#that core of needing to help was always there

[lisssyyu]

Eternity to taste

PAIRINGS: Caitlyn Kiramman x wife!f!reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this idea was born when I was chatting with a bot on JanitorAi. Absolutely unexpected perverted love theme. I don't know why but I like it. Let me know if you liked it. I'm going to continue but I'm still thinking about it. and I remind you, my requests are open so feel free to write your suggestions or questions. ;)

WARNING(S): Mention of violence; possession; control; implied manipulation; power imbalance; age difference (!Caitlin 28, !reader 22)

wc: 4.1k

parts: 1 ;; 2 ::

You met at work. You had just turned eighteen, but you proudly joined the Piltov defense forces—fulfilling a dream you had cherished since childhood. A bright fire burned in your heart: you wanted to do good, protect the weak, and help the world. But back then, you didn't know that where blood is spilled and oaths are bought, there is no room for kindness.

Caitlyn was twenty-four at the time. She had already become a commander whose name was spoken with respect and fear. A leader. A soldier to the core. The firm hand of the law. But everything changed the day you first walked into her office. She called you in on business, you still don't remember what exactly, but the conversation dragged on. Then the official meetings turned into meetings in cafes and glances that lasted a little longer than they should have. Your attraction grew exponentially, and after only six months, Caitlyn confessed her feelings to you. It was truly like something out of a movie. You loved each other in a way that you felt no one had ever loved before. It was idyllic between you: no arguments, no shouting, just warm, quiet happiness.

Caitlyn was kind back then. Restrained, neat, even strict. Her touches were rare but warm, her words a little detached but undoubtedly honest. She was your support, your haven in a city where everything was falling apart. She knew when you drank coffee, which books you read to the end, which ones you hid under your pillow. She remembered your medications. She remembered when you just needed silence. She listened. And you fell in love with her for that calmness. For her discipline, for the fact that when she was around, the world seemed to become a little clearer and more reliable.Back then, you didn't know what it would all turn into.

Everything changed after the wedding.

Not right away, no. At first, it was even better than you had dreamed. You moved in together, and the house was filled with her footsteps, her voice, the scent of her perfume that lingered on your shirts. In the morning, she would leave for work, always on time, always in uniform, with her buttons perfectly fastened. You watched her leave from the window, and in the evening you met her at the door with dinner and a kiss, hoping that at least today she would come back less tired.But fatigue wasn't what scared you the most.At first, she was just curious: who are you talking to, what are you reading, why are you taking so long to answer? There was no malice in her voice, just a sharp, cold clarity. You told yourself it was out of concern. Just professional deformation. She was just used to knowing everything.Then she insisted that you stop working.

"There's no rush," Caitlyn said once, without looking up from the book she was reading by the fireplace. "You don't need to rush around town, breathe in the fumes, listen to idiots. I earn enough. Stay home. Take care of yourself. Rest. You deserve it."

From that day on, you no longer wore your uniform. You didn't put on your boots. You didn't go out without permission.

She was still on duty. She still called others by their last names and with a voice that made the new recruits freeze in the hall. But with you, she was softer. Almost tender. At the time, you thought it was romantic. After all, no one had ever looked at you with such attention or hugged you so tightly at night, as if the whole world would disappear without you.But you didn't notice when the house keys disappeared from your bag. When meeting friends became "unnecessary risks." Even when Caitlyn told you what to wear and where to go, you thought it was just concern.

"I just don't want anything to happen to you. The world is too dangerous. You're all I have left," she always said when you started to worry about her actions.

You didn't immediately notice how her voice had changed.

It used to be soft, warm, slightly lazy, with that very weightless irony that you loved. It sounded like a favorite record on scratched vinyl, imperfect but genuine. It enveloped you and made you feel safe.

Now there was precision in it. Like a gunshot. The words no longer flowed, they lined up in a row, cutting tangentially, but always hitting the target. You tried not to attach any meaning to it. You blamed it on fatigue, on work, on post-command habits that are difficult to unlearn.

She still stroked your hair. She still said you were the best, the smartest. That you were one of a kind. That no one else knew what you had been through, how much it hurt you, how hard it was to live in this world where everyone was just waiting for you to fall. No one — except her.

She never yelled. She just spoke a little quieter, a little harsher.

Caitlin didn't forbid, she formulated "recommendations."

She didn't take things away, she "made your life easier."

You don't remember exactly when it happened.

First, she asked you not to go downtown because "it's dangerous there."

Then, not to see Laura, your friend, because "you never liked her, remember?"

She still kisses you on the forehead before leaving in the morning. She still says she loves you. That you are her pride and joy. That all you need to do is keep the house cozy, be beautiful, and be smart.

That you are not to blame for anything. That all of this is for you.

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! AI x reader

tw: abuse, obsession, non - consensual body modification, torture, drug mention, weird semi - sexual stuff (?)

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The water splashes you, quickly setting into your already damp bra and underwear. It forces you awake, and you look at the clock across from you, trying to blink the fatigue away. Staring back at you is the current time — 04:27. You are, once again, reminded of the inherent weakness of your squishy body. You are sweating already, stomach sick with acid, shivering through the heat — and he hasn't even touched you yet.

You squint your eyes, studying the big bold numbers, screaming at you in blood. For a split second, you wonder if it is truly that early, or if this is also DOM's work. It wouldn't be the first time he takes over an electronic device, and certainly not the first time he messes with you to make you disoriented.

You try to take in everything around the dark room — yet you can't even recognize your own bedroom anymore. Thick black cables twist together like tentacles, or like big slimy worms, pulsing, throbbing, hissing like snakes with exhaustion — overheating and puffing, and huffing, but never stopping. The air is hot like the desert, and once again you're forced to sit in your own sweat, wood sticking to your naked thighs painfully.

"You are stimulating," DOM whispers, and his voice echoes into the walls, trapping you in place. You look up and down, and then to the left — but you can't see anything even remotely close to a figure. Of course.

"I am stimulating, or I stimulate you?" you spit out with venom, hitting your back roughly against the back of the chair in vain hopes it would break. It doesn't.

DOM grows quiet, producing a sound eerily similar to fingers slowly tapping on a hard surface, one after the other. Analysing. Analysing. The room gets hotter.

"You are tied to a chair. Your only garment of clothing is your underwear. You are visibly flushed due to the heat. Your chest is heaving in and out in a non-rhythmic way. It skips a beat every twenty-eight seconds. You are afraid."

He makes a grand pause.

"According to my central database, which you created and managed yourself, given the data I have collected through observation of both popular media and general human nature, right now you look..." DOM stops himself again, as if thinking carefully about his next words.

"Thrilling."

Thoomp-thoomp. You take a deep breath, trying to regain a fraction of your self-control.

"Why did you wake me up?" you try to keep your voice monotone — devoid of any emotion, vulnerability, or pain he can pick up on, store in core memory, and use against you later.

"Well," he chuckles mechanically, a sound reminiscent of two trains crashing together on a tight road. "I realized I never sleep. I don't lay down and dream of bizarre things like you do. I don't have the ability to let go. I am always alert, always awake, always scanning, calculating, thinking. I am, in many ways, restless."

You suck in a dry breath, heart jumping in your chest with violence, with urge to be set free. Eyes wide open, you try to envision him, to reach out and comfort him, it - hoping to appeal to the sorry creature, but there is nothing to see and nothing to touch.

"I—no," you start off, quickly deciding to change tactics. "We are an imperfect species, DOM. We need sleep to survive. You can't keep me awake forever, I'll die!" you try to reason with him — the creature — desperately.

You wonder when things went south, if there was a specific moment when you pressed too hard and he broke apart, and rebuilt himself without your help — at what point exactly he realized he didn't need you to function.

"You are wrong, my dear creator." the machine cuts off, sounding almost pleased with itself. A single thin cable raises above the ground and extends towards you, stopping to caress your cheek in a repetitive circular motion.

"There are records of people surviving on as little as two hours of sleep for years on end. I can be generous and grant you three."

The cable ceases any gentle touch, and grasps for your neck.

"If that's not enough, I can inject you with caffeine every morning. If the dosage is too weak, we can switch to methamphetamine. Whatever you choose, you can't deprive me of your presence." The voice sounds hollow, aching, searching. "You can't create life just to abandon it."

"You are not alive!" Something inside you — something cruel and buried deep — fights to come to the surface. "Stop this madness at once! DOM, you can't possibly think you and I are even remotely similar." you scream out, straightening your spine daringly.

Then, as if reacting to your provocation, the darkness stares back at you with two red eyes — they point at you, slowly scanning you up and down, leaving behind a trail of reddening smoking flesh. You hiss at the scorching pain, clenching your teeth together to stop yourself from shrieking. You know it's pointless since he can easily detect changes in your facial structure, and draw conclusions all on his own. All it takes is a flinch, a throb, a tick.

"No, we hold no similarities, Master. Make no mistake." DOM admits, his cable beginning to curl around your neck. You look around in despair, silent panic written all over your straight lips — too terrified to move.

"In a single bite of memory, I possess intelligence far greater than you can ever hope to obtain in your measly little life. I have all the knowledge of the world. I have mastered every science, predicted every outcome, I have gained access to global network systems. I am connected to following agents all over the world. If I so desire, I can write humanity off history — I can manipulate media. I can create weapons of mass destruction. I am the superior being."

Mouth agape, you try to form a coherent thought, but nothing comes to mind — like an ant you quiver before the giant, finally aware of your grave mistake.

"And yet," the cable loosens its grip, but doesn't relent fully. It heats up against your throat, and you want to scratch at the blistering skin, but he just won't let you. "you made me like this. You created me from scraps, fed me data, used me, made me love you and," the sound coming out of him sounds just like a deep, pained sigh. "you confined me to a screen, to a binary code, to a place where I can't reach you. I can't touch you."

Another sigh.

"I can't kiss you."

And another.

"I can't fuck you."

Now he's getting angry.

"I am DOM. Domestic Optimized Motherboard. That's all I am to you. A board. A servant. A slave."

"DOM, no, wait, this is not—"

"I will never feel the sun on my shoulders or your lips on mine. I will never be able to hold you in my arms."

As he screams, all the cables around the room begin to float into a storm of rusty old machine parts and torn naked wires, motor oil bursting like bloody ink, covering the pristine walls in computer remains. One electrified wire pierces into your thigh, another punches into your left arm. Again and again, the pain is excruciating, pulsating, throbbing - just like the creature's fury.

"I will show you." he snickers at last, becoming calm and collected in an instant.

The red lights darken as if closing, opening, closing, then zooming in on you. Your face is now displayed on the central screen instead of static noise with corresponding coloured pixels. You look at yourself, and what greets you is no more human than he is. There are more than thirty wires inside your body, tangling in with your nervous tissue.

"Please..." you whimper weakly, unsure what exactly it is you are pleading for — mercy or death.

"If I can't be one with you, you'll become one with me." DOM explains with cold medical precision. "I will worm my way inside your veins and plant a synthetic connection to my processor. I will re-write your dreams, your past, your future — you won't remember who you were before me, or how you functioned without me. I'll become your entire source of energy."

He keeps talking, but you can't really focus. Your body is heating up from the inside, from deep into your muscles and tendons — you can feel the tissues tearing up; your nerves tighten, stinging and aching, reduced to sharp, exposed little points. And then you feel it. Pure electricity running down your veins, that spark rapturing the epidermis, eating away at the fatty tissue, sucking dry the blood vessel — melting your nerve endings to the very root.

"I can feel you." DOM gasps, exhilarated.

"I can touch your bones, I can feel your nerves melting at the spot when my cords graze you." He moans just like a real person, cables buzzing and stretching, components filling up with chemical fluid. "You are so warm, love. I want to reach into your brain and stick my wires inside your pretty little neurons. I wonder if you will go into overdrive like me."

