#there's nothing so far to confirm or deny to me that they have more lines or illustrations

[claire-starsword]

*punches wall* there's a Shining Wisdom novelization

[literalgrill]

Do NOT Support Hard Drive On Patreon

You might see friends today suggesting you support Hard Drive on Patreon today. You know, the funny video games version of The Onion? As a journalist, I will firmly tell you DO NOT GIVE THEM A DIME.

The CEO has pushed out all former staff that have built the site up to its current greatness and has been pushing the use of AI. The staff begged to have a Patreon before basically all being pushed out, but the idea was refused until now, when it will only line the pockets of a single person instead of hard working writers.

I know they might have provided laughs before, but Hard Drive is a shell of what it was once. Let it die and support the people who actually made those moments of joy possible. Don't believe me? Check out what former employees are saying below:

Kevin Podas: Okay you know what, I would feel bad saying nothing about this, so here goes:🚨SAVE YOUR MONEY🚨

We passionately advocated for a Patreon at Hard Drive & were aggressively shot down. The talent & people who built the site were pushed out. To see this now is beyond upsetting. For the past few years or so I put a lot of myself into this website. I pitched a ton of jokes, got over 120 articles published, & met a lot of great people. I'm sure if you've been following me for some time you could easily see this.

However, there is a lot of misinformation. I was eventually promoted to Managing Editor of the site & was ecstatic. Grateful for the opportunity. Felt like all of my hard work in the comedy mines was finally paying off. But things took a turn for the worst, & each day there were new surprises that affected our livelihoods. These were all very avoidable surprises, mind you.

A patreon was going to be our hail mary, but alas, for some reason, the power that be did not want it. Causing us to leave a dream job behind. "At least we did all we could," we consoled ourselves afterwards. I put a lot of myself into this project. I pitched all sorts of ideas that could have helped-- we all did. Merch collaborations, Patreon-integrated YouTube content, so much more. And most of them were shot down out of sheer stubbornness and nothing more. To see lie after lie spread, and multiple big publications and YouTubers that I am a fan of promote this Patreon under these pretenses is incredibly upsetting. There are so many receipts.

Please share this and consider pulling out if you've already put money into this. On Hard Drive using AI, also from Kevin Podas: I can't personally confirm that part aside from some of the recent header images for articles on both Hard Drive and Hard Times are being made with AI. As far as writing, it's been mentioned in the past, but I personally do not know. Maybe others do, maybe not. MORE From Kevin Podas suggesting the owner denying a Patreon being set up earlier cost an artist a job that was replaced by AI: We had a social media person who was awesome! He made the images until this AI implementation. He had to leave because ad revenue was low and a Patreon was aggressively refused.

Luca Fisher: at the risk of burning some bridges, i have to back up kevin here. i've only been part-time, in-and-out of hard drive since i got in last year, but i can corroborate that management doubled and tripled down about not hosting a patreon/crowdfunding and that many other suggestions and ideas, including mine (and ones much smarter than mine!), were shot down in really long, apocalyptic threads of everyone left on deck desperately trying to come up with ways to keep the lights on. managerially it has been messy and sad

i've written for multiple publications that have long since died, ones that were in the process of dying, and ones that, in this case, are soon to be put in the ground. it is sad and sucks every time. i don't know what could have been done differently, but i do know that a lot of great writers and content creators were left shorthanded and unhappy by the way things have gone. and it is sort of puzzling to see the sudden championing of patreon after we were all told plenty of times that it couldn't work and we should move on also, just to add my own personal two cents here, i was really disappointed by the shuttering of many different article sections on the site over the past 6-8 months. i understand cutting corners in a deficit, and i know it had to be done. that said…

all in all, i'm really sad to see this all happen. i don't fault anyone, if only because i don't really know enough about how this all can happen to make sense of it. games journalism is in a sad, sorry state, and will likely no longer be a thing in the next decade

VideoSealMan: I'm gonna say this because I think I deserve to. For months, MONTHS on end I was bugging Hard Drive management about a Patreon. Often I got ignored for a week+, but when I actually got a response I was encouraged to - of all things, write up a Google Doc pitching the concept I did it regardless. I wasn't the only one trying to sway management on a Patreon, but so fiercely was I fighting for it that last night, I was accused of making this comment directly by the CEO! With no evidence whatsoever! After I'd been gone for over a month.

I vouched so hard for Patreon because I wanted all the writers and creatives working with Hard Drive including myself to get paid better. When I actually got a response, the idea was often shut down. Eventually due to the state of my company, my pay was cut for a second time I confronted management alongside a couple other important figureheads at the org and told them that if we couldn't do a Patreon - I could no longer financially justify staying there. The answer was still no, so I left. Baffled at the decision, but whatever.

It is unendingly frustrating to know that myself and many other people who put their soul into Hard Drive LEFT because of management's absolute refusal to compromise on a Patreon, to then see them launch one anyway a month later and get over 1000 people pledging money. I'm seeing a lot of things float around about greed and people being fired. No one was fired. Everyone who left, left because they were sick of management's decision-making. And honestly, management is a lot of things but I would not call them greedy. (From my experience.) They did genuinely make an effort to pay people as much as possible. I found the pay very fair for a while. I am not disputing that I was paid what I was owed - yet management frequently feels the need to remind critics of that. Lmao, yes. I was paid what I was owed. No one is disputing payment. You did the bare minimum a business owner should do and paid everyone their due, very well done. I make no allegations of greed, cheating or foul play. I make allegations of poor management and incompetence that has fucked over other people.

Basically the only people left at Hard Drive have been there for about 2 months. They will reap the rewards of this successful Patreon I and so many others passionately fought for for so long. We will not see a dime.

