risk infuse the atmosphere with anything else than a blissful quietude.

◦◦◦

It was chaos. Utter chaos.

Your car was long abandoned a few feet away from you, fuming after having hit another vehicle in the middle of an intersection. The driver who had started fighting with you was now in a fully blown-out fist fight with another man who had merely tried to step in for you, and the more people got out of their cars to understand what was going on, the more people got trapped under your influence and started fighting, some going as far as purposefully ramming their vehicle into another’s.

Your voice was hoarse from shouting at the driver who had first attacked you and you were now trembling with anger as you watched an entire riot unfold before your very eyes, unconsciously fueling it with intense waves of rage that'd hit any innocent that'd happen to walk a bit to close to the scene.

Someone gripped your shoulder and you tried to jerk away from the touch, whirling your head towards the person with your teeth bared, ready to attack whoever was trying to get your attention.

“Honey, focus on me, alright? Focus on me.”

The voice was rough, the tone frenzied, and yet when the hands grasped your shoulders, it was with an unexpected gentleness. The fingers were quivering with restraint, barely managing not to dig into your skin in an attempt to snap you out of it.

This staggering tenderness startled you so much that it managed to take you out of your trance for a fleeting moment, allowing reason to take over as you fought back the instinctive urge to shove the hands away. With frantic, brimming eyes, you diverted your gaze towards your mother, desperate for a comforting point of focus to latch onto like a lifeline.

A sob threatened to crawl up your throat as soon as you met her eyes. There, in the midst of all the hardly concealed anger – a glint of affection, a vacillating spike of tenderness battling to emerge from under all that vibrating rage your mind was forcefully pushing into her. With a choked-up breath of relief, you instinctively stepped forward, latching onto that abiding twinkle of kindness in spite of all that surrounding violence like a lifeline.

Then, when there was an anticipated screeching of tires coming from your side, a glimpse of grey metal flashing out of the corner of your eye, and an oh-so-familiar harrowing feeling of dread seizing your insides, you kept your eyes unwaveringly locked into your mother’s, resolutely shutting out everything else around you. You bored your gaze into hers and let your mind soak in her warmth.

The car never came, the shouts quietened down, your surroundings slowed down until coming to a complete halt, time stalled and your dream mercifully stepped away from your memories to spare you.

You stood there for ages lost into your mother’s loving gaze, until – having strayed too far from reality – your subconscious lost all senses of what was and wasn’t at the time and let the scene morph into whatever your mind desired. Then, when the voice spoke up again, it wasn’t your mother standing before you anymore,  but a person you now trusted more than you ever thought you would.

“Don’t be scared of me.”

 -----

“We need to help these people.”

The words went completely over your head as you despairingly gaped at the glass in front of you, feeling cold to your bones.

You had gotten a bad feeling as soon as the elevator doors had cracked open.

There hadn’t even been time to make a step forward before you had gotten hit by the foul, repugnant thickness sullying the air with a strength that almost had you rearing your head back a bit. For a dizzying second, the vile and nauseating reek had left you standing there, blearily blinking as your senses had desperately struggled to accommodate to the repellent atmosphere. Yet, in spite of the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes just from the sheer despondency emanating from the place, you had been far from imagining the atrocity, the barbarism of the experiments that were taking place down here.

Despite your reluctance, you had been forced to follow the others as they had stalked out of the elevator, engaging into the dark and humid place with feeble, hesitant steps. As you had all crossed the small entrance leading to the laboratory, you had needed to fight your instincts that they had urgently pleaded you to simply whirl around and run back into the elevator.

Every breath you had taken weighed heavily on your tongue, the pungency sticking to the walls of your throat and poisoning your lungs. Every other second you had spent down there had simply felt like another year taken off your life, the wretched atmosphere slowly eating away at your brain like acid.

In spite of all of that, it had taken some time for the horror to truly dawn on you.

The despair had crept into your heart with every step you had made into the cellar, and then, when you had gotten to the center of it, you had felt for the very first time of your life an intense claustrophobia swarming your heart. Surrounded by a sea of decaying bodies all bound together by the same searing, devastating agony, the hostile basement had quickly gone from a gruesome laboratory to a deadly trap slowly closing in on you.

With nothing but wandering bodies all around you, you felt at the bottom of a pit of wretchedness, your head swelling with an intense, overwhelming pain. It was as though you were entrapped in the center of a microwave which was channeling thousands of screams directly towards your brain instead of radiations, however one of them was significantly stronger than the others and seemed to come from the wide glass wall right in front of you.

“Impossible, dear. They’re corpses below those stars.”

In spite of the searing agony flaring through your chest, your heartbeat seemed to slow down and settle onto a numbing, soporific pace as you unconsciously started stepping towards the wide glass, as though bewitched by the heart-wrenching wail you felt coming from whatever was hiding in that liquid.

With trembling, tentative fingers, you lifted your hand and slowly pressed your palm against the freezing glass, yearning to soothe the poor sufferer from their wrenching agony. The pain only seemed to intensify at the touch, the feeling of desolation gripping your insides as your ears started ringing, completely isolating you from the others. There was nothing else in that room but you and a desolated martyr screaming with thousand of voices right into your mind.

You watched with mournful, brimming eyes as the dark figure behind the glass started stirring until a single, colossal eye revealed itself in front of you, appearing emotionless to any common spectator and yet emitting an amount of woe that would’ve had you on your knees had you not gotten so used to sensing people’s emotions.

“Outburst?”

Rick’s voice rose up right behind you but still didn’t startle you, your eyes riveted onto the creature before you with rapt focus.

“It’s in pain,” you croaked out, the faint words scraping your dry throat like some sandpaper grating your vocal cords. “It’s in so much pain.” You shifted your fingers a bit, as if trying to press your hand closer to the glass, get closer to that strange creature, completely blind to the danger it represented. The tentacles, bumps and single eye did not matter – all you could see was the utter suffering it was in.

“Well,” the Thinker unabashedly butted in, “if I’m not mistaken regarding the purpose of your self-righteous egomaniacal mission – not for much longer.”

His words dawned on you with a dry clarity and had you shifting away from the glass in one brisk motion to whirl your head towards Rick. “We can’t kill it,” you asserted with an adamant, steadfast tone that did not match the slight waver in your voice.

“We have orders.”

Rick’s steadfast voice was way more convincing than yours, and what would’ve usually been a mere reminder of his status as colonel felt like a frustrating hindrance that only heightened the desperation swarming your heart and made you let go of the glass to tighten your fists as you turned around to fully face him.

“No, we can’t, we have to help it, it’s—”

“It’s dangerous,” Rick cut you off, his distrust-colored eyes briefly flickering towards the glass wall.

“It’s suffering!”

Your distressed screech echoed through the cellar, your plea painfully reverberating on the walls and splattering the frantic desperation dripping from your tone all around the basement.

For a fleeting moment, Flag remained speechless, as if hit with full force by the intensity of your despair. During that fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of the hesitation flashing in his eyes, the way he seemed to ponder over the situation for even just a second, wondering what to do and which way to choose. Then, his gaze flickered to the side, briefly meeting Peacemaker’s, and you were able to pinpoint the exact moment he put his guards up again, welding back on his old mask of professionalism to tightly shut out any emotion you could try to induce in him.

There was a subtle shift in his expression, so subtle you might not even have noticed had you not been so desperately seeking any trace of support on his features. Instead of showing the understanding you were so badly hoping for, the traits of his face hardened, the glint in his eyes dimmed, and then you weren’t standing before Rick anymore, you were facing the colonel, towering over you with his back straight and his orders engraved in his mind.

You were acutely aware of the fact that the mission outweighed you; you had just hoped Rick would hold enough respect towards you to give your words the slightest bit of consideration. Apparently, this respect only allowed you one minute of his time before he completely shut you out.

With a sharp, regretful sigh, he took a step towards you and grabbed your arm with a gentle reluctance that contrasted with the harshness of his tone as he said that you needed to go with the other team.

You tried to protest but his strides were long and hasty, and before you even knew it, he was punching the first-floor button of the elevator as you stood inside of it, stunned.

Just as the doors started closing before you, you feebly parted your lips to utter one last plead; your pained, wavering voice coming out laced with betrayal. “You said I could trust you.”

When he had seemed ready to turn away as soon as the doors started closing between you, Rick’s attention seemed to be piqued by your words as he shifted his gaze back onto you, lingering in front of the elevator for just a second more.

The distress coloring your eyes melted into a sullen resignation as soon as your gaze bored into his, your chest constricting with dejection. There, under the thick coat of seriousness, in the midst of all the restrained belligerence this place inspired him, no glint of affection was to be found, no spike of tenderness desperately trying to emerge from the vibrating anger – nothing but cold, glaring callousness.

Not Rick.

Colonel.

-----

“Where’s Flag?”

Bloodsport turned his gaze towards you, and you instantly recognized the apologetic look in his eyes.

As he grimly shook his head, you finally experienced it firsthand – the agony of a thousand people.

-----

“Apparently Waller sent something to his hospital room. People are joking and saying she sent flowers, but if you want my opinion the old hag probably sent him a reminder that his contract doesn’t cover paid sick leaves.”

The voice, just like the steps accompanying it, echoed through the corridor and kept getting closer to your cell, undoubtedly coming from yet another guard who’d attempt to get a word or a reaction out of you – anything that’d stop them from having to book in an appointment with the jail therapist.

You had seen many of them pass by while you had spent days in a temporary cell during your recovery but hadn’t thought they’d keep on sending them after having transferred back in your old cell this morning.

The landscape change didn’t make any difference for you, as you simply kept on staring at the wall for hours on end with the most irksome gloomy look clouding your features.

You couldn’t think about anything else than Rick.

You didn’t think you had even truly processed it yet. It had happened too fast.

Within the span of a few days, the colonel had somehow gained your trust, slowly leading you to warm up to him by showing you an affection you hadn’t experienced in years. It felt like he had turned your world upside down, made everything brighter with the prospect of saving lives alongside a superior who truly valued you, and then you had made the mistake of letting him out of your sight, forced to walk away from that dreadful laboratory for just a few minutes, and he had died there, the one person on this earth who you could genuinely trust now buried under the rumbles in that bottomless pit of agony.

You had mulled over it what felt like a thousand times already and you just could not figure out how to simply go on with your life. Not when your one chance at a brighter future had been squandered so violently as soon as you had turned your back to it.

Somehow, it felt like your fault.

You had been careless, unfocused. You had forcefully dragged Rick’s attention away from the mission at hand only because you were too weak to handle the downsides of your ability, your eyes pathetically overflowing with tears of empathy as the rest of your team simply tried to achieve the mission. You had distracted Rick as that one had been forced to take you to the elevator like a child, had unconsciously helped Peacemaker steal a secret file and forced Cleo to try and stop him on her own before Flag could come to her aid.

The file had been retrieved, but only after Bloodsport had stopped Peacemaker from coldly eliminating Cleo. Only after Rick’s body had already been left laying soundly in the laboratory.

They had fought with all their might for that file, for those values you had accused Flag of lacking merely days ago, and you hadn’t even been there.

It had been crushing to find out that the trust you held towards him had been misplaced, but it was nothing in comparison to discovering he shouldn’t have trusted you either.

You forcefully swallowed back the lump in your throat when you heard the steps finally come to a halt right by your cell and had a hard time concealing the startled look on your face when a very familiar voice rose up.

“Well well well, from what I’ve heard little princess doesn’t want to eat anymore?”

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end at the falsely dulcet tone dripping with a syrupy looking but dangerously abrasive poison. You had to keep yourself from gritting your teeth as your gaze caught up on Griggs’ silhouette standing before your cell from the corner of your eye.

“You’re not even gonna make an effort for me?” he teased you as his lips spread into a sneering smile that made him look more moronic than sadistic due to the absolute lack of sagacity behind his eyes.

You kept your mouth tightly shut and your eyes riveted to the wall across from you, trying to muster the blankest expression you could not to let him affect you but feeling a peeved expression weighing down on your features nonetheless.

“Aww, guys it looks like we’re gonna have to use the feeding tubes,” Griggs ironically groaned, turning towards his colleagues with a facetious glint in his eyes. One of them instantly stepped up to open the door to your cell, not even needing to think twice about the threat just emitted. “You know how much I hate doing that,” he then kept on jeering, much to the amusement of the other guards.

You waited with anticipation as he stepped into the cell, feeling your entire body buzzing with an overpowering apprehension, not having a clue of what you could do but knowing for a fact that with all the adrenaline slowly being spread into your system, there was no way you’d let Griggs go back to his old mistreatment.

His filthy fingers barely grazed your skin, and, as though electrified, you jumped to your feet, putting some distance between you and him. You kept your eyes determinedly fixated in front of you but could see from the corner of your eye how stunned he was by your abrupt reaction. He had gotten to the unresponsive side of you that had emerged after only a few months here, the poor figure staying down on the ground and no longer batting an eyelash at his constant abuse. His face remained dazed for a fleeting moment before the ghost of a smirk reappeared on his features.

After all, he had broken you once, it’d be no bother to do it a second time.

“What, you go on one mission with Task Force X and then you don’t like me anymore?”

He reached out a hand again, much more aggressively this time, and you jolted away, instinctively bringing a hand up without even knowing if you were willing to take the risk of hitting him.

“Step away from her, Griggs.”

The stone cold words loudly rang through the cell and heavily fell between you both, instantly followed by a deafening silence as Griggs’ hand hovered in the air for a fleeting moment, just inches away from the skin of your arm.

Then, for a dizzying, fleeting moment, it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the cell.

Chill shivers of relief racked your spine before your brain even had time to process the voice, and then, when the familiarity of it finally sank in, you felt as though some freezing water had been dumped over you, leaving you soaked and shivering in the middle of your cell – only this time Griggs wasn't the cause of it.

You whirled your head towards the entrance of your cell with a vertiginous speed and had to bite back a choked-up noise from stumbling out of your lips when your gaze landed upon the owner of the voice glowering at Griggs with a murderous look in his eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be back yet,” Griggs pointed out sheepishly, letting his arm limply drop to his side now that his focus had been completely taken off of you.

“I was feeling better,” Rick informed him with a tight-lipped smile which then briskly dropped from his features. “Now stand down,” he repeated himself, his voice steadfast and as neutral as he could muster it. “I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you. I’ve seen what you did to her, and I’d love to show you what it feels like to be on the wrong side of the blade.”

The threat made the cell go utterly silent and for just a second, the sweetest second ever, all traces of amusement vanished from Griggs’ suddenly pale face. He looked started, nervous, oh so pathetic, and then when he finally regained his composure enough to quickly muster up the most serious look he could to paint on his pallid features, he had already lost all respect from every occupant of the room.

“You’d risk your job for a bitch who told you to eat shit five minutes into your mission?”

There was an imperceptible twitch on Rick’s features at the reminder. He had to briskly fight off a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, but you could still discern the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes and had to swallow back a choked-up laugh – your heart swarming with a bunch of overwhelming emotions you couldn’t even identify at the moment.

His eyes briefly flickered to you. “Apparently,” he conceded with the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, before he cast his gaze back on Griggs and recovered a cold, severe expression. “And, trust me, given how liked you are around here, I don’t think I’d risk more than a paid leave even if I attempted to murder you.”

Yet another sullen silence fell over the cell like a heavy fog, and this time, Griggs made the wise decision of not shattering it, containing his anger within a single huff before stalking out of the cell with heavy steps that made him akin to a stomping child. His colleagues briefly glanced at Rick, not quite knowing what to do, before meeting his eyes and promptly deciding to follow Griggs’ decision.

“You’re alive,” you breathlessly uttered as soon as you were both left alone.

“A bit roughed up, but yes, alive,” he winced back, turning his gaze towards you.

You knew he couldn’t feel the blissful exultation swarming your heart now that your ability was smothered by the collar secured around your neck, but you hoped he could see it in your eyes and in the way you just couldn’t seem to blink those relieved tears away.

Rick took a few steps towards you and let out a bated breath, as if he was finally allowed to exhale, as if he hadn’t been able to feel comfortable until standing near you again – and you then knew for a fact that if he couldn’t see the exultation in your heart, he at least felt it as well.

Without another word, he then tentatively brought a hand up before letting it hover uncertainly in the air. He seemed hesitant as if he wasn’t sure how to act anymore now that his mask of professionalism was gone, and you couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle. This was enough for a single droplet to finally fall from your brimming eyes, and the way Rick’s gaze seemed to soften even more at the sight of it almost led you to shedding a few more.

With utter cautiousness, he brought his hand to your face to brush the stray tear away and then left it there, his warm palm cradling your cheek.

“Looks like I’ve won again,” he said in a breath, the words merely stumbling out of his lips as if he were afraid to break that frail, tender moment of vulnerability between the two of you. His thumb gently stroked your cheek again and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, your gaze never once leaving his. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You had once said that the only way for Rick to ever get close to you was for you to give out your last breath, and yet, ever since that very vow you had felt yourself ever-so-slowly opening up to him, as though there was something in the air and it was killing you softly.

Now that the sweet, sweet poison had filled up your lungs – all wrapped up in his arms and boring your gaze into his with a wide-eyed fascination – you chose to completely let go of that vow, braving the risk to perish and merely uttering back two candid, gentle words.

“Pretty please.”

Previous

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[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By My Side (Part 1)

Summary: While at home one night, the reader, an actress, is almost kidnapped and at her friend’s suggestion she hires Jensen as her bodyguard. While the pair doesn’t get along, an incident at the reader’s new home leads her and Jensen to taking a drastic measure...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,900ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, attempted kidnapping, drugging

A/N: There will be no taglist for this series. Please check out the masterlist for posting dates/times. Enjoy!

_________

“Get the fuck off!” you said, kneeing the man that was halfway through dragging you down your stairs. You threw a punch and a kick, swinging more than a few times before the grip on you fell away and you booked it for the front door. You sprinted outside and down the driveway, dashing across the street and banging on your neighbor’s door. 

A light came on and you glanced over your shoulder, spotting the guy dressed in black and wearing a mask jog to the end of your driveway.

“Shit, shit,” you said, a strong arm grabbing you and yanking you inside before you could even turn back around. The door slammed shut after you and you took a deep breath, your neighbor standing there in his boxers, saying something to his wife in the background. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” said Jared. You straightened up and nodded, his eyes going wide. 

“Gen! Tell them she needs an ambulance too,” he said.

“I’m fine,” you said as he walked you to his kitchen and sat you down at the counter. Gen was in there, on the phone with the police it sounded like, as Jared went to a cupboard. He pulled out a red bag and then was walking back over with a wad of bandages, holding it up to your forehead. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you said, pressing your hand to your head, seeing the half secured zip tie stuck on your other wrist. There were sirens in the distance and you shut your eyes.

“Hey, no sleeping. You might have a concussion,” he said.

“I’m not sleeping,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” he said, the sirens getting louder before there were flashing lights in the window. Gen walked over to the front door, letting the police in. About four officers came inside, one of them immediately coming over to you.

“What’d he look like? How many?” he asked.

“Uh, all in black, with a mask. He was white I think from what I could tell. Maybe six foot, average build, strong. It was just the one as far as I know. Last I saw him he was at the end of the driveway before my neighbor let me in his house,” you said.

“You two, call it in for backup and start looking. Jones, get a full statement from these three. Start with the vic. Medics will want to look at that head,” he said. “Which house is yours?”

“Right across the street. Red front door,” you said. He left and the other cop in there pulled out a plastic bag from his back pocket.

“I need to cut that off for evidence,” he said, glancing at your wrist.

“Should we do anything?” asked Jared as the cop made a cut and bagged the plastic tie.

“I would keep pressure on that wound for the moment,” he said, writing on the bag and taking out a notepad and pen. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning.”

“I was asleep less than ten minutes ago in my bed and I woke up to someone touching my arm and I found that tie thing on me and the guy tried grabbing my other arm but I rolled away. I got caught up in the covers while I was running away so he caught up to me in the hall outside my bedroom and I just started hitting what I could and then he tried to pull me downstairs and I hit him some more and then he let go and I ran over here.”

“How’d you sustain the head injury?” he asked.

“Well he was hitting me too when I started fighting back,” you said. “I was half-awake.”

“Okay. Sir, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions now.”

Three Hours Later

“Hey,” said Jared, setting a cup of tea down at his breakfast table. He rubbed your back and you sighed. “Rough night huh?”

“At least I don’t have a concussion,” you said, touching your butterfly bandages on your head.

“Police said your alarm wasn’t on.”

“So this is my fault?” you asked.

“No, I didn’t say that. I am saying that you and Gen have a very popular show together and if she didn’t have me around, I’d want her to have a bodyguard, maybe even full time,” he said.

“I have had this conversation with my manager multiple times. I’m not getting a bodyguard. For events and conventions, fine, I’ll have one. At work? In my life? No way,” you said.

“Y/N, you know I used to be in the army. Then I was a cop. Then I was on a SWAT team before I retired to become a stay at home dad,” he said.

“Yes. You’re an adorable scary badass. What’s your point?” you asked.

“When I worked SWAT, I worked a a few kidnapping cases. The honest truth is sometimes we don’t find you until it’s too late or we never do. It’s not like a movie. It’s not like your guys show and someone swoops in. No one shows up out of the blue to save you. You save yourself or you don’t get saved. Rarely do we get you out of that situation.”

“Again, what’s your point?”

“My point is whoever that person was, when they come back because they will come back, Y/N, and when they do, they’re not going to be that sloppy. They may drug you. They may knock you out. They could do a number of things but your chances of getting way again would be extraordinary. I love ya and I’ll always protect you. But next time, I might not be able to stop something bad from happening. You alone over there...I wouldn’t know until it’s too late.”

You were quiet, playing with the tea bag in your drink as he drank from his own mug.

“I don’t want a stranger coming into my home,” you said.

“Y/N, Gen and I want you to stay here for as long as you-”

“I meant a bodyguard, Jare. I don’t want somebody I don’t know to start coming into my life and controlling it.”

“I have a friend from my army days who does that kind of work. He’s between jobs at the moment. I’ll vouch for him,” he said.

“You’re not gonna give me a choice on this, are you,” you said.

“Gen and I are moving. A bigger place,” he said. “We think it’s a good idea if you had a change of scenery too.”

“You think she’s in danger too?”

“We don’t know but she’s five months pregnant. We don’t want to risk anything,” he said. “It’s just a thought.”

“Can...can I stay over here a few days? While I figure out what I want to do?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N.”

Two Weeks Later

“I like the new place,” said Jared as he helped you carry in the last box. 

“It’s uh, a bit big,” you said. “But the owner wanted to sell fast and I wanted out of the other one fast so it worked out.”

“Seems like a lot of space for one person,” said the man walking in through the open front door. He was in a pair of dark jeans and a blazer, a tee shirt underneath. You stepped behind Jared but he chuckled. “Really Jare? Didn’t mention I’d be stopping by?”

“Y/N, this is my friend Jensen. I told you about him. You said you were interested in meeting him,” said Jared.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” said Jensen, holding out a hand.

“Y/N please,” you said as you shook it.

“I prefer to keep things professional,” said Jensen. “It’s easier that way. So, this is the new place, hm? Which room will be mine?”

“There’s a guest suite over on the first floor you can use,” you said.

“Where’s the master?”

“Upstairs.”

“Preferably I’d like to be in a room closer to yours,” he said.

“Fine. Take the guest room upstairs,” you said. “This is just a test run remember.”

“My contract says this is a six month test run,” he said as he looked around. “I see you’re still moving in so perhaps we can go over some of our new procedures in the morning.”

“Sure,” you said. 

“I’ll move in my belongings then,” he said. “I don’t have much.”

“Mhm,” you said. He nodded and headed back outside, Jared catching the look you gave him.

“What?” he asked.

“He’s gonna be a joy to live with,” you muttered.

“He’s quiet until you get to know him. I wouldn’t have recommended him if I didn’t trust him. He’s saved my life before. I know he’ll have your back,” said Jared.

“Yeah,” you said, his phone going off. “Jared, go. I know you’re already late for the baby checkup.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I only have boxes left to unpack anyways. Go on. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you said. He gave you a wave on the way out, leaving you to stare at the pile of boxes sitting on your kitchen floor. You cracked your back and started to work, catching Jensen move in a few duffel bags of his own. He left and wandered around outside eventually, allowing you to try and get the essentials all stored away.

By the time it was seven, you were exhausted but your bedroom, bathroom and kitchen were all set up. You plopped down on the couch, closing your eyes. They blinked open when you felt a presence standing over you.

“I’ve done a review of the property. I’d like to have an upgraded security system installed tomorrow,” he said.

“Whatever. Just put it on the card my manager gave you,” you said.

“I’d also like to consider hiring an additional person to monitor the system at some point. They can be remotely based,” he said.

“Like I said, whatever,” you said, closing your eyes again.

“I assume I have access to use the kitchen as I desire,” he said.

“No smoking. No drugs. No random hookups you bring here and as long as you don’t bug me and stay away from my ice cream, we’ll be fine,” you said.

“I can agree to that. As long as you follow my rules, we’ll also be fine,” he said. You laughed and sat up, walking to the kitchen to find your phone. “Do you think that’s funny?”

“I think the fact you think you’re going to be making rules in my home that I paid for is very funny,” you said. You took the phone to check on the pizza and wings you ordered for yourself, Jensen walking over and stopping in front of you. “Can I help you?”

“You are paying me a very large sum of money to keep you safe. If you don’t listen to what I say then I can’t guarantee your safety,” he said.

“Let me get something clear. I’m doing this to appease my friends and manager. Do whatever you want around here but don’t start telling me how to live my life,” you said.

“I took this job as a favor,” he said, snatching your phone out of your hand and tossing it on the countertop behind him. You scowled and he walked forward, forcing you to back up until your back hit a wall.

“Dude, backoff.”

“Pretend I’m that man that tried to take you before. What do you do? Right here and now. What’s your plan?”

“I’m serious,” you said, trying to brush past him and getting a light shove into the wall for it. You glared at him but he held his ground, pushing you again when you moved.

“I’m serious. Tell me what your plan is. Better yet, show me,” he said. 

“I don’t care if you are Jared’s friend. I am this close to punching you. Move now.”

“I said show me.”

You narrowed your eyes and brought up your knee to hit him in the groin. He pushed it away before it connected though and you were off balance, Jensen grabbing you and yanking you away from the wall, putting you in a headlock and tugging your arms behind your back.

“Don’t go for the most obvious move in the world,” he said. “Now that didn’t go how you wanted it to. What’s the plan now?”

“Get off,” you growled, trying to stomp your foot down on his but he moved it back and kicked out your ankle, making you fall back against him. He picked you up and you started moving your legs, Jensen suddenly dropping you down onto the hardwood floor. You hit your knee and winced, a hand suddenly grabbing the back of your shirt. “Alright! I get the fucking point.”

“Do you?” he said, squatting down beside you. You tried pushing his hand away but it tightened and you tried throwing a punch, his grip almost too hard now and his free hand easily blocking the hit. “You have no plan. You’re too small and too weak to overpower someone. You can’t afford to have no plan. The thing is, when it’s real, you’ll be panicking and you’ll have no time at all to think of one.”

“Stop touching me unless you want me to call the cops on you,” you spat out. He moved his hand away and stood, staring back at you.

“You need to do what I tell you if you want to stay safe. I will teach you what to do if you’re in that situation for whatever reason. But the rules keep that situation from happening in the first place. Understand?” he said.

“Understand that you are fired as of now. Pack up your shit and get out of my house,” you said. You got to your feet and he raised an eyebrow. “I’m your boss and I can fire you whenever I want. Get out.”

“How on earth Jared is friends with a someone like you I will never understand,” he said. He headed upstairs and the doorbell rang. You forced a smile for the delivery guy and took your food back to the kitchen, digging in before Jensen was even tossing his first bag down the stairs. You rolled your eyes and were on your third slice by the time he was walking downstairs.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” you said. He shot you a dirty look, his head cocking as he set his bag down. “Oh now what?”

“You look really pale,” he said, walking over to you. “Your pupils are huge.”

“You know what else? You are so not as hot as you think you are,” you said, reaching for another piece of chicken before he smacked your hand. “You are this close to me calling...someone.”

Your head got dizzy for a second, Jensen grabbing your arms and setting you down on the ground.

“I feel funny,” you said, tipping over and resting against him. “Really, really funny.”

“You just got drugged,” he said, using his phone to dial a number. “No more takeout. Got it? Obviously this person knows you moved. I want to put someone at the house full time.”

“I’m gonna fall asleep now,” you said, shutting your eyes.

“No, nope, try to stay awake,” he said. You hummed and he grabbed your face. “Y/N. Try.”

“You’re really pretty for a grumpy grump,” you said.

“I thought I wasn’t hot. Just stay awake for me, Y/N,” he said.

Twenty minutes later you were in the ER with an IV in your arm and feeling a whole lot of crappy. Jensen said something to a doctor before he walked over to the stall you were in and stood by the bed.

“Hey. Police are at your house. Neighbor said they saw a silver pickup parked down the street. Seemed shady. It was gone by the time they got there,” he said.

“Course it was,” you mumbled.

“You more with it again?” he asked.

“Yeah. Feel really tired is all,” you said.

“Well I called your manager. He said he’d be here soon so I’m gonna head out,” he said.

“Huh?” you said, sitting up as he started to leave. “Wait.”

“Last I remember, you fired me. Nothing has changed,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” you said, grabbing his wrist, the effort taking more energy than you were anticipating. He didn’t shrug you off, instead gently setting your hand back in your lap and pushing you to lay back down.

“You should rest. There’s a cop outside the room,” he said.

“Stop. Just...sit down,” you said. He sighed but sat on the edge of the bed, raising an eyebrow. “How could somebody already know where I moved? Hardly anyone knows.”

“You rent a moving truck?” he asked.

“Yeah. Movers did the furniture,” you said. He shrugged and you shut your eyes. “The movers?”

“No, probably not them. But that truck probably has GPS for mileage tracking and if this person has your credit card info, they could figure it out,” he said. “The food thing probably happened back at the restaurant you ordered from. Somebody slips in the backdoor, puts some stuff on your food and slips back out.”

“What’s your suggestion?”

“I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Let’s pretend earlier didn’t happen. Please,” you said. “I can’t...I can’t be alone right now and something feels really off about this whole thing.”