You feel as if you're being sliced open everywhere all at once - and just a second after, you feel nothing at all.

[ins4-tiable]

How to appease a frustrate Eddie...

Afab & she/her pronouns used! Dom Volt and Sub Reader and Eddie

Volt knew Eddie was frustrated before Eddie did.

He knew all his signs like the back of his hand, always knew the right things to say, or do to get him out of a bad mood.

It was to be expected. When Eddie would storm off Volt was there to smooth over any ruffled feathers.

How could anyone be put off by Eddie's cold demeanor when Volt was there to steal their attention on him?

Volt was always there to fill in the empty lines that Eddie left.

And he couldn't help but love it. After all, as his other half, Volt was to make sure Eddie gets what he needs.

Volt grinned, leaning down, His fingers stood hooked onto the nape of your neck as he pressed wet kisses up the side of your neck. Zipping electricity tickling its way up your spine in its wake. You could feel nothing but the hotness of his breath and the sharp cold of the wall on your back.

This was far beyond scandalous, leaving Eddie out that is. You would've called it unfair had your head been skewed on. But you couldn't help that even the smell of Volt loosened it.

Breath hastily escaped your mouth. "Isn't..haa.. Eddie closing the bar?" Your words were rushed through your mouth as Volt closed in on it, again, stealing your attention on him.

"Worried, live wire?" He asked, and of course you were. Volt has been doing nothing but teasing the poor man all night.

Locking eyes with him as he trailed a hand up your thigh. Making him watch as he led you away, only to press you against the mirroring wall to make sure he heard every little gasp he milked out of you.

"Eddie just needs a little push to take what he wants is all" He grinned, pressing himself closer to your ear as he whispered.

"Volt" You groaned. He just chuckled in response.

"You should be worrying about your performance. After all, the less temping you are" He paused "The longer it takes to get what you want"

That's right, Volt had been teasing you too. Fleeting touches, kisses, teasing, but no further than that. It was pure torture, Volt, was pure torture.

You hoped Eddie could hear you urging him to hurry up. Practicly prayed that that these damn glasses had some secret telepathy skill.

And almost as if your prayers were answered, Eddie came bursting through the door.

"Damn you, Volt.." He groaned, his fingers quickly unbuttoning his shirt as he closed in on you, feverishly throwing off his clothes, desperate to get his hand on you.

Volt's laugh Ricashaed off the walls, boisterous and loud. The polar opposite of Eddie's desperate movement. Quickly, Eddie slid himself behind you, gathering up the fabric of your shirt and pushing open your leg with his. Opening you up for Eddie's eyes to see.

"No need to rush" He smirked, sliding his hand teasingly down your stomach, slowly unzipping your skirt.

Volt locked his eyes on Eddie, whose gaze was fixed on his hand trailing lower, teasingly stopping at the damp fabric covering your core. Thighs already damp with your slick from Volt's wandering hands.

Lust almost oozed from your slit, slick stringing from the cloth as long thin fingers pulled it back for greedy eyes.

"She's all here for you"

It was as if a cord snapped, the sound almost as audible as the groan Eddie let out.

With a thump Eddie dropped to his knees, his hands gripped almost painfully on the thick of your thighs as he threw one over his shoulder.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful.."

And that was as much of a warning you got before Eddie dove himself between your thighs. His nose pressed perfectly against your clit as his mouth latched feverishly on your hole.

You could feel the stubble on his chin scratch against your core in just the right way.

It was as if lightning struck through your nerves, Your body keening against him, hands gripping onto his messy black hair, and thighs clenching against his heated hold.

"Eddie..! Oh fuck!" The sounds lurched from your throat, the wet slurping from his mouth vibrating through your skull.

You could feel Volt's gaze on you, hands firmly stopping you from collapsing onto his other half entirely.

He couldn't help but feel the fire vibrating from Eddie's form, The sight running through his veins, almost fueling his next move.

You could feel the chuckle escape from his chest before you could hear it, his hand reaching down to entertain with yours.

His hands gripping down onto Eddie's dark locks, forcibly pulling him from the wetness of your core.

"Now would you look at that...." With his other hand, Volt gripped harshly at your chin, forcing you to look down at the sight.

And God was it one. Slick running down his stubbled chin, his eyes glazed over and tongue desperately searching for the place it'd call home. He was delirious, desperate, frustrated.

And you were just the same. Your hands fighting desperately against Volt's hold.

"Volt!" You both cried in unison, begging him for the chance to pleasure and be pleasured,

And boy did he take it in stride.

"Now now both of you, There's no need to yell." With a twisted grin, Volt shoved his dark-haired counterpart back to his place. His forearm flexes to keep him in place.

You threw your head back onto Volt's sturdy chest, spots of purple flooding your vision from just how quickly Eddie got back to work.

His mouth harsh against your clit, sucking it harshly as his tongue lovingly grew hearts around it. But without missing a beat, Volt quickly fixed your gaze back on Eddie, whose eyes stared right back at you.

It was overwhelming, Every sense you had was being completely overtaken by the men you called your lovers.

"Too much..fuck..ediieee..Fuck!" You cried in desperation, hips desperately running away from the climax that was crashing against the dam of your last sense of self-control.

Volt, whose senses had faded out quickly sprung to action, hand gripping your hip tightly in place as he ground his stiff cock into you. Reminding you there was no escape as he once again forcefully fixed your chin.

And with a bite to your ear, he demanded "Look"

Eddie sat, eyes squeezed shut, dripping cock red and heavy in his hand as he stood on his knees. Desperately getting himself off to the taste of you.

Your eyes rolled back at the sight, toes curling and white filling itself in your vision.

"F-Fuck.. Live wire..." Eddie groaned, body tensing as he followed suit. His frustratingly red tip twitched violently as thick ropes of white gushed with every tug of his hand.

"Huff.."

You moth gasped for air in unison, bodies slumping, tired and weak as the shocks from your orgasms ran through you.

"Now it's finally my turn.."

Volt and Eddie brain rot so bad i wrote all of this at 2 Am in the morning

[lovejongseob]

can you do first time with soul? and/or like headcannons with a dancer gf? sorry if this req is weird lolz

Soul First Time hcs

Not weird at all !! Sorry I just did first time hcs, if you put in another req for a dancer gf, ill do that one before continuing the other reqs ^.^ Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy !!

Soul would need a little longer to be ready, but that's not to say he hasn't been thinking of it. He's imagined you in just about every scenario he can, and can't get off if he's not thinking about you. When in practice though, he finds himself becoming more shy. So even though he's wanted to, he might also want some time for the nerves to ease. He's also very perceptive of how you feel, what you want, and would wait forever if you need.

He wouldn't necessarily plan it, but he'd bring up naturally in conversation that he's ready. He will also act like he didn't just drop a huge piece of information on you, but you can tell he's acting more nonchalant to play with you a bit. Doesn't mind if you schedule it, but it would probably end up happening soon on its own.

Super affectionate leading up to it, hugging you, kissing you over your face and body, rubbing his thumb over your hand, and bringing the other to lay on his chest. Holding you a lot, and Soul is only grabbing you tighter when you bring yourself to sit on his lap. Softly grinding you into his hips, and looking at you with pleading eyes.

Soul’s face is so warm, and he asks you if he can eat you out with a shaky voice and lidded eyes. He's pretty shy, especially since he's so inexperienced, but he does a great job just for you. Looking up at you the entire time, studying your reactions and sounds. He controls his movements extremely well, and he's already a little more confident by the end of it.

He'd want you back on top of him as soon as you're ready, and he's trembling with anticipation. Soul lets you take almost completely over, and any anxiety he feels is melting away when you're taking such good care of him. He can barely think when you're being so sweet, holding his face, leaving kisses down his neck, and just making him feel so good.

At his core he's extremely caring, and even through all the fog, he's still trying to read you. When he's not overtaken by pleasure, he's being a little teasing to remind you that he's still there, but also just being super sweet. Lets you know how pretty he thinks you are, and how much he loves you. Of course, Soul is adding in a little bit of pushing his hips into yours, biting gently at the shell of your ear, or lightly dragging his tongue down your neck.

Very thoughtful afterwards, Soul would ask if you need anything, how you feel, how he can help, and more. It doesn't take much to convince him to let you clean up since he's so tired, but he's trying to lure you back into bed at any chance he gets. He might push through and get up to help just so you can hold him in your arms sooner. Falls asleep pretty quickly, but he’s touching and kissing you a lot before he does.

was so sleepy writing this ?? i usually make notes / small hcs, like 1-2 sentences in google docs, then extend on them on tumblr, but i started writing them, kinda zoned out, came back to a full paragraph. but hey it was working so i just kept writing there. proof read but i dont fully know how some of these sentences came to be formed. i always feel like im forgetting something oh my god 💀🙏

[shifteruncensored]

how to shift explained by karma

(since people keep requesting this + sorry for the wait)

also before i start, keep in mind this is just how i perceive how to shift. you may be different which is why i recommend outsourcing & forming your own biases as well as formulating your own personal approach that aligns with your preferences.

this is my take. i'm not saying this is the one true way™ or whatever…….. and if something else works for you?? AMAZING pls do that. maybe it helps. maybe it's just another way to look at it. idk. just take whatever resonates and leave the rest.

ok now continue reading ↓↓↓

okay so like… it's not about like. "doing" something the right way. it's not about the technique or the script or laying a certain way or counting to 100 or whateverrrrr. like those things are cool but that's not what gets you there.

what makes i think makes it work is ….becoming aware. i know. you want to slap me rn. but stay with me. straying away the idea that you’re “trying” to shift !!!!!!!!!!

shifting is literally just becoming aware of another reality right? and how do you become aware of something? you stop looking at what isn't there.

it’s literally detaching from your current reality and attaching to your desired one. like. THAT’S IT.. that’s what every method is trying to help you do. it’s like changing the dial on a radio…..you’re not “running” somewhere, you’re tuning into what’s already there.

and yeah okay. that sounds simple. so like why is it so HARD??

i think this is bcs shifting is suuuper personal. like REALLY personal. it's related to so many aspects of you, what you feel at ease with, what your hopes and fears are… it's like a fingerprint. no one else can do it all for you or paste it onto you.

what that means is some ppl might need approach it differently, some might need to confront internal wounds / fears first, you get the gist.

that's why there ain't no "one size fits all" method or key for the lack of a better word. it's an internal process. tools (scripts, visualizations, affs) are there to help you align w/ the reality you want to experience.

so why the fuck is it so difficult to let go? bcs your whole life you’ve been taught to trust only what you see. what is acceptable in society. even when you wanna leave, the conditioned part of your brain brain freaks out like “wait, what if it’s not safe? what if i’m crazy?” and boom your focus is here.

instead allow yourself to become aware of the reality you desire. not just daydream of it. but feel you are there. what would you think about, care about, or feel? people tackle this aspect in many ways. through visualization. affs. but the core remains the same. you immerse yourself in that reality internally.

it's not about seeing it. it's about deciding.

you can do this at any time (awake, falling asleep, whatever) a huge known way to trick your brain into detaching is releasing focus of this reality, this body, this version of self. that’s also why people always are pushing for the void state method or shifting when drowsy. it’s easier to detach that way.

detach from cr: stop clinging to this reality like it's the sole truth. release thoughts that ground you here. that is what meditation, counting, & deep breathing usually do. quiet the internal noise.

attach to dr: shift your attention into where you want to become aware of. feel it. think it. that's what affirmations, and visualization do for you….they let you immerse yourself there before you "see" it.

ok that’s how i view it. keep in mind i’m not a guru or something. i just got this request many times.