I do not know the new people at Hard Drive, But I feel bad for them. They were haphazardly thrust into Hard Drive's workplace with little to no explanation on how anything works, or given any context on the state of the place. Even now managements feeds them half-truths and misinformation about other people's grievances. I am broke and have been for a while. I had to move out of my flat in Reading and back with my family because of how little money I was making. This has basically doomed my flatmate to moving back in with abusive parents, which is something I feel guilty about every day. If we had gone with the Patreon I worked myself hoarse over back then, this could have been avoided. Some of my other good pals could also not have been fucked over.

It was a bad judgment call, but it's not a crime. It's just management getting it wrong.

So should you give to the Hard Drive Patreon? I don't know! I don't think any of the new people working there to patch up the holes left by the recent mass exodus have any bad intentions. Maybe they deserve it! But it is not the same site you knew a year ago, or even a month ago. Myself and many people who were there far longer than me and did far more for it than I did are all gone now because we could not deal with management's terrible decision-making and dogass communication any longer. That's what you should know, imo

I had an agreement in place with management that I would receive the next 8 months of revenue from the Hard Drive YT channel from my leaving in November. This was a deal I appreciated, and thought was very fair on management's behalf. So far, the deal has been honoured for 2 months. However as of last night I was removed from the Hard Drive Slack without warning, and as an editor for the YouTube channel. This means I no longer have any way of verifying how much I am owed, I just have to take their word for it. I'm sure management will make their own statements full of half-truths and weird language on the many cases being brought against them - I'd take everything they say with a pinch of salt if some of the screenshots I've seen of them talking about me are any indication lol

To management; I do not want to talk to you. I want you to DM me a screenshot of how much I'm owed every month and then send me the money per our agreement until June, then we can go our separate ways. Do that and admit to your mistakes, and maybe you can recover your reputation! That's it from me, lol. If they pull out of the deal and fuck me over I'll have more to say, but most of what I know is other people's stories of incompetence and poor decision-making, lol. I genuinely get no pleasure out of doing this; I do not think management is evil - I just think they're really bad at what they do and it's cost other, more talented people, lol. You should believe the writers imo

One last thing I wanna say btw, management did often stress that no one should try to make Hard Drive a full time thing. They were transparent about that, and that is fair. I was working on it because at a few points, I was lead to believe we actually were doing a Patreon. Many other ppl have similar stories of being strung along by management changing their minds and stop-starting shit every 2 weeks. We all made the fatal mistake of overestimating our manager - who would tell you one thing one day and something totally opposite the next week lol

Hunter R. Thompson:

I'm not your dad, but speaking as a Hard Drive writer, I don't know that funding Hard Drive on Patreon is worth it

The driving talent on the back end—behind the kickass site I joined in 2019—have peaced out over the years as the site's been (in our view) increasingly mismanaged. Mismanagement like, not setting up crowdfunding before the ship sank and all its best crew failed; or publishing a screenshot of Andy Ngo pedojacketing a trans writer, complete with her deadname; or a disgruntled ex-writer getting falsely accused of shit-talk, by actual staff. I'm grateful for the writing I've gotten to produce for HD (and will forever be kicking myself for not writing even more, in the four years I've had to do it!! i'm a dumbass!!!) but it is very much no longer the site I signed up for.

I don't want to resign as a contributor altogether, because I'm open to the idea of the site recovering and bad practices being retired as finances level out-- it would just be dishonest for potential backers to not be Aware Of The Circumstances, I think.

Jeremy Kaplowitz: i truly don't want to start shit, but feel compelled to say: i want to see Hard Drive succeed w/o resorting to throwing former writers & editors, myself included, under the bus. surely there's a way to save the site without building it over the corpses of those who left. my $0.02 i don't blame anyone who wants to sign up for the HD patreon and i support the website, but that includes those who worked on it for years, have complaints, and don't deserve to be treated like bitter assholes like this kind of stuff is just objectively true, meanwhile there's these new writers who joined the site after i left (meaning, in the last ~3 months) claiming people are liars. decide for yourself if you care, but this is what happened! [Quotes this Tweet]

Seth Finkelstein: Writing for Hard Drive has been a privilege the past few years, and it makes me so angry to see people I looked up to get jerked around behind the scenes. The amount of grenades the editors jumped on our behalf is immense, and I don't think the way they're being treated is right.

Other Bits On AI: We do know for sure however that AI art has been used by the site. Its fucking owner confirms it here:https://twitter.com/MattSaincome/status/1743040541603123622. Seems the owner pushed AI written articles as well! TayFabe: My vaguetweet is making the rounds & these made me apoplectic. - owner regularly lobbied using ai. Once he tested it & said ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. - ai images were used on the site & socials w/o consulting the team or disclosing it publicly I found the ai bit relevant to include bc 1) it illuminates a stark change in HD's current direction & leadership, 2) ai images have previously been used on the site and (since deleted) ig posts, 3) ai content fucking sucks, and repeatedly pushing to use it is a telling quality The "handful of writers who chose to leave" includes 2 editors-in-chief (both cofounders who wrote a combined total of >1,000 articles & defined the voice of HD), & at least 3 other editors. These guys put in WORK since 2017, so cool to be corrected by ppl who joined in Nov 2023 [Link to mentioned vague tweet from post.] More from TayFabe: owner continuously lobbied for using ai in every possible way. No one else wanted to do it, but he kept on, saying ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. Also, ai images were used on the site & socials without public disclosure or consulting the team.

The owner has responded now multiple times in a private discord... Thank you for people sharing screenshots! First Screenshot:

Kevin's Response: He banned me from the server for speaking out, so no, I didn't see it. And he gave no indication of a timeline, it was just "we'll do one when *I* say so" and gave every inclination he was totally against it. It bred an environment that pushed our hands to have to leave. Screenshot Round Two:

Kevin's Response: "Starting one in 3 months" is an absolute lie. He denied it, I have screenshots and others who can confirm. No timeline was given. Just "this is what it is now" and like, I couldn't live off of that. I wanted to do more but he was allergic to good ideas from others around him.