“This whole thing has felt off the second Jared told me about it. Tonight just further proved that point,” he said.

“You were in the army longer than he was, right?”

“He decided to retire, go be a cop. I stayed in. Worked on a few more specialized skills a bit longer before I left and got in this line of work,” he said.

“I’m going to assume you know what you’re doing then.”

“Yeah. I know what I’m doing. I can’t guarantee anything but I can give you some pretty damn good odds,” he said. He stared at you for a moment and looked you over. “You’re smarter than the stereotypical actress I pegged you for.”

“It had to have been someone on my team or that’s close to me in order to know that I was moving,” you said. “Or else the person never would have known to look today.”

“Someone that knows your go to takeout place too. You need to be extremely careful about who you trust right now,” he said.

“I trust Jared and Gen,” you said.

“I trust the guy with my life. I’d trust him with yours. Gen is fiesty when you piss her off but you’re her best friend. They didn’t do this.”

“Your expert opinion, what’s my next move?” you asked. He rubbed the back of his neck and made a face. “Jensen.”

“Ideally? You go off grid. I mean off grid, off grid. Middle of nowhere, no one knows where exactly. Cut yourself off and it’d give us more time to figure out who this person is and what exactly it is they want with you. If they’re as close as we think they are, they’ll find a way to sneak in again and next time, it might be my food that’s drugged. It’s a big risk to go back to the house.”

“I can’t go be alone though. What if they did find me somehow?” you asked.

“I said off grid. I didn’t say alone,” he said. “It’s an extreme approach, I’ll give you that. But it gives me more time to work on this and it’ll keep you safe.”

“Why not hire a bunch of guys to stay around me all the time?”

“Because you’re still in danger if you stay in LA and I don’t have the ability to check that many guys out. I got guys I know I can trust but they’re all over the country and the only other one here is Jared and Gen needs him. No offense but she’s got a kid with another on the way. More bodies means more priority,” he said.

“No, no. Please keep them safe too. If it’s a fan of the show, they could be in the same situation,” you said.

“I’m not going to try and tell you what to do because obviously, you weren’t a fan of me doing that before. But if you want to be able to sleep safely at night, we need to go, just you and me. Jared and Gen can know but that’s it and I mean that’s it. I can secure a safe place and everything we’ll need. But it’s going to be a drastic lifestyle change.”

“How drastic?”

“Like no internet and our electricity will run off a generator drastic.”

“If I stay here?”

“I give it a week tops before they try something again,” he said.

“We wrapped two weeks back and since Gen’s pregnant, we aren’t slated to start filming for another seven months. I’ll have to cancel some events but if I was ever going to go off grid, now’s the time to do it.”

“I will get it arranged. Do not speak a word of this to anyone,” he said.

“Jensen,” you said as he stood. “What was that back at the house? You acting all aggressive like that?”

“The last client I had, I was lenient, never taught them anything, let them push me around and dictate how I worked. They got put in a bad situation because of that. If you don’t take this seriously, then what’s the point of me being here.”

“Well wherever we go, I’m gonna need a few things. Women stuff,” you said.

“Make a list and tomorrow, pack a bag,” he said. “I want us on the road tomorrow night. I don’t care what you tell your team about why you’ll be MIA. Just tell them something so we don’t get a missing persons report on you.”

“Alright,” you said, Jensen nodding and starting to leave. “Wait. Where are you going?” 

“I need to start preparing. Like I said, there’s a police officer by the door.”

You stared at him and he took a deep breath.

“How about he stays in the room with you until we’re ready to go home and get what we need, okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Hang tight. When you’re up for it, we’ll get out of here.”

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void (Whitelist AU)

Well.. I DID IT. This is only chapter 1. I planned on this being a one-shot, but if it was, it would take me so long to finish it. So, chapters it is.

This is crossposted on AO3. I don’t exactly stand with a lot of what it’s doing, but it’s not particularly easy to find fics on Tumblr I feel..and I will never go back to Wattpad. Not again.

@petrichormeraki Whitelist AU fic :)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

They had just left the server to practice for MCC, that was all. Wilbur would be so proud, the two youngest would be sure, if they managed to win one. For Tommy, it would be his first win not aided by his  (Troubled, distrustful, anarchist-)  family, and Tubbo’s first-ever. 

Teams for the next MCC had yet to be announced, but it hadn’t mattered. Tommy had been invited back to every competition since MCC 2, after all- and the competition had already become accommodating to Tubbo, following the..Circumstances, of The Festival. 

The admins hosting the event were concerned, following the events they’d hear of about their server. They hadn’t known much; no one outside their world, really did. But, well..When asked about the status of Wilbur, and if he’d attend- the silence and reaction of the residents of his world were telling.

Barely a handful of players were at the server, practicing. It was calming, for the teenagers. The two had primarily stuck together, as they tended to do after the Pogtopia-Manburg war. The siblings were back together again. And they had each other- they trusted each other, unquestionably. Something more than they could say about anyone else.

By the time they made it back to the world hub, they were already exhausted. The timezone of their server would be late, they were sure. Their arms ached, and legs wobbled with every step. They both felt as if they could fall down, anytime.

Tubbo’s arm was looped around Tommy’s, content to be in the presence of his best friend, without the responsibility of the world on either of their shoulders’. Other players had barely batted an eye at the two- it wasn’t uncommon for teenagers or children to server hop by themselves. Nor for someone passing through a world hub to have outlandish and otherworldly scars. For them to both be teenagers, and scarred so heavily- well, that was a different story.

Still, not a soul stopped them as the tall blond led his friend to a nearby empty portal. As they stood still, Tubbo instinctively released his arm from the boy. Tommy kept Tubbo grounded to him as he worked, talking idly to them and inquiring about build plans. As Tubbo talked, Tommy quickly fidgeted with his communication tablet.

The thin, hovering device was pressed against the large obsidian frame of an otherwise normal, unlit portal.  Pressing out of his inventory, which by mandatory was empty, Tommy opened his server list. The individually named servers popped up. 

Some servers were empty, others grayed out and unavailable, no longer tended to. Muscle memory brought him to Dream SMP.  The status of the server was buffering- it’s availability of connection unclear. It wasn’t unusual- not for world hubs filled with tens of thousands of players at any given time.

With their SMP selected, the portal flickered for a moment- sparks of neon green rippling within, before quickly fading. The whooshes and crackling of a portal being lit, before failing, caught Tubbo’s ears.

“Uh...Is- is the portal good? Did it light? Why does it feel like it’s uh- not?” They tilted his head to the side, towards Tommy. The blond paused for a moment, blinking in bewilderment with his brows furrowed. “No- no it’s not lit..Uh.. What the shit? Hold on, Tubbo-” he huffed, pulling his tablet off the obsidian wall with ease to inspect it.

Blue eyes squinted at the screen. At the edge of the selection for Dream SMP, was an error sign, much to Tommy’s slight horror. “Fucking..Shit-” he hissed, pressing the icon. “‘Server closed for maintence’- what the fuck!” The teen spat. That got a few heads turned him, at his shouts. Most continued walking, merely giving him a wary glance.

Tubbo’s mouth dropped, scrambling for words. “Wh- why? I- I mean, I guess it makes sense- the- the server’s been acting up, and stuff- but- with what noticed?” He squawked, fumbling with their own device. Gliding their hand over the graphics, each thing he touched was read aloud to him quietly in his comm systems.

While Tubbo worked on locating his own messages, Tommy already found his. He scoffed indignantly, his hand clenching at the frame of the tablet. “The chat system for the server’s down too! Holy shit, fucking- what? Were no one fucking prepared for if we all get knocked out of the server at once? What the fuck!” Slight panic edged into his angered words as he shouted.

“Guess not,” Tubbo shrugged, pushing his tablet away, already frustrated with it. “Did Dream send out any sort of alert, for this?” Tommy only scoffed. The brunnett was sure he was rolling his eyes, as well. “Yeah, with a three-minute fuckin’ notice!  Just told everyone to figure it out for themselves, while he fixed shit! What a lil bitch!”

Glares were most certainly being sent towards them by now, Tubbo was sure. Gently pressing himself against the visibly upset and angered boy, he looped their arms back together, reassuringly squeezing his hand.. “We should get out of the way. I’m sure other people are waiting, there’s nothing we can do.” The brunett resigned himself to being the level-headed one between them.

“We can’t just fucking stay here, Tubbo! We ain’t got shit to eat, or anything. It’s not exactly like we thought of packing shit for a few hours of practicing!” The boy protested. He had just gotten L’manburg back, finally, a place he and his Tubbo were okay.

After a moment of silence, Tubbo would speak up once more. “I started installing some more, uh..Hack clients-” “TUBBO WHAT THE SHIT!” “Please, I’d really like to not get in major trouble today.” They’d wince, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. The feeling of stares lingered on his back.

“I got a client that should let me into the world last opened on a portal- which, in this case, should be Dream’s server. So we can get on there and- “Call Dream a dick.”

“Exactly. I wouldn’t think it’s dangerous, or unstable or anything to be there..I’m sure he and the rest of Dream Team are there.”

Walking back to the portal, guiding Tubbo back with him, Tommy unattached his own device from the frame. “Uh, want me to put yours on the portal? Or do you got it, Big Man?” The blond tilted his head towards the other boy expectantly.

Dipping their head in thought for a moment, Tubbo hummed. “You can do it. It’s all set up- besides I already turned my text-to-speech off, I was getting a headache from the voice.”  They decided, handing off his tablet to Tommy.

Within moments, Tommy had gotten it set up. Rather than having an individual server selected, the “Connect” button had been highlighted as seen as he reached his friend’s serverlist. 

A flurry of colors splashed within the portal, before settling on a distorting purple. Tommy squinted, glancing towards Tubbo. “That..Does not look like Dream’s server color.” Tubbo tilted his head curiously. “Well.. The site did say it could do that- It’s kinda just ripping the IP and plugging it in illigitmently- it’s incapable of displaying the correct resource, basically.” He played with his friend’s sleeve idly.

“..Fucking- alright, sure. Assuming this is safe- are you ready to hop in?” He pushed down any doubts. Really, nothing worse than what the two already lived through could happen. Tubbo grinned, nodding their head. And so, Tommy led the boy into the portal alongside him. Swirling particles filled his vision, as they flurried around the two- and then they were stumbling to the ground.

Tommy’s eyes shot opened- a dull, thudding pain in the back of his head, as he got his footing. Tubbo was doing the same, losing his hold on Tommy to lean against the portal frame to catch himself.  “...Well. Fuck.” Tommy hissed, rubbing his temple as he looked around the room.

The large portal behind them had dropped them into a large, pyramid-shaped room. The floor below them was sandy, greenery and bookshelves pressed against the walls. Tommy’s mouth dropped to the floor as he viewed ahead of him.

“W-What the fuck! What the shit these people- th-there’s just! Diamond armor!  On display - t-they have fucking elytras!  Holy fucking shit! ” He stammered out the words, his brows furrowed together in complete bewilderment.

“What? That’s insane!..This- this sounds like an ocean? Why can I hear water? Are we on an island?” Tubbo warily stepped, testing his footing.

Tommy instinctively reached back to grab his friend’s hand protectively, nodding vigorously. “I think we’re fuckin’ underwater, or some shit! There’s a water column, and- and the walls fuckin’ tilt, and then it’s all water and shit! The ceiling is just the ocean!”

..Descriptions never seemed to be Tommy’s strong suit. Nonetheless, Tubbo nodded along to the words, warily listening. All that could be heard was the crashing water overhead the water-bound structure. The boy shivered with unease at this.

“Are there any players? Did- did us joining get sent through the comm system, do you think?” Tubbo summoned his comm’s back to his hands, but Tommy must’ve already had his out. “Fuckin- i’m still connected to Dream’s. It didn’t give me the option to look at whoever the fuck’s this is. Tommy growled, uneasiness and anxiety gnawing at him.

 And then, there was a flash of light and particles. A man in a..Bee-themed, space/futuristic-Esque suit appears on the other side of the room. Another, far more mundane seeming man, manifested next to him.

The energy in the room shifted to something unfamiliar to the two teens. Tubbo shivered, desperately grasping tighter at Tommy. The blond boy had stood rigid, blue eyes cold and wary as he stared challengingly at the two strangers.

While the helmeted, bee-colored man visibly had plates of enchanted Netherite glittering on him, the human beside him was bare of any protection, defenses, or armor.   The teen didn’t know what to make of either of them.

Pacifyingly holding up a weaponless hand, the helmet man cleared his throat. “We weren’t particularly expecting visitors, or any surprise drop-ins this late to our season.” Their voice wasn’t accusatory, but it certainly edged on the skeptical side

From the yellow-tinted helmet, Tommy could barely make out a faint reflection of light in purple eyes. His throat felt full of vile, the blond boy practically growling as he held he pushed himself in front of Tubbo.

In retaliation, Tubbo gently shouldered the boy before poking out beside him, facing vaguely towards the man who spoke. “I’m sorry for him- this..This is an accident, uh, Sir.” They chuckled anxiously.

The helmeted man- who by now, Tommy had presumed was the admin- tilted his head. “While accidents aren’t necessarily uncommon on a server such as ours- one quite like this, so far into our progress certainly is.” The Southern fellow beside the bee-helmet man spoke up, his expression passive and at ease as he stared over the boys.

“You two don’t look like you’re here to give us issues- don’t you agree, X?” The helme-  X,  apparently- surveyed the two teenagers for a moment more, before nodding. “Good, then.” The human(?) smiled, dipping his head.

Tommy scoffed, glaring at the man.  “Where the fuck are we?” The blond’s eyes flickered between the two adults stood opposite of them. While the man remained unphased, glancing expectantly at X- said player took a step back, tilting their head.

“Well, considering there’s not really a way to  accidentally derp your way into here- I’d expect you’d know.” While X wasn’t unkind, his tone was expectant. Accusatory, maybe. 

Before Tommy could open his mouth to blabber and cover their asses, Tubbo put his arm out in front of the other. “It really was an..An accident- it wasn’t this server we were trying to get into- wherever we are.” He’d chuckle uneasily, shifting their weight. They weren’t sure what to make of their unknown surroundings.

“Our home-server seems to be down.. And- no one told us where to go,  so I said i knew a way we might be able to go back, and uh..It got us here.”  They’d finish, anxiety spiking as he was unable to gauge their reaction.

“Yeah- and we’re not gonna fuckin’ do shit. We don’t even know where the fuck we are. Just- leave us be!  Or send us back, or some shit-” “Alright, alright! Hey, we’re not fighting with you!” X would cut off Tommy, who’s blue eyes shot a cold glare to the slightly frazzled man.

The younger Brit couldn’t help but get amusement from the way the masked man was so visibly startled from his swears. “You two..Don’t particularly look in the condition to just.. stay in the World Hub. Do you have someplace else to go? How long have you been locked out?” 

Beside the apparent Admin, who had not-so-subtly manifested a transparent screen in front of him, the human looked in exasperated amusement at the helmeted fellow. “Forgetting something there, Shashwammy?” The Southern man spoke with fondness.

Before the admin could react, the man turned back towards the accidental intruders. “You’re in the wonderful world of hermits and crafting, my friends! Hermitcraft Seven, to be specific. I’m Joe, of the Hills variety- and this is my pal, Xisumavoid! Though he’ll likely go by just about anything you can think to call him.”

Tommy looked beside him at Tubbo for a moment, his brows pinched together as he quietly scoffed. This is gonna get really tiring if he talks like this all the time. The blond thought absentmindedly.

In the meantime, Tubbo himself was speechless- positively bursting at the seams. “Hermitcraft?! This is Hermitcraft? Oh, oh void I just broke into Hermitcraft-” They babbled for a moment, jittering as he attempted to compose himself. Tommy raised a brow, eyeing them. 

“You say that as if that means fuckin’ anything to me, Tubbo-”

“I. I’m so sorry, uh, Mr. Hills, Mr. Void!” Their voice cracked, as the words ran out of his mouth. “I swear this isn’t something we do on the regular, I’d never want to disrespect anyone, or any server- especially not Hermitcraft!” He’d continue, laughing anxiously. 

“I’m a huge fan of the work done here! Just, everything I’ve seen- uh, and, and heard, about the Hermits! Fu- frick. Uh. Sorry!”  Tubbo finished, practically panting. 

While Joe had seemed appreciative and amused, Tommy couldn’t get a read on Xisuma. Not that he particularly cared what either of them felt; he barely understood the meaning of the words from Tubbo, all that mattered was they weren’t about to belittle the other boy.

“Mr. Void.. That- that might be a new one-” The British admin had quietly chuckled easily, shaking his head. “No, no need for that. I’m Xisuma, or X. I’m glad you appreciate our work, the Hermits around here work non-stop. And we’d be glad to try and help you two, yes?”

“We don’t fuckin’ need help- We stay here, or we don’t. We don’t need pity or some shit. If you’re gonna get all fussy at the fuckin’ idea of us staying in the Worldhub, then just leave us be here, I guess. We don’t need anyone’s help or charity.” Tommy growled, his arms crossed stubbornly. He could hear Tubbo sharply inhale beside him, weakly nudging at his side.

The two inhabitants, Hermits, Tommy mused, seemingly shared a look for a moment. Tommy’s blue eyes were unyielding from them, as Tubbo’s quiet babble of scolding went through deaf ears.

Slowly nodding, the helmeted admin stepped back. “You two don’t have anywhere you could go?” He’d ask, hesitantly. Tommy glanced beside him, at the short, blinded boy. Blue from Ghostbur weakly stained his hands.

No one else outside of Dream SMP had learned about Wilbur’s fate, not yet. That certainly wasn’t a conversation either of them was willing to have yet, with anyone. Dream would be mad. Dream would be furious if word got out on the nature of his server. 

With that thought, Tommy tore his gaze away from his friend. The boy stared as close as he could to the Admin’s eyes, a challenging look in his hardened blue eyes. “Nowhere.”

Xisuma conceded, nodding. “Fine, then.” He agreed, his tone far softer than it had any right to be, from such an imposing figure. Tommy pondered for a moment if the Admin was taller than him. The possibility made Tommy feel all the more disdain towards him.

Tommy tilted his head, watching expectantly. “Well then? Can we just be- be fuckin’ left here, or some shit? We don’t need to be babysat.” “Tommy, please, don’t pick a fight here-” “Yeah, yeah, Tubbo..”

Xisuma winced, nodding. “Sure.. If you want to be left alone, that’s fine. There’s Elytras’ in the room behind us, and rockets in the chest. That’s the only way to get out, besides from the Nether. It should be linked to our Netherhub, so you shouldn’t have too big of a trouble, yeah?”

Tubbo hesitantly nodded, his grip tight around Tommy’s hand. “Alright, then.” Xisuma nodded, glancing towards Joe. Tommy had all but forgotten the man was there, the Southerner having been quietly observing them.  “Joe, you’re free to go, my friend.”

To Tommy’s perspective, Joe certainly seemed to have some reservations. Whether they were about leaving teenagers unattended or leaving strangers in their server, the blond wasn’t sure. Nonetheless, Joe accepted his fate, nodding breezily before enderpearling his way out of the spawn.

Xisuma turned back to the two, one final time. Tommy didn’t miss the way that Xisuma flinched at Tubbo’s large scars, nearly growling when he saw the admin’s reaction.

“You two have been competing in MCC.” That caught Tubbo, off-guard. The brunnett’s brows furrowed together, tilting his head. “Huh? How do you know that-”

“My Hermits have been competing there for a good while. I need to keep track of them all, I haven’t missed the team announcements.” Xisuma explained breezily, something akin to fondness in his tone. “The other Hermits said that they love MCC, and the other participants. And that they trust almost all of them- don’t take advantage of that, alright?”

Quietly scoffing, Tommy looked away. Beside him, Tubbo nodded. “We’ll try- thank you. For letting us stay here, just for now.”

Despite the situation, Tubbo couldn’t help but feel slightly giddy at the idea of being in a Hermitcraft world. He hadn’t been able to hear about, or see anything about their recent achievements in a long while.

“If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll add you two to the communication connection. Most of the Hermits have a..Tendency of getting themselves in trouble, quite a bit. Don’t be alarmed if someone spawns, they’re almost never here long enough to be dragged in,” He spoke casually, easily. Tommy wondered for a moment what exactly their definition of trouble was.

“Someone will be here to check on you, soon. Don’t get yourselves hurt, please. We’re happy to help here.” He continued, glancing between the two. Tubbo fidgetted, nodding numbly, as he could practically hear Tommy roll his eyes beside him.

Quiet mechanical whirring buzzed as holographic, shimmering bee-like wings expanded behind him.  “Good, then.” Xisuma dipped his head, before familiar red-and-white rockets appeared in his hands.

Before Tommy could lung to cover Tubbo’s ears, Xisuma had already taken off. White particles were left behind him, but the expected boom never came, merely a small pop and smoke. The sight of them, nonetheless, couldn’t help but leave a bitter taste in Tommy’s mouth.

While Tubbo was visibly startled, cringing and nearly tumbling over, he didn’t feel his chest constricting the way it usually would, typically. They’d both consider it a win, for now. Tubbo fell over into Tommy’s arm, as his best friend pulled him into a side hug.

They both slid down against the wall. The conversation alone had taken out all remaining energy they had left in them. Tommy’s gaze surveyed his friend for a moment. “So,” He said pointedly, Tubbo lifting his head to face him.

“What the fuck was that, and what the hell is Hermitcraft?”

[supernovanim]

Strike, Dear Mistress, and Cure His Heart

I was lying in bed yesterday morning, when I realised I would like to tie Dylan O’Brien up. So i wrote this, and I’m not even the slightest bit sorry. It’s just one shortish fic as I don’t know how you’d continue it - there is no plot to speak of, it’s very self indulgent. I wrote it very quickly, although I did have to go back and rewrite some bits in case I ended up breaking his arms (I can’t be the only one that hates physically impossible smut). Let me know if you like it.

Title comes from Venus in Furs by The Velvet Underground, which is itself based on the book by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. I’d highly recommend both the song and the book.

Summary: Dylan is bad so you decide to punish him

Pairing: Female Reader x Dylan O’Brien

Warnings: References to alcohol and drinking, Swearing, light BDSM (bondage and hitting), Sub/Dom dynamic, Smut, unprotected sex (use protection!), orgasm denial, might be some British spellings

Word count: 3,554

Taglist: @hernameisnoellex3​

You woke in the dark to a crashing sound coming from the hallway and sat up in bed rubbing your eyes. You reached across and turned on the light before you heard it again. There it was, unmistakably the sound of someone stumbling around outside the bedroom door.

Sitting up in your large warm bed you looked over at the space next to you. Empty. Which meant…ah yes, you thought, as the bedroom door crashed open and your boyfriend Dylan tripped across the threshold.

“Sssh” he slurred, putting his finger across his lips “You’ll wake Y/N. She doesn’t…doesn’t like it when I’m drunk”

“It’s not the drunkenness Dylan” you sighed sleepily “You can have as much fun with your friends as you like” you watched as he tried to remove one of his shoes without sitting down, resulting in him hopping awkwardly on one leg “I just don’t know why you always have to wake me up when you get back”

“It’s no…no fun if you’re not there” he finally crashed awkwardly onto the side of the bed and tore off his shoes “gotta wake you up to have fun” his socks followed swiftly afterwards and he removed his shirt in one surprisingly co-ordinated movement, then ruined it by tipping over sideways.

You admired the way his movements had messed up his hair, leaving it stuck up every which way. You also couldn’t help but look at his lean chest and the smattering of moles across his now bare skin.

He caught you looking and leered knowingly, crawling towards you across the covers wearing only his jeans. “There’s my best girl. Missed you” he bent his head towards you and kissed you softly on the lips, his denim clad thighs bracketing you on the bed. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined by him tasting of beer, whiskey and cigarettes.

“Ew Dylan” you squeaked “you taste like an ashtray”

His caramel-coloured eyes widened, and he looked hurt “Sorry, I’ll go...go brush them” he yawned, but instead lay back with his head on the pillow next to you. “Just…just going to have a small rest first” and with that he closed his eyes and passed out, leaving you to remove his jeans and go back to sleep.

***

The next morning Dylan took ages to emerge from the bedroom. In fact, it was pretty much the afternoon when he did, and then he spent a while having a slow shower, getting food and groaning softly to himself every so often.

This meant he didn’t notice how angry you were for a worryingly long time. You weren’t sulking, you didn’t sulk, you just stayed on your laptop out of his way and didn’t talk to him. When he bent to kiss you, you moved your head, so it landed on your cheek, and responded to his apology with a non-committal “hmm”

“Baby, baby I’m sorry” he said, the aftereffects of the drinking and smoking adding a gravelly tone to his voice. “It won’t happen again”

“But you always say that, and it always does happen again” you practically growled, letting your anger colour your voice.

“It won’t, I swear” he pleaded “let me make it up to you, I’ll do whatever you want”

“Whatever I want? You mean that?” you spoke thoughtfully, a few ideas running through your head.

“Anything” he put his hand over his heart and looked at you, sincerity filling his gaze. You wanted to believe him, but he’d always been an excellent actor.

“You’d do anything I say, without question?” you asked

“Anything” he repeated, a spark of fear appearing in his eyes. He licked his lips as he stood in front of you though, so you knew he was interested.

You stood and slowly walked around him, contemplating your options. You’d never showed Dylan your dominant side so far in your short but intense relationship, happy for him to take the reins. But now, now seemed a good opportunity to let some of your kinks show, see how he took it.

“Here’s how it’s going to go” you let your voice drop an octave and leant towards his ear “you’re going to do exactly what I say, and if you don’t, I’m going to punish you. Hard” you saw him gulp. “Do you know what the traffic light system is?” you asked

“Y-yes” he stuttered

“Tell me then” you asked thoughtfully. If he’d done this before it was going to be easier than you thought to get him to comply.

“Green means everything is good. Orange means slow down, discuss things. Red is stop straight away” he answered

“Good boy. Have you tried this before?” you asked, curious

“N-no. Just read some stuff, watched some things” he shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed

“You happy with it?” you questioned, mentally crossing your fingers for luck

“Fuck yes” he let out with a gasp, so you moved to stand directly behind him, pressing yourself against his back

“That’s the correct answer” you spoke into his ear “anything you don’t want me to do?”

“Um…no marks that can’t be covered by a shirt, I’ve got that thing I’m filming next week”

“Sure” you said, shrugging, “wouldn’t want any of your co-stars knowing what a naughty boy you’ve been”

He swallowed thickly, his throat moving “apart from that I’m all in. You can even get a little rough. That would be…that would be hot” you see him shiver in anticipation.

“Excellent” you practically purred. Then your tone changed, becoming sharp and demanding “I want you to strip completely. Then I want you to kneel on the floor right here, with your hands behind your head”

Speedily Dylan stripped off his clothes, throwing his shirt to one side. He hopped on one leg to remove his shoes, reminding you of last night.

“Wait” you said firmly, and he stopped, both shoes off but still wearing his jeans. You moved round him to go sit on the sofa. “Ok you can keep going, but slower”

He looked at you and slowly popped the button on his jeans. “Good boy” you smiled, and he smirked back as he lowered the zipper. You’d always liked this view, watching as he pushed the denim down and off. Then he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his grey boxer briefs and you unconsciously licked your lips and crossed your legs. Your eyes followed the trail of hair leading down as he slowly removed them, revealing his far from inadequate cock.

You watched admiringly as he tossed aside the briefs and knelt as you’d asked, hands behind his head showing off his biceps.

“Nice” you complimented “what a good boy you are”

You noticed his pupils widen at that, and his dick twitched, starting to harden. Interesting.

“Now stay there, don’t move an inch while I go get ready” you ordered

“Yes” he said quietly

“Oh, and from now on you’ll address me only as Mistress” you added

“Yes mistress” he replied obediently. Oh, this was going to be fun, you thought.

Quickly you returned to the bedroom and stripped, changing into your black satin lingerie set. It was one of Dylan’s favourites. Then you put on your highest black stilettos, the soft suede ones that you only wore if you knew you didn’t have to do much walking. They were unbelievably sexy but made you slightly taller than Dylan which always felt strange. Not today though, today feeling more powerful was the point.

Then you crossed to the closet, reaching into the back and pulling out a small cardboard box. You removed some items from inside, placing them on the bedside table. A couple of silk scarves, a soft leather flogger, and your favourite item – a length of black rope. It was deceptively strong but coated in something to make it comfortable. After all you didn’t want Dylan arriving on set with rope burns. That would take some explaining. You thought for a moment before taking it out of the bedroom with you.

Dylan was exactly as you’d left him, kneeling in front of the sofa, hands placed on the back of his head. You walked slowly in front of him, listening to the sharp tap of your heels on the polished floor and letting your hips sway seductively. You heard him take a sharp intake of breath before you turned to face him.

“God” he groaned “you look incredible”

“Did I say you could talk?” you snapped, the smirk on your face in contrast to your sharp tone

“N-no. Sorry…mistress” he responded quickly

“I’ll have to punish you for that” you said, eyes narrowing. At that his eyes widened, and he bit his lower lip, biting back another noise.

You stepped slowly towards him “hands held out in front” you commanded, smiling to yourself as he quickly complied. You stood in front of him, not being able to stop yourself running a hand through his hair. He started turning his head into it, but you quickly removed your hand - “eyes forwards”

His head snapped up “yes mistress. Sorry”

You bent in front of him and wrapped the rope around his wrists, tying each one tightly but leaving a length in between. You made sure the knots were secure but could be undone quickly if needed. “Colour?” you checked

“Green. Definitely green” he replied.

“Good boy” you praised, and tugged on the rope to lift him to his feet “I think we should take this to the bedroom, don’t you?”

“Yes mistress” he complied, following as you pulled him along by the rope.

When you got to the bedroom you led him over to the bed and made him lie on his back, hooking the rope between his hands over the bedpost so he couldn’t move. You made sure the pillows propped his head up and took some of the pressure off his wrists.

“Comfy?”

“Not entirely, but still green. So green” he grinned up at you.

“Good. Going to blindfold you now” you said, picking up one of the silk scarves and moving towards his head.

Dylan pouted “but…wanna see you. You look so good; you have no idea”

“Did I ask for your permission Dylan?” you questioned. He shook his head. “You’re just making this worse for yourself. If you’re a very good boy, I’ll let you see me later. Let’s try that again - I’m going to blindfold you now.”