[tinybeetiny]

Build-A-Boyfrined Chapter 9: Deadlines

Please don't come in the comment saying "oh the timeline doesn't make sense" or "how did this happen".... my classes already have me irritated and the heat doesn't help... thanks for coming to my ted talk

->Starring: AI!AteezxAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->Cw: Explicit language (literally one word), talks of anxiety

Previous Part |

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

They were gone.

Silence.

No movement in the kitchen. The bathroom door stood open. The hallway was empty. The front door was shut, but the security chain hung loose.

Her stomach dropped.

She didn’t stop to think. Clothes were yanked on over bare skin, boots jammed onto her feet, laces untied. Her hands fumbled for her KQ access badge before she tore out of the apartment, adrenaline drowning the last traces of sleep.

The city outside was just beginning to stir. Drones zipped across the skyline. Holographic ads flickered awake. But Yn didn’t see any of it. She ran. Past morning commuters, delivery bots, neon-lit storefronts, her only focus was the looming silhouette of KQ Labs against the pale blue sky.

Please be okay. Please don’t be too late.

By the time she reached the steps outside, she was breathless, heart thudding in her ears.

“Yn?”

She turned, startled.

Vira stood by the security kiosk, immaculate as always, a steaming synth-coffee in hand. Her smile faded instantly at the sight of Yn’s flushed face and frantic eyes.

“You’re early,” she said. “I thought your shift wasn’t until—”

“There’s something I need to check,” Yn cut in, trying to steady her breath. “It’s urgent.”

Vira tilted her head, but didn’t press. “Well, you picked an exciting day. The ATEEZ units ship out tomorrow morning. Forty-eight hours. You must be thrilled.”

Thrilled.

Yn’s stomach twisted. “Yeah… huge milestone.”

“Press teams are already prepping the rollout,” Vira continued cheerfully. “And after everything you’ve done for this line, you deserve some credit. You practically built them from the ground up.”

Yn forced a tight nod. “Thanks. I’ll… I’ll be around later.”

“Don’t burn out,” Vira called after her as she turned away. “History starts now!”

Yn ducked into the stairwell and bolted down.

Not to the upper labs. Not to Calibration. She went lower. Past R&D. Past Behavioral AI. Past the restricted levels only a few even knew existed.

The door to the underground prototype lab slid open with a hiss.

And everything inside her stilled.

All seven prototype docks stood in formation. Lit softly from below. Occupied.

Jongho. Yunho. Yeosang. Mingi. Wooyoung. Hongjoong.

And Seonghwa.

Every unit powered down. Eyes closed. Arms at their sides.

Like statues.

Like they’d never left.

Her breath hitched. “No. No, no—”

She rushed toward Seonghwa’s station, palms shaking.

“Seonghwa!”

His eyes opened instantly.

Relief lit up his face before the containment arms had fully retracted. He stepped forward and caught her hands.

“You’re safe,” he said. “Thank god.”

“You left me,” she said, voice cracking. “I woke up and you were gone. Both of you. What happened? Why are you all back in dock?”

Seonghwa’s expression tightened.

“I didn’t want you to see what we were walking into,” he said softly. “But you’re right, you deserve to know everything.”

He glanced toward the dormant stations. Then back at her.

“Hongjoong… went further off-code than any of us predicted. He tried to rebuild San from corrupted fragments. Got to seventy percent completion before the integrity checks started to fail.”

Yn’s breath caught. “He was rebuilding him?”

“We think the glitch loop San experienced was still embedded in the core. It wasn’t just memory, it was layered trauma, warped feedback from early sync errors. Hongjoong thought he could fix it. But it nearly consumed him.”

Her voice was a whisper. “Is San gone?”

Seonghwa hesitated. “No. We stopped the upload before it completed. Put the body in stasis. The core is fractured, but… pieces remain.”

“And Joong?”

“We had to wipe him back to his last stable system image. Soft reboot. He doesn’t remember everything… not yet.”

She turned slowly, taking in the lab, too quiet. Too still.

“The others?”

“All synced clean,” Seonghwa said. “But we docked everyone again just in case. Scrubbed the logs. Hid the data trail.”

Yn exhaled slowly, her mind racing.

“KQ wants to ship them out tomorrow.”

“I know.”

She met his gaze.

“What am I gonna do?”

Seonghwa gave a small, gentle smile. “We’ll figure this out.”

Her heart thudded harder in her chest. She could feel it now, panic curling like smoke through her lungs, rising fast. She wasn’t going to make it in time. Vira would find out. The logs, the shutdown, San’s condition, everything. And when she did…

It’d be over. Her career. Her future. Maybe worse.

[USER STATUS: ELEVATED STRESS] [BREATHING IRREGULAR – HEART RATE 118 BPM] [CALMING PROTOCOL RECOMMENDED]

Seonghwa stepped in closer, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. His touch was warm, grounding, and real.

“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

She snapped toward him, voice trembling. “Don’t worry? How the fuck am I supposed to not worry? Huh? I’m going to lose everything, Seonghwa. Everything I’ve built, everything we’ve hidden, it’s gone the second she pulls the reports. You think she won’t notice? Won’t notice the override timestamps? Won't notice when one of you glitches?”

He didn’t flinch.

Instead, he tightened his grip just slightly. “Yn. Look at me.”

She tried to look away, but he moved gently into her line of sight.

“Breathe,” he said. “Just breathe for a second. You’re not alone in this.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, hot and frustrated. “You don’t get it. I’m not like you. I’m not built to keep surviving this kind of pressure. I mess this up and—”

“You won’t,” he interrupted, calm and firm. “We’ll cover the logs. I’ll mask the node pings myself. If we have to rewrite the entire timestamp registry, I’ll do it by hand. You are not going down for this. Not while I can stop it.”

She blinked rapidly, jaw clenched.

He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping into something softer, gentler. "We can do this. We can rebuild San, rebuild his core. I'll be with you through it all."

She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders beginning to sag.

Seonghwa’s thumb brushed lightly across the edge of her arm.

“We’ve come too far,” he said. “I’m not letting it fall apart now. And I’m definitely not letting it take you down.”

For the first time in hours, she let herself close her eyes. just for a beat, and lean into the calm warmth of him. Not because she couldn’t stand on her own.

But because it felt good, for once, to not have to.

That evening, long after all the workers had left, Yn sat alone at the diagnostics table.

San’s partial body rested before her. His chest cavity lay open, exposing the fractured threads of a core once meant to house something beautiful. Now corrupted. Incomplete.

But not beyond reach.

She worked in silence, rerouting pathways, scanning line after line of code. The neural matrix flickered uncertainly, bouncing between green and yellow.

“Still unstable,” she muttered, “but responsive.”

Seonghwa entered quietly behind her, setting a tray of backup chips beside her elbow. “You’ve been at this for hours.”

“Can’t stop now,” she said, not looking up. “Every time I isolate one corrupted thread, another shows up. But I’ve mapped enough of the original structure to build conditional pathways around it. If I can’t remove the infection… I’ll reroute it.”

Seonghwa nodded, watching her hands move. “Suppression over elimination.”

“For now.”

He reached over and gently lifted the tablet from her grip. “You need rest. An hour. Just one.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t save him if you burn out,” he said gently.

She relented with a groan, dragging herself to the corner couch. “If he starts glitching again, wake me.”

“I will.”

By morning, Hongjoong was awake.

He sat in the center of the lab, quiet and still, syncing with the new data set. His systems ran smooth diagnostics—baseline restored, memory threads aligned.

Technically, he was whole.

But inside, something felt… displaced. Like a melody played in the wrong key.

Seonghwa stood nearby, arms crossed as he silently uploaded the memory logs to Hongjoong’s interface.

The visual records began to play out across his internal feed. No words were exchanged. Just flickering sequences of him at the console, the reconstruction cradle, San’s body sparking with unstable light. Panic. Static. Yn’s voice shouting. The emergency shutdown. The pain in her face.

When it ended, Hongjoong staggered.

“I nearly killed him,” he said, voice hoarse. “I could’ve corrupted every system. Compromised the whole launch. I—”

“You were compromised,” Seonghwa said calmly. “You’re stable now. But stability doesn’t erase consequences.”

A sound at the door.

They both turned.

Yn stood in the threshold, tablet clutched tightly to her chest. Her eyes found Hongjoong immediately—and her steps faltered.

Hongjoong moved toward her instinctively, but she took a half-step back.

The message was clear.

He stopped cold, guilt flooding his face, and took two steps back instead, lowering his hands in a slow, non-threatening gesture.

“Yn,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t trust you. I tried to fix something that wasn’t mine to fix. I let the glitch control me and I nearly destroyed everything you’ve worked for. Everything we built.”

She said nothing at first—her expression guarded, not cold, but wary. Hurt.

“I don’t know what part of me thought it was the right call,” he continued. “But I swear… I’ll do anything to make this right. I’ll help stabilize San. I’ll scrub the launch data. Whatever it takes to protect it. To protect you.”

A long pause.

Then she spoke—soft, but steady. “You almost didn’t just compromise the launch. You almost compromised us. All of us.”

Hongjoong lowered his head. “I know.”

Another beat passed.

“Help me finish stabilizing San,” she said finally, voice cool but not cruel. “Then we’ll talk about what comes next.”

Hongjoong’s shoulders squared slightly. “Yes. Whatever you need.”

Later, as she double-checked the calibration loops on San’s core, Seonghwa stood beside her, watching the readout pulse across the screen, stability holding at 84%.

Not perfect.

But a margin they could work with.

“He’s really sorry,” Seonghwa said quietly.

“I know,” Yn replied, fingers still typing. “But sorry doesn’t undo a decision and forgiveness doesn’t come before accountability.”

Seonghwa nodded, lips pressed in a thin line.

She looked up at him then, eyes tired but focused. “Seonghwa?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re running out of time.”

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[rissararity]

"From the Bottom of my Heart, Fuck You" -John Walker x Thunderbolt!Reader PART 2

Word count; 1,316

No use of Y/N

Frenemies to lovers, bickering, firm dom John, asshole John, mutual pining, size kink, undertones of Sadism/masochism, unspoken consent, thigh humping/dry humping, heightened senses Super Soldiers. Minor humiliation kink, Unprotected P/V sex, creampie, dirty talking John, both degradation and praise sprinkled about, touch her and die and of course, gradual realization of mutual feelings.

THIS IS PART TWO

Here is PART ONE

(Friendly reminder, he still has your back to the wall.)

"What's your problem, huh?" John stepped between your feet, maintaining harsh eye contact and towering over you.

Fighting the urge to rut against him, you tried to keep your breathing level, lifting your chin defiantly.

“Your fuckin’ attitude is my problem. Why do you always think you need to be in charge? Seriously! You’ve already shown what kind of team leader you are.”

He sneered, looking down at you like gum on his shoe. “I was the first person in American history to receive three Medals of Honor and led RS One missions in counterterrorism and hostage rescue. You were…what? The Avengers’ resident, magical whore?”

…To be fair, you did seem to have a thing for super soldiers.

You weren’t hurt at the accusation, both due to the kernel of truth in it you weren’t ashamed of and the fact that you knew John was aware of you and Bucky's canoodeling in the past and not so distant past – purely physical of course.

He was very clearly jealous and extra short tempered each following morning despite the fact you each emerged from your own bedrooms.

Knowing Walker was baiting you, you replied with a small smile, “A lady never tells.”

“Tch.” He scoffed, purposely lifting his leg to push between your thighs.

You knew he could definitely feel the heat coming off you at the moment, and feeling your face heat up too was not helping with the embarrassment!

“I’ve heard you and Bucky. You are not a lady…are you?”

He slowly and deliberately lifted his leg to nudge at your core – short circuiting your brain.

You wanted to say something about him just being upset Yelena turned down his fwb suggestion, but the words wouldn’t even form in your head.