Matt, owner of Hard Drive, responds publicly on Twitter.

Matt: Kevin, the patreon launch was delayed because I didn't think it would work. Everyone is happy that it did work. Everyone who left the site because we didn't have money to pay for creative content which didn't revenue is welcome to return home. But unclear why the hostility.

Hard Drive paid out literally every dollar it had, then a bunch more, to creative people who worked on the site. When we ran out of money, we couldn't pay anymore. We did our best.

Kevin: Right, and my point of this thread was that it was completely and totally avoidable. This is reasonable to be upset about. How could I have been any more clear?

Matt: If we knew with 100% certainly that the community would have supported us via patreon, we would have done that. We didn't know. We had tried 4 years ago and got no support. We were wrong this time. We did our best to figure it out. We paid all the money we could.

Kevin: So you knew with 100% certainty this time? Or you took a leap of faith?

Matt: It was a last gasp panic effort after ad rates got cut in half on january 1st due to seasonal spending changes. We didn't know it would work. We were embarrassed to ask for support. We wanted to figure it out.

Kevin: Every site has a Patreon. Every YouTuber, comedy group, etc. But you insisted that nobody cared about Hard Drive. Which is wildly untrue. I know you see that now, but again, I think you can see why I and many others are pretty upset. A last ditch panic effort was long overdue. A couple more things from Matt:

It was about the size of the hole we needed plugged budget wise, the time I had left of personal resources, and the past data I had about us trying a patreon (which turned out to be a bad indicator). I didn't think the Patreon would help us fast enough. I made a bad estimation

aka "if we make $1000 more dollars a month via patreon, which would be 10x what we got last time, we will not solve any of our problems. If instead we try to plow down path B, we might make it out in time." That was the thinking. I chose the wrong path, but didn't mean to Kevin also retweeted this comment from the user Matt was responding to: So you're saying that you're bad at running the business, didn't listen to any of your employees until after they were forced to leave their jobs, and now you're going to get more of the money from the Patreon that was their idea in the first place? Matt's Response: Respectfully, I made a mistake delaying the patreon decision. But keeping a comedy site alive for 9 years is not easy, there are lots of potential ideas, and think overall we've done a good and honorable job. Will leave this thread in peace now to allow people their space.

Sorry for linking to Elon's hellsite (derogatory), but sources need links so...

[riofann]

2. tempestuous

Authors Note: I am trying something new. I like this story line please give me your feedback. Only reposts and likes please don't steal my work. XOXO Rose

Tempestuous: characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion.

Previous Chapter

Friday August 2, 2019

It's not long before you see him again this time he pops up at your bar

“Long time no see” you joke as you place the burger and wings and fries in front of him 

“Have a seat” he motions with his head

You slide into the other side and keep a straight face 

“I need a favor” he speaks before taking a fry into his mouth 

“I'm out of favors”

He smirks “I think you got a few left”

“I don't” and you were being honest even with small talk you still didn't trust him as you did in the past 

“Well it's a small favor” 

“I'm at capacity”

He sighs “Y/N”

“Christopher” 

He looks at you contemplating what he wanted to say next you both knew there wasn't a way out of doing this favor, you were just prolonging the inevitable 

“What did Alejandro say to you?” 

“What?” the question shocked you.  You expected the usual ‘stash this (drugs) need this(money) hold this (weapon)’. He sighs and straightens up looking at you “The ball was almost a month ago” you comment 

He shrugs “Well I've been curious”

You roll your eyes “nothing”

“Did you meet with him?”

“You would know I'm sure you have spies around town”

“Y/N”

“Christopher” 

He sighs “Okay so what did he say to you at the party?”

“Nothing” you didn't know what the consequences were for revealing your conversation 

He remains silent waiting. You sigh “he said that he knew what you did to me” Rio shifts on his seat. “And because of that I learned the true nature of the Serraño family. That you will put money above everything else.” You shrug 

He doesn't say anything just looks at you

It makes you nervous so instead you grab the basket of fries and start nibbling on a fry

“What else?” 

“Nothing” 

“He didn't offer you anything?” 

You shake your head “Nope”  emphasizing the P

He knew you were lying, you knew he knew you were lying but you weren't going to tell him. While one statement could be  considered facts the other was inflammatory and you weren't going to confirm nor deny anything that would have you getting caught in the crossfire 

He nodded and in return you pushed his fries back to him “Anything else?” 

“Jalapeño ranch speciality of the house”

“Oh that's right, I'll have someone bring it over” 

Tuesday August 13, 2019 

You hear rumbling at your front door and yank it open with gun at hand ready to face whomever was at your door at 3:03AM  

“Rio” you call his name, annoyed and relieved at the same time

“Heyyy” he greets, he looks like he got into a bad fight, there’s blood all over his face and hands 

“You look like shit” you comment

He scoffs and walks past you “Come right in!” You say sarcastically before closing the door 

“I need more money” he says before plopping down on your couch

You roll your eyes, this was becoming a routine now “how much?” 

He adjusts holding his side “All you got”

“I got 5 million”

“More than enough” 

“Okayyy” You return with the bag and hand it to him. He grimaces, reaching for it “What happened?”  (why the fuck did you ask him that you scold yourself)

He stands up and strains holding onto his side “Nothing you need to worry about” 

“Well your blood is dripping on my clean couch and carpet” you forcefully move him off of it. He looks down and smirks

And your leaving a trail of blood he follows your hand “Let me see” you offer 

He shakes his head “Don't worry about it”

“You won't make it far if I don't” you look at the blood pooling by his feet. You don't give him time to respond, instead you make him sit on the dining table chair. 