“Yes mistress” he replied sulkily

“Better. Still think you need to learn your place though – we’ll work on that” you said sharply as you placed the scarf over his eyes and tied it at the back, taking the opportunity to give his hair a swift tug while you did so.

Now Dylan could no longer see you, you stood back and admired the view. He looked delectable, his arms stretched over his head, his pale skin with a flush starting on his chest, his impressive cock half hard between his legs. You wanted to touch him, to lick a path between all his moles and get him moaning. Oh wait, you could totally do that.

You moved onto the bed to straddle him, first kissing a path across his stubbled jawline and rubbing your nose across his cheek before pressing your mouth to his. You licked into him, deepening the kiss and tangling a hand in his hair to tip his head back, exposing the long line of his neck. As you bit gently at the tendon of his shoulder, he bucked his hips up and you felt him fully hard against you.

“No – no moving” you admonished, pushing him down with your hips and being rewarded with a pained moan from Dylan. “And try not to make too much noise or I’ll need to gag you”

At that Dylan made a strangled sound, biting it off before it could fully leave his lips. You shut off any protests by returning your mouth to his and enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours.

Soon it wasn’t enough, and you started licking down his body, interspersing broad stripes with your tongue with small nips and bites. When you reached his nipples, you let your tongue lave over them, then tweaked them with your fingers causing Dylan to buck his hips again. To stop his movements, you placed both hands on his hips and pushed him into the mattress firmly, turning your attention to his cock.

This was the easy bit – blow jobs always got Dylan worked up. You breathed over his cock, hearing him hold his breath in return. Slowly you licked from the base to the head, collecting the drops of pre cum that had collected and savouring them on your tongue. As you took the head into your mouth and wrapped your hand around the base Dylan started moaning

“Fuck yes, yes baby. So good, so good to me”

“Sssh” you stopped touching him to admonish “no talking”

You returned your attention to your actions, taking him towards the back of your throat and working past your instinctive gag reflex by breathing through your nose. You bobbed your head for a while, enjoying the heaviness of him on your tongue. You reached down with your other hand and cupped his balls loosely. And as you twisted your tongue over the sensitive spot below the head you felt Dylan tense up and his balls tighten.

“Oh god right there yes, so good gonna – gonna” he moaned above you

So, you stopped. You removed yourself completely from him and climbed off the bed. Dylan let out a frustrated huff.

“N-no! Why did you stop?” he pleaded, breathless.

“I told you to be quiet. You’re not being very good. Only good boys get to come” you stated simply.

“I’m sorry mistress. Please, please let me come”

“Nope” you said, emphasising the ‘p’ sound with a pop of your lips “you’ll have to be good first. Now, I think we can put your mouth to better use, don’t you?”

Dylan made a sound that was half pained, half hopeful. A kind of questioning whine. Quickly you removed your bra and panties, leaving you just in your black suede stilettos. You climbed back onto the bed and moved up, so your knees were at his chest. You dug your sharp heels slightly into his sides, just to remind him they were there. Placing a hand on the headboard for leverage, you moved so your core was in front of his face.

“Lick” you instructed “and make it good, you’ve got to make it up to me”

“Yes mistress” he said obediently, already moving his face forwards and feeling you out with his tongue. Quickly he started to lap over your clit, sending electric signals down your spine.

“See” you groaned “you can be a good boy”

He groaned in return, clearly enjoying this. You let go of the headboard and moved higher, placing your hands flat on the wall so you could manoeuvre yourself over his face more. You buried his lips in your core, gasping as his tongue prodded up into your entrance before returning to your clit and moving in small circles. You moved a hand to your breasts, pinching hard at the nipples to increase the feeling. Slowly but surely you felt your release start building from your toes upwards.

“C-colour?” you rasped, worried you might be suffocating him below you

“Green…green…green” came the muffled reply, and it was the vibrations from his words that finally sent you tumbling over the edge, crying out. “Fuck yes. There, there!”. He kept licking you through your orgasm until you felt over sensitive and moved away from him.

You moved back down the bed on slightly shaky knees and looked at Dylan. He looked almost as fucked as you felt, his face slick with your juices and his cock leaking pre cum onto his stomach. The scarf blindfold still sat over his eyes and the blush that had started on his chest now extended to his throat. A light sheen of sweat covered his body as he panted.

“Very good” you praised him “I knew you could be a good boy really. Eating me up so well”

At your words he twisted slightly on the bed, his cock looking harder if that was even possible.

“Do you like that Dylan? Do you like hearing what a good boy you are?” you asked

He seemed to struggle with words for a moment, and then replied his voice cracking “Yes, yes I like that mistress. Want to be a good boy for you”

“Of course you do. Good boys get to come. But not yet, right now I think you should be punished a bit more until you know your place. Then if you’re very good and quiet and don’t move, I’ll ride you until you come” you promised

“Yes mistress” he capitulated quickly

You nodded in satisfaction even though he couldn’t see you and got off the bed to walk to the bedside table. There you picked up the soft black leather flogger – made up of many strips of leather with a handle it resembled a small whip but could be used in a number of different ways.

First you ran it over Dylan’s face letting him smell the leather. Then you moved it downwards, letting the tips fall over the planes of his chest like a brush. The blush on his throat moved up to his face, and you saw him bite off a sound.

“Good, that’s really good Dylan” you said softly, continuing your ministrations with the flogger. You teased it down his chest and the trail of hair there, ending up brushing over his balls and cock softly. At that he couldn’t help it, his hips bucked off the bed desperate to get more contact on his hard leaking length.

“Oh no, what did I say about moving?” you admonished “I can see I’ll have to punish you more harshly. Colour?”

“Green. Still green, goddamn you” he replied

“There’s no call for that” you said and brought the flogger down sharply on his stomach letting the leather snap. He gasped at the feeling but managed not to make any other sound or move.

“I’m going to do that five more times” you stated, “and you’re going to count for me, ok?”

“Y-yes mistress” he said shakily

You moved the flogger down to his inner thighs so he could feel it there, and then snapped it against his pale skin again.

“One” he dutifully counted

The second hit landed on his other thigh, and you alternated back and forth each time. The skin reddened until you knew it was overly sensitive. When he got to a gasped out five, you bent over and sucked right over the reddened skin, leaving a darker mark that would remind him of the feeling for days.

“Well done” you praised “that was excellent. I think you deserve a reward now, don’t you Dylan?”

“Yes mistress. Please, please” he didn’t seem able to get any more words out. His cock looked painfully hard now, and he gasped against the pillows. You decided he’d probably had enough punishment and could be put out of his misery.

You returned to straddle him on the bed. Still soaking wet from before, you easily took his whole length as you lowered yourself onto him in one movement. You felt your walls flex around him and you braced your hands against his chest as you started riding him. Slowly at first, then faster as you heard his breathing quicken. You reached down to circle your clit with your fingers, determined to come before him.

“Hold on Dylan, just be a good boy for a bit longer and don’t come until I say so”

“Please mistress. No more. I c-can’t” he pleaded; his voice wrecked

“You can, I know you can. Hold on” you increased the pressure on your clit and felt yourself tense up. Below you Dylan bit his lip to stop himself crying out as he desperately tried to hold off his own orgasm. As you felt your release wash over you you clenched around him, and you took pity on him

“Ok, go on – come for me Dylan” you whispered into his ear

His hips bucked up into you at that, and you reached up and removed the blindfold. It seemed that the sight of you finally did it, and he came with a scream, his body arching against the wrist restraints. You felt the warmth of his cum filling you up as you rode out the last waves of your own orgasm.

You reached up and quickly untied the knots securing the rope, removing it and examining his wrists for any damage. Luckily there was nothing permanent, and you tossed the rope away, letting him slip out of you and moving to cuddle against his side. You licked a bead of sweat from one of his nipples and he twitched sensitively.

“So” you asked, “will you be waking me up drunk anymore?”

“Baby, if we get to do that again I’ll give up smoking and drinking completely” he growled, voice low “that was incredible”

“That’s the correct answer” you smiled back… “what a very, very good boy you are”

THE END

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 21 - SECRETS AND TRUTHS

Hello all, Finally the new chapter of Edinburgh to Boston is ready.

As I said in my update this has not been betaed. Therefore, any mistakes. lack of continuity or general mess-ups are all mine. I hope you will forgive me and overlook them. It took some re-writing when I read it over several times and I hope I caught all the mistakes.

This has been my baby for a long time and honestly, I think that was another reason that took so long to finish it as this is the last chapter. There will be an epilogue to clean up some things that are hanging around.

Just because this is the last chapter, does not mean this is the end. I can't really let go of these two people. They are so dear to my heart. Besides that, as I wrote this I realized that I did not totally address the opening premise that I made. If you recall I said that Fate and Destiny had their hands in seeing these two come together. There are other stories to tell about how such forces brought them together. I do plan a Part II but how I will do it has yet to be planned out.

I can't thank you all enough for being patient with me during times of difficulty when it took so long to get a chapter posted. I am so honored that so many of you liked this story which I honestly thought was going to fall flat on its face. I never dreamed I would get the response to it that I did. I thank you all for reading, commenting, giving the story some love. I am truly overwhelmed by your kindness.

As always I need to thank my betas who helped me along the way and gave me the encouragement to continue when I didn't think I could do it. @scubalass you're the best.

Without further ado and a tear in my eye, I give you Chapter 21 Edinburgh to Boston.

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 21

Secrets and Truths

“Come On! Come On! COME ON!” Claire groused at the tardy lift. It really wouldn’t do to be late for surgery on her first day back to work. She wanted to give the damn thing a good kick but thought better of it since she would be standing for most of the day. The idea of standing on a sore foot did not appeal to her.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, what is taking this thing so long? For a new building, you would think they would have installed a better lift system.” Finally, the doors slid open on the fifth floor where the cardiothoracic surgery department offices were located.

She ran down the corridor trying to free herself from her coat while hanging onto the bag containing her morning fix.

Claire ran through the building’s front door shouting a greeting to Eddie, the security guard on duty. She made a beeline for the Cafe to get her morning coffee before going up to her office. It would be a long and trying day and the caffeine jolt would serve as her means of survival.

Niall stood behind the counter and grinned at her. “Late Dr. B?”

“Whatever made you think so?” she replied rather dryly. Her face was flushed and her hair exploded out from her wooly cap.

“Just a wild guess,” he smirked.

“Humph!” she snarled. “I would love to stand and chat with you but I have surgery in an hour. I’ll have a…”

“Here it is Dr. B. Large black coffee with one sugar and a raisin scone.” Niall smiled showing her the takeaway bag with her name on it.

She looked flustered, “How did you…”

“Dr. Fraser came by earlier. He ordered for you thinking you might be...um, in a hurry.”

“You say Dr. Fraser’s here already?” Claire grimaced ashamed of her lateness. It seemed, however, that curiosity got the better of her. Doing her best to look nonchalant, she casually asked, “Um, how did he look? Tired was he?” Dark smudges rimmed her eyes from lack of sleep. Claire would have liked nothing more than to curl up in bed and pull the covers over her head.

“Nay, no’ at all. Dr. Fraser said he worked out in the gym first then ran here. He looked quite hale and hearty actually. A wee bit pink from the cold, but truly well.”

“Of course, he did,” mumbling with annoyance to herself, “the man is made out of steel.”

Opening her overstuffed slouchy bag, she began the ritual of hunting for her wallet.

Cocking his head to the side, Niall pushed the bag toward Claire, “Oh, and he paid for this too.”

“Thank you, Niall and I’ll thank Fraser when I see him.”

Grabbing the bag, she made a mad dash toward her arch-enemy, the lift.

As usual, the ride to her floor became an act of slow torture and unmitigated agony. Once the lift doors opened, she sprinted down the corridor shaking one arm out of her coat while juggling her purse and the bag with its precious contents in the other hand. As she arrived outside her office door, her other arm managed to jiggle out of its sleeve. Finding the key to her office would require a balancing act considering the disordered state of her handbag. Placing her coat between her teeth and the bag containing her coffee and scone between her knees, not the soundest of ideas mind, she rummaged inside her handbag. Of course, the key could not be found being buried in the deep recesses of the purse. Needing a little extra stability, Claire leaned against the doorway. The door swung open making her lose balance and stumble into the room. Her mouth opened, squawking in surprise causing the coat to drop to the floor. Flailing hands pinwheeled around trying to maintain equilibrium rather than land ignominiously on her arse. She managed to keep her footing but lost the grip on her purse and watched as the contents tumbled out spilling haphazardly around the room. By some miracle, the sack with the coffee and scone remained intact. Not a drop of the rejuvenating liquid spilled. Which, of course, was the most important thing.

Surveying the mess she had inadvertently created, Claire concluded it was going to be one of those days. No doubt about it. And to make matters worse, she would have to operate without Fraser. Not to have his strong capable hands there moving in concert with hers, well the thought just soured her stomach. Of course, Pound would be there to help, but he was still in training even if he was Chief Fellow and she would still have to monitor him.

Mumbling words that a lady should not use, Claire picked up her coat and tossed it on a chair. On her hands and knees, she crawled around picking up the scattered bits and bobs shoving them back in the purse.

Standing, she walked toward her desk and saw it. In the middle of the desk stood a small beautifully cut crystal vase filled with forget-me-nots, white heather, and baby’s breath. A handwritten card placed in front of the flowers was written in a distinctive script declaring, Tha gaol agam ort, J. Claire could not read Gàidhlig but she instinctively knew what it meant. Her eyes misted over as she touched the delicate blooms.

How do you do it, Jamie Fraser? You take a terrible day and turn it into something magical.

Claire put on her lab coat, grabbed the bag with her coffee and scone, and walked out closing the door behind her. She strolled toward her nemesis, the lift, smiling and humming happily.

****************

“Aye, that’s right. See how Dr. Beauchamp keeps her field clear. It gives ye an unobstructed view and prevents postoperative infection.” Jamie turned to look at his students and they all dutifully nodded in appreciation.

“Watch how Dr. Beauchamp creates the anastomosis. Then she’ll tie it off. See how she makes her knots! ‘Tis a thing of beauty, is it no’? Perfect technique!” Jamie praised. Peering at his beloved, he saw her eyes crinkle with pleasure and her cheeks blazed red above her mask.

He came alive while he watched her work. As a surgeon, she was smart, talented, and highly sought after. Not only because of her skill but because she deeply cared about her patients. Some colleagues thought her “too involved” or believed her gender would make her“too soft” to become a competent cardiothoracic surgeon. Other critics thought her involvement with her patients would undermine her professionalism.

They had made love. Legs twined together; her head rested on his shoulder while his arm curled around her protectively. Jamie turned on to his side just enough to allow him to see her nakedness gilded by the moonlight. She curled into him clinging to him like a limpet anchored to a rock. Her muscles tense where normally she lay in his arms boneless after their intimacy. Finding a particularly tight knot he massaged it and felt it go slack.

“Is something wrong, my own? Did I no’ please you?” he asked anxiously.

“No, you were wonderful, really, Jamie. It’s just me. I started thinking. I don’t know why. But it’s nothing at all truly. I’m fine, just fine.”

“Sassenach, I ken well enough what ‘I’m fine means. Why dinna ye tell me what’s upsetting ye.” Jamie pulled her closer, tucking Claire’s head under his chin.

“We need to go back soon,” she said in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible. “And I’m so happy here with you,” she looked up into those startling blue eyes. “Then I started thinking about what it took for me to get this far in my career. My residency. My Fellowship. And suddenly I wondered if it was all worth it. I wondered if they were right in the end.”

“Who was right, Sassenach?”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Claire shared her trials as a cardiothoracic fellow. The competition for the position had been fierce. Only the top five candidates were called back to interview for the one open position. Even though she was highly ranked among the candidates for the fellowship, her prospective mentors suggested that perhaps she would be more suited to pediatrics, dermatology, or aesthetics as one of those specialties might suit her female sensibilities better. They had suggested cardiothoracic surgery might be too rigorous for a woman. The hours too demanding for a married woman. What would her husband say? Wouldn’t she like to have a family someday?

“The only qualification I didn’t have was I didn’t have a prick,” she said with some bitterness. She never expected an easy time. A distinct amount of sexism existed in medicine and women were not welcomed with open arms. She worked the worst schedule and given the most complex cases. Evaluations were harsh and judgmental. All done in the hopes that she would quit. Instead, it just made her work harder. And she turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to the mockery heaped on her. Claire succeeded where many others failed. She became their first female Chief Fellow; won several prestigious awards for her research. More importantly to Claire, her patients thrived.

“I am beginning to think they were right about some things. There is so much more to life. Much, much more,” she said drowsily. “And I want to have it. All.” Yawning, her eyes fluttered closed, and fell into a contented sleep.

“Aye, mo nighean donn, ye will. I’ll see tae it,” and leaned over kissing her brow.

Truly Claire is a woman of rare spirit, he thought. A woman who overcame many challenges and obstacles from an early age and was better for it. After all, she survived a plane crash that claimed the lives of her parents, lived like a vagabond with her archeologist uncle, and prevailed over a nightmare marriage. Many people would have been crushed under such hardships. But not his Sassenach; she endured. She managed to overcome them and emerge victoriously. A woman of rare spirit indeed. And one who deserved to be loved and loved well.

Jamie’s narrative kept pace with Claire’s every movement. Occasionally, he fired off questions at various intervals to his followers which they answered to his satisfaction. They remained throughout the entire procedure until skin closure finished and the patient made ready for transfer to the CSICU.

“Dr. Pound will accompany the patient to their room and start to write the postoperative orders. Please go with him. I will meet you over there.”

“Dr. Beauchamp, a word if ye please about yer next case,” called Jamie.

“Of course, Dr. Fraser. I would be delighted.”

The doctors exited the operating room on the pretext of being nothing more than two colleagues engaged in a discussion about a patient scheduled for surgery that afternoon. They approached an out-of-the-way corridor between the OR and the CSICU stealing down the passageway like two thieves in the night. Jamie’s head spun around looking for anyone who might have observed them. Deciding that they had not been seen, he seized her hand and pulled her into a little-used utility room. He locked the door behind them and drew her close, kissing her thoroughly.

“I missed ye.”

Claire cuddled into him resting her head on his chest. “I missed you too.”

Lifting her arms, she wrapped them around his neck. “Come here,” she whispered as she tugged his head down toward her.

Claire kissed him once, then twice.

“No’ that I’m complaining but what’s that for?”

“One was for the coffee, the other was for the scone. This one,” her voice turned provocative, “is for the flowers.” Her mouth latched onto his giving him a proper thank you kiss. The kiss, a searing flame, igniting them like a match to dry kindling. It left them both breathless and wanting for more.

She pressed firmly against him. He could feel her nipples rigid and taut through the thin scrub top. He knew she felt him; his hardness pressed against her body. If only I were home with her I’d carry her off to bed. This thought, naturally, made things much worse for him.

“How did you manage it?” she asked, her voice a sultry husky tone.

“Ewan gets the credit.”

“Be sure to thank him for me.” Claire crushed her body closer to his taking in his warmth. She buried he nose against him absorbing his smell. His scent was masculine, with the tang of antiseptic and just a dash of laundry starch hovering around him. Some things completely stirred her soul.

Clearing his throat, Jamie asked in a shaky voice, “Will ye, ah, will ye… Christ Claire, I canna think with ye so close tae me. Will ye take yer lunch with me?”

“Yes,” she said breathily.

“Why don’t ye go dictate yer op notes while on check on Pound? I’ll meet ye in about thirty minutes.”

“That’s a fine idea,” she leaned forward giving him a quick kiss. “Don’t be late.”

Jamie opened the door enough to peek out and found the corridor remained empty.

“Ye go first, I’ll follow after ye shortly.”

Claire slipped through the door while Jamie watched as she left. He noticed a little extra sway to her hips as she walked away. Damn little vixen. She did it on purpose. Sighing, he closed the door and leaned his head against it. He would have a wait a minute or two until his “problem” disappeared. It was becoming truly uncomfortable as he sought to adjust himself. “She’ll be the death of me yet.”

***********************

Walking into the CSICU after completing a successful surgery always filled Jamie with a certain satisfaction. He felt overjoyed that he and Claire helped patients return to their life, their work, their family, and without pain. He would tell patients, when he first met them, that this surgery was “enabling”. It would enable them to return to the life they wanted and not become a bystander.

With that thought in mind and a large grin on his face, Jamie swiped his badge across the electronic keypad granting him entrance into the Unit. The sounds of controlled chaos greeted him, voices raised, ventilators whooshing delivering needed oxygen, the soft beeping of heart monitors keeping time with healing hearts, IV pumps clicking as they delivered medication critical to the patient’s recovery.

He walked briskly toward the nurses’ station with gladness in his heart for he was back where he belonged.

“Fiona, ‘tis good tae see ye. How have ye been?” he inquired of the Unit’s charge nurse.

With the sound of his voice all conversation, all activity ceased, and every eye fastened onto him. The silence in the room would have been deafening if not for the continued mechanical sounds. Jamie became keenly aware of the absence of sound and the staff rooted in position. And just as quickly as it started it ended with activity resuming at its normal pace.

Fiona MacGowen kept her eyes glued to her computer screen, deliberately not making direct eye contact with the doctor. “Oh just braw, Dr. Fraser, just braw. Dr. Beauchamp’s patient is in Room 10 with Dr. Pound, Elspeth, and Iona getting him settled,” she said with her lips slightly turning up in a smile. “They’ll be waiting on ye.”

“Thank ye, Fiona. I’ll go and see how they are getting along.”

Jamie walked away, stopped, and turned back to look at Fiona once more. He thought her behavior a bit strange. Generally, one would say Fiona was a gregarious person with the reputation of being a chatterbox. Today, however, she acted more like a nun under a vow of silence. But to be honest, as he gazed around the Unit once more, everyone’s behavior seemed strange. And he had yet figured out what to make of it.

As Jamie approached the room the sounds of busyness gave the impression of a beehive humming with activity. As he stepped into the entryway, activity ceased. Again, all that remained was the soft mechanical sounds made by the life-sustaining equipment.

Elspeth stood quite still and uttered a little gasp. Meanwhile, Iona took a step back bumping into the ventilator; her eyes round with surprise. Dr. Pound cleared his throat glaring at the two nurses. They resumed their usual pleasant expressions with lips curling up into crooked smiles.

Jamie looked at the three of them thinking his team had gone daft.

“‘Tis good to have ye back Dr. Fraser,” declared the Fellow. “The ladies and I were just finishing getting Mr. MacNichol set up.”

Pound grabbed one of the portable workstations and began reviewing the patient’s current vitals as well as the orders he had written with the surgeon. They discussed the ventilator’s and pacemaker’s current settings, and when to call Dr. Beauchamp with any changes to her patient.

“Well-done, well-done. Mr. MacNichol is in very capable hands,” he smiled at his team. “I am off to lunch. Ye ken how to reach Dr. Beauchamp or me.”

Jamie walked out of the room and on impulse turned back to see the three heads buried in whispered conversation. He shook his head and left thinking about having lunch with Claire wanting to discuss the staff’s strange behavior with her.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Jamie walked smack into his cousin Rupert almost knocking him down. Extending his arm quickly he caught his cousin by the shoulder steadying him.

“Sorry about that Rup. Doing a bit of wool-gathering I suppose.”

“Oy must be something awfully important to have ye so distracted.”

“I promised Claire I would have lunch with her and I dinna want tae be late.”

“Tae tell ye the truth, I am on my way tae find Geillis. We’re supposed to have a bite together too. Suppose ye two join us, aye?” He grinned broadly, “Twill be interesting to see if the plan

succeeded.”

“Sounds like a good idea cuz,” Jamie clapped an arm around Rupert’s shoulder as they strode off in search of the lasses.

************************************

Seated at one of the dictation corrals, Claire began her op notes. Her cardiac anesthesiologist, Geillis Duncan took the hutch next to her.

Dr. Duncan was a beautiful woman, with a trim figure, flaming red hair, and eyes as green as spring grass.

“Claire, ‘tis good tae have ye back. I’m sorry I dinna have much of a chance tae speak with ye this morning before the case. Did ye enjoy the conference?” Dr. Duncan gave Claire a sly side-long look.

“Wouldn’t you know it, Boston had a blizzard and the speakers weren’t able to make it.”

“No. What a shame. Ye flew all that way for nothing,” she sympathized.

“Too bad, right? Dr. Fraser and I were looking forward to hearing about those peripherally inserted heart valves.”

“Aye, but ye had the fox cub with ye. Perhaps it wasna so bad after all,” she leaned over jabbing Claire in the side. “Did ye maybe get tae share a room and have a go at him between the sheets, um?” She gave Claire a wicked smile. “I ken if I was snowed in with him, I would.

“Geillis!” Claire swore. She blushed from her hair roots to her toes.

Geillis gave her a sly smug smile. “After all, Georges X is an exclusive luxury hotel. Verra private, and verra, verra discrete. Or so I’ve heard,” she said shrugging her shoulders. “They have those flowers, all over the place. What are they? Orchids? she asked while tapping her nail against her white teeth feigning an attempt at recalling. I understand the lobby is decorated with a fortune in artwork. The rooms are quite grand, are they no’, with a fireplace, champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries, fine whiskey. And I hear the bed is big enough to sleep an entire family. How could ye no’ entice him into yer bed, is what I want tae know?”

Claire glared at her friend, “What I want to know is how you know I stayed at Georges X. I know I never told you.”

Geillis chuckled nervously, “Why of course ye did. How else would I ken that?” Geillis became uncomfortable under Claire’s scrutiny.

“Spill it, Duncan. You know more than you’re telling.”

Geillis affected a look of innocence, “I swear tae ye Claire, I dinna ken anything.” She nervously scanned the area looking for any means of escape from further questioning. Her eyes latched on to Dr. Rupert MacKenzie ambling directly toward her, along with Jamie. “I need tae go. I promised tae meet Rupert for lunch. See ye later, Claire.”

Reaching out, Claire grasped Geillis by the forearm, “That’s a load of rubbish and you know it. I suspected there was something dodgy about that trip right from the beginning. I need answers and you have them, Duncan. You’re coming with me.”

************************************

The two male surgeons walked amicably through the corridor talking and laughing as Rupert entertained Jamie with tales of hospital gossip. As they approached the physician workstation, they noticed a loud commotion that seemed to be attracting a crowd. Jamie wondered what caused the kerfuffle this time. Most such squabbles centered around obtaining a certain OR room or available time for surgery. This behavior bordered on the ridiculous in his opinion.

As the men came closer to the center of the fray, they saw two female doctors engaged in a struggle. One of them had wild brown curls bouncing around her head. Claire? The second doctor had hair the color of flame. That head of hair belonged to the fiery Geillis Duncan. He quickened his pace needing to reach Claire.

“Claire! Claire,” he called, “What’s amiss?”

“‘Claire’ he calls her now. No’ Dr. Beauchamp,” Geillis snorted.

Claire’s posture had all the hallmarks of frustration and anger as she tried to drag her colleague toward the doctor’s lounge.

Claire’s eyes locked on Jamie, “It seems that Dr. Duncan knows a great deal about our trip. Particularly where we stayed and I want to know how.”

Rupert took Geillis firmly by the elbow and leaned over to hotly whisper in her ear, “Wha’ have ye done woman!?”

Cold green eyes glared fixedly up at him disliking his insinuation. “I may have spilled a bit of tea is all,” she said, wrenching her arm free of his grip.

“Sounds more like ye spilled the whole damn pot,” he growled at her. “Ye ken they were never supposed to find out, at least no’ this way. We were supposed to tell them gentle like. Now what?”

Dr. Duncan gave her shoulders the tiniest of shrugs. “Dinna fash. We’ll think of something,” and walked toward the lounge.

He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, “Aye, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Rupert held the lounge door open for his co-conspirator trying to usher her quietly into the room. Geillis, however, turned to observe Jamie and Claire huddled deep in discussion.

“Are ye both going to stand there all day blethering, or are ye coming? I’m hungry and I want my lunch.” she snapped.

The crowd lingered about waiting for the fuse to be lit and the fireworks to begin. Dr. Duncan had a very volatile reputation easily flying into pieces like an unstable explosive device. Whereas, Dr. Beauchamp was a genial person, kind and caring. But, the one thing she was not was a meek individual. When pushed beyond her tolerance limits, she could be as ruthless as a she-wolf defending her pups.

Jamie placed his hand firmly on the small of Claire’s back giving her a little nudge forward. The crowd began to murmur heads close in a whispered discussion, Some rudely pointed a finger at his hand on her back, while others outright stared. Jamie flushed. He should have known such an intimate placement of his hand would draw attention. They saw he claimed her. Not knowing how Claire would feel about this public display, he thought he needed to break up this crowd before someone accidentally said something.

“Show’s over everyone. Just a private meeting among friends. Nothing tae see here. I’m sure ye all have some work tae do. Patients are waiting for ye. Go on with ye.” Jamie said dismissing the loitering group.

Following behind Claire, Jamie entered the room and shut the door.

Claire wanted to get to the bottom of things quickly and stormed up to her colleague in a blazing fury. “Alright Duncan, spill what you know.”

“I already told ye. I dinna ken anything about ye trip. As I said either you or Jamie must have mentioned where ye were staying. Beyond that, I dinna ken anything.”

Jamie looked at Claire and shook his head signifying that he had never mentioned the hotel to anyone.

“Um-hm. Since when does this institution send a chauffeured car to pick up two staff surgeons? For the Chief certainly but not for ordinary staff personnel. And we’re supposed to believe that the hospital made five-star accommodations with all expenses paid for us? Hmm? I think not. Did I not say so, Jamie?”

“Aye, ye did. Several times.”

“Claire began to pace while considering the other strange occurrences surrounding their trip.

“And what about my clothes? I most certainly did not pack away that nightgown. It was a mere scrap of silk and lace. And that lingerie! Those panties and bras were not something I would have packed for a conference trip.”

“I’ll bet he enjoyed it,” Geillis muttered under her breath a sly grin curling up on her lips lighting up her face.