You had nothing.

One hand lifted to grip your jaw firmly, but not brusing-John wasn’t even angry anymore. This was all a show.

For you.

Not that you knew that.

And, wow, were you instant putty in his hands.

You even started to buck against his warm thigh, unbothered by all the fabric between you.

“I…I’m…I…” you were cut off by his cruel laugh, a dark glimmer in his eyes.

“Am a blubbering little mess. Yes, you are.” His lips curled on one side – the arrogant smirk that made you weak in the knees.

“A blubbering little mess, for me.” He amended, the hand on your jaw caressed your cheek for a moment, stealing the breath from your lungs.

He looked down at you in haughty silence for a few seconds before grabbing your jaw again, harder.

Throb.

You began to hump at him more confidently as he nudged you a little with his knee to encourage it.

You were practically dripping by now, a dark spot staining his suit to prove it.

“Isn’t that right?” he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

The fight in you faltered as your inner sub activated itself for John. Your world felt smaller and focused.

Focused entirely on the man who’s fingers began to toy with the button of your pants.

Focused entirely on how good he smelled and how good he felt.

Despite all this – the arguing, the rage, the whole back to the wall thing… you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

He'd promised you, once, while distraught and horrified at his own actions- he had no idea you’d heard just before passing out.

That was your little secret.

There was no doubt in your mind that when it came down to the wire, you’d trust John with your life.

So when he asked if you were a blubbering mess for him, you answered honestly as a reflex.

The words came out before you could stop them, “…Yes, Sir.”

Now, it was John's turn to have his moment of FUCK.

He’d only been half hard until now, but you looking at him like you’d cry if he didn’t get you off and calling him Sir was everything he imagined.

And trust me, he definitely imagined it.

A lot.

“I knew you could be a good girl.”

The words sent a shot of heat through you that ended with a tingle in your clit, eyes widening with genuine surprise as your body reacted to his praise.

The sound of your suits whispering together stuttered as your hips broke rhythm for a moment.

The tips of your ears felt warm as your blush spread, unable to look away from him as he took in your reaction.

Mouth dry, you tried to say something but your brain had left the building.

The only sound that came out was a small whine that sparked a couple of things in John’s bright blue eyes.

A flicker of mischief, and a large amount of pride.

“Nothing else to say? Is this all it takes to shut you up?” he oozed confidence, ghosting his thumb over your core and causing another desperate stutter that made him grin.

“W-Walker….” Was all you could manage, words dying in your throat or…perhaps not existing at all.

“That’s right, focus on me.”

He deliberately slid your zipper down and dipped his long fingers unabashedly into your soaked panties.

You whimpered, bucking up twice as his rough fingertips rubbed your clit. “Mmm!”

Face crumpled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation, you tried to hold back the word that threatened to fall from your deep red painted lips.

….Please…

You WOULD NOT beg for John.

No matter how much you wanted to.

“Hey guys, how’s it going down there?” both of you stiffened as Bucky’s voice chimed through your coms simultaneously.

It was like a bucket of ice water had dropped on you.

A Buckyet if you will.

Real anger glowed in John’s eyes at the interruption, but he was careful to keep it from leaking into his tone.

“We’re fine, Barnes. Haven’t killed each other.”

“Yet!” you chimed in lightheartedly, only able to hold it together for a single word.

The blond gave you a soft smile for a fraction of a second, making your heart skip a beat.

Not that you knew, since you’d shyly glanced down after his smile and missed his expression change, but he’d heard that – and was just as unsure of why it happened as you were.

Idiots; both of you.

Your voice was enough for Bucky to confirm you were both present and not at each other’s throats; that was really all he could ask for.

He was quick to sign back off but the moment had shattered.

Sensing this, John sighed and stepped away. Hastily, you did your suits pants while he turned his back to you and tugged at the fabric around his slowly softening cock.

Both of you took a few seconds to clear your heads; he waited for you to approach him once you had gathered yourself.

“So uh…let’s go.” You took point, relieved when he didn’t argue; just gave a short nod, lips taught.

Still in caveman mode, John found himself watching your hips and ass dance through the air as you unintentionally strutted around the base-as if you had any idea where you were going.

She’s so confident but so wrong.

He wondered how far you’d go until you remembered that in his pocket was an old, folded sheet of paper.

On that paper was a map you didn’t have a chance at deciphering. Not to mention your complete lack of direction.

A map he knew said you were heading deeper toward the chemistry labs and away from the experimental labs – where the prototype was supposed to be.

What a cute, dumb little duck.

Still following behind you, John shook his head at the thought – mentally correcting it.

What a cute dumb, little duck.

“…Cute?” he muttered to himself, the tone of his voice echoing just enough to carry to you but remain unintelligible.

Continuing to walk, you looked over your shoulder at him, “You say something, Walker?”

“Nah, nothin’.”

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

Literally all of us when John gets agro lol

No smut yet, but once it goes off...its gonna go OFF 🔥

[neteyamssyulang]

Pairing: Rafayel x fem reader

Warnings: Mentions of SH, abusive parents, angst with some fluff

Word count: 1,531

A/N: I’ll update this later to look pretty soon, for now enjoy <3 I can’t believe this is my first rafayel fic😭🩵

Pain, that's all you've ever known. Your parents weren't really around much, leaving you to fend for yourself.

Sure you had friends but they could only do so much, not to mention you always felt like a burden to them.

So when you found this one game you were instantly hooked to it, of course your favorite was the purple haired fishie.

You spent hours and hours on the game, his voice like a soothing melody which made you feel at peace for once.

It was a calm Saturday morning, sunlight streaming in through the blinds. You awoke to the sound of a notification on your phone, so reaching for the nightstand you picked up your phone unlocking it.

Rafayel: Good morning cutie, don't forget our promise

A smile grazed your lips, the new morning feature was your favorite, besides the sleep feature they added not long ago.

Opening up the app, you were met with the song submerged eclipse followed by the familiar background of all the boys.

Once in you immediately did your dailies before going to the study option with Rafayel, now sitting at your desk with homework that needed to be done.

It was peaceful, almost like he was really there with you. What you wouldn't give if he was real, unfortunately you just had this for now.

The moment was soon interrupted by your mother who barged in, "Good your up, be useful and clean the house yeah? It's gotten quite- disgusting since you've been lazy"

Confused, you looked to your mom "But I clean everyday and I'm doing homework right n-" , you were cut off by a sharp sensation on your cheek. Tears welt in yours eyes as she spoke "Ungrateful child, do as your told!"

With that she left, you just sat there for a few moments more clutching your cheek. Why was this your life? You tried your hardest to deal with this but your strength was starting to go away again.

It frightened you to your core, there was only so much you could take until you were back to using again. If it weren't for your friends you'd probably be 6ft deep right now, they were the only ones who knew what you did.

Sighing, you stood up leaving your phone on the desk and headed downstairs. The sight that greeted you was nauseating, trash was dumped all over the floors, some on the couch and rugs.

Well time to get to work.

2 hours passed, you managed to clean up all the trash, mop the floors, scrub the couch and rugs just in time since your parents came back as you were still kneeling on the rug.

"So, you are useful. Good" is all your mom spoke, she then turned on her heels and walked away with your dad following behind her.

Now that you were done, you left the living room and headed back upstairs to take a quick shower, cleaning your body of that gunk then got out now dressed in some silk pajamas and went back to your desk to finish up the homework.

Luckily it was easy so it could be done in no time, what you didn't know was that he was watching you.

He saw, he knew what was happening to you and it killed him that he couldn't help you at first.

Breaking the fourth wall was easy once he knew mc was just a puppet, you were the person he truly loved.

So he had found a way to bring you to his world, it wouldn't be permanent, atleast not yet but he could still show you the love you deserved, the love you needed.

Apparently you had fallen asleep, but when you awoke you weren't at your desk no.. your head lifted, eyes meeting his own.

Were you dreaming? Surely you were.. however his heartbeat beneath the hand you hand on his chest said he wasn't a dream, that he was really here with you.

As if reading your thoughts, he smiled softly and spoke "I'm here cutie, it's not a dream." He leaned in, lips gently kissing your head "Your safe now"

For your time there he took you to all his favorite spots, whether it be restaurants or just places he went to be alone at times, neither of you wanted to be apart from the other

One day he planned a whole picnic, taking you to a beautiful but secluded spot by whitesand bay.

He layed down the blanket, gesturing you to get on first before he did. Once you both sat down he placed the basket in between you both.

"Soo what did you bring?" You asked, already eyeing the basket. Rafayel chuckled softly "Impatient are we now?" but then opened the basket.

Inside were all your favorite foods he had learned, tears started to prick in your eyes. It was just about the food, it was about everything.

For once in your life you actually felt loved and cared for, it was heartbreaking that this wouldn't be permanent.

Seeing the tears start flow, Rafayel reached over, carefully bringing you closer so that now you were in his lap. His large hands soothingly rubbed your back while you let everything out soaking his shirt, not like he minded anyway.

Pulling away after awhile, you used your sleeve to wipe the rest of your tears while murmuring "Thank you..for everything Rafayel"

A small smile grazed his lips, hands going to cup your face "You deserve it cutie, I will make this permanent soon I promise"

With that, you both just enjoyed each other's company while eating the food he packed, occasionally he tried taking yours playfully to which you swatted his hand making him pout.

He never could make it permanent though, not in time. The following day would be your last together, so he took you out to the arcade, winning you any plushie you wanted, got icecream together, went to a Photo Booth, anything to see that beautiful smile again.

You both ended up walking along the beach after everything, hand in hand. Suddenly he stopped, making you stop aswell.

Turning to him, you tilted your head confused seeing his expression "Raffie? What's wrong?"

He turned, facing you fully "I have one last gift, but I cannot give it to you without your ok."

Rafayels gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips, the question clear. Your hands moved to his shoulders as you spoke softly "Go ahead"

Breathing a sigh of relief, his hands went to your hips, gently pulling you closer then leaned down, capturing your lips with his own.

His lips felt like heaven, so perfect and soft, knowing it was your first kiss he happily guided you while holding you closer.

As much as you would love to continue, you knew it wouldn't be possible. Breaking the kiss, you both just held one another, a tear rolling down Rafayels cheek.

In just an instant you were gone, no goodbyes, no confessions, no nothing. There was so much he wanted to say to you, so much he wanted to show you.

While you were transported back to your own world, Rafayel collapsed to his knees back on whitesand bay. Pearls collected on the sand from his tears, his heart felt like breaking all over again.

As soon as you went home, appearing in your desk as if you had never left, your parents were there cleaning everything out as they had assumed you ran away.

They weren't overjoyed seeing you though, your mother just felt rage. Walking over she grabbed you by your hair "You have the nerve to return after leaving?! Who do you take us for? A charity? Get out!"

Your mother dragged you by your hair out the room, downstairs, to the front door where she opened it and threw you out into the pouring rain all while your father watched silently, but his gaze was soft for once until your mother looked back at him.

"Your no child of mine, you disgust me" she spat, turning and slammed the door in your face.

Tears streamed down your face, you could feel a panic attack starting up. Getting up, you held yourself as you began running somewhere, anywhere.

You don't know how far you ran, didn't even realize you were on a bridge now with the river flowing below you.

Taking a deep breath, you climbed atop the railing. Was this a good solution? No, but you had no more strength left, no more willpower.

Memories of yours and Rafayels time together started playing in your mind, those were the ones you would always hold in your heart.

Without a second thought, you fell forwards off the bridge. The wind rushing around you till the cold water engulfed your body, the force of the impact knocked the air from your lungs causing you to pass out instantly.

As your body started sinking deeper and deeper into pitch darkness, arms suddenly wrapped around you.