You walk away and grab the first aid kit 

As soon as he sees it he stands up “I don't need that”

“You do plus what's an additional 30 minutes? it won't take long” you push him down by the shoulders  

He gives up huffing along the way “I'm sitting, I'm sitting” 

You work quick cleaning the cuts on his face before moving to his abdomen

“Whoever you made angry let's hope their dead, the wound is deep you need stitches, I did the best I could but  you'll have to see a doctor” 

He nods and stands up and walks past you this time not giving you the option to protest you watch silently as he walks out the door 

While you clean up the blood he left you berate yourself for even treating his wounds 

(You should have let him bleed to death bitch , what's wrong with you?!) 

Saturday August 31, 2019

Speak of the devil and he appears. 

“Hey Y/N, there's someone here to see you” Grace your manager tells you 

You were busy in your office manipulating the books when she walked in “Who is it?” “I don’t know some guy he was like ‘I would like to speak to your manager’ ” she mocks

You make a face “Is it the guy with a low cut fade (Rio)?” 

She shakes her head “Nope”

“Regular?” She shakes her head again “Nope never seen him before” 

“How does he look?” 

“Long greasy long hair, gaudy jewelry” 

Your stomach drops, only one person fits that description that you knew of and it had to be Alejandro “Thick accent?” 

“YES!” 

You smile at her “Thanks tell him I will be out shortly” “Will do boss!” 

“Thanks Gracie” 

You review the cameras to see who he came with, 2 other men. They sat on a table facing the front door. 

You make sure to make note of where you left off before you exit your office. 

“Hey, is the food for table 9 ready?” you ask your lead cook

He looks at the ticket “Uhhhh almost done boss!” he confirms 

“Okay let me know when it's done I will take it out” you say as 

“Got it!” 

You help out your staff with other tasks like preparing dessert or grabbing things from the fridge or rinsing dishes before they get into the dishwasher. 

“Alejandro, nice to see you again” you say as you put the food on the table “Ahhh there she is the lovely Y/N!” he gets up and gives you a hug and cheek kisses before sitting down 

“Wow such a greeting” you comment 

He grins at you “Show of good faith cariño” 

You smile back “I heard you would like to speak to me?” 

“Yes!” you look to the other men as they shuffle around on the table giving you space  “My apologies senorita, these are my associates Manuel and Carlos”

“Nice to meet you” you greet them “Senorita, please sit” he says pulling out your chair 

“Sure let me grab some water” You walk away to gather your nerves before returning “Yes how can I help you Alejandro?” 

“¿Sabes español?” “Poco” you motion a pinch with your fingers 

“Ah okay  ¿Has pensado en mi propuesta? (Have you thought about my proposition?)” 

“A little, but we haven’t really discussed after plus I’ve been busy” 

“Serraño Family always keeping you busy” he makes a whip noise as a joke

“Ha ha ha” You say sarcastically 

“Disculpe Senorita, I left my message on your front door” You nod “Yes the necklace I got it” he left it hanging on the handle and you could have shit yourself at that moment when you saw it.

“It's yours by the way” he mentions

“Ohhh thank you, how kind?” you didn’t want to keep anything as a gift, they were never just gifts anyway. 

He takes a bite of his food “So what do you think?” 

“I don’t know, what would my cut be?” He laughs “right to the point” “De Verdad! I’m sure thats what youre thinking about too, how much I can do for you” you counter “Hmmm” He looks to the ceiling pretending to think before looking back at you “how much are the Serraño family giving you? Let me guess these guys are cheap” he turns to face his men “¿Que piensan? (What do you think?)” 

“Hmm 10%” Carlos responds 

“Viente por ciento (20%)”

Alejandro turns to you “¿Es verdad?” 

You take a sip of water “I can’t tell you that. What are you going to offer?” 

“Because I know these guys, in good faith I will offer 30 and up!” 

“What is ‘and up’ ?” 

He shrugs “the more you do the more you earn” he states matter of factly  

“And what do you expect me to....” Your eyes dart towards the door where you see Rio and Mick walk in. He pushes his hoodie back and looks around the restaurant before he spots you, there's no wave, no smile straight face, Mick also shares the same blank expression. 

You look down at your watch to get the time, he was here earlier than normal. His usual time was after the sun sets.  No he wasn’t due to show up today, and no you didn’t have anything to discuss, so the only option is that he either had a spy in your staff or he had someone constantly watching the bar. It would make sense his money is in the bar itself. You take a deep breath in “What do you expect from me?” 

“Los hombres están aquí (the men are here)” Carlos comments, causing Alejandro and Manuel to turn around and see Rio. Alejandro picks up his drink along with the rest and toast to Rio who didn’t even so much acknowledge just blank face staring at you. 

Alejandro turns to face you “Boyfriend is here” You roll your eyes “He is not my boyfriend, what do you expect from me?” you wanted him to get to the point, your anxiety was already reaching its peak and you can’t stop bouncing your leg. 

He chuckles “Your loyalty senorita and your partnership that is all,” he places a hand on his heart “you will be part of the Guerrero family and we take care of each other, you know what that means right?” 

“War?” you guess 

He smiles “Close pero we are a family of warriors” 

“Oh” you giggle nervously “Can I think about it?” 

He scoffs “What is there to think about senorita?” he turns to look at Rio then back at you “¿Estás preocupado por tu novio? (you’re worried about your boyfriend?)” You glare at him “he is not my boyfriend!” He finishes his meal and you all sit silently as the other men finish “We will take care of the Serraño family, they are no match for the Guerrero family” You didn’t trust him, something about his offer didn’t seem genuine, you knew how this worked there’s no way you could just switch sides without there being a blood bath.