Jamie leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, staring intensely at the female doctor, “I am inclined tae agree with Dr. Beauchamp that the circumstances surrounding our trip tae Boston were, tae say the least, most unusual. I also had clothes in my suitcase that I ken I dinna pack and I’m wondering how they got there. Can ye shed any light on this mystery?”

As Jamie questioned Geillis, an acrid odor caught Claire’s attention. Being a very astute doctor, she was used to the various malodors emitted by humans and knew what they meant. She raised her nose into the air and sniffed delicately. The pungent smell seemed to be coming from the direction of Rupert. A light sheen of sweat glossed over his forehead and there was a distinctive musky odor about him. Fear. Anxiety. Her intense scrutiny seemed to worsen whatever internal conflict plaguing him. Unable to withstand the intensity of her stare, Rupert turned away not wanting to meet her eyes.

Claire jabbed Jamie in his side with her elbow gaining his attention.

“I think Rupert has something to add to this conversation.”

Jamie walked over to his cousin and stared at him intently. Rupert took a few steps back, feeling the unconscious need to put some distance between them.

“Aye, I think yer right. Rupert, ye look like ye have something ye’d like tae get off yer chest. Out with it man.”

Deciding that the best defense is a good offense, Rupert widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I dinna ken what yer talking about Jamie lad. As the lady said, I dinna ken anything about yer trip either. And dinna ask if I ken anything about how yer jeans, duck boots, and down jacket got into yer suitcase,” he replied, a self-satisfied look plastered across his face.

“Ye great dunderheid! Do ye ken what ye said?! Ye just gave it away,” Geillis shouted giving him a slap upside his head. “And ye were worried about what I said.”

“Wha’ are ye talking ab…” He had that startled look that one has when they realize they stuck their foot in their mouth. “Oh! Oh, shite.”

“Ye just admitted that ye changed Jamie’s clothes in his suitcase.”

“Dinna blame me for everything. You changed Claire’s clothes,” Rupert countered.

The two combatants escalated the argument going at each other nose to nose, eyeball to eyeball, tooth, fang, and claw.

“And whose ideas was this? Mine. Who made the hotel arrangements and spoke tae Joe Silverberg in Texas to get him on board with the plan should one of them call to discuss the meeting?” Geillis boasted as she swung her hair over her shoulder. A dreamy look took over her as she recalled the conversation with Dr. Silverberg. “I invited him to come to Scotland, ye ken. Told him I would show him the sights and a good time. Said he may take me up on that too.”

“Mmphm, so ye did,” Rupert grumbled with annoyance. He did not like the suggestion of Geillis showing the American surgeon a good time. “Ye forget I made the plane arrangements and got Kenny to print up the fake conference brochure. And who enlisted their secretary’s help to slip the vacation request under the Chief’s nose and have him sign it? Cost me a night out as payment for that,” Rupert griped.

The two doctors continued in their game of one-up-manship, oblivious to Jamie and Claire standing in the room.

Unable to take the bickering anymore, Jamie bellowed, “Haud yer weesht!!!”

Geillis and Rupert looked up in bewilderment having forgotten where they were and that Jamie and Claire stood listening.

“Do ye two realize that what ye did invaded our privacy? That ye had no right to interfere in our lives?” Jamie growled.

“So, that’s it then? The whole thing was a setup, some sort of game? None of this was real? ” Claire said as she looked at Jamie.

“I beg tae differ, hen,” Gellis walked over her expression softening and gently took hold of Claire’s hand, “it’s as real as it can get. We all saw the lovesick eyes, the secret peeks ye two gave each other, and the way ye fuss over each other. If two people were meant to be together it’s ye two. We just nudged things along is all, ” said Geillis.

“Aye, yer right,” Rupert chimed in. “‘Tis the truth that NO one could take watching ye two anymore. The whole hospital wanted tae see ye together.” Rupert smiled at Claire. He quickly turned his vexation on his cousin. “And if Fraser here was no’ going tae be a man about it and make the first move, well by God someone had tae,” he snarled at Jamie. “What are ye then, cuz, a man or a moose?”

Jamie ran his hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders as if trying to loosen his shirt that had suddenly become too tight. A shy crooked smile flashed over his face; his lip curling up on one side.

“Aye, yer right. I, ah, I… Well, tae tell the truth, I am a bit of a coward. Ye ken, I dinna think um, I dinna know if Claire felt the same about me.” Jamie turned and looked deeply in Claire’s eyes, “I was afraid tae lose ye. If being yer friend would be the best of it, then that would have been enough.”

“I was afraid of losing you too, Jamie. I’ve had feelings for you right from the start. Only now do I dare to admit them,” Claire turned toward Rupert and Geillis giving them a look of gratitude. Moving closer, placing her hands on his chest. “I love you and I always will.” Her arms went up around his neck, standing on tiptoe, she leaned in, and kissed him soundly.

The kiss finally ended, each blushing from making a display of themselves.

Geillis stood there making gagging noises as she watched their affection. Rupert looked at Geillis with a smirk on his face.

“What’s the matter, lass, jealous?” Rupert said with a grin on his face.

“Certainly not,” Geillis waved off that idea with a flip of her hand and turned away.

“Well then, ye won't be minding this. I've wanted tae do this for a long time.” Rupert turned her around, took her in his arms, and kissed her.

“And I dinna want tae hear about ye showing any other men a good time, either.” He gave her a look that told her he would not brook no for an answer.

Geillis, looking dazed readily agreed.

Jamie coughed loudly, reminding the other couple they were not alone.

Wrapping his arm around Claire and pulling her into his side, Jamie smiled at their friends, “We want to thank ye, both, for bringing us together. We are truly grateful.”

Claire nodded in agreement, forgetting about her anger with the unorthodox methods they used to bring her the love of her life.

“Since we are all telling the truth,” Rupert reluctantly admitted, “there’s a wee bit more to it.” “We were not the only ones involved in this. When other staff members heard what we about they wanted tae be part of it. And so...”

“And so everyone began to contribute money tae help pay for the trip. So that’s how ye had such fine accommodations and such.” Geillis huffed, “We told ye that people could no longer stand tae look at ye. They wanted ye two as a couple, no’ apart. Now can we stop havering about and get some lunch? My wame is empty. Besides, everyone is waiting in the canteen tae see ye both.”

“Oh, God,” Claire groaned as she grew red and buried her face in Jamie’s chest.

Jamie chuckled and rubbed her back in long soothing strokes.

“Are ye ready then, Sassenach? Let’s go give these good people their money’s worth,” he grinned.

“Yes. We should thank them all, don’t you think?” Claire replied, running her fingers through her hair trying to tame her wayward curls.

“Ye look fine, lass,” he bent to kiss her gently on the cheek and took hold of her hand.

Rupert and Geillis led the way, laughing and talking. Claire and Jamie walked behind them holding hands. Nerves were getting the best of her and her hands became sweaty. She surreptitiously wiped her free hand on the scrub pant leg.

“Dinna fash. Ye’ve faced worse and ye’ll no’ be doing this alone. We’ll face them as one.”

One.

ONE, he said. But. What did that exactly mean?

“What do you mean by that? Being one?” She held her breath waiting for an answer.

Jamie frowned, crease lines set upon his forehead.

“It’s like I’ve kent ye my whole life, even before that, if that’s possible. I mean yer part of me. I ken that sounds crazy, but I…”

“I know what you mean, Jamie. I feel the same way too. It’s hard to explain, but it’s there.”

“Aye, lass, it’s most definitely there.”

Approaching the canteen seemed a surreal experience. Normally, one would call the dining hall a lively place, with the sounds of laughter, chatter, mixed with the scrape of dinnerware against plates. Today seemed different. A thrum of excitement and perhaps expectation filled the air as if waiting for something to happen. As Jamie and Claire approached the door a steady vibration emanated from its core.

Geillis waved them back signaling she and Rupert would enter first. Rupert lifted his hand spreading his fingers indicating they should wait five minutes before entering. Jamie nodded and Rupert and Geillis entered the dining room.

Jamie and Claire waited in companionable silence. Who would think that five minutes could feel like an eternity? But it did.

Jamie looked at his watch; it was time.

“Are ye ready, Sassenach?”

“Je suis prest,” she acknowledged.

Their fingers reached out seeking their mate bonded the two hearts and souls into one. Turning they gave each other a nod and walked through the door only to meet with absolute silence.

All eyes turned upon them and it became unnerving. Claire inched closer to Jamie, if that was even possible, drawing on his strength.

Then the cheers began along with the whistles and applause. Someone from the back of the room called out, “It’s about time, Fraser.”

“Och why don’t ye just give us a bit of peace, aye?” came his laughing response.

They were rushed by a mob of well-wishers. Men clapped Jamie on the back wishing him well. Others made jokes, at his expense, about his manliness for taking so long.

The women embraced Claire telling her how happy they were for her. Some gave her sly looks while others made off-color jokes causing her to blush.

Eventually, people began to amble back to their tables and lunch, and the couple discovered themselves alone. Finding a table in an out-of-the-way corner, they sat to eat.

“I guess we are out as a couple officially. It’s no’ how I would have wished it tae become common knowledge, but…” Jamie shrugged. “They are good people and they meant well.”

Claire nodded in agreement as she moved her salad around on the plate not eating.

“It’s a strange feeling. Knowing that someone orchestrated this relationship. I know how this will sound, but I feel like this happened to me, to us before.”

Claire looked up at Jamie, eyes pleading for understanding.

“Forget what I said, it’s silly.” She stabbed a particularly tender piece of lettuce and ate it.

“Nay Sassenach, it’s no’ silly at all. I feel it too. It’s as if I am drawn to ye as if I kent ye from another lifetime. Like we were meant to be together, bonded if ye like.”

“That’s it, exactly.” Claire looked at him with a sense of relief. Looking up, she noticed the clock on the wall, reading 12:55 PM.

“Damn, we have to go. We’ll barely make it in time for Dr. de Gascogne’s appointment for your hand.”

Jamie muttered something in Gàidhlig which Claire really didn’t want a translation of.

“I dinna ken why everyone is making such a fuss over my hand. It doesna hurt and it will heal in a few more weeks.”

Claire blew out a breath of exasperation, “You know very well why Dr. Fraser. Your one of the best cardiac surgeons in all of Scotland. Well, next to me you are,” she said teasingly. Besides, the hospital needs you, your patients need you but most of all I need you. So that’s why.”

“I ken, but I dinna like being fussed over.”

“Yes, I know; you’re a doctor and doctors make terrible patients. You think you’re supposed to do the healing and don’t like when you need help,” Claire said with a raised eyebrow. “Now, let’s get your hand attended to, shall we?”

They hurried through the corridors, making it to the appointment with seconds to spare. Jamie was whisked off for X-Rays then he and Claire were escorted to an exam room. He sat on the examination bed while Claire took the chair next to him awaiting Dr. de Gascogne’s appearance.

Jamie studiously inspected an anatomical chart of the hand and wrist hanging on the wall in the room.

“Ye said ye need me,” he said almost inaudibly. “Do ye mean as yer surgical partner or as something more?

Claire noticed him drumming his fingers on his thigh anxiously.

“I need you, Jamie, in every sense of the word. As my partner, my friend, my lover, my everything. I. Need. You.” Claire stood and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck pressing her forehead to his.

“Aye, weel I wanted to make sure, is all. Yer the prettiest lass in the hospital. Any man would want tae be with ye,” and gave her a shy smile.

“Jamie Fraser, you say the most…” There was a knock on the door, the knob turned and Dr. de Gascogne entered the room finding the lovers locked in an embrace.

She looked at the two, raised an eyebrow at Jamie’s hands on Claire’s hips, “Un jour, quelqu'un entrera dans votre vie et vous fera comprendre pourquoi cela n'a jamais fonctionné avec quelqu'un d'autre, mes chers. Et il semble que vous ayez. I believe congratulations are in order. My secretary tells me you have announced that you are a couple. You two made quite a stir in the dining hall?”

Claire jumped away returning to her seat cheeks and nose bright red. While Jamie’s ears went pink.

“Well, um, ah, yes. Thank you. I believe that we made quite a spectacle of ourselves and continue to do so, it seems,” Claire replied mortified having been caught.

“Ah, mon chéri never be ashamed to show that you are in love. We are born of love and seek out love. Many have sacrificed greatly for love even died for it. It truly is a treasure to enjoy. No?” Dr. de Gascogne said with a smile. “Now to business.”

Dr. de Gascogne opened the electronic medical record and began her inquiry. Jamie explained how he injured his hand - twice - causing Dr. de Gascogne to raise her eyebrows in total disbelief.

She reviewed the X-Rays; then removed the splints. She moved and wiggled the fingers finding them healing well and moving to her satisfaction. The splints were replaced and Jamie was dismissed with a caution not to hit any more people or trees. She instructed him to see her again in one month for a further follow-up.

The two surgeons graciously thanked Dr. de Gascogne for her time and casually left the examination room. As soon as they could not be seen, they bolted toward the operating suites as quickly as they could eager to leave behind another awkward situation.

The remainder of the afternoon went on as planned. Claire completed her second surgical procedure without incident. Jamie’s students doggedly followed him from place to place. Finally, the day came to an end. The surgeons tiredly returned to their offices, checked in for urgent messages and for their schedule for the next day. Each too exhausted to do much of anything else, except want the comfort of a bed, chose to go home. It was a short walk to Claire’s flat from the hospital and Jamie escorted her home. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned into him. They spoke of this and that sharing different events of their day. Arriving at Claire’s flat, they walked up the stairs toward the front door. Jamie stood one step lower than Claire allowing them to be of an equal height.

A wave of fatigue washed over her, but Claire did not want Jamie to leave despite her tiredness.

“Would you like to come up? I have some soup in the fridge. Mrs. Bug made it. She’s quite the cook. Won’t take more than a moment to heat up. Or maybe a glass of wine or a dram? To help unwind?” she said looking at him hopefully.

He unzipped both their jackets and pulled her into the depth of his wrapping the jacket around her. He wanted her close to him and to share his warmth with her.

“Mo chridhe, yer completely knackered and ye need yer rest. If I come up with ye, ye ken neither of us will get any sleep,” he said pressing himself against her his desire completely apparent. “It’s no’ that I dinna want tae, but it wouldna do tae have ye fall asleep tomorrow during yer procedures.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worked with little sleep, just like you have, during residency and fellowship,” she pouted.

“Aye, but ye need to set an example for the students and fellows. And what about yer patients? They need Dr. Beauchamp at her best. They’re counting on ye.”

Claire luxuriated in the radiant heat of his body and the knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But, she still did not want him to leave. For to be alone with Jamie was bliss but to be alone was, well, to be alone. She racked her fatigued brain for anything that would keep Jamie with her. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “I love you.”

“I ken ye do, mo nighean donn. I feel it every time ye touch me,” Jamie took her hand tenderly placing a kiss on her palm. Gently, he folded her fingers over to seal his kiss against her skin. “And when ye kiss me,” he brushed his lips over hers. “Most of all, when ye lie with me. I ken the truth of it in our lovemaking,” he pulled her even closer to him until no space existed between their bodies. “Woman, ye’re like a live wire. Yer body fairly pulses with yer love and it flows out from you into me. It’s no’ just lust between us. ‘Tis love that brought us together and binds our souls. ‘Tis a thing that I never knew I wanted or needed until I found ye,” his hand moved to cup her face.

“It’s the same for me. I never knew it could be like this. Especially, after Frank. I thought all relationships would end up like that one. I see how foolish I had been to keep myself closed. To close my heart from love. If not for this trip, this may have never happened. We may have never happened.”

“Mo leannan, I would have found ye somehow. Whether I found ye now or even if I had to wait two hundred years to find ye, I’d find ye. We are meant to be together. I ken it.” His forehead pressed to hers each inhaling the other’s breath.

It began to rain lightly; a mizzle he had once called it. Tiny droplets of water clung to his hair. In the light of the streetlamp, his hair looked like a ruby adorned with sparkling diamonds.

They stood locked in an embrace for several moments; neither truly wanting to part from the other.

“Sassenach,” he whispered into her ear, “go on up. Ye need yer rest. Yer poor wee eyes are closing and there are dark smudges around them. Go on then. I’ll see ye tomorrow.”

He kissed her on the forehead and she nodded her head in agreement. Claire walked up the last two steps and slid the key into the lock of the front door. She turned to watch Jamie as he disappeared into the night walking toward his home and it occurred to her that this was just the beginning of their life and of their story.

The End - Part I

Tha gaol agam ort: I love you. (As if you didn’t know already.)

Anastomosis: An anastomosis is a surgical connection between two structures. It usually means a connection that is created between tubular structures, such as blood vessels or loops of the intestine.

CSICU/Unit: Cardiac Surgical ICU.

Blatherer: Chatterbox.

Dunderheid: An idiot, a stupid person.

Haud yer weesht: Be quiet.

Moose: mouse

Un jour, quelqu'un entrera dans votre vie et vous fera comprendre pourquoi cela n'a jamais fonctionné avec quelqu'un d'autre, mes chers. Et il semble que vous ayez.: One day someone will walk into your life and make you see why it never worked out with anyone else, my dears. And it seems that you have. (Google translation. If it’s wrong I apologise.) The quote is attributed to anonymous.

Mo nighean donn: My brown-haired lass

Mo leannan: Darling

Mizzle: A light rain

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This Jamie and Claire will return. When I don't know. I also have several other stories in various stages of completion sitting in my files. I would like to give them a little attention too. And I still need to get through all the other stuff going on in my life.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading. 🧡🧡🧡🧡

[because-of-a-friend]

GuardianAngel!Jun

MASTERLIST

Thanks for the request anon! I really hope you like it!!! This was def a bit out of my comfort zone but in a really exciting way! Also I don’t keep up with absolutely all lore on angels/ guardian angels, so if I say something you weren’t expecting/didn’t really want or left out something you were expecting, I’m sorry and hope it’s still enjoyable anyways! (I DIDN’T MEAN TO MAKE THIS ANGSTY IT JUST SORT OF HAPPENED IM SORRY)

Warnings: Near death experiences (including almost drowning), mentions of injury and death, and angst

There are rules about being a guardian angel that are so obvious, they don’t need to be spoken

Obviously, if there’s a fixed point where your person has to get injured or even die, you can’t intervene

You can’t ever assist in a way that would get you spotted by your person

You can’t do more than simple guidance when it comes to matters of the heart and mind

And, you cannot ever meet your person and tell them who you are

Jun has always followed all rules to a T

He’s never gotten in trouble or anywhere even close to trouble

He’s an example to his peers

He always does his job perfectly

There’s never been a hitch

And then he’s assigned to you 

At first your life is as normal as anyone else he’s ever been a guardian to

But then things get complicated

It’s honestly like you’re trying to get hurt

Suddenly, there’s just a period of time where you’re constantly in danger

Jun will save you once and then immediately be running off to save you again

Boy is he stressed

He feels like his constant state of being is just standing there, bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath before you need him again

He’ll admit that he’d rather be assigned to you than someone who never required his help at all

He’d be so bored

But still, did you always have to be so... reckless?

One day it gets to be too much

And Jun slips up

You had already walked under an AC unit falling from someone’s apartment window and he had to send a gust of wind to push you out of the way

Then you stepped out into the street in front of a car speeding down the road

Jun was still in the middle of breathing out a sigh of relief from the first incident

So he didn’t have the time to think of how to save you from the next danger

In his panic he steps forward and grabs you

You feel the hand around your wrist

You feel the force yanking you back out of the street

You see someone out of the corner of your eye

But once you fully turn to thank them, no one is there

You’re turning around over and over to see who you could have missed

But there’s really no one

Jun is watching you from a few feet away, now invisible to your eyes, his heart practically beating out of his chest

He didn’t do anything wrong... did he?

Technically he didn’t get caught by you

Technically 

But that was close 

He needs to be more careful

You have a period of time where you’re just utterly confused about what happened that day

You’re constantly looking over your shoulder wondering if maybe it was something supernatural

You start to notice your close calls with injury/death

And begin to wonder what’s stopping you from actually getting hurt

Sometimes it’s a gust of wind strong enough to push you out of the way, or a loud noise to stop you in your tracks, or sometimes just the kindness of a random stranger who is suddenly overcome with the need to help you

It’s starting to feel impossible how many times you’ve crossed paths with death and walked away fine

You begin to almost... test the waters

Instead of accidentally running into trouble, you start purposely running towards it

Jun is unbelievably stressed

Why do you have to do this? 

He feels like he might die at this rate just from how much he’s stressing out about your safety

Then you put him in a situation where he really has no choice but to help you as himself

You’re walking by a community pool late at night after agreeing to help your friend that works there out by locking up for them so they could go out that night instead of being stuck at work late

There’s no one else there since it’s already closed

It’s dark and slippery

And with you being you, Jun is beyond nervous, so he follows behind you from no more than a foot away

It’s going fine and you’re almost done

So Jun is letting out a sigh of relief

But it was too soon

As you’re passing by to double check that the back door is locked, you slip on the wet floor

You tumble towards the pool and hit your head on the way down

Jun watches in horror as you fall into the water and sink straight to the bottom

He doesn’t hesitate even for a moment to jump in after you

He drags you out and sets you down next to the pool

You’re not waking up and he’s terrified

He begins to perform CPR

Finally you sit up, choking, water streaming out of your mouth

You saw him, you know you did

There’s a boy sitting in front of you even though you knew there was no one in the building besides you

He’s staring into your eyes with such great concern

“Are you ok?”

You nod slowly as he helps you sit up 

“You need to go to the hospital, you hit your head”

You nod at his words again, reaching up the rub your eyes since they’re blurred from the water

“How did you get in-”

You stop mid sentence

As soon as you’ve taken your hands away from your eyes, you look up and see that no one is there

You begin to search around but you really are alone

You’re spooked and also worried that maybe it’s just because you hit your head that hard and immediately head to the hospital 

The doctor discharges you quickly, telling you the hit didn’t do any serious damage and that you just needed to rest and take it easy for a few days

You’re still completely confused by the disappearing boy 

Was he the same person that pulled you out of the street that one day?

Jun begins to observe you closely after these incidents

He can tell you must be thinking about him

Most days when you’re not busy, you’ll be staring off into the distance, your mind trying to explain these strange happenings

And for the first time since he’s ever become a guardian angel, Jun really wants to tell you

Usually he had no issues hiding from the people he was assigned to

But you

He likes the way you live

How you speak to people

Your goals and dreams and how you work towards them

The hobbies you enjoy

He feels happy being your guardian

And while it can be stressful sometimes, he never hates it

It feels, ironically, comfortable to be your guardian

He’s honestly grown quite fond of you

Which is also a big no-no for guardian angels

You should never get too attached to your assigned person

There will come a time where they have to get hurt 

Or a time when their life must come to an end

If a guardian angel is too attached to a human

They may try to change what must be

But Jun hates watching you feel like you’re going insane over not being able to explain these instances 

He wants to be able to explain it all to you

In the end all it takes is one more brush with danger before you’re standing there, Jun’s hand locked around your arm, staring into his eyes after he’s saved you once again

He immediately turns to walk away but you grab his arm

“WAIT! Wait!”

Jun knows he should do anything, anything at all to leave you right then and there so he doesn’t get caught

But he also doesn’t hate the idea of that happening

“I know you!” you say. “You saved me the other day at the pool!” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, turning back to you, “but I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” you’re so sure this is the boy from the pool

Jun hesitates

Instead of saying anything, he just holds a finger up to his lips in a shushing motion before finally walking off

And you just stand there in awe

It was him

You go home immediately, beginning to study different supernatural creatures and happenings

You print out pages and pages of all sorts of information on any type of guardian creature you can find

You’re certain this boy is something other than human and you’re sure that whatever he is, he must be in charge of your safety

Now every time you almost get hurt or in trouble, you look around wildly, trying to spot the boy who you’ve only really been able to see twice

Sometimes you’ll catch a glimpse of a figure walking around a corner out of sight, or a being seemingly disappearing into thin air

This boy must be following you everywhere and you’re determined to catch him again

Jun, who is very tired after all of the saving you and then concealing himself moments, sort of just... lets you

One day you turn around after surviving another potentially dangerous moment, and he’s just... standing there

You can’t think of anything else to say, so you just blurt out the question, “Are you my guardian angel?”

Jun just smiles and nods at you, “Nice to finally meet you”

He walks you home that day

And you have a million questions for him

“Did you chose me or were you assigned to me?”

“What abilities do you have?”

“Have you been with me my whole life?”

“Do you have like... a boss?”

“Actually what is the system like?”

“What other supernatural creatures exist?”

“Do you have a name?”

He interrupts your next question by answering, “Jun.”

It silences you for a moment

“I like that name.”

Jun smiles brightly at you

You notice he sort of... glows

To say your relationship moves fast is an understatement

Jun knows your time together will be short

He’s heard what has happened to other guardian angels who have broken the rules

Someone will be coming for him

But he knows he’s in love with you

And wants to make sure he takes advantage of all the moments he has left with you

He’s very forward

But since your safety and comfort is his top priority, he always lets you set the boundaries beforehand

He’ll never do anything you don’t want him to do

But he’s definitely going to do anything and everything that you are ok with him doing

You feel strangely comfortable around him

Obviously you know he’s there to protect you and he’s been there your whole life

But it’s still strange how easy it is for you to just fall right into Jun

He holds your face in his hands and looks at you like you’re the whole world

And to him you are

Nothing has ever mattered to him as much as you

And all he wants to do is spend as much time with you as possible

He wants to go on all the traditional human type dates and do all the cliché human couple things 

The two of you celebrate every human holiday in like a week so he can experience what it’s like lol

On the day you celebrate Valentine’s Day he gets you every cheesy gift he’s ever seen humans get each other

“Jun how am I supposed to sleep with this many giant teddy bears in my room?”

“You’ll figure it out”

Then you two celebrate Christmas and he definitely sets up mistletoe on every doorway

You don’t miss how tightly he holds you at night

Or the way he looks at you like you’re about to disappear

Or the way he always needs to suddenly reach for you to make sure you’re there

You know something is off

Why would your guardian angel suddenly show up out of the blue to spend your life with you?

“Junnie, you’d tell me if I was gonna die right?”

“What? [Y/N], what makes you think you’re gonna die?”

He comes and kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his

“I don’t know, sometimes you just act like... this is all going to end at any moment.”

Jun knows he should tell you 

But he just wants the two of you to stay in your little bubble for as long as possible

“It’s just because I love you so much, and I just want to make sure you’re always safe and happy”

He clings to you even tighter the next few days

He knows he has to tell you asap so he wants to give you the best days of your life

He’s so doting

Makes you breakfast every day

Is always right there to show you affection

Wrapping his arms around you from behind

Resting his head on your chest and gazing up at you

Ruffling you hair

Pressing kisses all over your face

Letting his hands stroke up and down your arms and then all the way down to your fingers sending goosebumps across your skin

And then one day he gives you a gift out of nowhere 

It’s a beautiful necklace that looks like one single angel wing

“Oh Junnie, I love it” you say putting it on immediately

You quickly notice that he’s wearing a necklace with a matching wing

“[Y/N], I need to tell you something.”

He sits close to you and strokes your hands with his thumbs as he lays out the reality of your situation

His heart is in the pit of his stomach by the time he’s finished and he’s ready for you to run away and leave him behind

But when you assure him that you also want to make the most of every moment you have left

He’s so happy he could cry

So you start to take him on all the typical cheesy human dates

So that way the two of you have plenty of happy moments together while also getting to experience everything

The carnival

Picnics

Walks on the beach

Stargazing

And it’s honestly perfect every time

When he stares lovingly down at your face, stroking his thumb slowly up your cheeks then leans in to kiss you slow and sweet under the stars, you feel like you could fly

Your happiness is short lived though

You’re not even surprised when two men show up at your door asking where Jun is

Despite not being surprised, you are devastated 

The two of you put up a good fight

But the ending was inevitable

You watch helplessly as they drag Jun away from you

But before he’s gone completely he calls out to you

“If it’s in this life or the next, in this world or another, I will come back to you”

And as you see the look in his eyes during those last few moments

And see his expression as he says those words

You know that he will

[crossdressingdeath]

Seeing your post about how JYL has a 'ranking system' in her head when it comes to WWX and JC hits so hard, but honestly, the more I read into the Jiang family dynamics, the more I agree. JYL obviously loves WWX, but I don't know if she's capable of putting him above JC. And we see her defending him, and she obviously gives her life for him, but she was also reacting in the moment. Not to speak lightly of her sacrifice of course, but I just feel like there are certain limits to how 1/7

far she's actually willing to go for him. I was initially one of JYL's staunch defenders, and always said that, unlike JC, she didn't have the same amount of political power as him, wasn't in a position to do anything about the Wens, ect. But...I'm starting to question if that's really true. JYL may not have had much direct political power herself, but she was the sister of a sect leader, and even if JC was unwilling to help, JYL had just married into the richest and most powerful sect 2/7

at the time. It was a love marriage, JZX adored her and would've done anything for her if she'd just bothered to ask him for it. Madam Jin also cared for her and respected her, and between her and JZX, had JYL actually bothered to tell them anything, I'm sure they would have been able to sort something out. Or she could have had it as a condition of her marriage - I'm not marrying into the sect that's trying to kill my brother unless you tell your father to stop. Had it been reversed and 3/7

The Lans were calling for JYL and JC’s deaths, no way in hell WWX would’ve just married into the sect, regardless of LWJ’s involvement. Instead she just doesn’t really do anything. We see no proof that she ever tried to see WWX after the wedding dress incident, which — god I instantly saw it as a sweet gesture, but now it just bothers me, because your brother is living in squalor, and you decide to show if the expensive dress that you’ll be 4/7

wearing when marrying into the sect that's trying to kill him, you bring along one bowl of soup for him, and don't even try to explain WHY you're marrying into said sect. Beyond that, we don't see a single moment up until her death where JYL actually seems concerned about WWX, puts in effort to try to see him - she doesn't even ask him how he's doing the one time she does come to see him. When we compare that to how WQ treats WN, yeah, she's outwardly not as loving or sweet, but she 5/7

goes to the ends of the earth for her brother, even going as far as to betray her sect and risk WRH's wrath because he asks her to. And now we come back to that ranking system you mentioned before - yeah, it really does seem like JYL places her blood family first, which definitely hurts, but in comparison, despite only knowing him for a shorter amount of time, WQ truly grows to think of WWX as a second brother. And she treats him as such, at an equal level with WN - after JZX dies 6/7

WQ doesn't attack WWX for what happened. She doesn't try to come up with a way to sacrifice WWX instead and let WN survive in his stead. She and WN, two people who have become WWX's family, both give their lives to protect both him and the rest of their remaining family members. And it's just frustrating to think that the one member of WWX's adopted family who we all thought treated him like an actual brother, might not have really been on his side after all. 7/7

Yes! To start with the wedding dress thing, because it drives me nuts when people treat that like some super sweet act of love: JYL shows up in the Burial Mounds with no money, no sign of having tried to talk the sects around, no news outside of her own, no food beyond a couple bowls of soup (one of which she gives to the guy who can’t eat), and doesn’t so much as ask WWX if he’s okay. She literally came all that way to have a family meal, ask WWX to name the future nephew it’s becoming increasingly clear he’ll never meet, and tell him about her impending marriage into the family that’s currently doing everything in its power to destroy WWX’s life. Like, if you think about it that entire visit is such a slap in the face; “Here’s a bowl of soup while the people under your protection are starving, oh by the way I’m going to marry the son of the guy actively trying to get you killed, okay bye”. All you can say in regards to her helping WWX is that she does potentially manage to persuade JZX to invite him to JL’s one month celebration, but if memory serves the novel never actually specifies whose idea that was and it was JZX who decided to go get WWX after JGY told him about seeing JZXun heading in the direction of the Burial Mounds. And even then JZX does the same thing JYL does; sees WWX outnumbered and surrounded and tells him to stand down. At least in JZX’s case you could argue that the actual fighting hadn’t broken out and JZX probably trusted in his authority to be able to sort the situation out so long as WWX wasn’t actually acting aggressive (or defensive, rather), and he’s also physically strong enough that he may well have been able to intervene if the cultivators had attacked. JYL, when she does the same thing, has no authority and no physical power to defend WWX with. And yeah, both JZX and Madam Jin adore JYL, and neither of them seem super fond of JGS (JZX respects his father, but I don’t get the sense he loves him); if JYL had asked them for help it’s entirely possible they would’ve started at least circulating her version of events and demanding a proper investigation into what happened. But there’s no mention of her so much as trying, and she doesn’t offer to ask them when she visits WWX.