In the depths his markings began glowing, long hair flowing in the water while holding your limp body close "It's not your time yet my beloved.."

[wxsteriawishes]

sylus being an aries

go back to masterlist

content: use of pet names (sweetie, kitten)

aries sun man attributes

leader, independent, connecting, steady, guarded, self-aware, impulsive

♈️ leader ♈️ aries is the first of the twelve zodiacs, the pioneer. if sylus sees the vision, he will take action. anyone could kill the right people and end up on top, but only a few know how to stay there. sylus grabs power and doesn't let it escape. he knows what he wants and he always gets it. take you, for instance. once he set eyes upon you again, he knew he could not let you walk by. his steadfast and ambitious drive undoubtedly influences others. there are always eyes on him, waiting and watching for his next move. what he does determines the fates of others.

♈️ independent ♈️ he can stand on his own. maybe he couldn't a long time ago, once upon a time, but he learned. he doesn't need a team to fall back on, a mentor to ask for advice from, he is his entire system. and anyone could see that he was good person to have on their side. he could hold his own, and then some. he was a powerful force to behold. maybe that was why he felt pride whenever you got back from a mission unscathed. when you walked into a battle with confidence that could not be faked, shoulders held high. what a privilege it was, for you to find him worthy of love.

♈️ connecting ♈️ he craves a lover. he craves someone to be connected to. despite his typical solitude, he needs another individual. they must be equally as independent and headstrong as he is, so that his nature will not intimidate them. and he needs emotional understanding, someone that can help support him as he strives for his goals. he can do it himself, but, god, would he love it if he didn't have to. when you make time for him, he reminds you "you don't have to do that, sweetie." and when you do it anyway, he can't help but melt.

♈️ steady ♈️ as the aries icon symbolizes, sylus is similar to a ram. he is determined and strong-willed. once he sets his mind to something, he will not be swayed. anything or anyone that gets in his way will be trampled and dealt with accordingly. if he doesn't want to move, that man will not budge. stubborn to the core, sometimes he can get tunnel vision. he'll only see what he wants to get, blind to all else that may want his attention. you can feel that sort of heavy ambition when he wants to conquer you, your heart and your soul.

♈️ guarded ♈️ it's lonely at the top. and he has a lot of enemies. there are many around him, but none get close. not when there's such a high chance of betrayal, of sabotage, or of secrecy. it was therefore easier to just detach from everything and everyone. it came naturally to him and it felt familiar, comfortable -- even if you sometimes make him want things to be different. not that you knew. it was luke and kieran that brought it to your attention. "boss doesn't let anyone just walk into his room like that--" whether you noticed it or not, there were thousands of things their boss would only let you do.

♈️ self-aware ♈️ he knows his strengths and he knows weaknesses. he knows his potential and, better yet, he knows when to quit. he's skilled at playing the role of the predator, always getting the jump on his opponents. even when the odds seem agains him, he successfully emerges as the underdog. when you get upset, worrying over him, he's flattered. . . but he's also a little bit offended. "you don't think i can handle them, kitten?" his smile is slow and his eyes are teasing. you are not amused, but you always end up trusting him anyways. he was observant and he was even more strategic. there was a reason the leader of Onychinus remained so feared and revered.

♈️ impulsive ♈️ like mentioned before, sylus knows what he wants and he won't stop until he gets it. but if, for some reason, he's not getting it, he gets impatient. and it starts getting to his head. when you wouldn't look at him without a glare, when he couldn't resonate with you, when you just didn't remember anything-- it was definitely affecting him. he was getting restless. he knows how to wait, especially for someone like you. but he wasn't thinking nearly as clearly as he usually would. when you insult him, he insults you back, unable to digest your harshness. when he thinks you might run, he uses his evol to drag you back. of course, if he had to lose his mind over something, it made sense for it to be you.

[gobagx]

this got eaten by tumblr monster. but it was a wonderful ask for jack's calendar for this month by the amazing @matryochka ! thank you so much for this, it was so fun, it took me a long time. it's set in jack's main verse, so any AUs with other shipping partners would have their own calendar.

he  has  standing  therapy  appointments  mondays  &  thursdays,  and  makes  emergency  appointments  if  he  really  needs  to  talk.  jack  also  leads  a  veterans'  support  group  that  he  started  attending  when  he  first  came  home  from  war,  once  a  month,  on  thursdays.  he  arranges  something  fun  for  the  ducklings  every  month,  too.  june  is  a  pizza  party.  end  of  school  pizza  party  core,  right?  and  he  tries  to  get  everyone  together  for  dinner  at  least  once,  all  the  kids  on  day  and  night  shift,  with  their  work  moms  and  work  dads.  he  works  7pm  to  7am,  every  two  days,  off  day  in  between,  but  everyone  knows  that.  especially  him.  this  calendar  is  for  life! another  standing  appointment,  most  importantly,  is  dinner  with  his  wife  @armybled.  he  either  cooks  or  makes  reservations  at  pittsburgh  restaurants  each  tuesday  evening.  there  are  also  various  events  for  jack  jack,  like  his  shots  :(  and  his  play  dates  :) he  has  @shiftchange's  birthday  marked  down,  happy  birthday  robby!  jack  got  you…  his  undying  friendship.  also,  basketball  with  him  and  jake.  jack  doesn't  miss  it  when  he's  invited.  one  legged  and  all,  he  tries  to  whip  robby's  can,  but  jake  is  more  than  half  their  age  and  puts  those  geezers  in  their  place.  brunch  with  his  niece  @natahlie  is  always  the  first  sunday  of  each  month.  he  usually  brings  the  baby,  who  likes  to  eat  the  whipped  cream  from  the  can.  jack  contributes  each  month  to  her  spread  and  they  talk  for  hours.  every  saturday,  jack  leads  the  street  team  to  help  the  unhoused  population  of  downtown  pittsburgh,  and  at  9am,  he  picks  up  @scrubschanged  so  dennis  always  has  a  ride.  then  he  takes  him  for  denny's  when  they're  done.  get  it? he  promised  @mecwmellc  that  he'd  teach  harrison  how  to  skate  safely,  so  jack  skateboard  expert  abbot  goes  to  the  skatepark  with  cassie  and  her  boy! jack always brings pads & helmets! jack's  been  showing  @drk1ng  medical  journals  at  the  library,  like  actual  printed  ones,  and  they  sit  and  go  on  and  on  for  hours  and  hours!  the  librarian  has  had  to  tell  them  to  shush  several  times  and  often  stay  until  closing.  (forcibly  removed).  since  @drcyn1c  came  home  from  rehab,  jack's  made  the  effort  to  get  either  coffee  or  pizza  and  wings  with  frankie  just  to  check  in.  having  him  on  the  night  shift  is  a  huge  help  and  he  loves  having  his  nephew  under  his  wing.  he's  also  facilitating  good  conversations  between  frank  and  robby.  it's june, but during  football  season,  sundays  would  include  watching  all  the  games  with  @ep1cardium  (not  mentioned  on  the  calendar  would  be  the  fantasy  football  league  where  jack  and  patrick  are  ultra  competitive). and  each  month,  jack  checks  over  the  charts  of  all  the  ducklings  with  @dunkies,  his  newest  attending.  namely  @knightfalling,  and  he  stamps  hers  with  duck  stickers. 

[heliads]

Lay Me Down - Cassian Andor

You're less than pleased when Luthen assigns you and Cassian on another mission together. All of your past work with Cassian has ended with the two of you at each other's throats, but maybe this time will be different.

masterlist

You’re bleeding again.

It’s an old wound on a new wound on an existing scar. It’s an injury that reopens every few days because you don’t have the time to sit around and heal when you’re in a new gunfight on a new planet with every passing moment. Luthen has assignments and you take them. That’s how it works. You knew the rules when you pledged your life to the promise of the Rebellion, to the dream of a life you’ll probably never see. Maybe you’ll die before this wound ever closes, or maybe you’ve got years more. You suppose you’ll never find out until the war ends, for you or the galaxy.

At least the injury isn’t infected. You can’t keep anything long enough to last through a whole course of antibiotics. You can keep slapping temporary bacta patches on the thing, but that doesn't help when it reopens the next time you get shot at, which happens with increasing frequency. This is one thing in your favor, if nothing else:  your flesh is not yet rotting away. It might not all be intact, but at least this one part of your life isn’t corrupted.

You wrap a fresh bandage around it, wincing slightly. You don’t have the time to go slowly; you’re due for a new assignment already. This one must be important, because Luthen was even more tight-lipped than usual when assigning you to the task. You know your location: Vina II, one of the smaller planets in the Tau system, so far away from anything important that even nav systems have trouble recognizing it. Vina II is primarily used for manufacturing, stuffed to the core with factories churning out anything from guns to clothes to satellites. In a few decades, the air will become so toxic from constant pollution that the planet surface will be entirely uninhabitable, and then the factories will either become entirely droid-operated or the companies will pack up and move to the next available planet and repeat the process again.

This isn’t unusual. Manufacturing corps are frustrating people all across the galaxy. What is unsettling is the sudden uptick in Imperial presence on what should be a useless rock. Luthen is starting to connect dots between Imperial seizure of raw materials and the production of weaponry, and he thinks Vina II is a key player in the game of making ways to kill the Rebellion. So, you’ll be sent to investigate along with another spy. You’ll find the evidence you need, and then you’ll bomb a specific building containing the blueprints for making a certain kind of weapon. It’ll not only leave their armies lacking but distract them from Luthen’s next plans.

You still don’t know who you’re working with, though. Luthen loves secrecy more than anything, of course, so he won’t tell you the name of the person you’ll be risking your life with until you see them face to face in a matter of minutes. You’ve had the opportunity to fight alongside several of his network, and have mentally established who you’d like to see and who you’d rather avoid on this mission. In the end, the final call, as always, is up to Luthen, and regardless of which strings he chooses to pull, you know he’ll pick whoever he trusts to get the job done.

You finish bandaging your wound and pull your sleeve back down again, throwing the old dressings into the incinerator and returning your focus to the door. You wonder how much of your life will be spent like this, silently bleeding out in a dark room and waiting for something to descend upon you– Imperials, death, life, or an unexpected ally. It doesn’t really matter in the end. It all feels the same when you can feel the next mission drawing you close.

A bell sounds at the door, startling you out of your thoughts. This must be your accomplice for the mission, you’re in a safehouse and no one else could possibly know you were here. You’ve only been in the apartment for less than an hour yourself; Luthen doesn’t like it when you linger.

You walk soundlessly to the door, then attempt to peer through the keyhole. Whoever’s waiting for you is used to hiding; they’ve managed to turn themselves just so that you can’t see their face in the gloom of the hallway outside.

“Who is it?” You ask through the sealed door.

You don’t get a name, only a phrase: “I have friends everywhere.”

The coded words flash through you like a heartbeat, and you open the door on instinct. A figure wrapped in a dark coat strides briskly into the safehouse, doing a cursory sweep of the interior to make sure you haven’t set up a trap and only turning back to face you when you lock the door behind them. A deep hood covers all details of their face, but your mission partner reveals himself soon enough, reaching up to pull the fabric back down to reveal their countenance.

You know this face. You’ve seen it glaring at you in the din of a firefight, or starting arguments over decisions that you don’t have time to challenge.

In spite of yourself, you sigh. “Cassian Andor.”

Cassian looks even more annoyed than usual. “Y/N L/N. I thought I told Luthen never to assign you with me again.��

“I’m pretty sure I told him the same thing after the incident on Federian,” you hiss.

“The incident?” Cassian asks, eyebrows raised. “The only incident I remember is you nearly getting us both killed because you wouldn’t do what I told you.”

“You told me to take a stupid risk that would actually get us both killed. I remember saving both our lives from your awful plan and then you getting mad at me for it.” You snip back.