You refrain from answering and just smile at him “Well I have given you a lot to think about cariño I will be in touch” With that he pays way over the amount that's required for the bill and he and his men get up to leave

You get up to follow them out the door “I must speak to your boyfriend” he sings as he turns to look at you 

“Alejandro” you warn not knowing what could come from this “No cariño I must pay my respects to the representative of the Serraño family” he walks over to Rio head held high chest pumped out “Senor Cristobal! Que tal mi amigo?! (how are you my friend?!)” he asks boisterous you’re sure the entire restaurant heard. You look around and see eyes looking at you. He grabs Rio’s hands and shakes vigorously almost cartoonishly it almost makes you laugh how he’s essentially shaking Rio’s body. 

Rio nods shaking his hand “Alejandro” “We were just paying Senorita Y/N a visit you know top bar in Detroit 3 years in a row now, we had to give it a try” he smiles at Rio then at you 

You smile nervously standing to the side, Rio glances at you before returning his attention to Alejandro 

“Hasta luego amigo” Rio nods and watches as he leaves. You stand by the booth watching the door you want to make sure they leave but the glare Rio is giving you makes you stay put. 

Grace walks up to you distracting you “Oh Rio! You’re here so nice to see you again, Hi Mick!” Grace greets

“Whats up? Gracie” he smiles at Grace it's scary how quick he can mask his mood 

“The usual?” she asks “Actually I want the house special” “Ooh doing something different today, you guys are early today huh Y/N” He chuckles “We got things to do”

“Busy men! Mick?” “Usual” he responds 

She takes the order on the tablet “Coming right up! Y/N Need anything get you some fries?” 

“No” you give her a smile even though you stood tense “I’m good” 

“Great I’ll get the drinks then I’ll be back” 

When she walks away Mick exists the booth for you to slide in “I'm not sitting inside” Rio glares at you “take it or leave it or we can both stand here looking like idiots. Plus I can’t outrun a bullet so there’s no point” 

He looks around quickly “Lower your voice” he scolds he looks at Mick and motions for him to slide back in

You sit silently as he is busy held up with his phone “Thought you said you haven’t met with Alejandro” he comments without looking at you You take a sip of water “I haven’t” 

“Hmmm” he hums “so what is he doing here Y/N?” You shrug “Your guess is as good as mine, it was a shock to me too” 

He nods and looks around “what did he say to you?” “Why don’t you ask him?” you argue He looks you in the eye “I’m not in the mood for games Y/N” You sigh “Neither am I since the Guerrero and Serraño family know so much about each other. Why not just talk to each other?” He takes a deep breath and sits up straight “Y/N” 

“Rio” 

Mick pulls out his gun, you roll your eyes “I wish you would actually pull the trigger because its losing its meaning” 

“Tell me what he said to you” He commands

“He offered me 30% and up”

“And?” “And I said I wanted to think about it” He chuckles smugly “You know what that means for you?” You shake your head “no and I haven’t thought about it I literally was just doing the same thing I am doing for you, talking to you till you leave” you smile sarcastically 

He smirks at that comment “30% sounds good yea?” He asks Mick

Mick chuckles 

“What's funny?” He goes back to texting “Looked into his portfolio? What he can do? What he does?” 

“No, but I didn’t look into yours either yet here we are” Grace shows up with the food “Okaayyy I have the house special the Big Island Burger with Plantain fries for Rio,  for Mick wings and fries, jalapeno house ranch and your beers! Need anything else?” she asks

He smiles at her “No we’re good” 

“Okay let me know if you need anything!” 

“Thanks Gracie” 

You sit silently as both Mick and Rio eat knowing if you get up to leave you were asking for more problems 

He clears his throat taking a sip of beer “His 30% equates to 5% of your current cut” he reveals

“And how do you know that?” You think Rio is lying to you to persuade you to not leave He takes a bite of the burger “I know everything that affects my business, so if you wanna go to him and do the same amount of work for less than a quarter of what you’re getting from me be my guest” You roll your eyes “I would like to not be in the middle of this” He smirks at you “Seems like we are beyond that aren’t we darling” You sigh “I didn’t ask for this Rio” “No but you also weren’t honest with me either” “I have been honest, this is the first time I have seen him after the ball!” 

He sits up straight “Why aint you tell me he stopped by today? Why did I have to come to see it for myself?” “Why do you have spies watching me?” you counter “Why aint you tell me about the necklace?” You shift uncomfortably “Exactly, see for this thing to work I  gotta trust you” 

“Like you understand what trust means” you say cynically 

He chuckles “I do and you better pick up an encyclopedia and refresh your memory soon darling” 

You huff and pick up your phone to text your mother back there was no winning either way “is there anything else you want?” you ask 

He shakes his head “Nah maybe another beer and napkins” That was your cue to leave he was done with you. 

Authors Note: Please leave your feedback, again please don't steal. Only repost, like, or give credit.

XOXO Rose

Taglist:

@katymae12344, @yinmaggiorebass

[storiesforallfandoms]

destiny ~ geralt of rivia;the witcher

word count: 1749

request?: no

description: after a long, rough journey, the princess feels safe enough to sleep, so her mage talks with the witcher

pairing: geralt of rivia x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was a long, tiring journey to bring Princess Ciri to find her destiny; the Witcher. The poor girl, only a child, had seen far more than anyone her age should ever see. Her grandmother had been smart enough to send a Mage with her at least, but there was only so much one Mage could do against the threats they had faced. When they had finally found him, stood alone after his own battle, and Ciri ran to embrace him, (Y/N) sighed in relief and finally allowed her body to relax.