And yeah, compare WQ to JYL and it’s... well. WQ is so quick to offer WWX her love and care? She’s harsh, but she loves him and views him and WN on such equal footing that she and WN willingly hand themselves over to the Jins for WWX’s sake without her so much as bringing up the possibility of saving WN instead. There’s no ranking for WQ; WWX and WN are her brothers, and she loves them, and she’d do anything to protect them. When it becomes clear she can’t save WN (like hell the sects would let him live, and by this point it’s pretty clear that WWX won’t be able to protect them forever) she throws her whole weight behind defending the brother she thinks she might still be able to save, even if it means bringing WN with her to die. WQ knows WWX for... a year or two? Maybe? The timeline is a little hazy. Not long compared to JYL, anyway. And yet she’s willing to walk all the way to Lanling to die in the hope of saving him. It’s for her whole family, yes, but she makes a point of including him. Basically, I think this fandom needs more stuff wherein the Jiangs and Wens survive and the Wens are fully like “Our brother now, you don’t deserve him”.

The thing with JYL is... she loves WWX, she genuinely does, but he is never going to be first for her. To the point where she outright enables JC’s abuse, in places; she always expects WWX to be the one to grin and bear it. Hell, one of their first conversations involves JYL cheerily allowing WWX to cover up JC locking him out of his bedroom and scaring him out into the woods by threatening to set dogs on him! Let me rephrase that: she allows a traumatized nine-year-old to hide the fact that the kid her dad expects him to share a room with locked him out of said room on his FIRST NIGHT and threatened him with his LITERALLY WORST FEAR, and as far as we know makes no attempt to tell JFM herself. To keep JC out of trouble. That is such a thing! WWX was scared to the point of running away and JFM expects him to share a room with the person responsible for that and JYL goes along with him promising not to tell JFM so that JC won’t get in trouble! And from that day forwards everything is just “Boys will be boys” to her. Like, let me put it this way. Before LWJ (and arguably the Wens before that, although WWX saw himself more as protector than protected there) JYL was the person WWX trusted to protect and care for and comfort him above all others, yeah? She’s the one he thinks of as having his back? He doesn’t tell her about JC trying to kill him. JC tries to kill WWX three times before JYL’s death, and WWX doesn’t say a word to her about any of them. You could argue that he doesn’t want to involve her, but... JYL pretty clearly takes JC’s side every time JC starts having a go at WWX. When he chases him out of their room, when he starts snapping about how annoying WWX is, when he stabs WWX... She never outright says it, but there really does come a point where by staying neutral you’re siding with the aggressor, and she reaches that point a lot. Hell, the stabbing is one of those aforementioned near-murders! JC stabbed him! According to WWX (who downplays serious injuries, he never exaggerates them) he had to hold his guts in! WWX is talking about a pretty fucking serious injury (and JYL grew up in a cultivation sect, I don’t believe for a second she doesn’t at least know what constitutes a serious injury) while JC whines about a broken arm like it’s worse than having to physically hold your guts in until you can reach a doctor and JYL acts like those are equal! JC could easily have killed WWX and has enough training with the sword to know better than to go for a blow like that in a staged fight and JYL doesn’t even suggest he should apologise.

Honestly? The more I think about JYL the more it pisses me off that she’s treated like WWX’s best sister more than WQ is. Imagine WQ seeing one brother stab the other in the gut and take the former’s side because the latter broke the former’s arm. Imagine WQ so much as considering allowing a child to cover up the kid he’s supposed to share a room with locking him out and scaring him into running away. She wouldn’t! Because WQ sees her brothers as equals. She won’t pick WN over WWX just because they’re blood siblings; she loves them both, and will choose based on who she thinks is in the right. And she wouldn’t just stay neutral to avoid rocking the boat, oh no. If WQ heard WWX say that WN stabbed him and did enough damage that he had to hold his guts in... oh boy would WN have a bad day. The thing with JYL is that she seems like a good sister in comparison to the rest of the Jiangs; stick canon JYL into a family that genuinely loves WWX and sees him as equal to their other children, and she would not look anywhere near as good.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 4

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

TW for this chapter: Sexual abuse (skip to the solo ". . ." to skip that part)

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 - Breaking Out of Hell

Song Qingshi finally connected the child with the red tear mole in his memories and the peerless beauty on the golden bird frame.

Someone eavesdropping on their conversation clapped his hands and laughed: "Xie Que is really wicked. It must have been so amusing to see when the little apprentice discovered the truth."

Since Jin FeiRen had cultivated immortality, he had received countless beauties, but he was still excited about the moment that Yue Wuhuan entering the door: "That year, when I was eight hundred years old, I received countless congratulations, so I held a feast on this Langgan stage and invited all my friends to celebrate together. Xie Que also came with Wuhuan. He seemed to tell Wuhuan that he was going to send him to Golden Phoenix Manor to learn sword fighting. Wuhuan was overjoyed. When Xie was absent, he took out the spirit bead and asked me to inspect the slave. His incredulous expression was really cute. . ."

Jin FeiRen casually played with the long hair of the boy in white, forcing him to look at the beauty on the golden bird stand, and then told everyone about the past events:

At that time, Yue Wuhuan had just grown up, wearing the Yuelan clothes that all immortal disciples liked, with a sword on his waist, his hair tied with a simple white jade crown. His body had a clean smell, his facial features were exquisite, and his phoenix eyes were clear and innocent. He had dignified manners, unlike someone with a mortal origin, but like the young son of the immortal family.

He earnestly bowed to the immortals at the banquet and then told Jin FeiRen that he was already in the middle stage of foundation building and that he would work hard to master his sword at Golden Phoenix Manor in the future, and live up to Master's expectations and become like Mo Yuan. The powerful sword repair. At that time, everyone laughed, and there was an ambiguous atmosphere that was built from the laughter. Yue Wuhuan realized that there was something wrong with their laughter and wanted to retreat. Jin FeiRen had already walked down, lifted his hand, studied it carefully, and laughed: "Such a beautiful hand is not suitable for swordsmanship. It's more suitable for serving people."

Yue Wuhuan's face turned pale and he desperately retracted his hands.

Jin FeiRen let go and smiled: "Immortal Xie, since you have brought some excellent goods, you must let me inspect the goods."

The people in the room also clamoured and demanded to inspect the goods on the spot.

Yue Wuhuan watched as his master took out a red bead. He turned his mind, and lost control of his body. He desperately tried to prevent his trembling hands from reaching his waist and threw his most treasured sword away like trash. Long sword. Then, his belt fell, and the layers of Yuelan's clothes faded away. His self-esteem was destroyed in front of everyone, and his dream of cultivation was crushed to pieces.

All sounds of the dinner stopped, and all eyes were staring at the beautiful scenery.

Jin FeiRen couldn't help but straighten up.

Yue Wuhuan was struggling in this controlled state, wishing to die on the spot. He looked at his master in pain, his beautiful lips squirming, and begged silently. Xie Que finally walked towards him and gently stretched out his hand, just like when he touched his head every day to praise him.

Xie Que gently pulled off his white jade crown.

The white jade crown fell to the floor and smashed into pieces. The long, slightly curled hair dropped down to his waist like a waterfall, covering the enchanting Acacia Seal on his pale back. The despair and helplessness in the dark golden phoenix eyes were enough to arouse any raging thoughts. The red tear-shaped mole made people feel allured, and the originally beautiful boy was turned into a seductive collectable.

The more Wuhuan struggled, the more his head lowered to hide himself away in embarrassment.

Xie Que grabbed Yue Wuhuan's long hair and pulled it back fiercely, forcing the ashamed young man to raise his head so that everyone could see one of the best beauties of the country.

He smiled and said: "My vision is never wrong."

. . .

The sound of the flute resonated further, and the depth of the sadness in that lingering sound became more devastating.

Song Qingshi's throat stiffened from sadness, and he was left a little breathless. He gradually understood the meaning of the words Yue Wuhuan said by the river bank. He seemed to see himself locked in a physical prison from his past. He shouted every day, but no one could hear his cry for help.

He didn't want to think about it anymore. He already knew the answer.

He wanted to save was this bruised beautiful bird with his strings of scars.

Song Qingshi began to think wildly about how to naturally whisk this boy away.

The song ended, the flute stopped, and the remaining notes curled away into the wind.

The guests had already been enthusiastic from the song, and now some were even making fools of themselves.

Jin FeiRen got up and announced boldly: "This is the toy that Golden Phoenix Manor will give to you all immortal friends tonight. Please enjoy!."

Song Qingshi was startled and looked back worriedly. Yue Wuhuan only raised his eyebrows. It seemed that he was used to such a scene. He indifferently cast a wink at the immortal beside him, his beautiful calves stretched out under the feather skirt, shaking the bells on the golden shackles on his feet. He swayed them towards everyone as if inviting them to taste.

The Hidden Moon Sect's Young Master looked at him with desire. He raised his hand to grab his foot and wanted to tear off the feather skirt and drag him off to the side to play around with.

Suddenly, there was an exclamation from outside the hall, and the maids and servants fled one after another. A demon tiger rushed into the hall. Its eyes were red, staring at Yue Wuhuan, roaring in a low voice, as if it saw some delicious prey. Yue Wuhuan’s eyes began to glaze over as if he had been drugged. It was like he didn't know what fear was. He actually walked towards the demon tiger, closer and closer, seeming not to know what it was. . .

LingBao Xianzun said in surprise: "This is the show my friend arranged tonight? Such flair!"

The guests were full of drunken spirit. They were getting extremely exciting and started cheering.

The white-clothed boy finally couldn't help standing up. He pushed Jin FeiRen away, and shouted: "Stop! Don't do this! This sort of show. . . is too much!"

Jin FeiRen was a little puzzled. He had arranged a demon tiger hunting slave game tonight, but he was only going to use ordinary slaves. Why would he ever be willing to use such a stunning beauty as Yue Wuhuan? But now the atmosphere of the guests was too energetic. Yue Wuhuan knew how to ensure the guests would not be disappointed and keep the energy. The accusation of the youth beside him also made him feel like he lost face, so he sneered: "Why not? You just have to open your eyes and take a good look. If you dare to disobey me, I'll let you have a go against the beast."

The white-clothed boy's face turned pale. He opened his mouth, but he dared not make any more noises.

Seeing him approaching, the demon tiger became even more frantic and lost its wit. He grabbed Yue Wuhuan's shoulder and bit down. Yue Wuhuan’s shoulder was torn open with a big, bloody mouth. He finally woke up from his dazed state and drew back. The demon tiger still continued to grab and bite at him, trying to tear up what was trying to escape in front of him.

Song Qingshi racked the original body's memories until he found a suitable attack spell he could use. He turned the Underworld Ghost Fire into a needle as thin as cattle hair and shot it at the demon tiger's body. The demon tiger raised his head and roared, and the thin needle that should have been hit its neck hit its leg insted.

Fortunately, the poison of the Underworld Ghost Fire spread quickly in the demon tiger. The demon tiger instantly grew stiff and fell on its side After a while, it turned into a boiling corpse and evaporated.

Song Qingshi got up and walked towards Yue Wuhuan who was lying in a pool of blood. He quickly sealed the wound and pressed a few acupuncture points to stop the bleeding.

Yue Wuhuan was trembling in pain. He kept panting, his beautiful face was covered with blood, and he looked like a ghost. Looking at Song Qingshi, there was no joy of being rescued, only deep resentment and despair. Finally, before he passed out, he said in a soft voice that was almost inaudible: "I was so blind. . ."

Song Qingshi put a spirit pill in his mouth to keep his heart working.

Jin FeiRen came over and was very displeased: "Song Xianzun, why did you kill my demon tiger?"

This demon tiger was his most valuable treasure, capable of human intelligence, and able to protect his master. Much more valuable than a tired slave.

Song Qingshi put himself back into the character of the original body, and said coldly: "I want him."

Jin FeiRen smiled and said, "Was Xianxun actually moved by this display?"

Song Qingshi replied: "I will use him to test my medicine."

He wanted to use Yue Wuhuan to try various miraculous medicines to restore his body to what it used to be!

Under Song Qingshi’s deliberate misguidance, Jin FeiRen was completely fooled. The advantage of the wood spirit root system was that the natural body had a strong resilience and was a good choice for medicine refiners. Medicine Master Xianzun’s behaviour was like immortals that flew through the sky. It was hard to guess what he was thinking. Since the demon tiger was dead, there was no point in investigating it, so it's better to take this opportunity to have Song Qingshi owe him a favour.

Song Qingshi took out a bottle of his immortal pills from his mustard bag, and didn't really count out how much he took out. Instead, he directly handed them to Jin FeiRen as compensation. Refining pills were extremely beneficial to practicing cultivation. It’s just that the materials were extremely precious, and they were very hard to come by. Pills refined by the Medicine Master Xianxun himself were even more of a rarirty. Considering this was compensation for the demon tiger and a slave he was tired of playing with and might now even make it. . . this was a very sincere offer. . .

Song Qingshi was afraid that he would reject the offer, so he thought about it and then said: "This tiger has been drugged. He was overly vicious and had become deranged, so it couldn't be left as was."

Jin FeiRen hurried down the steps, erased his spiritual thoughts from Yue Wuhuan's bead and transferred them to Song Qingshi. He thanked him for discovering the tiger's madness and killing it without injuring the guests on the court and ordered someone to investigate the demon tiger being drugged.

Song Qingshi courteously paid his farewells to Manor Lord Jin and rejected his enthusiasm for sending him home with some beauties.

He picked up Yue Wuhuan, who was seriously injured and still unconscious and stepped out of this hell of jade carvings.

In hell, there were still many souls that still couldn't escape. . .

Behind him, the carefree laughter grew farther and farther away.

The blood on Yue Wuhuan's face has been wiped away, and the crow feather-like eyelashes are tightly closed, trembling slightly, fragile and beautiful.

When Song Qingshi looked at him, his heart gradually became firmer.

He suddenly remembered the story his mother told when he was a child:

There are thousands of fish from the tide pushing them into the shallow puddles on the beach.

He has no way of saving all the fish. He can only release the dying fish in his hand to the freedom of the sea.

"Because this fish cares."

[passable-talent]

reader exclusively refers to Anakin as Skywalker and teasing nicknames and never Anakin because they have that totally rivals who Do Not get along/would die for each other/kinda "I'm down if you're down but I'll never admit it and neither will you" dynamic. Reader *only* calls him Anakin in emotionally heated moments, e.g. he just got hurt REAL bad and reader is panicked. rivals/reluctant partners to lovers, maybe friends in between. this is hella specific so feel free to take some liberty w/ it

cute. very cute. that kinda dynamic is what I feel like everyone has with anakin

yall came THRU with the anakin requests and im HERE for it 

So, uh... stealth missions with Anakin Skywalker tend not to stay that way. 

He’s impulsive, he’s quick to decisions, he’s unpredictable. It’s irritating. 

“Was there not a plan?” You shouted at him over the firing of droids. You stood side by side with him, deflecting them, allowing Ahsoka and your combined droid units to get to the side. “Or did I hallucinate the entire mission briefing?” 

 “You actually listen to those?” He shot back, then tearing down the hallway after his clones. You followed, saber held behind you while you ran, frustration ringing in your ears. 

“Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have so much head trauma!” 

“I don’t have any head trauma!” You snorted incredulously, dodging another group of fire by shoving him further from a hallway’s corner so you could slide in beside him, the red bursts of energy ringing past your ear. 

“You think so, Quick Fire? Memory loss- that’s the head trauma.” He rolled his eyes briefly, but his attention was taken from your banter by Rex, giving yet another update as to where you were supposed to be heading.

Unlike the Jedi Knight beside you, the one you loathed to be on a mission with, you knew the point of this mission, and you knew the plan that had now evidently been thrown out the window. You were meant to infiltrate a separatist listening post, and dispose of the droids running it, all without drawing the attention of Grevious. 

“Now that they’ve sent up the alarm, we’ll need to destroy the base, to make sure they can’t use it again,” Skywalker said, his saber sheathed and at his hip while he gave his piece. 

“We can set up detonators and explode them remotely,” Ahsoka offered, and Captain Rex quickly pulled something up. 

“If we place them around the heating system core, it should amplify the explosion,” he said, and Skywalker nodded, igniting his lightsaber again. 

“Then into the basement we go,” he said, rounding the corner to droids who had gotten much closer, and quickly tore through most of them. You followed, side by side with Ahsoka, clearing the way for the clones. It didn’t take long until the path was clear, even though alarms still rang through the halls. 

The base was small, which served your purpose well. It didn’t take long to descend into the heating system, but it took long enough that more droids had amassed. Why so many damned tin cans were needed for one listening post, you didn’t know, but still you stood between them and Anakin, drawing their fire to allow him to concentrate. 

“There’s one more,” he shouted, coming to your side, saber in hand.��“It’s all the way at the bottom. Lead the clones out while I distract them, and once you’re out, I’ll place it. Then we’ll blow the place.” You grit your teeth as you deflected another blast. 

“I’m not leaving you here alone,” you said, and you meant it. 

“It’ll be easier for one to escape than twenty. Go!” Destroying the last droid in front of you, you turned to him, eyes narrowed. You could hear another wave approaching. 

“Am I sensing nobility in you, Skywalker?”

“Am I sensing hesitance in you?” Humor was a distraction, especially with more droids coming closer, and you needed to use this break in waves to escape. 

“You better make it out,” you told him, “you’re not dying on my watch by anything other than my hand.” 

“Oh, I’m not dying, either way.” You shook your head, turning to the rest of the men. 

“Clones, with me!” Skywalker ordered Ahsoka to follow you as well, and you ran up the stairs, blasting your way from the post and into the snowy landscape of the asteroid it was positioned on, your escape giving Skywalker the distraction he needed to place that detonator. 

Hidden under a rock ledge, you and Ahsoka gathered around Rex’s communicator, keeping you aware of Skywalker’s movements. 

“It’s placed, and the droids are almost here,” he said, running up the stairs you had traversed not long ago. “Get ready to blow it, Rex. On my word.” 

“Copy.” 

“He should be here, by now,” Ahsoka said, and your gaze shifted to her. You hadn’t realized it, but she was right- if Rex was going to blow the base, Skywalker needed to be at least as clear as this embankment, or he’d get caught in the blast. 

“Rex, now!” Skywalker shouted, and you yelled ‘wait!’ but Rex had already followed orders. You shot to your feet and launched to the top of the cliff which had meant to serve as your protection from the blast, just to see Skywalker open a door, fifty feet back from the outer wall of the base. Your gaze connected to his, and you saw panic in his eyes, not for himself, but for you. 

“Get down!” He shouted, and such an order needed to be followed. You stepped back and off of the cliff, holding yourself from a fall by your fingertips, and you felt the blast of heat on your knuckles when it blew. When the rumbling of the stone beneath you faded in time with the light and sound above you, you waited just a moment to hear him reach you- but he didn’t. 

You pulled your torso up, trying to find purchase for your toes, but the view you found nearly shocked you enough to send you plunging downward. 

He was pinned to the snow by a piece of scrap metal double his size. And he wasn’t moving. 

“Anakin!” you shouted, the name leaving your lips without a second thought as you pulled yourself the rest of the way up, so you could run to his side. A combination of your desperation and your Force powers lifted the metal from him, and it revealed where it’s upper half had impacted his head and its lower half had impacted his lower back. Both had drawn blood, but his back was much worse. It had torn through his robes, and you couldn’t tell how deep the cut was. 

“Ahsoka, get up here,” you ordered through your wrist comm, and in the time it took for her to reach you, you’d piled snow onto the wound on his back to slow the bleeding. You had nothing else at your disposal. 

“We’ve got to get him back to the ship,” you said, though you hated to move him, after a head injury. You didn’t know if a neck injury was involved too, and that would be so much worse. 

“I’ll call it as close as I can,” Rex said, and the clones set to work while you and Ahsoka worried over him. Really, there was nothing you could yet do but keep pressure on the wound, and keep from moving his neck. It looked bad- you hoped that it was just melted snow making it look like there was so much blood. 

“General! It’s as close as we can get it!” You threw a look over your shoulder at Rex, and the ship they’d landed a hundred yards away, where the debris was fewer and further between. You snarled, wishing anything could be done other than what you were about to do. 

You lifted him from facedown in the snow by his arms, and threw him onto your back, dragging his toes through the snow as you ran. 

“Let’s move!” You shouted, and Ahsoka put herself in front of you so that as soon as you boarded, the ship’s door could close and they could lift off. Yularen’s cruiser wasn’t so far, where he could get better care, but until then he certainly needed to be monitored. Luckily, there was a small medi-droid on board. It wasn’t even a surgical 2-1B, just a tiny J6-P that warned you in the most irritating droid-basic you’d ever heard:

“ᴳᵉⁿᵉʳᵃˡ ˢᵏʸʷᵃˡᵏᵉʳ ʰᵃˢ ʳᵉᶜᵉᶦᵛᵉᵈ ᵐᵘˡᵗᶦᵖˡᵉ ˡᵃᶜᵉʳᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ ᵒⁿ ʰᶦˢ ˡᵒʷᵉʳ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ.“

“We knew that!” You roared, kneeling beside where you’d laid him lengthwise across little seats meant only to carry clones into battle. “Give me something useful!” 

“ᵀʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ˢᵘᶠᶠᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᶦⁿʲᵘʳʸ, ʰᶦˢ ⁿᵉᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᶦⁿᵃˡ ᶜᵒʳᵈ ᵃʳᵉ ᵘⁿᵗᵒᵘᶜʰᵉᵈ.”