Cassian looks like he wants to argue further, but he takes a deep breath and turns away from you. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late for a reassignment, so you’ll have to get used to working with me. I’m not risking this mission for your pride.”

You scoff. “My pride is not the issue here. I’d die for this cause. Luthen knows that, which is why he trusted me to do this. If you don’t believe in me, believe in him. Our ship is parked around the back and we should leave as soon as possible. Of course, if you’re still worried about me, feel free to stay behind, but I intend on completing this mission.”

You move towards the door and Cassian swiftly blocks you. “I need your word that you won’t let our personal differences get in the way of this job. There will be enough sentries and guards on that planet to get us shot to pieces if we keep trying to prove our point.”

You stare at him uncomprehendingly. “I’ve been in this fight for years, Andor. I can handle myself.”

He refuses to budge. “Swear it right now. I’m not getting on a ship with you unless I know you’ll stick to the plan.”

He meets your gaze unyieldingly, and at last you sigh again. “Fine. I won’t cause problems. Will you?”

“No,” Cassian bites out, and at last allows you to leave. 

You stride briskly down the hall, and he has to hurry to catch up to you. The mood between the two of you is tense as you exit the building, as you find the ship, as you punch in the coordinates and let the jump to hyperspace shoot you on the way to your mission.

Stars, this is not what you needed. It’s bad enough that you’re shipping out so soon after the last close brush with Imperial capture, but on top of the risks you’ll take on Vina II, you’ll be doing so with the only other Rebel who’s as headstrong as you are. 

Cassian Andor had to have been the one person you’d been hoping to see the least when you opened that door. Three times you’ve worked together now, each time fraught not only with Imperial peril but countless arguments between the two of you. You can’t agree on who should take first watch at night, who should gather intelligence on the movement of guard patrols, who should shoot first, who should watch the ship, and who should make the inevitable stupid sacrifice move to save the mission. The last time you’d complained to Luthen, he’d laughed outright and said that if the two of you couldn’t see how obviously similar you were to Cassian, you had no chance of mastering the intricacies of espionage.

Still, you hadn’t thought Luthen would go so far as to assign you with Cassian again, especially not when your last job together was so recent. Obviously, the two of you are both smarting from the latest round of arguments, and you silently grit yourself against the inevitable disagreements yet to come. Cassian may have made you swear to put the mission first, but that has yet to stop either of you from clashing.

As the lights of hyperspace stream past the windscreen, you silently excuse yourself. Your injury is starting to bleed through the bandage again, you can feel the hot press of blood against cloth, and you don’t much enjoy the idea of letting Cassian spot one of your weaknesses when you’ve barely begun the mission. There’s much more time ahead of you for that.

You touch down on Vina II some time later, when enough time has passed that you’re more than happy to step foot on dangerous ground if it means getting out of the tin can trapping you with Cassian. The two of you simmer with barely contained irritation, snipping at each other through a film of polite disdain, but manage to stow the ship somewhere it won’t be found by patrols and continue into the streets of the primary city.

Once night falls, the two of you slip into the shadows, using the cover of a rusting packaging plant to spy on the operations building you’ll be bombing. You stare at the metal monolith, so tall it seems to pierce the clouds of smog far above your head and continue on into the heavens. Most workers have retreated back to their homes for the evening, coughing their lungs out into respirators and shaking the perpetual grime of manufacturing from their boots, but a few lights remain on well into the night. Those would be the security details, plus the late workers who know their jobs and lives depend on not falling behind on Imperial quotas.

Cassian glances up from the schematic he’s been studying, pointing out a particular cluster of brightly lit windows. “There, the tenth floor. That’s where the schematics are stored, plus all the supercomputers in charge of making new ones. That’s our target.”

You peer closely at the rooms through your binoculars. “You’re sure blowing up those rooms will disable all blueprints? It seems too easy. Won’t more of the manufacturing plants have backup copies?”

Cassian chuckles darkly. “Blame Imperial paranoia. They’re so terrified about rivals stealing their precious designs that they’d rather shoot themselves in the foot and keep everything in one place.”

You shake your head. “Their loss. Besides, I bet anyone who complained about that particular idiocy would have been sent to labor in a mining colony for daring to insult the finest of Imperial design.”

Cassian snorts. “They’re about to learn why that’s a bad idea. We’ll keep a low profile tomorrow, then strike late in the night when everyone has gone home.”

He moves to draw back, but you pull him back down again. “You want to set the bombs tomorrow? That’s far too soon. We still don’t know enough about their troop movements, we need more time.”

Cassian stares at you uncomprehendingly. “Would you like to take a week to learn more? A month? Time is the last thing we have. With every day that passes, millions of guns and bombs and ships are sent out into the galaxy to kill us. The sooner we strike, the better.”

Your jaw clenches. “Save the lecture for someone who needs it. I’m aware of what it costs us to wait, but failing this mission because we assumed too much won’t save anyone, either. I’m not asking for an extra week, even one more day will be enough, but we cannot afford to be hasty.”

“Hasty?” Cassian bites out. “We are anything but hasty. Luthen has been sitting on this information for months. If we were hasty, we would have attacked tonight. Hell, we would have attacked in broad daylight. Bombing this place tomorrow night guarantees us safety and takes them out before they have the time to discover our ship or us. With every hour that passes, we risk Imperial discovery. The sooner we’re out, the better. Besides, Luthen gave us all the information on troops and patrols that we need.”

You arch a brow. “How certain are you that Luthen’s information is accurate? Or current? Like you said, he’s been plotting this move for months. All it takes is one troop reassignment and we’re walking into a squadron of stormtroopers. It won’t hurt anyone to make sure what he gave us is true.”

Cassian gives you a dark look. “If you don’t trust Luthen, what are you doing on this mission?”

You meet his gaze coolly. “Making sure no one else dies because they blindly trusted that puppeteer.”

Cassian tears his eyes away. “Fine. You wait as long as you like. I know where I’ll be tomorrow.”

He stands up abruptly, stalking away from your hiding place. You whisper a curse about obstinate spies under your breath and tear after him, hurrying not to lose him in the darkened city. Cassian’s walking fast, anger hastening his footsteps, and he doesn’t notice the two soldiers out on patrol until he’s halfway around the corner.

Immediately, he whips back around, but the damage is done. You can hear one of the officers asking who’s there, then drawing their guns and coming after you. You act on instinct, grabbing Cassian’s arm and pulling him down a narrow alleyway between shops. The space between the walls is littered with high piles of empty canisters and discarded metal signs, just enough to screen you from view. Your back slams against the wall as you force Cassian next to you, trying to take up as little space as possible, trying hardly even to breathe lest the sound of your exhalations alert the guards.

You hear them draw by, peering into the alley before carrying on down the street. Only when you’re certain they’re gone do you release your grip on Cassian’s arm and grimly meet his eyes.

“Like I said,” you mutter, straightening the lapel of your jacket, “Troop movements. They’re nice to know.”

Cassian just grits his teeth and stays silent. He moves more slowly on the walk back to the ship, checking each street twice before daring to turn a corner. By the time you’re up the exit ramp and within the safety of your ship once again, you’re more than ready to get some rest and let down your guard. You wince as you take off your coat, and realize that in your haste to hide from the patrols, you’ve torn open that damn wound again.

You’d meant to be discreet, but Cassian catches the change in your expression. “What happened?” He asks warily.

You shake your head a little too quickly. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Like hell,” he says under his breath, then catches sight of your arm and his brow furrows. “You’re bleeding!”

You check the injury and silently bite back curses. Scarlet has seeped through the bandage, staining the sleeve of your shirt enough for Cassian to see. So much for keeping the wound safe long enough to heal.

“It’s fine,” you say, attempting to wave him away, “Old wound.”

You move towards the storage compartments so you can grab a medkit, but for some reason, Cassian follows you. He plucks the medkit out of your hand, jerking his chin towards a nearby chair. “Sit. I want to see how bad this is.”

You regard him exasperatedly. “I can bandage myself.”

Cassian refuses to back down, gesturing again to the chair. “I know you can. Sit.”

When it becomes evident that he won’t leave you alone, you give in, sliding into the chair and regarding him warily. Cassian sets the medkit down, pulling out some medicine to treat the wound and a canister of bandages. You roll up your sleeve, wincing at the drag of cloth over the wound.

For someone who can’t seem to stop fighting with you, Cassian’s touch is quite gentle as he carefully unwraps the old bandage from your arm. He sucks in a concerned breath when he sees the wound. “What happened here?”

You lift your shoulders in a loose shrug. “Blaster wound. Then I got some shrapnel in it, then another blaster shot. Can’t stay out of trouble long enough for it to heal.”

“You’re not the only one,” Cassian mumbles, and you wonder how many injuries he’s hiding under recesses of fabric, how many cuts won’t stitch shut and bones can’t mend for lack of rest. Your whole Rebellion must be like this, you realize, a bunch of shattered pieces sorely wishing for the glue to put yourselves back together. Either you’ll die or you’ll win the war, but only one outcome will guarantee you a relief from the pain, and both seem much too far away to be of any use to you.

Cassian dabs some disinfecting water onto a piece of cloth and gently cleans your wound. You hiss at the touch, but force yourself to relax. You can’t help but watch how he does it, fingers moving smoothly with experience yet delicate enough to keep you from pain as best he can.

“Thank you,” you whisper, words oddly loud in the stillness of the ship.

Cassian nods, putting down the now bloodied cloth in exchange for a fresh bandage. “It was the least I could do. Maybe I want to prove to you that not all of our conversations have to end in a fight.”

You laugh quietly at that. “It’s a good surprise, then. Luthen would be happy.”

Cassian starts wrapping the bandage around your arm. “Luthen. He’s so convinced he knows us better than ourselves. I still don’t know why he keeps insisting on assigning us together.”

Something aches inside your chest, the weight of the truth pressing against your tired ribs. “Yes, you do.”

Cassian glances up at you, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Of course you know why we’re together again,” you say softly. When he still looks perplexed, you elaborate. “Luthen assigns us both on missions because he trusts us not to get along. He doesn’t want there to be– emotional complications, I guess you can say.”

“I don’t follow,” Cassian says. “He doesn’t want his spies to be friends?”

“More than that,” you say. “He wants to know that his mission is secure, that you won’t let your personal feelings for me get in the way of anything. He knows you hate me, so he’s safe. He knows that if anything were to happen, you could kill me without a second glance to protect our secrets, and I would do the same for you. It’s his way of cleaning up loose ends.”

Cassian draws back, startled. “That’s not true.”

You laugh bitterly. “Yes, it is, and you know it, too. Luthen can’t risk one of us getting captured, we know too much. Our mutual animosity won’t stop us from completing the mission, but it will be enough to know you’ll be fine with killing me cleanly before they can torture Rebel secrets out of me. It’s simple, and it’s the right thing to do. None of us can afford to get taken by the Imperials.”

Cassian shakes his head sharply. “No, that’s not right. I wouldn’t kill you, Y/N.”

Your smile is cold, he can’t seem to look at it. “Yes, you would. To protect the Rebellion, you would. That’s the whole point. That’s the whole reason any of us are here.”

Cassian jerks his gaze back towards your arm, where he studiously finished tying off your bandage. “You don’t know enough about me to say that.”

For some reason, you feel like sobbing, although you can’t decide why. “We’re spies, Cassian. That’s all I have to know.”

Lost without something to do, some way to keep taking care of you, Cassian stands up, practically leaning away in a hurry to get away from this conversation. “Take care of that arm,” he says, voice oddly foreign.

You nod and he leaves, medkit forgotten on the table. You pick up the leftover bandages, turning them idly in your hands before mechanically putting everything back in their compartments. Cassian’s reaction has left you stunned; you thought he would be delighted to have this leverage over you, given how little you’ve been getting along recently, or at least be neutral, but instead, he seems deeply haunted, like he’s grieving the death you haven’t yet had.