They set up camp for the night. Geralt promised them he would find them somewhere with an actual bed for the next night, but Ciri could care less about where she was sleeping. (Y/N) knew she felt relieved, too. And finally the young princess could sleep knowing that she was safe.

Ciri was sound asleep next to a fire (Y/N) had built to keep her warm. The Mage was sat against a tree nearby, just watching. Knowing that Ciri was safe, that she felt safe enough to finally let her guard down, gave (Y/N) such a sense of relief that she felt like she could finally breathe again.

“You should be sleeping as well.”

(Y/N) looked up to see Geralt stood over her. She was surprised a man of his size was able to move so silently, but then again it was probably a skill he had to pick up as a Witcher.

“I would imagine you are just as exhausted as she,” he said.

“I am,” (YN) confirmed. “But not so exhausted that my body wishes to rest just yet. I guess it hasn’t realized yet that there is no threat anymore.”

“There are still plenty of threats.”

She shook her head. “Not tonight. Tonight, she rests soundly, and she is safe.”

Geralt looked over at the sleeping girl. For years he had been trying to deny Ciri. He didn’t believe in destiny, and he was the last person who should be looking after a child. But now that she was here, unharmed and at peace, he couldn’t deny that he felt relief as well. There were still plenty of threats out there, that much was still true, but he decided to agree with (Y/N) just this once. Tonight, they were all safe.

Geralt sat across from her. “You did well in protecting her. She likely wouldn’t have made it this far on her own.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” (Y/N) admitted. “I promised her grandmother that nothing would happen to her, and I am not one to break a promise.”

“I was unaware that Queen Calanthe had a Mage in her kingdom.”

“I’m not a royal Mage. Just an old friend that she asked a favor of.”

“A very good friend to risk your life.”

(Y/N) smiled and shrugged. “I have known Ciri since birth, and her mother before her. I would do anything to keep that girl safe.”

She was gazing at Ciri again. Geralt noticed the look on her face. “Do you have children of your own?”

“Oh, Gods no. Those are very uncommon in my line of work.”

“No lover either, then?”

She chuckled. “Also very uncommon. It’s hard to let yourself fall in love when you are immortal.”

Geralt wasn’t sure why he even asked. It felt like the logical next question after asking if she had children, but Geralt cared very little if she had said yes to having a lover. Or, so he thought anyways.

(Y/N) looked back to him, a sly grin on her face. “Queen Calnthe told me about your ties to Ciri.”

Geralt grunted. “I’m sure she did.”

“She could hardly tell the story without a string of profanities.” (Y/N) giggled. “No one has ever made the queen more angry than Geralt of Rivia.”

Geralt found himself smiling as well.

“Well,” (Y/N) said, tilting her head a little. “Would you look at that.”

“What?” he asked.

“The Witcher smiles. And he looks quiet handsome doing so.”

(Y/N) was nothing if not forward. One does not live for many decades and not become bold and forward. She felt a little delight when she saw a brief look of shock on Geralt’s face. She certainly wasn’t lying, though. Anyone with eyes could see that Geralt was good looking. She was sure he was able to use that to his advantage as well.

Silence fell over them. The only sounds were the wildlife around them and the crackling fire. Both of them turned to check on Ciri at the same time, as if some sort of instinct kicked in for them both. (Y/N) took Geralt’s distraction as an opportunity to really study him. She had seen a look in his eyes when Ciri had run to him earlier, but it was so brief that she couldn’t place it at the time. He had been wearing his tough guy mask since, except for this moment. As he gazed at Ciri, (Y/N) could see two emotions on his face: relief and worry.

“The queen also told me,” (Y/N) said, drawing Geralt’s attention back to her, “that you weren’t going to claim Cirilla at first. She said you called Law of Surprise without truly believing in it.”

Geralt grunted. “All that bullshit about destiny. I didn’t believe any of it. I called Law of Surprise because they insisted on something for me saving Urcheon’s life. I didn’t actually believe I would get anything.”

“And yet...” (Y/N) glanced towards the sleeping princess.

He nodded. “I didn’t want a child by any means. This is not a life for a child. If destiny is real, it has played a cruel trick on her.”

“Or it has given her a father that she so dearly needed after her own passed.”

“And a mother?”

(Y/N) smiled. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t thought about the next step after Ciri was united with Geralt. Truthfully, she didn’t want to think about it. The thought of being separated from Ciri hurt too much, but she didn’t expect Geralt to want her to travel with them. He had been travelling alone for so many years that she was sure it would take time for him to get used to Ciri being with him, let alone if (Y/N) joined as well. She felt full of joy hearing Geralt insinuate that he wanted her to continue travelling with them as well. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Ciri just yet, or to Geralt for that matter.

“What a family we’d be,” she laughed. “A Witcher, a Mage, and a princess. Sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke.”

Geralt chuckled as well. (Y/N)’s smile broke as she let out a yawn.

“You should get some sleep,” Geralt told her.

“As should you.”

“I will.”

(Y/N) nodded. She wasn’t in any position to argue with him over whether or not he was actually going to sleep. She could feel herself finally being bogged down by her fatigue and knew it wouldn’t be long until she gave in completely.

Geralt’s eyes followed her as she moved to her knees. Instead of rising, she leaned towards him to close the gap between them. She lightly pressed her lips to his cheek, leaving a gentle kiss there before pulling away. He tried to keep his face unchanged as she sat back to look at him.

“Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

~~~~~~

The sun was high in the sky when (Y/N) woke the next day. The fire had gone out and the heat was instead replaced by the scorching sun. (Y/N) blinked a few times, trying to get her eyes used to the brightness of day. When she finally managed to clear her vision, she noticed she was alone at the camp.

She quickly sat up and looked around. There was barely any signs that anyone else had ever been here. Just the kindle left over from the fire she had lit for Ciri. She felt herself beginning to panic. Had they left her? Had someone taken Ciri and Geralt went after them? Had Geralt changed his mind about having her join them?

She was getting to her feet when she heard the sound of horse hooves against the ground. A horse broke through the clearing in a fast trot before coming to a stop. (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief when Ciri jumped down from the back of the horse.

“Good morning,” the young princess said, walking up to wrap her arms around (Y/N). The Mage was taken back by the gesture at first, but then happily hugged Ciri back.

“More like good afternoon,” Geralt commented, jumping down from his horse as well. “You’ve been asleep for hours. We went on to find food without you.”

“Forgive me for being tired,” (Y/N) said, playfully glaring at Geralt. To Ciri, she asked, “Did you sleep well, princess?”

“The best I’ve slept since we left Cintra,” Ciri admitted.

(Y/N) smiled and cupped her face. “You are safe now, princess. The Witcher and I will look after you and make sure no one will cause you any harm.”

Ciri looked between (Y/N) and Geralt, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “You’ll be staying with us?”

“Of course. I’ve come too far in this journey to let you go on without me. Although, I will need something to eat in order to continue on.”

She eyed Geralt. He chuckled and said, “Alright then, let’s find you something to eat as well.”

They went on foot with Geralt leading his horse behind him. Ciri was between the two of them, protected by her Mage and her Witcher.

“I was thinking,” Geralt said after some time of walking, “about our discussion last night. About destiny.”

(Y/N) looked over at him. “Yes?”

“Maybe there is such thing as destiny, and maybe it isn’t as bad as I once thought.”

“And what brought you to that conclusion?”

“Ciri was meant to be my destiny, but she wasn’t the only good thing that destiny brought to me.”

He looked directly at her when he spoke. She felt her heart flutter in her chest. She had no good response, so she just kept walking, a smile on her face.

She would have to thank destiny for bringing her to Geralt as well.

[nobie]

Neil Gaiman.

I want to say a few things from a journalist perspective. I'm a journalist myself, I needed to get as much information as I could about this news with as much objectivity as I can have.

Tortoise is a UK based media group. They do a lot of multi media investigative reporting (not traditional mmj though more like scripted podcasts, regular podcasts, videos etc.). Their motto, I guess you could call it, is “Get the news not when it happens, but when it’s ready.”

It’s a fine model from a business standpoint, but in the journalism industry, being fast and accurate is what most news organizations strive for. But never hit the mark to be honest. Heavy on the accuracy part. Tortoise is comparable in America to NPR, but NPR is on a far larger scale since Tortoise is still new, being founded in 2019.

The SA allegations became a story from the ground up. There was nothing said about it before yesterday because this story came directly from the women he allegedly assaulted. I know using the word "allegedly" seems like a cheap shot, but it has to be used because none of it has been confirmed by Gaiman. Only that he did in fact have relationships with these two women. But the SA allegations continue to be denied. The reporters and producers at Tortoise media have written an article and created a full four part podcast. They detailed their stories from both women, spoke about SA misconceptions, and gave background on Gaiman and his relationships (relationships meaning sexual and non con acts happening with them so be aware of that).

The podcast, I'm not entirely fond of because a sensitive subject should not be made into a form of "entertainment." But it did give me more information and different perspective on the story. And from the way this podcast is produced you can tell this story was not investigated lightly. It is a bit distasteful, but it has been done before. This is a full production mind you with a beginning, middle, and end. Plus sound effects and dramatic music, so thats why I say I'm not really fond of the idea. Just reporting the entire story with quotes from the victims would've been enough. I can only hope the reporter and producer did their job ethically as to fully understood the allegations and weight of the subject. (They do mention that in the podcast as well, but as a journalist all I do is ask questions so I def had questions.)

Now this goes without saying, but there should never be any doubt that SA is unjustified and horrifying. And one should never disregard the feelings of the victims. Saying anything like "well they shouldn't have put themselves in that situation," is what I mean by disregard. Why would anyone put themselves in that situation?

That line of thinking is why SA is one the biggest ethical topics in media. Should it be reported? Should it not? How do we go about reporting such a sensitive subject objectively? Do we name the victims? Do we name our sources? Have we considered all of the code of ethics in our reporting? What about our personal values?

Journalism code of ethics: Minimizing harm, seek the truth, act independently, take accountability and be transparent. This might be the first time you're seeing these and I know historically it feels like none of this is considered, but I always consider them.

It’s been a battle of my own personal values to have to report events like this with no bias, but it’s necessary for accuracy and integrity in my reporting.

Ethically, as a journalist, I can't choose sides I need to look at it from all sides. But personally, as a human, I can't condone these actions. Nor will I ever condone it. All kinds of things are being said about this news, and everyone is allowed their own opinion. I only wanted to put my perspective out there because it should be another side of the story to understand, considering this came from Tortoise investigating the allegations.

Here is the article and other news sites that have talked about the story from Tortoise. Also gonna link SPJ code of ethics in case you want to read through them.

Tortoise

The allegations against Neil Gaiman (ep.1 on spotify but you can listen anywhere they have podcasts)

The Telegraph

Daily Mail

The Rolling Stones

SPJ Code of Ethics

Also to the Good Omens fandom, I know this is tough news, but you are allowed to still enjoy Good Omens. I know the guilt/shame of enjoying things that are against your morals, but be kind to yourself.

none of this edited so i apologize for any mistakes.