“Good,” you said, looking aside to Ahsoka. “Find me some fabric, and water, if you can.” 

~~~

Once you’d docked into Admiral Yularen’s cruiser, Anakin was rushed to a med unit and placed into the medical wing. A wound like this wasn’t uncommon for a Jedi, especially one as reckless as Quick Fire, but still you worried for him. You sat beside Ahsoka on the two extra chairs given to the room, staring out the small window at the endless space and stars beyond it. 

When you looked at her again, she was fast asleep. 

“Ahsoka,” you said softly, nudging her awake. “Go to your chambers, get some sleep. I promise I’ll call you when he wakes up.” She stifled a yawn and shook her head. 

“You need the rest, too, master.” 

“You more than I. Go, love.” She gave you a grateful, tired smile, and retreated from the room. Once she was gone, you rolled her chair over to the window, tossing your feet up and onto it. You rested your head on the wall, and closed your eyes. Meditation came easily in moments like this, almost between sleep and wake, and so you could reach out to the Force, and feel it. Skywalker channeled the Force like a magnet, and so like always when you were around him, it felt like pushing into a magnetic field. His presence was as strong as ever. 

He was an idiot for ordering Rex to detonate before he was clear. He wasn’t far off- if he’d waited thirty seconds, he wouldn’t have had to go through this. Not that it was such an ordeal, he was already healed by the med unit and now just sleeping off the exhaustion, but still. Quick Fire didn’t need any more head trauma. 

A small groan came from the unit and you opened your eyes, waking yourself from what was almost sleep to find him awake. 

“Anakin-” you said, throwing your feet to the floor to stand at the foot of the bed. 

“Did it work? Is everyone alright?” He made to sit up, and you rounded the bed to shove his torso back down. 

“Everything’s fine. We’re on the Admiral’s cruiser, I just sent Ahsoka to bed. We made it out.” He nodded, his breathing falling to level, satisfied. 

“You’re still an idiot,” you said, after a moment. “You’re lucky I was there to carry your, once again, head-trauma’d ass off of that asteroid.”

“Maybe I’d stop taking risks if you’d stop covering for me.” You shook your head and pulled a chair over so that you could sit at his bedside. 

“No, you wouldn’t,” you said, almost fondly. He smiled. You like when he does that. 

“You’re right.” Abandoning your better judgement, you reached out and brushed back some of his hair- it’s curl was quite pronounced, with all the sweat and smoke it had absorbed. His gaze stayed on your face, even as you watched his hair move through your fingers. 

“I told you you couldn’t die by anything other than my hand,” you reminded him.

“And I told you I wouldn’t die.” You closed your eyes, not having quite the energy to roll them. 

“I hate when you pull things like this, Anakin,” you said softly, and you didn’t turn your eyes to his face as a smile grew on it. So rare a treat it was that he got to hear his name from your mouth, and he appreciated it every time to its fullest. 

“But I love waking up to you.” You fixed him with a disapproving but lighthearted look, leaning your elbows onto the bed beside him. 

“There are easier ways to do that.” 

“Promise?” 

-🦌 Roe

[haloud]

things we could burn in one go (eminence) -- chapter 5

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, starts forlex ends malex, other characters may appear - Freeform, tags subject to update

Chapter Summary: With Max’s condition deteriorating and Alex struggling under the weight of his worries about his family and Project Shepherd, Michael goes to drastic lengths to get strong enough to protect them.

Excerpt:

All the soft spots they’d ever shown each other, all the ways they knew to dig in and hurt, and new pain was still a revelation, Michael discovered as Alex set his jaw and bared this truth: he didn’t believe in Michael, didn’t trust him as an ally, saw him as a liability before he was absolutely anything else. A burden.

“I never asked you to protect me,” he said.

Alex’s face twisted. Michael wanted to take the words back, but he didn’t know which ones. Maybe all of them.

He replied, “You never had to.” Then he stood. “I should get going. Thanks for the beer.”

And he got in his car and was gone.

Michael sat for a while. It was late afternoon, and it was hot, but Michael stared into old ashy iron like he was watching a bonfire. Storm clouds built up all billowy on the horizon. Static built up inside Michael’s head.

But it wasn’t Max’s kind of static, kinetic static, moveable, actionable, dangerous. Just a lowkey anxious buzz, formless and useless, a passenger in his skull alongside thoughts he couldn’t parse, like Michael himself.

His whole life he’d been a passenger. On a ship, in the system, in his own life, in the lives of others.

Maybe it was time to change that.

---

The bags under Max’s eyes grew heavier and darker, but he carried on like Isobel and Michael weren’t supposed to notice or care. Surprisingly, he hadn’t put up a fight when Isobel finally put her foot down and decreed he was staying with her until they figured out what was going on, but, more than likely, he was just too tired to fight her on it.

He was, of course, already awake when Michael let himself in and fired up the stove to make breakfast; Michael glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a door opening, and Max didn’t acknowledge him as he settled himself on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, his journal propped on his knees.

“What’s up?” Michael called over to him as he mixed the pancake batter.

“Same shit, different day,” Max replied.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Michael shrugged and let it go. If Max preferred to write about it, that was his prerogative.

“You working today?”

“Nope. You?”

“Not unless Sanders calls me in.”

Michael spoke without putting too much thought into it, but he ducked his head in embarrassment when Max smiled at him. Max’s open happiness whenever Michael let slip his own growing acceptance of the connections in his life was something Michael didn’t quite know what to do with—but he wasn’t going to snap at Max over it, especially when Max was struggling already.

“Chocolate chips or blueberries?” he changed the subject.

“Chocolate,” Max replied.

“Coming right up.”

He finished up the batter and poured the first three pancakes onto the heated skillet. As it sizzled, Michael’s mind wandered. When would Isobel get up? She was usually too nosy to let Michael and Max carry on for long without her, but maybe that was changing, or maybe Max’s state was driving it home for all of them the value of good sleep. Should they talk to Maria about giving Max more time off? No, she had a business to run, and she had eyes, she’d make an executive decision if Max became a liability, and he was capable of advocating for himself…

What was Maria up to? Maybe Michael should invite everyone around for breakfast instead of Thursday nights drinking; but then again, he enjoyed hosting Thursdays too much to draw attention to himself with a suggestion for a change of plans, in case everyone noticed and popped the soap bubble. He was pitiful enough already; any shift at all would be perilously close to begging.

Michael flipped the pancakes over and pictured doing the same to his stupid maudlin thoughts, getting out of his head and focusing instead on the patterns on the pancakes. One had a line going down the middle that almost resembled one of the sides of the alien symbol. That’d be something easy enough to make if he wanted to try his hand at something as frivolous as pancake art, but then, was he bold enough to go out of his way to create something they barely understood like that?

Jones would probably know the meaning of the symbol. He spent seventy years trapped behind it.

Nope. Michael’s ears prickled and he almost turned around to glance Max’s way; he had to force his head to stay still. No thoughts of Jones right now. Fuck that guy.

He slid the pancakes from the griddle to a waiting plate and poured three more. His phone buzzed in his back pocket, so he fished it out and thumbed it open. He had a text from Isobel, but nothing from Liz, still. And nothing from Alex, either, even though…whatever, it was fine, he’d probably fallen right asleep after a six-hour round trip to the airport last night. Michael would try calling him again later. Maybe. Or maybe he’d overstepped in asking him to check in. Alex didn’t owe him anything, he had a boyfriend, he was fine. Maybe Michael should just leave him alone.

The text from Isobel read: How are things going out there.

He texted back: Fine. Making breakfast.

 It smells good. How’s Max?

Michael chanced a look over his shoulder; Max had his head down, focused on his journal, so Michael couldn’t see his face.

 Tired.

From further in the house, Isobel’s door opened and shut, and Michael shoved his phone back in his pocket and flipped the pancakes, which had gotten a little over-experienced on one side.

“Morning,” Max said in a hoarse voice.

“Morning.”

Isobel dropped down onto the couch, almost landing on Max’s feet, which he yanked out of the way.

“How was your night?” she asked softly.

“Iz…”

“Max.”

“You know how it was.”

“Please, just talk to me.”

They were quiet for a bit, with only the sizzle of the pancakes filling the silence as Michael flipped them, until he couldn’t stand it anymore and turned around again.

Max and Isobel were staring at each other; Michael didn’t think Isobel was in his mind, more that they were just doing the freaky twin thing. Either way, it wasn’t going well, if the tense and drawn looks on both their faces were anything to go by.

“One of you want to help me out in here?” He interrupted them bluntly, handing Max the out as Isobel shot him an unhappy look.

Sure enough, Max took him up on it, swinging his legs around and standing up, going to put his journal in his room (away from Isobel’s prying eyes) before coming back to the kitchen and fetching silverware, plates, and syrup. He spread them out on the kitchen table—Isobel hadn’t gone full breakfast nook, much to her mother’s dismay—and took a seat, Isobel ambling over, while Michael slid the last pancakes onto the plate and brought them over to serve.

“Thanks, Michael,” Max said, taking his first.

“No problem.”

Isobel took her own, too, but she didn’t even pick up her fork and knife, folding her arms on the table and staring at Max with a line between her eyes.

“Please talk to us. Or, if it’s hard to put into words, let me look inside your head. Maybe I can make sense of what you’re seeing in dreams—memories—whatever they are.”

“There’s nothing to make sense of,” Max snapped. “Nothing I haven’t told you before. It’s the same nightmare from years ago, being chained to the floor.” His voice faded, and he said much quieter, “It’s the dread that keeps me awake. But I can’t tell if it’s dread for what will happen to me…or what I’ll do to someone else. I don’t know if I’m afraid of Jones, Louise, or myself.”

“Jones, of course.” Isobel’s eyes flashed, and she folded her arms. “When do we run errands for him again? I’d like to have a chat.”

“Please don’t make things worse,” Max said wearily, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

He really did look exhausted. Haggard and gray in a way Michael hadn’t seen since the days after they brought him back to life. How long could he keep going like this?

“Have you talked to Kyle?” he asked.

“Yeah. But what is he supposed to do? I can’t go in for a sleep study or anything, sleeping pills don’t work, we don’t have a lot of options.”

“The fact that you think confronting him might make things worse just proves that he’s doing something to you!” Isobel burst out.

“How could he be doing something to me from underground, twenty-five miles away? What is he doing, breaking into your house, past the security Alex installed specifically for you, and disappearing into the night after just…giving me a bad dream?”

“We don’t know everything he can do with his powers, no matter how much work I’m putting in. Maybe he is!”

Michael watched back and forth as they argued, Isobel’s anger and worry, Max withdrawing deeper into himself. Breakfast was forgotten, unsurprisingly, Michael’s attempt at caring for his siblings insufficient for the situation they were in.

“Whatever!” Isobel said, pushing herself back from the table. “You’re not him, Max. I don’t care how many times I have to tell you before it sinks in. You’re not him, he can’t be trusted, and I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger because you’re too trusting.”

She stormed off before Max could respond, slamming her bedroom door in an echo of every fight the two of them had ever had, going back decades into childhood.

“And what about you?” Max asked Michael, his arms folded, body slumped in his chair. “You’ve usually got an opinion on my life.”

Michael snorted and didn’t take the bait, not caring if Max sensed his newfound restraint was born of pity. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think having an evil clone sucks. Better you than me.”

The words rang false. Michael would take every nightmare and sleepless night if he could. But hopefully Max was too tired to drag that out of hiding.

“Having an evil clone does suck.”

“Cheers.”

Michael clinked his glass of OJ against Max’s and downed it.

“Everything I thought I knew—everything I thought I was—it was all just a lie,” Max said, staring at the table. “Who am I supposed to ask, if not him? Maybe a new lie would be better than having nothing. Lies Jones tells…I don’t have any way of disproving. It would be something. Fucking anything. Isobel doesn’t understand.”

“Maybe she doesn’t understand your perspective,” Michael allowed. “But what she understands better than either of us is how mind control works. Buddying up with Jones is literally playing with fire, considering one of the four things we know for sure about him is that his first act on Earth was burning Hector Valenti alive for shits and giggles.”

Max raked his hand through his hair. “If it means I can get some fucking sleep? I might be willing to roll those dice.”

Michael’s eyes fell away from the exhaustion on his brother’s face. What was there to say to that? The only protection he could offer would be pollen to hopefully keep Jones from fucking with him, but with Liz still ignoring him, he wasn’t confident that the weakening effect of the pollen wouldn’t have a worse effect on Max’s already compromised health. Maybe he should get Valenti’s advice, but what would he even have to say? They had no way to test something like this.

So Michael was useless. What else was new.

“Isobel’s just scared of you getting hurt, man. Nothing’s changed for her; you’re not any less her person than you were six months ago.”

“Yeah, I know,” Max said with a sigh. “I just want to talk to him. Want to make him talk. I’ve thought about using L—about using some serum to get answers, withholding the antidote until…”

He trailed off, and lifted his eyes, and Michael looked at him, and he looked back, and tears welled up in Max’s heavy eyes.

“Max,” Michael said.

“I know,” he choked.

Last time they had a conversation like this, their roles were reversed, and Max had a gun. But they had nothing, now, the only thing between them the table laden with the breakfast Michael cooked, sun streaming pleasantly through Isobel’s gauzy curtains. Michael stood—Max flinched at the scrape of chair legs across the floor—and he rounded the table, fisted his hand in Max’s t-shirt, and hauled him in, hugging him tightly to his chest.

Michael left Isobel’s place an hour later, after he and Max had separated without saying a word and cleaned up the kitchen, saving the pancakes for later, also in silence. Isobel stayed in her room, so Michael resolved to call her later as Max convinced him to leave, that things would be fine.

But just because Michael capitulated and left eventually didn’t mean he felt any lighter as he rattled down the road home, his phone bouncing along on the seat beside him. He’d never been so attached to the damn thing, but with everything going on with Max, with Jones walking around, with Project Shepherd rearing its head, quiet moments were indistinguishable from the teeth of a trap just visible around him. So the phone went where he did for the foreseeable. If someone called, if someone needed him, he’d be there.

He pulled into the junkyard and sat up stiff when he saw a familiar black SUV waiting for him. The day was warm and bright, no weather for a fire, but Alex was there at the fire pit, hands folded between his knees, eyes fixed on some point in space. He glanced up and waved, one corner of his mouth picking up in a distracted-looking smile as Michael pulled closer and parked.

“Hey,” he called, clearing the ground between them in a few long strides.

“Hey,” Alex responded.

“What’s up? You’re super early—Thursday’s still a few days away.”

“It doesn’t have to be a Thursday for me to want to see you,” Alex said, and, heart fluttering, Michael swept his hat off his head just for something to do with his hands.

“You, uh, you didn’t text me last night. Or this morning,” Michael blurted.

“I know. I’m sorry. When I got in last night, I—didn’t want to wake you up, and this morning…it was kind of a rough night. It slipped my mind.”

“Don’t gotta apologize. I was just worried, is all.”

“Then I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“I just said you don’t have to apologize.”

Michael sat himself down in the chair beside Alex and squeezed his knee to reassure him; his eyes fell to Michael’s hand, so he pulled it away self-consciously, stomach twisting when, a few seconds later, Alex rubbed his own hand over the spot Michael touched.

Fingers tapping nervously, he settled his hands on his own knees in a mirror of Alex’s position and said, “So what brings you out here? What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I just,” Alex pre-empted his next words with a shrug. “Wanted to say hi.”

“Oh.”

Michael didn’t quite know what to do with that, how to exist without a looming crisis, no matter how many Thursdays’ worth of practice he got. Most of those were about triaging some kind of bullshit in someone’s life anyway.

Casting round for a conversation topic, he said, “You look tired.”

As if commenting on his appearance was so neutral and inoffensive. Way to go, Guerin.

Before Alex had to try and come up with a response to a comment that inane, Michael added, “Of course, you were up all last night. Stupid question.”

Alex laughed, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Yeah, but it’s true I’ve had a lot on my mind lately anyway.”

Michael itched to reach out again. First Max, now Alex, and there was nothing he could do for either of them.

“If you need, Isobel can make Fields leave town,” he said. “I know it’s not exactly above board, but I want her gone as much as anyone, so…”

“No,” Alex shot down. “We don’t know what kind of defenses a Project Shepherd operator might have, and I won’t put a target on Isobel. It’s not just Fields, either, it’s personal stuff, too. Life’s not exactly stress-free.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

They fell quiet, but at least Alex settled back in his chair, relaxing from his tightly coiled posture enough that Michael forced his own shoulders to drop too.

“So how’re things going with Forrest?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, fine. Landed safely in DC. I need to text him back, actually.”

The question had been more about the general state of the relationship than Forrest’s physical wellbeing or whereabouts, but Michael wasn’t going to push past Alex’s discomfort or misunderstanding. No matter how far they progressed in their friendship, they might never get to the “dishing their romantic joys and woes” stage, not with their history. That was okay.

Alex made no move to take his phone out and send that text. Something else was clearly still weighing on him, so Michael resolved to quiet his own self until Alex was able to speak.

“I thought I saw my brother. At the airport,” he said eventually, folding his arms across his chest.

Michael sat up straight. “What? Which one?” By the tone in his voice, it clearly wasn’t Greg.

“Clay. If it was Flint, how bad I freaked out might at least make a little more sense,” Alex said with a snort and a shake of his head.

“What…what happened?”

“Nothing drastic. I chased some guy into the bathroom ready to confront him, but then it wasn’t Clay and I managed to play it off. Probably freaked Forrest out with the way I was acting.”

A pang went through Michael’s chest at the thought of Alex, alone and three hours away with only Forrest, who knew nothing of the truth about Alex’s family and the conflict between them, for backup. If it had been Clay—if he’d gotten the best of Alex in that shitty airport bathroom like Jesse did in the junkyard—

Michael rubbed his chest over his painfully racing heart.

Alex continued, “I can’t be sure. If he was tailing me specifically or if he suspected I noticed him—I only checked one set of stalls; I was too conscious of how I was acting.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “But I’m probably just seeing things, and it was just a similar-looking guy in a crowd, and I seriously need to figure my shit out.”

“Well, join the club,” Michael said. “It’s alright, man. It’s not like you worried over nothing; your family don’t know when to quit.”

“Forrest thinks working with Project Shepherd might help. He thinks it could help me understand my father more, and therefore move on,” Alex said with a humorless smile, a flat-soda expression, blankness where it shouldn’t be.

“He what?”

“Ugh, no, that’s not fair.” Alex ran his hands over his face again. The front of his hair stuck up from how many times he’d mussed it. “He doesn’t know. Anything except that my father and brothers are bastards—minus Greg. He didn’t mean anything by it—I shouldn’t be so fixated on it. I didn’t even realize I was until it just…came out.”

Michael couldn’t reach out and touch him to give him comfort; that wasn’t allowed. But he could go grab him a beer, so he did, and let him compose himself without Michael hovering. When they both had drinks and he was settled back in his chair, Michael took in Alex’s appearance again, the wrinkled collar of his black canvas jacket, the dark circles under his eyes, the tightness of his hands clasped between his knees. So much tension he could do nothing to soothe. He worried the inside of his lip between his teeth until he tasted nails.

“Have you heard from Greg lately? Maybe he would know if Clay was really in the area,” he said.

Alex shook his head. “No. With Fields and Project Shepherd hanging around, I don’t want him involved.”

And that, Michael couldn’t take it anymore.

“Just let Isobel take care of—”

“I said no, Michael!” Alex snapped, head jerking up, his eyes black and glittering and finally meeting Michael’s, and now it was Michael’s turn to want to look away, but he couldn’t. “Getting any of the three of you involved, it’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“I’m already involved if you’re involved,” Michael protested, gesturing wildly. “I’m not letting you face this bullshit by yourself!”

Alex’s nostrils flared. “I can take care of myself.”

“Duh. But you don’t always have to. I’m going to have your back.”

“Not if you get bagged and pumped full of anti-alien drugs, you won’t. I’m not letting my father’s legacy hurt you again, no matter what you say.”

Helplessness rose in Michael’s lungs like water, like flood and fury. His fingers flexed around his beer bottle, and he dropped it into the chair’s flimsy cupholder before he threw it away.

All the soft spots they’d ever shown each other, all the ways they knew to dig in and hurt, and new pain was still a revelation, Michael discovered as Alex set his jaw and bared this truth: he didn’t believe in Michael, didn’t trust him as an ally, saw him as a liability before he was absolutely anything else. A burden.

“I never asked you to protect me,” he said.

Alex’s face twisted. Michael wanted to take the words back, but he didn’t know which ones. Maybe all of them.

He replied, “You never had to.” Then he stood. “I should get going. Thanks for the beer.”

And he got in his car and was gone.

Michael sat for a while. It was late afternoon, and it was hot, but Michael stared into old ashy iron like he was watching a bonfire. Storm clouds built up all billowy on the horizon. Static built up inside Michael’s head.

But it wasn’t Max’s kind of static, kinetic static, moveable, actionable, dangerous. Just a lowkey anxious buzz, formless and useless, a passenger in his skull alongside thoughts he couldn’t parse, like Michael himself.

His whole life he’d been a passenger. On a ship, in the system, in his own life, in the lives of others.

Maybe it was time to change that.

There was only one road connecting Sanders’s to the main drag, so Michael’s tires hit the same ruts as Alex’s, at least for a little while. Then he was in town, then he hit the desert, and he was alone, at least for a little while. He rolled the window down to catch the breeze and squinted into the horizon.

Isobel was gonna fuckin’ kill him.

By the time he pulled up to the caves, the sun was hitting the stormclouds over town just right, burning them up against the broader lavender sky. He popped the glove compartment and grabbed the second pollen bracelet he’d made for Maria and slid it onto his wrist, pulling his sleeve down to cover it. He’d get it to her after this.

Climbing out of his truck, Michael stood and watched the sky for the while, the smudge of falling rain as the distant lights came on, and he smelled the storm, and the wind of it tugged his hair in a hundred different directions.

He headed inside as the first few raindrops reached him.

The tunnel wound long and dark into the earth, and Michael took it slow, hands in his pockets. Would Jones sense him coming, or would the bracelet protect him from even that? Isobel couldn’t sense Maria when she had the necklace on, but things were more uncertain with Jones. Even Michael, hollow-headed and senseless to so much of the psychic feedback Max and Isobel claimed they were capable of, couldn’t help but know when one of them was approaching. So, as advanced as Jones was, who knew what he would be able to sense.

He followed the ragged old footpath to the end of it, one hand trailing on the rough wall, trying to picture how it happened that Jones was marched down here and sealed away. And despite everything else he felt, he felt a twinge of pity—maybe they should let Jones choose a new place to hide out, somewhere away from his seven-decade prison.

The ground beneath his feet was worn by his mother’s feet, among so many ancient others, but walking it brought him no closer to understanding her, understanding anything. His mind reached out and came up empty for answers, again, and again, and again, and he understood, why the DeLuca women made the choices they did, what made the future and the past and the road between them worth any other sacrifice.

He came to the end of the path, where there was no door to knock on.

“Michael! What a pleasant surprise.”

Despite his words, Jones was the picture of serenity, clothes clean and pin-straight as always, hair and beard well-groomed, his cave home as neat and tidy as possible. He wasn’t nearly perturbed enough to actually be shocked by the visit.

“Cut the crap, you knew I was coming,” Michael said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy of a welcome,” Jones replied. “Come in, have a seat, and tell me what brings you here.”

“I’ll stand, thanks.”

Jones held up his hands, an edge of mockery to the motion, and he crossed the cave to his hot plate, where he had a pot of tea brewing.

“I suppose I shouldn’t bother offering you any?” He asked as he poured himself a mug.

Michael ignored that statement of the obvious and said, “Are you fucking with Max’s head?”

Adding sugar and stirring his tea and setting himself down on his one chair, Jones took his sweet time before he answered.

“Now, Michael.”

He sounded almost disappointed, like a school principal. It put Michael’s back up; he worked his jaw back and forth, unable to stay still, but maintaining every muscle of his body to keep from looking as much like a surly, misbehaved child.

Jones continued, “I couldn’t begin to tell you what’s going on in Max’s head, as much as I’d love to be of assistance. But then, if you were serious about getting him some help, you would have brought him along with you, now wouldn’t you? How about you tell me what this is really about.”

“Like I’m stupid?” Michael scoffed. “Giving you access to Max is the last thing we’re going to do. All I need to know is how desperate you are to get in good with him to know that.”

“And how would Max feel if he knew that you thought so little of him that you think him not capable of making his own decisions? I bet he doesn’t even know you’re here right now. Would he thank you for what you’re doing right now, Michael?”

Shut the fuck up. Michael didn’t bark it out loud; he held his tongue in the face of the glint in Jones’s eye. He was being toyed with, as ever. The beads of the bracelet were cool and smooth against his skin, and he couldn’t do anything but hope they were working as he resisted the urge to fiddle with them and draw attention to his attempt at self-defense.

“I don’t get thanked for a lot of shit,” Michael said flippantly, stepping further into the cave. “But it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

Jones just gave him a beatific smile at that, taking a deep swig of his tea.

“Well, I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, but without Max here for me to examine, there’s really nothing I can tell you. Perhaps we’ll all sit down together the next time you three come through with supplies.”

Fists clenching in his pockets, Michael scrambled for a way to speak up that wouldn’t put him on his back foot, wouldn’t give Jones all the advantage; at least, no more than he already had, now that Michael had come to him. But he wouldn’t—couldn’t—be dismissed. Not if he wanted to be strong enough to support Max, strong enough to stand beside Isobel.

Strong enough to protect Alex. To never be a burden on him again. A pillar of strength, never a weak spot. He had to be better, more, than he was. Jones was an imperfect key, but the shackles around him were too heavy, too tight to stand any longer, so without any other way to free himself, he groped in the dark for anything that fit the hole.

Fuck it. Silence wasn’t making his position any stronger.

“What if I told you let’s play ball?” he demanded.

“What do you mean?” Jones asked mildly.

“You’re always going on about all the things you could do for us if we gave you a chance. Well—I’m here. Asking. I want to be stronger, so. Teach me.”

Jones leapt to his feet, sloshing tea over his pants and hastily putting the mug to the side as he spread his arms wide.

“Michael, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad you’re finally ready to take the next step.”

“It’s not wonderful, it’s not anything,” Michael snapped back. “I just want you to teach me what you know about using our powers so I can get something other than the telekinesis going. Don’t get excited.”

“Of course! Of course.” Jones summoned a towel from the box he used as a bedside table and dabbed at the tea stains on his clothes. Then he paused, giving Michael a wry look. “If I’m teaching you, you can’t spend the whole time standing in the doorway. Take a seat on the bed so we can talk.”

What served as his bed was the mattress from Isobel’s old guest room, and Michael sat on it cross-legged, folding his arms and leaning back against the cave wall.

“Now, tell me. When did you first develop your ability to move things at will?”

“Uh. I dunno, I was a kid, we don’t know our exact ages. But I was probably around eleven, it wasn’t long after I came back to Roswell. Some…stuff was going on in my life, I was mad all the time, and one day when I got really pissed, it just happened.”

Jones was nodding as Michael spoke, and he poured a second mug of tea, stirred some sugar into it, and handed it to Michael, who still wasn’t drinking a damn thing this guy gave him, so he set it aside. As he prepared the tea, his chair moved across the ground to sit across from Michael and he sat himself down in it.

“That’s common in all children,” Jones said.

He radiated an aura of calm that had Michael’s skin crawling, blunt nails digging into his knees. But even as his senses paced, waiting for the trap to slam shut, he had to force himself not to reach for these scraps of affirmation—the slightest confirmation that he wasn’t the freak he’d grown up feeling he was—like some new and fragile green thing toward the sun.

Jones continued, “Emotional outbursts, that is. Early adolescence is a little old to come into your activation, but not abnormal, and considering the environment you were raised in…” His voice dripped disapproval, to the point Michael opened his mouth, furiously set to defend his own orphaning, but Jones didn’t leave room for interruption. “Well. Frankly I’m shocked yourself and Isobel developed anything at all. We never could have tested the capacity for offspring to activate in the complete absence of communal psychic feedback…or even the capacity to survive and mature. And Isobel, at the very least, had Max. You…you were completely alone, weren’t you? To do that to a child, in our society, would have been, forgive the expression, inhumane,” Jones smiled, as if he’d told a joke. “But, here you are, despite such awful neglect. It’s wonderful.”

Uncomfortable, Michael flexed his left hand and flattened both palms over his knees, dragging them slow and hard against the rough texture of denim. “It’s not like I did anything special. Just survived like any other kid.”

“Well, pardon me, but you survived like any human child. And you are quite a bit more than that.”

There was a time Michael might have agreed with him, angry and hurting and needy to be anything that wasn’t garbage someone left by the side of the road. Litter, lower than garbage that someone cared enough to put in its proper place. But now, praise like that—if it could be called praise—just put him more on edge.

“Can we get on with it?” he asked. “I don’t actually have all day. I don’t have a set schedule with Sanders, so regular lessons might be hard to make, but I can work something out with him…”

“Oh, never fear,” Jones replied. “The first step is the hardest. If you had had a responsible parent, this knowledge would have been introduced slowly, but as it is…”

“Hey!”

“As it is, your mother’s gone, so it falls to me. Isobel will come around too, in time. It’s good for the both of you that I’ve always considered myself a teacher before anything else.”

Jones got to his feet.

What the fuck was Michael thinking? He rose along with him, but Jones had the advantage, and he seized Michael by the temples before he could get to his full height.

“All the things you haven’t seen, haven’t felt or learned—” Jones enthused, “You, your sister, your brother, all your raw potential…I’m so glad you’re finally ready to take the first step toward seeing it realized.”

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

One hand wrenched tighter in Michael’s hair as the other snatched his wrist. He shook it in front of Michael’s eyes, face serious, voice booming.

“This? Is sacrilege.”

His nail scraped the thin skin of Michael’s wrist as he shoved a finger between the cord and him and yanked, then tossed the broken trinket away.

“Now, don’t struggle. This may hurt a little, but pain, I’ve found, is a powerful teacher.”

His hands began to glow, searing into Michael’s skin, so bright his eyes streamed, and he gasped for air in the heat and the pain, writhing in Jones’s grip, thrashing, but Jones gripped him tight and poured light into him.

It went on for seconds, an eternity, seven decades of lonely torture, then the light died, and Jones took his hands away, and Michael fell.

Every cell burned, an ant crawling, biting beneath his skin, in triple vision he stared at his shaking hands expecting to see his veins lit from inside, imprinted on his visual receptors shifting gold and pink and violet, scrawled with shimmering symbols, words he could read, words that had meaning that capsized under the next wave, he couldn’t grab hold of it, not for pain and not for wisdom, there was no order, sign and signifier, his mind was a symphony in a single note, cacophonous, fundamental, elemental, atomic disorder of minutes compressed to an instant.

He was screaming. He heard screaming. The sky was red and he held himself, screaming. The sky was blue, and he remembered screaming.

“M-M-M-i-i-i-c-c-c-h-h-h-a-a-a-e-e-e-l-l-l—"

Three voices spoke to him—he heard them three times. There had to be three, and there were, bending over him, hurting hands outstretched.

Get away! he cried, but it left his mouth as a wordless howl, and he flung out a hand, sending Jones flying away from him, slamming against the far wall of the cave.

While he was stunned, Michael scrambled to his feet—got himself moving, somehow, trapped in the chaos and agony he had no sense left of his own body, but he propelled it down the tunnel, stumbling and catching himself and where his hand hit the wall he left behind a handprint of pearlescent glass. He let out a moan of confusion and dread but couldn’t do anything but carry on, toward the sky.

The storm was loud enough to drown out whispers, cold enough to sting and soothe his skin, and he threw his head back to drown in the relief, rain in his eyes, in his ears and nose and mouth as he panted to the sky.

His vision still wove triple, in and out, but—had to get away—he staggered toward his truck anyway, but he lifted his foot, put it down, again, third time, then he was blinking, collapsing, clutching a slat of wood—park bench—center of town, how did he—he stepped again, and—gone.

When he landed he fell to his hands and knees, scraped them, parking lot, stared at his blood on the outside, until more blood joined the grit on the heels of his palms, and the agony, in three waves, poured out his mouth, out his nose, out his eyes, and there was only one thing he could do.

He screamed for his brother, for the healer, for Max.

He forced himself upright and—had to trust—where to put his feet—he sent himself to safety, to shelter, home.

[athrialuxegna]

Stronger than she thinks Part 5

Triggers warning: mental and physical abuse, violence, swearing

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Fanfiction  | Archiveofourown | Wattpad

Hi guys, I updated the last chapters so they seem nicer to read, tell me what you think about it in the comments. I also edited the links to the previous and next chapters as they were a total mess, sorry about that! I hope that you like this story so far, I try my best to readproof it, but some mistakes remain, my bad if it’s bothering you.

Thanks for those who lived a note on the previous chapters, it means at lot! -Lys

What was I doing? That question rang in my head as I made my way to the Child Care Service. I was not a fan of kids, they bothered me more than anything else. Their cries, tears, and temper tantrums were stress-inducing for me. They made me uneasy and self-conscious with their bluntness. As we all say, "truth always comes from a child's mouth" and that's what put me on edge. I didn't know what to expect of my babysitting day. Why did I accept such a thing? Eric, of course. I wanted to know if it was his idea or if it was just a sick joke on Max's part. One can never be so sure about others' intentions and hidden agendas. The leaders had the power to make everything possible within the walls of the headquarters. Why would they want me near orphans? That's what I intended to discover.