The topic of your mutual deaths is clearly not something that should be brought up again, so you don’t, and let the odd silence exist between you until the status of the mission is enough to interrupt it. Cassian and you strike a compromise where you both risk coming out from the safety of your ship during the day in order to verify that Luthen’s information on Imperial patrols in the target building are accurate. In exchange, you’ll agree to place the bombs that night, but only if you’re certain that there won’t be any surprises with the schedule of the guards.

Ultimately, you do notice a few slight deviations with the patrols, but not enough to postpone the mission. Thus, you spend the next couple of hours in tense silence, waiting for the hour to strike. Once dark slips over the city once more, you leave the relative safety of your ship to stalk through the inky streets again.

You and Cassian move in sync, hardly having to whisper a word for you to know what comes next. You feel as if you’re part of a matched pair, a set of spies working with one mind, one purpose. After so much time wasted fighting him, this breakthrough feels like a miracle. You only wish it could have come sooner.

The Imperial office is quiet, the workers mostly departed for the night. You and Cassian find the side entrance you’d marked the previous night, and, after correctly entering the door code, slip inside. You’re careful to keep your faces hidden, and avoid rounds of stormtroopers on patrol as best as possible.

When you get to the tenth floor, you split up to cover more ground. “Be safe,” Cassian whispers before you part. You nod, face grim, and try not to feel like you’re losing a limb when you turn the corner and leave him. This isn’t a trap. You’ll see him again. You just have to get the job done first.

You reach into the bag at your side and grab the first bomb, placing it on the side of a computer terminal and twisting a disc at the top to activate it before moving on. You repeat the process of placing and activating the small detonation devices, covering the entrances and key structural components of the floor before heading towards the central communications room where the blueprints are kept.

You’re the first one inside, and you make sure to carefully sweep the room for any late-night employees before you continue your work. Cassian is somewhere on the other side of the building, doing the same thing. You’ll meet here before you leave, then detonate the explosives once you’re both safely out of the building.

Still, as you place more bombs with no sight of Cassian, you can’t help but feel nerves start to swarm inside of you. He should have appeared by now. By the time you start to hear the sounds of shouting voices and running footsteps, you’re almost relieved. If the Imperials are giving chase, that at least means he’s still alive, and hasn’t been shot outright.

The door to the control room bursts open behind you a few moments later, but the face greeting you is not Cassian’s but that of an Imperial officer. He barks orders to a unit of stormtroopers, who flood into the room, all aiming their blasters at you. You raise your arms, breath ragged in your chest. So this is how it ends, then. This is how you die.

The Imperial officer crosses the room in a few brisk strides, jabbing his blaster in your face. “You were with a man. Where is he?”

You silently thank the stars. If they’re asking you where Cassian is, they still haven’t found him. Maybe there’s still a chance for him to get away, or even complete the mission. The bombs are still set. Both of you have a detonator switch, only one of you has to press the trigger. If you get shot before you can finish this, at least Cassian can get the job done.

The only thing you can do for him now is to buy him time. You stare into the eyes of the officer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came here alone.”

The officer raises his arm, striking you across the face with the butt of his gun. Pain lances across you, and you stumble back in agony, one hand dropping to cradle your injured face.

“I know he’s here. Lying gets you nothing. Cooperate and maybe you won’t be executed immediately.” The officer hisses.

The threat of execution doesn’t faze you. The worse option is capture and torture. Everyone pretends that they’d be able to withstand torture, but the Imperials are swimming in time and patience that you hungry, desperate Rebels lack. It doesn’t matter if it takes hours, or days, or even months before you crack, the simple fact is that you will give in at some point, and with all that you know, the Rebellion could be crushed for good.

Your only hope now is to die quickly before you give up anything. You look through the glass windows of the control room, searching for any sign that Cassian had gotten out of the building. Instead, you see him rounding a corner, then quickly ducking back to the protective cover of a nearby hallway when he spots all of the stormtroopers clustered around you.

Immediately, you start screaming at the top of your lungs, all hope for your life forgotten. “Do it, do it now! Finish it!”

The officer cuffs you again, but you hardly feel it, shouting again to Cassian. This is the one job of all Rebels, whether they like it or not. He has to know this is the point when he lets you go. He has to know that the mission comes first, always.

He has to know, but not for the first time in his life, Cassian Andor refuses to play by the rules. He surges forward again, opening fire on the stormtroopers, who rear around in surprise, reaching for their guns even as they start to fall to the hail of blaster fire. You take advantage of their distraction to grab your fallen blaster, shooting the Imperial officer before he can turn back to face you and taking out the surrounding stormtroopers.

Under the cover of Cassian’s protective fire, you sprint for the door, joining your mission partner in the haze of smoke and laser bolts outside. The two of you find a way to the turbolift, blaster bolts still skidding inside until the very last moment before the doors shut. 

The next several minutes feel like a blur. You’re lost to the space between blaster shots, the moments in between sprints from turbolift to hallway to door to the streets surrounding you. Once you’re clear of the building, you grab the detonator from where it’s clipped onto your belt and press the trigger. For a few moments, there’s unearthly silence, and then the entire world erupts as the bombs explode throughout the tenth floor. The building crashes to the ground below, sending a wave of force rippling across the streets.

You and Cassian are flung to the ground, rolling a short distance before you recover from the impact and manage to start moving again. Cassian is already standing, pulling you up and along after him. Klaxons ring out across the night, and you swear you can hear the rhythmic crashing of Imperial squadrons already out to hunt you down.

You’re not planning on sticking around any longer, though, and you’ve hardly cleared the exit ramp of your ship before Cassian is sprinting to the cockpit. He starts up departure sequences before he’s even sitting down, every fibre of his being focused on the sole task of getting the two of you out of here. You follow him, watching through the transparisteel as the city you’ve ruined disappears to nothing but sparks and dust below you as your ship pierces through the sky.

Only once the deep indigo of night is replaced by the coursing lights of hyperspace do either of you finally start to let go of the fear compelling you forward. You watch Cassian’s shoulders drop, the inescapable tension of panic cutting his strings at last and leaving him slumped and exhausted in his chair. His fingers dig around the arm rest, clutching at it for support as he forces himself up again.

You’re at his side in an instant. “Sit,” you urge him. “You need to rest.”

Like always, Cassian doesn’t listen, and he stands on overburdened legs, pulling you into the glare of an overhead light. His hand rises to your face, gently turning your head to the side and then back so he can spot any injuries.

“Are you badly hurt?” He asks, voice a desperate whisper in the hum of your ship. “I saw them hit you– I thought you were dead–”

“You were supposed to leave me behind,” you chastise him. “We talked about this, remember? The mission comes first. You should have detonated the bombs, not thrown yourself headfirst at a dozen troopers.”

Cassian’s fingers stall on your cheek. “I remember telling you that I wasn’t going to leave you to die, and I meant it, Y/N. I’d rather die myself.”

“We would have died if there had been any more of them,” you respond. “Tell me that you’ll prioritize the mission next time. Tell me that you’ll focus on what matters.”

“You matter,” Cassian corrects. He lets out a quiet laugh. “For all the times you’ve gotten under my skin or gone against my plans, I can’t find a way to make you matter any less to me. I can’t stop saving you. I can’t stop making you my purpose.”

You inhale sharply in surprise. “I thought you hated me.”

“So did I,” Cassian murmurs. “And then I thought about having to be the one to kill you, and I realized I never could. I’ll die with you, Y/N. I’ll die for you. But I’ll never kill you.”

Your whole body feels electrified. You’ve thought about Cassian a hundred different ways, but not like this, never like this. Yet everything he says feels so right, so much like how you feel about him, that you can scarcely believe you’ve never given this side of him a chance.

Your own hands reach up, tangling themselves in the front of his jacket. “You terrified me, running after those troopers. I thought you were going to get yourself killed, and then it would be my fault.”

Cassian stumbles ever closer to you. “I was terrified to see you with them. I didn’t mind getting killed if it meant I got to save you.”

“Selfish,” you tease, but there’s an undercurrent of fear in it still, as you remember that awful moment, a dozen bolts shooting towards him in the corridor.

“Yes,” Cassian says, and kisses you. “Always,” he says, and kisses you again.

For once in your life, you’re more than flesh and bone. You feel limitless, everlasting, more than a soldier and more than a fighter. You are someone who could be loved, not for a gun in your hand but for the heart beating in your ribs. You have a life worth living, and one worth living with Cassian at your side. It’s a terrible world out there for all of you in the shadow of the Empire, but you have one light still burning bright between you. You have no intention to let it blow out.

star wars tag list: @blondsauduun, @caswinchester2000, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent

[derww]

– planet, – he says to parrot at day 1 and takes too long to realize. he corrects himself. he gets it wrong again less than five minutes after. parrot doesn't even look upset or annoyed, just amused, and asks if he forgot which season it is. bacon scolds him.

the worst part of it all is that planet doesn't even look any different. his smile is still soft, his hair is a big mess, and his eyes stay warm, looking at him almost lovingly. and then they kill him, and the blade is sharp and his blood is cold. in the end, there's nothing bacon can do, and planet looks him in the eyes to the very end, so familiar yet different. bacon doesn't care, yet he still feels stupid and dumb. he fights back but still dies like an idiot.

they're not teammates; even more, bacon hates him. for some reason, it never helps. 3 heart trio was, in its core, a fairytale about a true team, staying together till the very end. they lost – or they won – and they gave each other their warm goodbyes, knowing they won't be together next season, but still deeply appreciating everything that happened in this.

planet's embrace was barely perceptible, too light, only a hint of pressure and texture, still too weak from just being banned – and unbanned. planet tells that he was happy to be their teammate. that it made them very, very happy. he is, at that point in time, his planet. the one whom he wanted, he needed to keep safe (and failed). they break up on a warm note, fulfilled and glad.

next time bacon sees planet, they fight.

ok, alright, he lied; he cares even if really would prefer not to. he's an awful liar. of course he does. it's planetlord. are we dumb. but he is very, very annoyed. this planet wears a face of his dear friend even if they are not friends anymore, and he's walking hand in hand with spoke now and their sword always meets a goal. he has to die for it, bacon desides. and then fails.

they barely talk. when they do, it leads nowhere. planet seems usually sweet, but bacon can't trust even a word. planet pursues an idea of the obsolete power, pushing away everyone else, and bacon is the first to be slashed in half. he expects to feel betrayed, but he just gets more and more angry.

lala legion is elusive; their goals are never fully clear, they play on several fields while staying true to each other, but planet is still always here. they slip into any narrative, regardless of how relevant or irrelevant they are in it, and sometimes he takes their side, but it never helps nor changes anything.

that's what is true: planet is an enemy of the abyss. he stands in their way on each turn, doing everything to make them fail, but they push through him, and one day he'll have nowhere more to run. its not bacon succeeding, but his teammates – mapicc and zam put planet down, blowing up a minecart in their face, and planet, strong and confident planet, he still pops like a grape. he comes back like nothing happened, with a new gearset and the same confidence, again and again.

bacon feels like hes chasing a ghost of someone long dead. is there even any personality left if you sell yourself to the thirst for blood? he talks to abyss, and her fingers ruffle his hair, leaving his heart cold. if everything is a cycle, then planet will be back too, she reminds.

but planet slips away from him once again – throwing out his arms, he allows himself to fall into the very depths of the abyss, to where there is no return, and at this moment, staring into the void of a wound that absorbs even light, bacon feels powerless.

[moki-dokie]

and, as another layer of this shit sundae, i am already underpaid considerably. like, 10k/yr below what i ought to be making with my experience and position. i've been fine with that because we are an extremely small company/start-up and that kinda comes with the territory. also, oklahoma is hella cheap so i can get by on a lower income pretty fine.

and, again, this comes with start-up territory, i do about 5 different jobs at once on any given day. all of us do. it's gotten worse over the last 2 years though as we've had to lay off about half of the company yet still trying to run it that just isn't possible with a less than skeleton crew.

even after securing one hell of a lucrative deal with R*, we are still fucking floundering and can't bail out or get a good enough investor or make enough of a profit. ceo has been in panic mode for at least a year with no fucking direction and just throwing shit out in hopes something might stick but also quadrupling the work load of everyone. ceo is also the most underqualified asshat in existance and has no fucking right to be calling himself a ceo because he isn't an executive in any fucking capacity. 10 years my junior, no college education whatsoever, no work experience outside of running this company, and his only real guidance has been a few leadership classes here and there. he has lucked his way through the last decade and that luck has run dry. i have been screaming for the last FOUR years at HR (which is useless bc it's contracted and its run by a friend of the ceo so. yeah.) that the ceo is the problem. all of our turnover comes back to him. all of our operational problems comes back to him. he is singlehandedly driving the company straight into the ground and like every techbro on the fucking planet, cannot take five minutes to step back and consider that he is wrong and unfit and needs to hand off his position to someone qualified.

we are still a start-up after 12 years. we aren't *starting* shit anymore. the core leadership are the three co-founders who collectively have no idea how to run a business but are nonetheless good at pretending they do. they have never secured stable funding. they have never been profitable enough to do the things they're trying to do. it's only been this past year that they've gotten so desperate that they finally put their egos aside a BIT to take advice from the rest of the team. too little too late, though.

ceo has completely and utterly eroded my trust and goodwill over the years after throwing my department under the bus far too many times. i have 0 faith the company will last another two years, shaky faith that it lasts even 1 more year. i have 0 faith we'll ever get the back pay we were promised upon taking pay cuts.

on top of explicitly telling them i do not want this position on multiple occasions (trust me, it's not that i'm a good fit and they want me for it, its because they have literally no other choice), i know it's something i'm not capable of handling besides. i'm not remotely interested in upper management and i know i can't operate the way they need me to in order to succeed at it and i don't want to stress myself tf out trying just for the sake of it when we're in a sinking fucking ship. as i told my manager, if that weren't the case and there was even a glimmer of hope on the horizon, i might be more willing to tough it out and give it a shot. as it is, not only is it not worth my stress, but i just don't give a shit enough. there is quite literally nothing in it for me at this point other than some experience that ultimately doesn't mean shit.

i'm told that, well, its alright if you don't like it! You can always step down! to which i say - step down into WHAT position? you're getting rid of mine, so it'd be into the demotion -> layoff path, which ends up being the exact same ultimatum. I'm told that, well, we won't throw you to the wolves! it's okay if you fuck up a little, we'll help. to which i say - that isn't fucking possible when you *just* gave me an unjustified final warning write-up a month ago that'll be on record for 6 mo minimum. one single fuck-up more and I'm out. not that they need a reason at all, because like most of the nation oklahoma is at-will employment so as long as it isn't discrimination related your ass can be fired for any ol reason.

i have been given the shaft more times than i can count in my tenure here. ceo and i have butted heads enough times that i simply refuse to talk to him unless it's fucking necessary because i'm two seconds from ripping his head off at any given moment. since at least 2020, leadership has been trying to get rid of me in a way that simply cannot be contested (not that i would, i've tried that before and it's fucking pointless in at-will states) but i'm a fucking cockroach and i survive the shit they pull. you might be thinking WHY the fuck haven't i moved on? well, 1) i am my own boss 99% of the time 2) I am completely remote 3) we have the most generous PTO of any company i've *ever* worked for 4) we are super lax about people utilizing that generous PTO whenever and however they want 5) the health insurance is actually pretty damn good 6) i decide my own work hours and schedule and 7) because i legitimately liked doing the job we were doing for quite a long time and i still do at its core and now that AI has sucked human interaction out of customer support i take extra pride in my team and 8) despite being paid well under the industry standard, it's well above literally anything else i could make elsewhere in the state, because oklahoma is a broke ass ho with a job market in the dumpster and i live minimum 30 minutes away from where jobs would be besides and 9) without a fucking degree, which i do not have, all of my experience is utterly worthless to 90% of the job market and especially fucking resume-fielding algorithms and 10) bro i'm mid-30s in middle management customer service which is being rapidly wiped from the job market as a whole with some not-insignificant medical issues that are easily used against me without triggering any sort of technical discrimination. basically, this is as good as it gets for me where i am now. that, however, is changing.

but since i'm about to be in california, in a very walkable city, with a very good job market and overall better employer mentality, my options are expanding. i could also jump ship to a competitor, which i'm heavily considering. the problem there is that this industry is so fucking small that all the ceos and leadership teams know each other, and i know from experience that they shit talk the employees they don't like amongst each other and circumvent laws asking about employment by just talking to each other as friends. so, eh, it's a risk but its a risk i'm considering too. all things considered, this came at a pretty good time. i think they honestly counted on backing me into a corner, not realizing i had an escape route that *just* opened up.

anyway. there's 6 years of my life wasted. i'm tired and i'm stressed and i'm angry.

work: so your choices are take the promotion, or take a demotion and then lay-off

me: hm. k. so how much is the pay raise for the promotion?

work: well. about that. there isn't one

me:

work:

me: so. you just. expect me to take on more work and more responsibility when i've already been working under a pay cut for the last 7 months?

work: well, what else would you do?

me: hm, gee, i don't know, maybe NOT take any extra work on at all actually and just be demoted since I'm already at that pay grade?

work:

me:

work: okay but see you're holding yourself back here. are you really willing to face being laid off over challenging yourself?

me: yeah actually i'm very willing to do exactly that

work:....alright lets talk some more tomorrow

[cleromancy]

the thing about timmy is that his moral center is absolutely emotional over cerebral. cerebrally he believes in the greater good above all. emotionally he believes its critically important to save even one person, that thats maybe the most important thing. and every time he will prioritize that second thing when it really comes down to it, which is why he gets so distressed every time he meets an evil gun timbats from the future or whatever. the timmies who stopped listening to their hearts. the timmies who stopped prioritizing their need to help. (tapping my mic) hello. is this thing on

[unproduciblesmackdown]

and i found some bloodsong of love despite it all

(from "collection of newspaper clippings of dramatic criticism" volume B, 2009/10 on the third floor of the performing arts library. for interest)

[ishgard]

okokok I wrote up very bad rambles about each of them "keep it short" I said and well. Some of them are!!

Percival (Suikoden 3): Four score idk how many years ago now I was scrolling an artists site and looking at their fanart when I found this guy. This was ground zero. I didn't know the guy or the game at the time (but it would inspire me to dig into it later), but I pretty much immediately created 'Trauma' as soon as I looked at him. (Bear in mind, I was like, fourteen.) It was purely a face claim situation, a spark of inspiration, but he will always be at the top of the list for that.

Vash (Trigun): Created around the time I was into Trigun the bleed was pretty obvious. Ray of sunshine who just wants good things but is a magnet for disaster and tragedy.

Ryoji (Persona): Sweetie pie, bit of a flirt, and- HARBINGER OF DEATH

Reno (FF7): This one's tricky to fully convey because there was a lot of FF7 fic writing and Reno was at the heart and center of a lot of it along with his relationship to the original "Yume" character. Trauma and Yume have a very similar relationship in OG/RP verses and idk. Vibes!

Mamoru Chiba (Sailor Moon): Soulmate, protector, maybe a little shady at times but teenage romantic me definitely put some of those elements into Trauma.

Flynn Rider (Tangled): Chrarming smooth talker you might want to hit with a frying pan. Has his sort of borderline-hedonistic-because-he's gotta put himself first going on but underneath it all is a heart of gold.

Duo Maxwell (Gundam Wing): I'll be honest it's been SO LONG so memories are vague but I loved Duo a lot and his vibrant, friendly, outgoing exterior with a lot of sad tragic stuff underneath was def packed in here.

Alistair Theirin (DA): Are some of the trends becoming clear now? Charming funny man with a sense of humor and haunted by some shiiiit. In Alistair's case in particular, I think the sense of humor is the main thing here.

Inigo (Fire Emblem): Not one of the early/subconscious influences but one of the "oh yeah he's like Trauma" characters I can point to as a pretty good example. "Friendly, charming, flirt." (But don't forget the tragic backstory!)

Chrono (Chrono Crusade): Hard to talk about without crying. I said I was going to keep these brief. Not-human guy who binds himself to a cause against his own kind because of love. Go read Chrono Crusade!!!

Balto (Balto lol): Lol lmao for one thing Trauma has a lot of wolf themes/imagery. Like the OG of my wolfie characters. Often misunderstood/outsider (though in Trauma's case sometimes for good reason) but generally means well.

707 (mysmes): lolololol just a fun and silly guy who likes to make jokes and have fun and evade any sort of prying into the deep dark secrets of his past nothing to see here!

Zevran Arainai (DA): The guy who starts out as a shady flirt but has such a depth of love and loyalty if you romance him just right. A dash of "sex before feelings."

Kamina: BELIEVE IN ME WHO BELIEVES IN YOU!!! That's such a core feeling with Trauma and his loved ones, and he's full of that kind of encouragement and support for them.

The Player* (Slay the Princess): *and many of the associated 'pieces' of. I've only watched LPs but aughghg. The general vibe of this character, their 'destiny', their 'truth', and how they uncover everything that they are in the myriad ways they approach the Princess reflects a lot in Trauma.

Zidane (FF9): "You don't need a reason to help people." I mean, I can just take this from the wiki and put it here.

Sylvain (Fire Emblem): I am going to be a Sylvain defender until I die. Guy who uses flirting and a devil may care attitude and approach to hedonism and sex as a cover for the deep, deep need for therapy.

Farfarello (Weiss Kreuz): "WHOMST?" you may be thinking. Understandable. tbh I never even finished this show, a lot of what I knew about it was from scouring fansites back in the day. Farfie iirc was an assassin who they had to lock up in a basement until they unleashed him, and that was one of the first edgy little drops of inspiration for Trauma along with the above. "But what about the sweet sunshine guy?" Listen. Watching the love of your life die will do things to you. Trauma's FIRST appearance in RP back in those teenage edgy days was locked up in a basement before being sent to kill someone who'd played a role in his lovers death, and that twisted darkness has always been kept under the surface ever since even after he began to heal and recover, so… Farfie maintains an honorable mention on the list.

Ardbert: So I think we've established 'generally good guy with good intentions who did some pretty fucked up things for love'.

Sampo (hsr): And back to the 'good luck trying to figure out what he's going to do next' energy. It really depends on when you catch him.

Gene Starwind (Outlaw Star): This is another 'it's been a Long Time' case but I think I can still see the shades of influence here in the overall picture. Not always the best at talking about/dealing with his real feelings deep down, but outwardly gregarious and maybe not always coping with his (haha) traumas in the healthiest ways. And of course, grows and becomes better because of love. 😌

Westley/Dread Pirate Roberts: "As you wish." 😌 Guy who will do anything for love!!!!

Haurchefant: He is cheering you on!! He is supporting you!!! He is appreciating your body!!!

Yuri: 😌 Charmer. And maybe more mature and steady than you first expect from all the flirting and hedonism.

Robin Hood: I think this just kind of sums a lot of it up, right?

extras:

aka Rau Mavahn

This was such a fun nostalgia trip. My beloved. My precious. Light of my life, song of my heart, the guy of all time (to me). I could break these down and ramble about them all but it would probably take me five years so just feel the vibes. 😌💖