I played with my fingers, eyes fixated on the door decorated with drawings, tiny handprints, and a whole bunch of names. How many children find themselves alone every year? No idea, but it seemed that numerous of them had gone through that door to find a new home. It was not really surprising when we knew that their parents took risks on a daily basis.

Patrols in the factionless territory could turn bad pretty fast. The homeless didn't have anything to lose, they were determined to seek their revenge on the system that shut them down without any possibility to be part of it. I understood where they came from. They had to fight to live whereas all the other factions would sustain themselves without thinking twice about them. Except for the selfless Abnegation faction that helped them the best they could by providing them supplies, clothes, and from time to time, food. However, their violence had dire consequences in the Dauntless faction.

As the soldiers of the city, we were to protect and maintain peace in the streets. We were the first to suffer from the conflicts between Factionless and the system. These children were proof of that. I sighed deeply, my fingers caressing the weird painted animals.

" I'm glad you came here, they're really excited to meet you. "

Startled by Eric's deep voice, I turned around to find him, arms crossed, shoulder pressed against the wall a few feet away from me. A small smile stretched my lips, although I could tell that it didn't match my eyes. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of taking care of children. I have never done it before because I was always afraid to make something wrong and being an only child didn't help either. I swallowed thickly, trying my best to keep my cool in front of the young leader.

"Hey, I didn't know I was coming until now," I admitted in a whisper. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Don't be so tense, they're not that bad. I promise everything will be alright, they gave their word to behave." He reassured, eyes locked in mine.

"I'm not afraid of the children," I snorted softly. "I'm more nervous about me being around them..." I shifted my weight on my other foot before adding: "How do you do? I mean, with the initiates and… kids? " I asked, curious about his answer.

Eric snickered, I didn't expect him to be so confident and relaxed, it was as if he had done it his whole life. Which wasn't far from the truth, he had taken care of the initiates since he became a leader five years ago, if not more. I didn't keep track of time as often as I should considering my job but days were pretty much the same since I've been hired to be Harrison's assistant. I felt my cheeks burn and I looked at my feet, defeated that he mocked me for being a pansycake. Which I was, but still, it hurt.

"If I can do it, you certainly can, Chris. Come on, they won't eat you."

Before I could respond, Eric opened the door and made a sign for me to enter. I heard shuffling and whispers, all noises died down as soon as I was inside. The children lined up obediently, aware of Eric's presence behind my back. I felt intimidated under the scrutiny of their innocent eyes. They were of all different ages and sizes, some were almost teenagers.

"Hi," I waved, almost shy. "I'm Christine but you can call me Chris, it's nice to meet you all."

"Hi Chris." They exclaimed in unison.

One of the oldest stepped forward, his shaggy blond hair falling in his chocolate eyes. His joyful smile was contagious, I couldn't help but return it. However, his expression changed suddenly as he seemed to think about his next words. The younger ones kept gawking at me as if I was an alien coming from another dimension. I felt the tension rising in the room as the blond hair boy opened his mouth. Was he the leader of the group or something? Is this some sort of secret children cult?

It looked like it, and this boy gave me a lot of Eric's vibes. He held his head high, his torso pumped, shoulders behind. A future leader for sure... or another Brent. That thought made me frown. How could I compare him with this asshole without even knowing his name? It wasn't fair for the teen. I pushed away any unwanted images. Having a mental breakdown in front of the kids wouldn't do me any good. No doubt that Eric would report it to Max and I was good for an endless "vacation". The other kids looked at him with mixed expressions, some seemed about to explode from excitement or take a run at any moment to come back to their games, and some were tapping their foot impatiently as if waiting for a signal to be able to speak.

"Before we introduce ourselves and let you join us, you have to pass the test." The boy sounded much older than he looked at that moment.

My jaw clenched as I pictured Brent in his place. It was so easy to see the similarities between them. Were they related? If that's the case, I'll make sure to keep my distance. My eyes widened and I stole a glance at Eric who was smirking. He only shrugged his shoulders when he met my eyes. Damn him, he should have warned me beforehand.

"Depends on what this… test is."

What would they want me to do or say? The blond boy made a sign and all children moved in sync to gather around him, whispering between them to come to an agreement. What was that? After several seconds of heated debates, they finally took their original place. Mini soldiers, perfect future initiates, are already programmed to fulfill the faction's goals. Was it Eric's doing? All these questions drove me insane, I wanted to turn around and talk to the leader alone.

I needed some clarification on what's going on and the rules of this Child Care Service. While I was thinking of it, I didn't see any worker or nurse on my way here. Did nobody care about these kids? Was it a wicked way to push me to take the job? I was so lost that I didn't register that the teenager had taken another step forward, standing right in front of me. He was almost eye level to me, he had to be at least fifteen if not more.

"So, Chris. If you want to become one of us, you have to answer one question." The boy paused to look me dead in the eyes. "What do you think of Eric?"

I blinked a few times, unable to comprehend his question. He curled an eyebrow in defiance, a smirk playing on his lips. His expression matched Brent's perfectly, so much that I shuddered. Heat rose in my cheeks, coloring my skin a deep red, I felt hot and cold, shivers running down my spine. I gathered all my courage to not react when I caught a glimpse of satisfaction in his irises. I won't let this brat get to me that easily. In truth, I was a complete wreck Brent and the boy morphed into the same person in my mind, that same wolfish grin on their lips. I slapped myself mentally to snap out of it. I needed to answer that stupid question or else they'll consider me weak and that wasn't an option.

"Cat got your tongue?" Teased the teenager, arms now crossed over his chest, surely imitating Eric's posture, but lacking his charisma.

" No, I… I didn't expect that kind of question, that's all." I felt Eric's eyes boring into my skull from behind. "We don't work a lot together so I don't think I know him as well as you do, but I trust him, he's a good person, even though he's almost always in a bad mood. I also like his jokes." I added more quieter so that the leader couldn't hear me properly. "Don't tell him that I said that but, sometimes, he's not funny but I laugh anyway to not make him feel bad."

I think I gained some extra points with my remark because the kids burst into laughter, clutching their sides as if recalling the infamous jokes of Eric. I tried my best to smile when the blond boy extended his hand to shake mine. His hold was strong and confident, showing me clearly that I just entered his territory.

"Congratulations, Chris, you're welcomed in the CCS." He bent over to whisper softly in my ear. "Eric didn't lie, you truly are beautiful."

Stunned by his boldness, I stared at him, fear evident in my eyes. Wrong move. Something flickered in his eyes, a malicious glint that made me want to run for my life. What he said took time to reach my mind. Eric told him that I was beautiful? I blushed uncontrollably, his smile grew wider, believing that he was the one to have this effect on me. I opened my mouth to retaliate but he beat me to it.

"I'm Aidan by the way. I'm sure we'll get along very well." He called over his shoulder as he turned on his heels and joined the older ones.

Petrified, I jumped out of my skin when Eric's hand found my shoulder. He put it back right away as if I just burned him. His worried eyes plunged into mine and I knew that I was screwed again. Eric was able to pick up that something was wrong. Something that we couldn't discuss in front of the kids.

"Don't let Aidan get to your head, he just likes to mess with everyone. He's a good boy when you get to know him."

"Yeah, I'm sure." I replied dryly, unconvinced.

One by one, the children came to introduce themselves. There were so many names to remember and faces to attach them to, I started to feel a pounding headache making its way into my brain. At least, it helped me get my mind off Aidan and Brent. I already had a fan club following me like lost puppies around the room. Everytime I turned around they would hide behind furniture, playing innocent. This routine kept going for some time before I got tired of walking aimlessly. The only one following me without even hiding it was a little girl who hasn't said a word since my entrance. I crouched down to her level, a reassuring smile on my lips as she cowered a little from me.

"You didn't tell me your name before," I said gently.

She just looked at me, clutching a stuffed bunny in her tiny arms. Her emerald eyes were mesmerizing, I could almost drown into these pools of rich greenery, they were gradually lighter from the center to turn into a deep olive green on the outer ring.. She looked so small and frail compared to the others, I wondered what her story was. Seconds passed and she didn't try to make a sound. I finally gave up, it will take time for her to warm up to me that's all. I brushed her hair out of her eyes, revealing her porcelain skin.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, it doesn't matter."

To my surprise, she jumped into my arms and clung to me even when others wanted my attention. I sat in a chair, humming softly an old song from before the war. I didn't remember the lyrics nor the title clearly, but I could recall the melody anytime. The mute little girl was snoring in my neck as I rocked her back and forth. She dozed off minutes prior, lulled by my voice. I didn't realize that many children were sitting around us, listening and daydreaming.

Eric was sitting in a chair nearby, his hands behind his neck, eyes closed. He seemed different among the kids, less nervous and on edge, he didn't even have to raise his voice to make his point clear. The children surely respected him. The peacefulness lasted another twenty minutes before a knocking on the door stirred awake the few ones who had fallen asleep. I came back to reality, my hand entangled in the girl's brown hair. When did I begin to stroke her head? She looked comfortable on me, her hands held my shirt as if to prevent me from abandoning her. My heart ached painfully for her, she wanted affection and attention, as any of these kids.

"Chris." I looked up to see Eric towering above me, a knowing smile on his face. I rolled my eyes and he chuckled. "It's time for us to go, the next team is here to take over."

I admitted that I enjoyed my day here, as long as we forgot about Aidan. The girl in my arms shook her head, realizing that we were about to leave. Her fingers curled around my shirt, preventing me from putting her back down. I felt bad so bad that I hugged her back and whispered in her ear.

"I'll come back, I promise."

She refused to let me go as I tried to pry her off. I kept murmuring sweet nothings to ease her pain to no avail, she was stubborn as a honk. Eric approached and tried to take her with him but she fought back, crying silently. I didn't know what to do so I let the leader take matters in his hands.

"Violette, look at me." The brunette looked at him with teary eyes, he gently wiped her tears away. "You know that we can't stay all the time here, we have to eat, work and sleep, too." Violette nodded slightly. "We'll come back before you know it, now Martha will take care of you. I heard that she has a gift for you, one that you wanted for a long time."

Violette's face brightens at the prospect of a new toy. She kissed my cheek then wriggled in my grasp. I put her down and she ran straight to Martha who was ushering the elders towards the bathroom. A contented smile crept upon my lips, kids were so fast to change their minds. I envied their ability to forget about their problems as long as they had anything to play with.

"Fear of abandonment, a hard one to fight against at such a young age." Commented Eric beside me. "They're stronger than most of the initiates that I've trained so far."

"That's not right, they're still kids, Eric."

"I know. I don't like it either, but it's their way of processing what they've been through. They grow up faster than the other kids, they have to look after themselves because they know no one will do that for them. I try to be there whenever I can, it's obviously not enough, you know how a leader's agenda is full."

"I can help." I blurted out before I could think of it.

"That's not why I brought you here." He replied without explaining further as we made our way out of the room.

"Thanks, that was… interesting and surprisingly calming."

"I knew you'd like it. So, you'll come back?"

"Sure, I don't have anything better to do anyway."

"Right."

A casual silence followed our little conversation. My thoughts were drifting away when he spoke again.

"What did Aidan say to you?"

"Nothing to worry about, he was just being a teenager." I dismissed with a flick of my hand.

"Don't lie to me, Chris. I saw the fear in your eyes." His tone grew cold. "What did he say?'

"That's not what he said," I whispered. "He kind of reminds me of Brent. I don't know why but I don't feel safe around him. Damn, I'm ten years older, I shouldn't feel like this." I ran a hand through my hair in an attempt to keep my composure.

Eric remained silent as I stopped dead in my tracks before we came close to a more crowded walkway. He turned his head with an eyebrow raised in question. I sighed, debating whether I should talk to him or simply keep my struggles to myself. He must have sensed my hesitation, he tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing to read into my soul.

"Stop doing this."

"Doing what?" He retorted, genuinely clueless.

"Your "I'm reading your mind look", it's quite annoying." Eric rolled his eyes.

"Then stop thinking that I'll report to Max whatever you say or do, and talk to me instead of overthinking. "

That was my turn to fall into silence, his face softened ever so slightly and I felt guilty. He helped me before I even was aware of it, I should be grateful and trust him, but I couldn't because I didn't trust myself anymore. At least, not for now.

"Chris, I've already told you that seeking help doesn't make you weak nor unworthy. "

My heart skipped a beat, was this his way of saying to let him help me? His cerulean eyes screamed sincerity. Why was he caring so much about my well-being?

"Thank you, Eric. I'll keep that in mind." He nodded curtly. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Meet me here at four, we'll go together."

"Sounds good. " We shared one last look, then we parted ways.

[honey-dewey]

True Trans Soul Rebel

Pairing: Din Djarin/Trans Reader (Not specified whether reader is FTM or MTF)

Word Count: 2,220

Warnings: Mentions of needles and injections, transphobia against the reader. 

Traveling with Mando was an experience, especially after being beat up all your life for being transgender. It’s taken a lot for you to love yourself, but the mandalorian who definitely supports and probably loves you absolutely helps. 

Traveling the known galaxy was a very unique thrill. Seeing new planets every week and sleeping every night on a ship suspended in hyperspace, it was an experience like no other. You highly doubted much could top it. 

Well. Maybe one thing. 

Traveling the known galaxy with a Mandalorian might be able to beat just traveling. 

He was kind to you, which was odd because all your life you’d heard nothing but hushed whispers about mandalorians as takers and hunters. Despite your home planet being in the mandalore sector, mandalorians themselves didn’t have a high reputation there. The only bright spot was the story of Mandalore the Binder, who had been born on your planet. 

But that was in the past. Now, years after you’d left that planet, you were traveling with a mandalorian, which was a huge rush in and of itself. You’d seen so many new planets, and Mando, as he insisted you call him, never questioned the abnormality that had gotten you thrown out of your old family. He saw past the physical and into the skills you had as a mechanic, plus you’d been basically at death’s door when he’d met you. And if there was one thing this mandalorian had, it was a soft heart. 

“Where to now?” You asked, slumped loosely in the copilot’s chair, Grogu asleep in your lap. 

Mando turned, as if he’d forgotten you were there. “Shikaakwa.” 

You paused, trying to remember where that was. “The Tython system? Why are you headed out there?” 

“The quarry I’m hunting is out there.” 

“Oh.” Sometimes you forgot you were traveling with a bounty hunter and not just a weird single father. “Is that the system with Kalimahr?” 

Mando nodded. 

“Sweet,” you said, flicking one of Grogu’s ears simply to watch it move. “I need more Imitoin.” 

You could’ve sworn you heard Mando sigh, but he didn’t move or say anything, so you assumed he’d taken what you said into consideration. 

Shikaakwa was a weird planet. The atmosphere was breathable, so Mando let you take Grogu out to play for a bit. But he was extremely uptight about it, and for good reason. Best you remembered, the planet was still under horrible gangster rule, meaning it was likely unsafe for you outside of the Crest. 

That didn’t stop you from playing outside. 

Mando kept a stern eye on you and Grogu, fiddling with his pulse rifle and tracking fob before finally standing. “I’m going,” he said, catching your attention. “Get back on the Crest and do not leave until I get back.” 

You nodded, scooping Grogu up and waving goodbye. 

“C’mon kiddo,” you said happily, stroking down Grogu’s ears as you walked back to the Crest. “Let’s go screw with daddy’s shit.” 

Four days later, you’d organized everything on board twice and actually got around to fixing the mildly faulty left engine that you’d been putting off for months. Mando hadn’t returned, but you’d gotten a message from him on the third day that he shouldn’t be too much longer. 

On day five, he returned in the middle of the night, the quarry immediately being frozen and locked up before he even thought about finding you. 

You, of course, had been woken by the sounds of Mando returning. It was horribly late and you fell back asleep almost immediately, knowing that Mando would wake you if he needed help. 

When you actually woke the next morning, Mando was landing the ship, which was odd because you hadn’t felt him take off. However, you just yawned and sat up, adjusting your oversized shirt that had once had a logo on it. You slipped out of your bed, patting around for Grogu until you heard him cooing in the cockpit. 

Continuing to adjust your sleep shirt and horribly stained shorts, you wandered around, entirely barefoot, until you reached the cockpit. 

“Good morning,” Mando said, looking over his shoulder as you entered. “We’re on Kalimahr. My docking pass lasts twelve hours, so make them count.” 

You nodded, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “When’d you get back?” You asked, yawning halfway through your sentence. 

Mando’s modulator made an odd noise before he answered. “Late. You fell asleep in my bed, by the way.” 

Immediately, you squeaked out an apology, but Mando waved it off. 

“I wasn’t going to sleep anyway,” he reassured. “Couldn’t stay there any longer.” 

You nodded, still embarrassed. “I’m gonna go get dressed,” you said. “Can you find the closest pharmacy?” 

Mando gave you a gesture of affirmation while you slid out of the cockpit and down into the fresher. 

Dressing was always interesting. Mando thought it was impressive that you’d learned how to care for yourself in the dark, and you hated how sad you’d sounded as you explained why. Every time you saw your body it made you want to scream and cry. 

“One day,” you mumbled to yourself, blindly locating your favorite tank top. “One day I’ll get that damn surgery.” 

When you finally got dressed, you were able to flick the lights on, admiring yourself in the grimy mirror. This outfit was a favorite of yours, with the olive green tank top and overalls you hadn’t stained too badly yet. You preemptively wrapped a grey fabric baby carrier around your chest, knowing you’d probably be taking Grogu today. Overtop that, you had a loose brown jacket that came down past your knees, the patches and overly large hood giving it character and telling your story. 

Lacing up your black work boots, you grabbed the tiny trash can that was stowed away in the fresher corner, intent on getting rid of whatever trash had been accumulated. 

“Let’s go!” You shouted up to the cockpit, using your foot to open the portable incinerator you kept on board for the trash. 

As you emptied the trash can, you absently watched the contents burn. Your syringes took a minute, along with the few empty glass medicine bottles. The bandages burned quickly, but what made you recoil was the very strong smell of burning hair. 

“Mando!” You yelled, looking behind you as his boots firmly stepped off the ladder. 

“What?” 

You closed the incinerator, wrinkling your nose and walking past him to put the trash can back. “Next time you cut your hair,” you said, walking back to him and taking Grogu from his arms. “You’re emptying the trash into the incinerator. It smells like shit.” 

Mando chuckled, watching you adjust Grogu into your baby carrier. “Deal.” 

Your trip into the city was relaxing. At least, much more relaxing than waiting for Mando on board the Crest while he probably got himself shot at multiple times. When you stepped into line at the pharmacy, a few people gave Mando a look, one mother tugging her child closer to her side. You rolled your eyes. Mando wasn’t a completely uncivilized killer. At least not all the time. 

He turned a blind eye to the hesitation as the line moved forward. When it was finally your turn, you put on your kindest smile and spoke sweetly to the four armed woman manning the window. “Hi! I need a six month supply of Imitoin-126, with the syringes.” 

The woman eyed Mando and Grogu before addressing you. “Can I see your card?” 

You dug your prescription card out of your pocket, sliding it across the counter. The woman took it and examined it before giving it back. “I’ll go grab you a box of that. Is there anything else I can get you?” 

You thought about the supplies on the Crest. “Mando?” You asked. “Do we need anything?” 

“Bacta patches,” Mando said after mulling it over. “And probably some more painkillers.” 

“Cool.” You turned back to the woman. “Two boxes of bacta patches, one medium and one small, and one bottle of Omnipril please.” 

The woman nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

While you waited, you stroked Grogu’s ears, making him giggle whenever you gave them a light tug. Mando watched, occasionally reaching out to tug on Grogu’s ears himself. 

The woman came back after a few minutes, your various purchases in her arms. “That’ll be three twenty five.” 

You gave her the credits, accepting the bag of stuff she handed you. “Have a nice day.” 

“You too!” You said cheerily, putting the bag in your leather satchel for safekeeping.

The rest of your day was mundane. You picked up a few more purchases, namely food and parts for the Crest. Eventually, Mando split off to find something specific for his pulse rifle, leaving you to absently browse in the city’s center. 

While you looked over a new pair of welding goggles, you heard a commotion behind you. Turning, you noticed a group of protesters standing outside an unassuming white building, harassing someone who was just trying to get in. 

“Excuse me?” You stepped up, despite knowing you’d probably be giving Mando grey hair if he could see you right now. “What’s going on?” 

One of the protesters pointed at the person, who you assumed from the white coat was a doctor. “This doctor is a disgrace!”

“Why?” You were genuinely curious now, putting a protective hand over Grogu’s chest just in case this got ugly. 

“They are willingly defiling the natural form!” The protester said firmly. “They would actually perform a procedure to change the body and make it something else! To turn people into ungodly abominations!” 

You stepped back, not wanting to get involved now. “Oh. Well.” 

The protester glared at you. “You do not find this disgusting?” 

“I-“ You took another step back, flinching away from another protester who grabbed your bag, the abrupt action spilling its contents on the cobblestone. 

“They are a disgrace!” The protester shouted, seeing your Imitoin hit the ground. “A disgrace!” 

Immediately, the protesters ganged up on you, forcing you to your knees, curled around Grogu in a desperate attempt to protect him. 

“Hey!” A loud and familiar modulated voice broke the vicious cycle of abuse, causing you to look up. 

Mando stood in the center of the cobblestone circle, his shoulders squared. 

“Leave,” he growled, taking a step forward. 

The protesters scattered, running off, leaving you and the doctor. The doctor reached your crouched form first, slowly helping you to your feet and gathering your purchases to place back in your bag. “Are you okay?” 

You nodded, wiping tears from your eyes. “Yeah.” 

The doctor smiled, looking up at Mando. “If you ever need anything,” she said softly to you, handing you a small card. “Come back here, okay?” 

Mando put an arm around you, carefully tugging you to his side. “We’re going home,” he said tightly. 

The walk back to the Crest was silent. Mando kept his arm around you the entire time, and your head remained bowed as the Crest got closer and closer. 

When you were finally curled up in the cockpit of your home, you broke. 

Mando, thankfully, wasn’t as much of an emotionally stunted brick as people assumed. He wrapped you in a beskar hug, slowly putting his forehead on top of your head as you sobbed. “It’s okay,” he reassured softly, smoothing a hand up and down your back. “It’s okay.” 

You continued to cry until your body had nothing left, leaving you exhausted and horribly dehydrated. Mando let you sit in the pilot’s chair, grabbing a water bottle and watching closely as you drank half of it in one go. 

“Let’s do your medicine and then you can take a nap,” he said finally, once you’d put the water bottle down. “While you sleep, we can head back to Nevarro.” 

You nodded, silently taking your coat off and unwrapping the grey baby carrier from your body. Grogu was in his pram, half asleep already. 

Mando carefully helped you to his bunk, turning away so you could take your overalls off and slip into your sleep shorts. Once you’d done that, he handed you the empty syringe and the new bottle of Imitoin. You expertly filled the syringe and stuck yourself in the thigh. It didn’t make you nervous anymore, as it did in the beginning. Mando watched, sticking a bandage to the small puncture hole while you disposed of the syringe. 

“Are you okay?” He asked finally. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, settling down on the mattress. 

Mando sighed, beginning to take his armor off and pile it on the floor. Once he was left in just his tank top, pants, and helmet, he laid down beside you, shutting the door and plunging the small sleeping area into darkness. 

“C’mere,” Mando murmured, tugging you closer. You tangled your legs with his, losing yourself in the broadness of his chest. 

You drifted off, waking up a bit when a small hiss filled the space. 

“Whassat?” You mumbled, looking up at where you thought Mando’s head was. 

A dull clunk and a soft sigh woke you a bit more as you realized what was probably happening. 

“Go to sleep,” Mando murmured, his voice richer now that it was unmodulated. “I’ll stay until you do.”

You fell asleep slowly, cuddled up to Mando. He did his best to relax you as you drifted, scratching slightly at your scalp and hardly moving as you finally let the world melt away, held safe in the arms of the mandalorian who loved you.

[dreamer213]

Broken machines: Lights The Dark

Chapter 1 Lovely Day

Italicized: Narration

Bold: Inner Thoughts

.

.

.

Staring at the foot of Pyrrha Nikos I am broken and helpless. I can not move, I can not hear anything, half of my body has been torn off and is laying a foot away from the rest of me, and my vision is fading.

My systems, my strength, even my voice are…failing.

EVERYTHING IS FAILING! ITS SO DARK! I CANT SEE ANYTHING! I CANT GET UP! MY LEGS! I CANT MOVE! I CANT! I CANT! GENERAL! DAD! ANYONE! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!

This is horrible. I feel like I still being crushed. I feel-I feel… Scared? It this what scared feels like? Or is it….. death? Am I dying? No no NO! That can’t be it! This can’t be it! I just made my first friends, I just entered my first Vytal Festival Tournament, I just started really living my life it can’t just end. Not here not like this……….Daddy please help me.

…..I….I don’t want to die.

I DON’T WANNA DIE!!!!!!

At that moment Penny’s eyes shot open as she wakes from her nightmare. She sits up in a state of pure distress, taking short panicked breaths, her pajamas and hair are disheveled and the cable in her back ,the connector for her power station, has become loose from its socket from her violent shaking. She looks down at the blanket covering the lower half of her body, with a shaky hand Penny pulls back the covers to reveal not the broken and mangled pair from her nightmare but a set of perfectly attached, full intact, pale and freckle dusted legs. This sight calms her and pulls Penny full out of her daze, she pulls the cable out then flops down on the bed, her eyes glow softly.

Systems Overview:

Optics: Fully Functional

Hearing: Fully Functional

Nerves: Fully Functional

Weapons Systems: Fully Functional

Temperature Gauge: Fully Functional

Power Storage: Fully Functional………………

All Systems Are Functioning And Full Operational.

Penny: Pffft, It was just another dream. That marks two weeks and four days between this dream and the last dream, five weeks and two days from the one before that and two months from very the first. I’ll have to inform the General about this if it continues.

She shakes her head in dismissal

….No that would be useless. Informing him will result in me being sent to the lab for some diagnostic tests and a few scans. And since my systems aren’t showing any signs of error it’ll just be waste of time and resources. And we can’t afford to waste more of ether. Not now (Sighs).

She reaches into the drawer of her nightstand and pulls out a book and pen, she makes a few quick notes then return the items to their place, gets up, and begins her preparations for day ahead. She brushes her teeth, changes into her work clothes, tidies up her hair, puts on and securing her rocket boots, grabs her backpack, then heads down stairs. Right after turning back around for one last mirror check before she goes.

She arrives down stairs to see her Dad setting up the table with two plates of breakfast and two mugs, one filled with coffee, the other strawberry milk. As he finishes up Pietro spots Penny making her way towards him. He smiles brightly, his little girl is up bright and early again today.

Pietro: Good Morning, Sunshine of mine.

Penny: Good morning Dad.

Pietro: How are you doing this morning?

Penny: I am functioning optimally and all my systems and programs are running correctly.

Pietro: What about the “dreams” ? Are you still having them?

Penny: N-no I have not. (Hiccup)

Pietro: Uh Huh. Now Penny you know that I love you ,and you know I will always be there whenever you need me. But I can’t help you when you need me if you don’t tell me.

Penny: But there isn’t anything you can do about this. This isn’t an error or virus or anything to do with my specs or my hardware, there’s nothing wrong with me for you to fix.

Pietro: Not everything is matter fixing broken parts, sometimes it’s more a matter understanding emotions and talking about hardships. I’d be happy to help you with both whenever you want.

Penny: Thank you Dad but I do not think that will be of any significant help with this problem. And with the increase of my responsibilities, the rise in overall military activity and “ the project” I cannot add another issue to my daily routine. So please let’s just leave this problem be, just for little while.

Pietro: I understand I wouldn’t bother you about anymore. Now come here eat your breakfast, the foods getting cold.

Penny: Dad I don’t need to eat.

Pietro: But you can eat and makes you happy, isn’t that a good enough reason for doing it.

Penny: Okay, okay but I only have ten minutes and fifty three seconds to spare. If I stay any longer I’ll be running behind schedule.

Pietro: Well we can’t have that now can we? Better sit down and eat while you can!

Penny quickly takes a seat in front of her plate. She looks at her meal, two sunny side up eggs two pieces of welled spiced sausage and white toast cut into two triangles. She takes a deep inhale, picks up her fork, and takes her first bite. The eggs have warm welcoming taste as the yolk isn’t too runny and the whites are just the right amount of chewy. The sausage is tender and juicy, the rich meat flavor with a of spicy kick makes hard to stop from eating too fast. And rounding up the plate the wonderful toast has come out just right today, not too soft nor too burnt with a generous amount of butter on top. A pure blanket of soft crunchy buttery goodness. But once the food all gone the only way to finish up a proper breakfast is with a morning beverage. For today that morning beverage is cold and sweet strawberry milk. A creamy and sweet way to put some sugar and vitamin D into your morning.

It’s nothing special really, just a simple everyday meal but for Penny ,someone so new to the practice of eating and enjoying food, it is a moment of pure and utter bliss.~

Penny: Delicious as always, thanks Dad.

Penny gets up and turns to leave.

Pietro: Wait! Aren’t you forget something?

Penny: The dishes?

Pietro: No.

Pietro goes over to her, spreads his arms out, and gestures to her.

Penny: Oh!

Penny leans down and warps her arms around him. She stays like this just long enough to soak in her father’s warmth, he give her a kiss on the head as she pulls away.

Pietro: I love you Sweetheart.

Penny: I love you too Dad. I’ll be home before 10 pm.

Penny walks to the door gives her dad a quick wave and is out the door. Once on the streets she clicks the heels of her rocket boots to active them then takes off into the sky to begin her daily responsibilities.

7:30 AM to 12:00 PM Patrol Mantle’s streets

After a quick aerial scan of streets below Penny lands a starts to survey the area, everything seems to be in order store owners are opening their shop doors, groups of children are walking to school, the buses transporting the mine and factory workers, though noticeably less full then usual, are running according to the schedule, and the late night patrons of Sammy’s Pub are finally heading home from another night of intoxication. Mr. Calves, a man known for being a destructive alcoholic, is slumped against the building and losing consciousness fast.

Penny: Mr. Calves please leave this area and return to your home immediately. The owner of this establishment has already stated several times that you can no longer loiter here after business hours and has asked to have you trespassed if you refuse.

Claves looks at Penny with disgust as he shakily stands up. He downs the remaining liquid in his bottle, he then swings the empty bottle at Penny’s head! Once the bottle is within inches of her face Penny grips him by his forearm, applying just enough pressure to stopping him in his tracks. While holding him steadily Penny calmly takes the bottle from his hand and gingerly places it on ground, straights up Calves’s clothes, then looks up and makes eye contact.

Penny: I repeat please leave the area and return home. Or I will have you trespassed and will have to take you to the near military station.

Calves finally takes the hit and skiddes away. As he leaves Penny turns her attention back towards the streets just in time to see a group of small children heading to school. A little boy with light blue hair and a little gap in his teeth notices her while walking with his friends.

“Hey it’s Ms. Penny!” he shouts, this grabs the attention of the other children as they all turn their heads at the mention of the friendly neighborhood protector.

Soon there was swarm of little hands waving wildly and a chorus of “Hi Ms. Penny” “Good Morning Ms. Protector” and “ Hi Ms. Hero” can be heard from blocks away as the parents tried their hardest to get their awestruck children to keep on their way with little success. Penny smiled brightly and waved back at them, this had become her favorite part of her morning patrols since she was tasked with the role of Mantle’s Protector. After a month or so of handling both the Grimm and crime in Mantle the people had began to recognize her as somewhat of a neighborhood hero. Although they would not approach her often most adults would wave to her as she passes by them during patrols. The children would look at her with fascination and wonder asking all sorts of questions like how she flew, why was she was so strong, and if she could give them a ride on her back while she fled around! And the elder, especially the older woman, would treat her like one would a sweet child, telling her not to stay out too late, reminding her to wear thicker clothes when it got cold, and would give her small treats like candies, small cookies, and leftover baked goods whenever they had the chance.

This is what gives her work so much meaning. The comfort and happiness she saw in their eyes, that’s what Penny was protecting, that’s what she’d repeat to herself whenever things got difficult. As long as the people, her people, were safe she could handle whatever role or new responsibility the higher ups decide to throw at her. As long as she could fight they could smile and as long they could smile she could fight.

“RING” “RING” “RING”

Penny’s scroll rings, a loud blaring alarm, it’s a status update from the security officers in charge of the surveillance drones there are two on going altercation happening sixteen blocks away, a small fire twelve blocks east, One large Grimm at the southern most edge that’s proving to be a problem for the morning squadron, and a small pack of Grimm making their way towards one of mines due southeast. In summary a normal morning in Mantle.

Penny: And like clockwork my morning peace has comes to an end. If I help with the fire first and handle the altercations a few blocks ahead then fly max speed across town to get to the Grimm I should be able to cut off the pack just before they reach the mine.

She puts her scroll away and turns to take off but not before giving the crowd one more wave as she clicks her heels and twirls as she jets up into the air. She then does a very showy wink and peace sign for the crowd and flys off.

1:00pm to 4:00 pm Training With Military Huntsman

After cutting off and taking down the pack of Grimm Penny heads to the military training center to add the other hunters as they hon their skills in biweekly training sessions. Now most days Penny will just set the facilities to train the specific skills each team needs to work on for both group and individual training. But Penny will join in if a session requires another person or if she is specifically requested. Today is Team FNKI’s turn and they’ve requested that Penny train with them, though it was more like Neon begged for two full hours to have Penny join them so she could play with Penny’s “pretty light swords”.

Once the boys are all set with their individualized training, Neon and Penny are left at the center for a 1 vs 1 sparing match. Neon playful circles Penny rainbow trailing behind her. She smiles coley ,twirling her her nunchucks and her tail, as though she doesn’t have a care in the world.

Neon: you ready to dance Penny? Cause I’ve been dying to see if those cute swords of yours are more then just a light show.

Penny: I can assure you Neon Katt my swords are indeed military grade weapons, the lights are an indicator of the connection between them and my systems so I may use them freely. They are also optimal for fighting in the dark and at night.

Neon: And you just ruined the joke killjoy. So if you’re done talking I’m just gonna beat cha with my chucks, ‘Kay.

Neon changes her stance then charges at Penny, she swings her chucks wildly at Penny trying to land a hit. Penny dodges her rapid attacks for a bit but that soon fails as Neon only grows more fierce with each swing. Neon closing in she’s just about to landing a hit but when she brings down her chucks something blocks her, she loses her balance and is pushed back. Once she regains her composure she see Penny with one of her swords in hand and smile on her face. Penny looks at her for a second then let’s go of her blade letting it flow upward to above her head. Once’s it there she releases the rest of her arsenal, the blades fanning out around her like a peacock’s tail creating a beautiful but deadly display. Penny raises her hand to Neon and gestures for her to make a move.

Game on.

The girls continue their sparing for the duration of the session, when the time almost up the door to the training room is swung open. The elegant Winter Schnee enters the room with a loud bang, grabbing everyone’s attention and stopping them dead in their tracks.

Winter: Team FNKI Your session is over please clear out so the next group may enter.

With that the boys grab their things and start head towards the door while Neon stands there sulking.

Neon: Aww man, But I wanted to play some more.

Flynt: Kitty no it’s time to go, say goodbye to your friend.

Neon: Ugggh, fine..

Neon begins to leave, looking upset and defeated she skates to the door but right as she’s about to leave she perks up and skates back to Penny.

Neon: You have your scroll on you?

Penny: Yes.

Neon: Gimme it like Now!

Penny hands Neon her scroll, Neon starts fiddling with the scroll until she finds the app she’s looking for then starts typing. Once she’s done she hands the scroll back to Penny.

Neon: If you’re ever bored or want tickets to our next concert hit me up ‘Kay.

Penny: Okay?

Neon: Awesome, and don’t worry about calling too late I’m a real night owl.

Flynt: KITTY!

Neon: OKAY! Bye Penny Pop, later Winter Wonder. See you losers in few days!

Neon rolls out of the room while Flynt looks back apologetically before leaving with the rest of his team. Penny and Winter are left standing in the room in an awkward silence.

Winter: Penny, go change the settings for the room to my presets.

Penny: Right away Ma’am

Winter: And Penny.

Penny: Yes Ma’am?

Winter: Don’t get distracted. We don’t have time for distribution.

Penny: Yes of course Ma’am.

Penny leaves the room and heads to the control room to change the settings. Once she’s finished she call a co-worker to take over as she grabs her things and leaves for her next task.

5:00 pm to 8:00 pm Filling Out Reports At The Military Outpost

After a quick flight from the training center Penny heads to the nears Military Outpost or Military Station to fill out reports on petrols, arrests, Grimm sightings and kills, and any oddity or security issues she might have noticed in between her commutes are the cities. Basically everything that needs to go on record throughout the day was to written and submitted at this time.

This was is the part of the day Penny dislike the most. After hours of detaining criminal, fighting Grimm, training with military huntsman, and keeping the community safe sitting at a computer, in an uncomfortable chair and typing everything out for hours on end was truly mental draining. Recounting an entire day down to the mundane details, filling out arrest form after arrest form, document after document is just so soul sucking and horrible. But this what she and every military member had to do when their work day comes to an end in order to keep the system running.

Penny walks in to the station she shows her identification to the front desk assistant, she is then given a usb, and boozed into the main building. Once she’s in she looks for the nears open computer, once she finds it she sits down, logs in to the system, inserts the usb, and gets to work.

After two hours of typing away Penny’s close to finishing her work a bit earlier the usual when Chief Stones, the man in charge of the station, comes running towards her with a phone in hand.

Stones: Poledina, I just got off the phone with the southwest shipping facility. They need some extra security on today’s shipment transfer and they asked for you specifically, so get down there.

Penny: Yes Sir.

Stones: And don’t forget to come back and finish your reports once you’re done.

Penny: ………Yes Sir.

After saving her work and removing the usb Penny grabs her things, heads outside and straight to the sky. After a near hour or so of flying Penny spots the facility coming up on the horizon. She’s getting closer when suddenly a truck comes zooming past her at an intense speed. It’s the shipping truck! But why is it going so fast? Where was the security detail that was supposed to be escorting them? And why is it going off the normal route? Penny stops and gets ready to jet off after the truck when-

“ HELP! SOMEBODY HELP US!”

That’s when Penny turn back and sees smoke. The truck could wait someone was in danger and she was the only one there to help. She flys towards the screaming only to find it’s the security detail! The vans been thrown on it’s side and a fires broke out. The guards have made out of the vehicle but most are injured some are unconscious the strongest of them is waving Penny down with one arm while keeping a wound close with the other.

Penny: Penny Poledina Mantle Main Security, What happened here?

Long: Seth Long Transport Security, there was a breach at the facility it turned out false alarm but once we got back they’d already set off smoke bombs in loading dock and ran off with the truck. We tried catch up with them but I think they saw it coming they set off some sort of trap and blow us off the road. Our van got flipped 5 of my men were injured 3 are out cold there was nothing we could.

Penny: We need to get you and your men to a medic right now-

Long: WAIT! There’s 1 man still in that van, he was driving when we gave chase and got stuck when we crashed. He’s names Tony, please you gotta save him.

Penny looks at the man for a moment, the desperation and fear clear in his eyes, she rips a piece off her skirt and uses it to dress Long’s wound then heads for the van. It doesn’t take her long to spot Tony, he has multiple injuries, has breathed in a lot of smoke, and is losing consciousness. Penny pulls out one of her swords and cuts him out the seatbelt. Once he’s free she gently picks him up and jets up and out of the van. When they’re back on solid ground she sets Tony down next to Long, Long gingerly pats Tony’s head and mouths “thank you” to Penny before his strength finally gives and he passes out. Penny pulls out her scroll and calls for medical attention, in the meantime she does everything she can to keep the men stable until help arrives.

It takes a few hours for everything to get cleared up but soon everything has documented and everyone in need of medical attention has either been seen or sent to the hospital for a few nights stay. With that Penny quickly heads back to the station to wraps up her reports for the day then heads home. It’s one thirty in the morning, it been a very long day and all Penny can think about is getting home, taking off her boots, getting out of her now dirty work clothes, and getting some sleep. Before she knows it she’s standing at her front door, she grabs her keys and quietly opens the door trying her hardest not to make too much noise so she doesn’t wake her dad, only to find him waiting for her at the table with a warm plate of chicken and rice with tomato soup. Penny smiles at him and heads to table for a nice late dinner and some family time. Once dishes are done and Dad’s gone off to bed Penny goes to her room, she takes off her boots, grabs some clean pajamas and heads to her bathroom she then washes off the day’s dirty and grime, puts on her pjs and heads to her bed. Once she’s in her bed she plugs herself into her power station, tucks herself with her nice warm blankets, snuggle her head into her pillow, and falls into a hard earned and well deserved night sleep.

[pleasantwizardphilosopher]

Blooming

This is chapter 4 of my current fic, I am posting them here as well as in AO3 just because, I really hope you like it, let me know if there are mistakes and your thoughts overall.

Supergirl arrived at Zor-El headquarters like a speeding bullet, almost breaking the sound barrier, out of sheer excitement. Things with the CEO went beyond her wildest dreams, not only was the joint project approved, almost, since Lena still has to sit down with the same old misogynists and make them approve the budget, however, the Maiden of Might has no doubt that the green-eyed genius will make them bend under her gaze. She herself, felt her knees growing weak every passing minute in the woman’s presence, she is now certain that the CEO can bend steel *wink *wink. Furthermore, the Kryptonian has gotten the opportunity of working side-by-side with Lena (isn’t that a beautiful name?), the same one she has been in awe with for several years; watching the CEO work up close was something the Kryptonian never even dared dream of, as it was something she always thought to be quite impossible, because although their companies aim for similar purposes, their markets and social statuses are entirely different.

Moreover, she is certain that there is something bonding them together, what, she isn’t sure exactly, there is just this itching crawling under her skin, making all her nerves tingle with excitement, wanting to grab the Irish goddess and hold her close, to protect her, to know her entirely, to pull a smile from crimson lips, to make sure that she feels safe, validated and supported in a way the Girl of Steel is now certain Lena has never experienced, she also wants to tear down all the walls she has built around herself and know the real Lena, the one that’s deeply hidden behind years of trauma and abuse, and it frightens her, her whole life she’s always wanted to make friends, sure, she’s friendly by nature, but this, this depth, she has never before encountered and albeit the horizon seems promising, scary as well but first and foremost promising; it’d imply bringing to light many things that she’d truly rather not. However, as they say, time will tell, and she definitely wants to see what lays on the other side.

The first thing the Superfriends get to after receiving the good news from Kara is to slightly modify the organization of the company’s headquarters; during the last year of their superheroing endeavors they installed a vigilance room to allow their crime-fighting activities to go smoothly (ish). Said room is in the basement, the vault where they keep their prototypes is still there, occupying one full corner; however multiple monitors and computers had been installed as well, to keep track of Nia and Kara while they’re on the field; there are several chairs, and a platform is installed on the middle for debriefing and planning. There are also four suit holders, where Dreamer’s and Supergirl’s suits are, as well as prototypes for Winn and Brainy’s, in case they ever want to join them on the spot. Since they are one of the most innovative tech companies, many of their security and communications prototypes are firstly tested by them on life-saving missions, taking the devices to their tipping point, that way they ensure that every single device and software launched works perfectly under their prompted circumstances. What they added were a few biometric locks to avoid being discovered and a false wall that hides the elevator leading to the lowest floor. The rest of the building remains the same. Safe for the fact that Nia and Brainy have their own office and lab, respectively, on the third floor and on the second floor, where Winn’s supercomputing lab is, they’ve added a med-bay, after several injuries on the field and only a little bit of alcohol and cotton to treat them, some of their most successful medical equipment are used there.

The first time the two of them actually get together to work on the project, or more specifically, to go through the details of their work together; Kara arrives at the CEO’s office with a paper bag filled with doughnuts and two coffees on a cup holder, she's done her research (aka asked Jess) and now knows that the green-eyed woman likes her coffee black, which is something she honestly doesn’t get the fuss of. The Kryptonian thinks it's a great way to start this project, this working-relationship, starting with the right foot and all that, especially considering that she'll put forward her own lab for them to work on the project, is more private than the L-Corp tower, brimming with scientists and business people; and she'll feel a lot more comfortable there, having her friends and colleagues close and being a few steps away from her suit, in case her assistance is needed, is a lot less likely that the genius woman finds it suspicious, she just had to make sure that no scribbles in Kryptonian were left on her desk and project board, the ones she did have were (not) carefully folded (more like threw) in a locked drawer, away from prying eyes.

When she's let into the office, after giving Jess a couple of doughnuts for her invaluable help with her ‘getting to know Lena’ research; she cannot help but be struck dumb (again), and surprisingly it never gets old, at the sight of the Irish woman. The CEO is standing facing the city through her office’s windows, her silhouette highlighted by the sunlight flooding the office, she is wearing a crimson red three-piece suit that fits her perfectly, after she turns around, Kara can see that underneath she’s wearing a black button up, and her signature red lipstick, the whole outfit paired with dangerously high heels. She gestures for the hero to sit down on her very white couch so they can thoroughly review the information they have and design their project’s timetable and budgets, her eyes are glinting like light reflecting from beautiful emeralds, unblemished, there is curiosity written all over them and she smells wonderful, the strong smell of the coffees the blonde is still holding do nothing to diminish the smell of cinnamon and a citric perfume coming from the CEO.

Lena, on the other hand, finds herself to be intrigued by the woman sitting in front of her, she’s wearing a white and black flannel paired with khaki pants and a simple belt at her hips, her hair is braided perfectly and falls over her shoulder; and the whole outfit makes her look so young and innocent that the CEO has to refrain from wanting to hug her, which is not a common circumstance she finds herself in, for someone as touch starved as she is. The scent of the coffees she’s brought still lets a scent of vanilla and lavender get to her nose and she feels at ease, for the first time in who knows how long. She should be worried, about someone having such strong effect on her, but she honestly isn’t, it feels as natural as breathing, there is something about those cerulean blue eyes that settle her heart and even her breathing, like coming home after a long day at work, or falling asleep into a mother’s embrace, she finds it to be really easy to just let go and be.

Both of them engage in shy smiles and deer eyes for a few moments, all boardroom meetings and upcoming deadlines forgotten. With the information they have now they know for sure that current solar panels are very inefficient, you can power two computers and a light bulb tops with the best ones available on the market, and not for a very long time, as their reliability is quite low. But with the system proposed by the Kryptonian who, with huge compliments to Alex, for helping her with the cellular growth and with her help as medical specialist to analyze the results; has spent the past two months thoroughly evaluating her cells solar absorption. The system will work as follows, the nanoparticles oscillate when solar radiation hits them, this is due to a quantum phenomenon called surface plasmon resonance that enhances the radiation through the oscillation of the particles, as a result of their electromagnetic fields, to the wavelength of certain radiations, solar now, and hence, the energy obtained is higher than that of the incident light, then, this enhanced energy in the form of light will go to the circuitry, which will do... something, Kara isn’t entirely sure as to what exactly, even with her engineering background the circuitry she can think of will be huge and inefficient; to turn the radiation into current and voltage so it can be stored in batteries and transported, if necessary.

Lena laughs softly at the woman’s circuitry perception and pipes in, explaining her own vision for the circuitry, she has been thinking about it for the past months, getting all her knowledge together to develop the best system, she proposes to build nanobots that will act as small transformers, turning raw energy into voltage with the aid of electron energies, which are directly bound to voltage, jumping from one orbital to another, however, now that she understands the blonde's idea better, she had been quite secretive about this, she thinks they can add a cobalt isotope battery that would allow the system to store the energy for further use and for long periods of time without any significant decay; the system would allow power to be distributed evenly with no current peaks or voltage drops. They also agree on having the nanobots programmed with a failsafe to prevent the system from supercharging. As enraptured as they are in their little science discussion, finally having someone who gets their brilliant minds and has more ideas, challenging one another, time flies for both of them, and suddenly they have to part ways to keep with their day, having been discussing ideas and details for several hours, there are now several pressing matters that they need to attend. As she is walking out of the office, Kara spears one more look at the green-eyed genius, who is now checking something on her laptop, after turning on the TV in mute, if she didn’t know better, she’d say she’s smitten, but that is a dumb idea.

When Lena is left alone in her office again, she feels light as a feather, in a way she had forgotten one could feel, this project holds many expectations, for both of them, nonetheless, she can finally let her mind free, without being afraid that someone may feel threatened by her intelligence. Smiling softly to herself she turns her attention to her laptop, in order to keep going through accumulated emails and paperwork; remembering then to do something she takes out her phone to call Sam, her CFO and best friend, to let her know about the project and the fact that although she will still be working as CEO and taking care of whatever fires need her attention, the rest of the every-day paperwork will go directly to her, as well as any boardroom meetings (thank God for that), as she herself will be busy with the project.

They are animatedly talking about a certain blonde when a streak of red and blue on her TV catch her attention. Supergirl is rescuing several kids from a severe accident, where their school bus was pushed out of the road and down a cliff by a lory speeding out of control, the images are startling, the destruction left behind by the bus rolling down the hill shows very bad premonitions for the kids’ safety and overall health. However, Dreamer and Supergirl are giving all they have to rescue them as soon as possible, the blonde hero is flying the children to safety five at a time, while Dreamer is holding the bus with blue-energy constructs, to keep it from sliding further into the ocean, from the images being shown, she can tell that the young hero is struggling, even though the Super is taking them out at an impressive speed. Emergency services have started arriving and providing first aid to the more severely injured ones, most of the kids have several bruises and cuts, but she can tell, even with how far the camera is, that some are at actual risk, the few ambulances that have arrived and the traffic piling on both directions are a bad premonition to those who were pierced by metallic pieces or have broken bones, particularly broken ribs.

Kara is gritting her teeth together, trying to keep herself as focused as possible, which is hard on the light of the events. The bus had twenty-seven five- to ten-year-olds, most of them managed to hold onto something the moment their transport was pushed off the road and only show minor scratches and bruising. However, there are a few who are severely injured, and Nia is struggling greatly to keep the bus from keep rolling down the hill and into the ocean, as it is quite heavy and the dirt she’s standing on is very unstable, making her slide further helplessly, hence, she cannot fly to a hospital those whose life is at risk, because even though she can fly extremely fast, human composition and physiology wouldn’t withstand such extreme conditions. She can only hope for the best and try to pull them all faster, one problem at a time.

Without thinking twice, the CEO activates a few codes on her computer and a swarm of aid drones are launched from a nearby warehouse. On screen she sees how the drones arrive on site, giving first aid to anyone that needs it and allowing kids to jump out of the bus by their own feet, the older ones helping those who need it or are too young, the bus driver is the most injured one, nevertheless, she has improved her drones from the first time she presented them, and now they can assess a person and act accordingly faster, by the time Supergirl gets to him, his life is no longer in danger, albeit he’s still pretty beaten up. Through the camera of the drones, she sees the hero waving a thanks and then speeding off with the driver to the nearest ambulance, rushing afterwards to move the problem-causing lory out of the way, so that ambulances may leave as fast as possible, otherwise, all the effort put forward by them, the rescue teams and Lena, would be for nothing. Finally moving to Dreamer’s side to lift the bus back into the road where cranes can dispose it properly.

Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, the raven-haired woman drops on her chair, just as the news shift from the rescue efforts to a report on how "a xenophobic group declares war on all aliens", according to an anonymous letter that was sent to the news channel, this groups seeks to fight for their planet, to avoid alien invasion and for humans’ rights, as “aliens are a threat to our way of life”.  She feels all blood draining from her face, that sounds an awful lot to what her twisted family believed in, it cannot be though, after Lex was incarcerated, she pulled several strings among the board members, with hard evidence on how Lillian posed a threat to the company, resulting from sharing the same world-domination ideals she pushed onto her son; and thanks to her friends, Sam, Jack and Andrea, helping her buy shares from her mother through shell companies, the woman started losing her spot on the board, eventually being left with absolutely no power over L-Corp, as she owns only about 0.2% of the total shares. That way, Lena prevented her twisted mother from using the company’s resources to do something along the lines of what her brother did, and also from her getting enough money to fund whatever twisted idea of patriotism and ‘right or wrong’ she has. But this, this could very much be their doing, she’ll have to dig into it and make sure that her sick relatives, have nothing to do with it, maybe even find out whoever is actually behind it and put a stop to this nonsense. There is a dread deep in her stomach, that tells her otherwise.

Lena parks her car at the entrance, she is at the direction Kara gave her. She’s wearing black jeans with leather boots and a deep green turtleneck sweater underneath a thigh-high grey coat, as it is the beginning of January and this year’s winter has been quite cold, she can see the puffs of her breath condensing on the air in front of her every time she exhales; the building she’s in front of are the Zor-El Technologies headquarters, she isn’t sure what she was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. The building is big, from the outside she’s certain that they would need a few hundred people to fill it, it has huge floor-to-ceiling windows on every floor, and the glass is, she’s certain, bulletproof (the fuck?), which is quite startling, and polarized, so that someone from the outside can’t see what’s happening on the inside but without preventing sunlight from streaming in, however, from the inside you could clearly see the outside. The only detail that differentiates this building as the one from a tech company is the huge Z hanging on the front from the rooftop. She approaches the glass doors, which slide open as soon as she nears them, and is stunned to see that there is no one, no secretary, no front desk, no security detail; there are a few cameras and the lobby is clean, open-spaced, with dark wooden floors and a few paintings hanging from the wall, in the furthest wall, there is an elevator, and coming out from it, is Kara.

The cheery blonde is wearing denim jeans with heeled ankle boots, making her look a few centimeters taller than the CEO; a light pink polo shirt covered by an open lab coat. She hands the green-eyed woman a card with her name on it, which she assumes is her access card, and is quite surprised to see the easiness with which she was given access to this building, family name aside and knowing that she may not have access to all floors and stuff, it’s still refreshing in a way. She is then led to the elevator, where she swipes her card and presses the button to the first level, where she now knows Kara’s lab is, and where she will be spending a lot of time until the end of this joint project. When the doors open, she gives herself a moment to observe.

There are several workbenches across the space, underneath them all are cabinets that contain chemicals and solvents, she assumes; there are tools scattered messily over some tables, screwdrivers, LED’s, tweezers, mixed oddly with Erlenmeyer flasks, hot plates, test tubes and other glassware. On the furthest left corner, right in front of the windows, is a desk, with a small lamp and a laptop, beside it is a cork board filled with scribbles, notes and drawings from other projects the blonde must be working on. There is soft music playing from a couple of speakers next to the elevator and a big painting of a sunset, she thinks, because of the red-ish color of the sky, on the wall to her right. Again, she’s surprised by the easiness with which Kara has let her into her space, her life, because, as a scientist herself, she knows how hard it is to open the doors of her lab to just anyone, so this small gesture amazes her and fills her with warmth, she feels welcomed, there is a knowing feeling that from now on she’ll feel a lot like that.

Research is hard she knows this, even though the background check, patents, recent developments and discoveries; is already done, the first months of their project have been a bumpy ride, to say the least. Their first experiments have been disastrous, to put it nicely, the nanoparticles vary in size to a level of polydispersity were they don’t fulfill their purpose, the nanobots the genius woman has been trying to develop don’t work, not only do they not do what she’s programmed them to, but they don’t do anything at all and is fucking infuriating. She should be able to do this, designing this kind of technology is not new to neither, particularly to the Irish genius, who has actually developed several nanotechnologies to improve life quality. In spite of that, good things have come up, the aching to know each other better, to find out more about them, paired with their constant failures has given them window to actually do so. And it’s heartwarming.

It starts with an invitation to get lunch together from Kara, after another very terrible outcome, they get on Lena’s car and drive downtown, which is only a few kilometers away from the warehouse. They eat at a Chinese restaurant, the best on National City, according to Kara. Engaging into small talk with the blonde, is easy, Lena finds, there is no judgment coming from her, she just listens, sapphire blue eyes earnest and filled with interest, honest interest, making her feel like she’s the only thing that matters; and gives reassurance whenever the Irish woman needs it, even without her actually voicing it, she just notices. What was meant to be a short lunch, became hours of them talking about everything and nothing, the outside world and that stupid project, vanishing for them. Lavender and citric coffee. Green and blue. Kara finds herself lost in kryptonite green eyes, warm and glinting, and a soft smile, the way her hair falls in dark waves only adding more and more to the softness of the woman in front of her, who has suffered and lost so much, she unknowingly and silently makes it her life’s mission to protect this beautiful human being, vowing to no one but herself to always stand up to that promise.

After a few more lunch dates they start getting close, the pull their hearts experience, stronger than ever. The first time Kara goes forward with a hug as a way to greet the raven-haired genius, Lena stiffens as a rock, not being used to such closeness, it takes her a few more attempts at physical contact but when she gives in, she finds her new favorite place, in the blonde’s arms. There is something about the way Kara hugs her that makes her feel at ease and safe, like a small precious creature that needs to be taken care of, as if she were fragile and invaluable, the scent of vanilla and flowers that she has now come to associate with the woman, dizzying, and her warmth, protecting. She feels certain that no one has ever said so much and yet so little with the simplest wrap of arms. She surely has gotten a little enraptured by her hugs. And her eyes, she’s not sure she’s ever seen bluer eyes than those, and she finds captured by them every single time. At first, she felt like they could be deceiving, however, as time went by, she has come to realize that she can read them like an open book, whether is worry or affection, she knows what Kara is feeling, and she’s now certain that the woman can also read her with that same easiness.

Will she ever get used to this woman’s presence? Somehow, she truly hopes not, is addicting the way the baby hairs at the base of her neck seem to electrify the moment she gets into Lena’s eyeline, how her breathing becomes shallower and everything else in her line-of-sight fades. After more than six months working together, she still loses her bearings every single time the raven-haired woman crosses the doorstep of her lab, it’s been natural, the way she seems to exist in her space, the way the move around each other as if they’ve been doing this for years instead of a few months. She has become attuned to the sound of her heartbeat, knowing the precise instant she arrives at the door of the warehouse, to her constant smell of citrus and coffee, she is now an addict of. Moreover, she’s addicted to her smile, her laugh, the way her dimples show whenever she is actually letting herself feel, long gone is the mask of the no-nonsense, cold-blooded CEO every newspaper feasted on.

Lena, on the other hand, has devoted her entire mind to this project, after the first months of failure, they both started gaining momentum and now they seem unstoppable, the device will still take some time as it is groundbreaking and will move Earth’s technology forward several years; however, their progress is excellent and is going ahead of their own agenda. The Luthor is so enraptured by the project that whenever she’s not working on it, her mind is reeling with possibilities; she can’t help it, she is so excited that whenever a new idea or pathway pops into her mind, she springs out of bed and drives to their lab, Kara’s lab, to keep working. After a few times Kara caught her in there, she made it her new purpose to make sure that the woman eats and sleeps properly, becoming aware of her terrible work habits. For Lena, it’s grounding in a way, the fact that someone actually cares for her, is new, and at first it scared her, but she’s come to realize that it’s deeply rooted into the blonde, she truly cares, and her kindness is blinding.

They have become accustomed to each other, and have started opening more, mostly Lena, since Kara still has a super big secret, she’s yet to come clean. The Kryptonian now knows about all the abuse Lena has endured throughout her life. How even though Lillian never actually hit her, she would still make her hate towards the green-eyed woman very well-known, criticizing every single detail, from her posture, to her eye-color, her freckles and every little imperfection she could find; humiliating her for sins she never committed, like that one time she decided to go to a party, during summer, and returned home soaking wet, as a downpour had broken lose, and Lillian made her cook for her and Lex, with her clothes soaked as punishment, and then berated her for dripping water on the floor, forcing her to clean with a rag and a bucket, on her knees. Kara’s heart broke that time, so badly that she couldn’t stop herself and hugged the woman trying to convey all her support and care. Running her fingers through black strands, whispering tenderly into her ear that it wasn’t her fault and that she is worthy.

Kara knows about the huge betrayal her brother committed that time when he went rouge and tried to kill Superman, using one of her own inventions to synthesize kryptonite and embed it into his Lexosuit. She has never trusted anyone after that. Simultaneously, Lena knows that Kara is adopted, she hasn’t given a lot of information about her life prior to the Danvers, but she’s certain it was horrible and traumatizing, she doesn’t want to pry, but she can tell from the way the light in those blue eyes seem to vanish, like a suffocated candle, the way there is a red glint to them, whenever she mentions that she failed, that she should’ve been better, smarter. And Lena holds her, rubs her back and lets her crumble and cry, she’s certain that this personification of the sun had nothing to do with whatever happened and she needs her to understand that, it’s hard. Without them knowing, their hearts started opening, giving the other a soft spot, always there, prevailing, waiting.

Kara has a drawer filled with snacks. Lena is not ever sure why she is surprised by that when the woman is literally always munching on something, how she doesn’t gain weight, she sure as hell doesn’t know; but there is just something about opening her desk’s drawer, which surface is always filled with scribbles, experiments records and calculations, and find it filled to the brim with snacks, from Poky’s to chips and… is that one of the pastries she bought last month? The CEO shakes her head in disbelief, a loving smile forming on her lips, and tries not to think about it too deeply, she absolutely doesn’t steal a chocolate bar. Sitting on a stool in front of the prototype she’s currently trying to make work, her thoughts inevitably drift to how her life has been for the past months. When she first started working in this lab, she got to know all of Kara’s friends and colleagues, and she was impressed again about the easiness with which they let her in. But being alone in Kara’s lab is something else entirely, it is not the first time this has happened, the blonde sometimes remembers she has to do something last minute and gets to it, leaving Lena on her own. Is a small gesture, but it never fails to turn her into goo, being trusted so blindly by someone so caring, she has seen the blonde playing with kids and eating unhuman amounts of ice cream, she is certain that the woman is the impersonation of goodness and the sun, and it makes her feel something she hasn’t given the time, nor wanted to for that matter, to analyze, shoving everything in little mind boxes, her life is pretty messed up without the added weight of feelings, especially with the whole anti-alien campaign.

She pinches the bridge of her nose to try and lessen the upcoming migraine she can feel the beginnings of. Whoever is behind that letter has been working from the dark, pulling strings here and there and planting the seeds of hatred towards aliens. National City has been one of the main destinations of displaced aliens and there were already growing sentiments before this whole thing, nevertheless, there weren’t any actual actions towards them, there are now. A few protests against the recognition of aliens as citizens has arisen, and there are now several youtubers who ‘state facts’ on how aliens are a threat to the human race, a speech about how aliens are taking their jobs and invading their spaces, how they will come and conquer, and who knows what other bullshit. At first she was sure this little uprising was going to end quite fast, and never really gain strength or followers, she was wrong, it turned out that a lot of humans had resentments towards aliens and this has just spurred them to the surface, many other humans who have lost their jobs to aliens have also joined and now is a very wide movement throughout the city that doesn’t seem likely to go down in the near future and is worrying, this kind of hatred-guided obsessions always escalate to more violence from both sides and who knows what could happen.

Sighing and hoping for the best, she turns around to keep working in her nanobots while Kara arrives and drags her to grab some dinner, smiling to herself at the thought of their now usual routine, where they work together all day, Kara always bringing something for lunch for them and at the end of the day she’d drag the raven-haired genius to either her apartment or the blonde’s and they’d have dinner, if Lena was in the mood she’d cook for them, not letting Kara touch anything, being remitted to chopping, if not they’d just simply order something and then watch some Netflix or another rom-com that Kara needs Lena to know (is general knowledge Lena). It fills her body with goosebumps the way they have gotten close, understanding each other easily, as if it had been always them, forever each other. She’s not usually this cheesy, though.