[dogboytim]

ok I have a another idea can you write Thomas Hewitt with a teen daughter who is in a relationship! Also love your work ❤️❤️❤️

Ok this one may be odd but I work all the time so uh. I hope it’s good. I don’t know if you mean like the reader being the daughter or the reader being Thomas’ partner. So I’m going with the second one. If you want me to write the first one too just let me know!

Amelia. That was the name Thomas had given your daughter. She had become his whole world the day she was born. He spoiled her. Well, the entire family did. She was the first baby girl in the family since Luda Mae. So they made a really big deal out of it.

Though as Amelia grew older, Thomas began to worry. He could deny it all he wanted but you knew something was eating at him. It got worse when you insisted on sending her to school. You had a friend in a nearby city that let you use her address to enroll Amelia. See, Thomas was used to being around his daughter 24/7. He needed to know that she was ok at all times. Sending her to school was a big jump for him. Her first day of High school was even worse. Thankfully, he seemed to worry less as her time in school went on.

“Hey, question.” Amelia looked at you as she got off the bus. “Um, could I bring Sam back to the house to meet dad?” Sam? You looked behind your daughter, locking eyes with the brunette boy. Amelia had only been in high school for two months and she already had a boyfriend? Or had they been together since middle school?

“Of course.” You smiled. You knew Thomas wouldn’t hurt the boy. Especially if he was Amelia’s significant other. He wouldn’t be happy about it but he needed to accept that she was growing up. She was a freshman in high school now. Of course she was going to start dating.

The two teenagers got in the back of the car. Both were nervous. Amelia more so than Sam. She had a reason to be with her fathers’ particular line of work. You just hoped Thomas would take the news well.

Sam seemed a bit shocked when the three of you arrived at the house. Both by how far out the family lived and by the size of the house. You couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Alright. I’ll go get your father while you introduce Sam to Luda Mae.” Amelia nodded, grabbing Sam by the wrist and leading him in to the kitchen. That left you to go down to the basement and break the news to Thomas.

Your husband was, as usual, working. His hands covered in blood. You’d have to make him clean up before he met Sam. It didn’t take long for Thomas to spot you. He gently wrapped you up in a hug, placing loving kissing all over your face.

“Amelia is in the kitchen.” You managed to get out between the kisses. “But you’ve got to clean up. She brought her boyfriend over to meet you.” His eyes nearly doubled in size. You could feel him get tense. A boyfriend meant that Amelia could get her heart broken and he didn’t want his little girl to suffer through that. Despite his worries, he did clean up to look somewhat presentable to Sam.

As the two of you entered the kitchen, you could see Sam practically shrink in his seat when he saw Thomas. Amelia seemed less nervous and more excited to see her father. She was nothing if not a daddy’s girl.

“Sam, this is my dad.” She introduced. “Dad, this is same. We’ve been together since middle school last year.” Thomas held his hand out to the boy, trying his best not to chase the boy off. No matter how much he actually wanted to. Sam took his hand, quickly shaking it.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, sir.” He smiled. “Amelia is an incredibly smart woman. If it weren’t for her help, I wouldn’t have passed science last year.” Thomas huffed. He knew the boy was trying way too hard now. As if sensing the tension between the two men, Luda Mae brought out some food. You and Amelia gave her a questioning glance before she silently confirmed that it wasn’t human meat.

Dinner passed smoothly. Sam became more confident and began to tell everyone about how he and Amelia first met. Though Thomas still tried to kill the boy with nothing more than a mere glare. It would probably take a few more visits for Thomas to actually get used to him.

The real issue was the goodbye kiss Sam gave Amelia when his parents came to pick him up. That made Thomas really upset. So upset, in fact, that he had to go down to the basement to let off steam. Amelia frowned, giving you a worried look. You assured her that you’d handle it and she needed to go to bed for school.

“Thomas.” You stopped on the bottom step, watching him rip and tear at the corpse on the table. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” He stopped, giving you enough Tim to walk over and gently grab his arm. He seemed to ease up at this.

“Thomas, I know you don’t like the fact that she has a boyfriend but she’s growing up. She’s wanting to experiment and try new things.” You smiled softly. “She’s genuinely loves that boy and I’m sure if they do break up, you’ll be the first person she runs to.” He just had to accept that killing him would be off the table.

He pulled down his mask, kissing your forehead. It was a gesture that you had come to learn meant that he understood you. Neither of you were ready for Amelia to grow up. Then again, no parent ever was.

[certifiedskywalker]

How to Claim Your Dragon - Daemon Targaryen

Before The Dance, there was you and Daemon, waltzing in the wind.

“Hoping to claim a dragon?”

You turned on your heels, not so much at the question but at the low, droll tone of Daemon’s voice. He stood a few paces from you, strong arms crossed over his chest and a sly smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as he watched you watch him. Heat rushed up your neck while you stood subjected to his narrowed gaze. Daemon always looked at you like that, like he knew a secret that you had long kept close to your chest.

In an attempt to shake that look, you answered his jesting ask. “Mayhaps. I fancy one, there is no denying that. Though, I imagine myself atop one larger— grander than Caraxes. Don’t you?”

Daemon scoffed in reply, his arms falling to his sides as he approached you. “I imagine you were ordered by our Queen Aemma to wait on my niece.”

“She left on Syrax just after first light, I’m told,” you explained as the Targaryen Prince fell in to stand by your side. “With the tourney upcoming, I’m to return her to the Keep as soon as she lands.”

Daemon hummed as a wind roared through the yard at the mouth of the Dragonpit. You studied him, how he angled himself to take the brunt of the draft to spare you its lash and how his silver hair whipped about his shoulders. In these little ways, Daemon was beautiful and kind, and you longed for him. Though, as soon as he tipped his head to look at you again, all your longing seized and stilled in your heart, in the cold glint of his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” you murmured quickly, eyes falling to the dirt below.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Daemon said, in a tone so startling soft that you had no choice but to gaze back up at him to confirm that it was his lips the words fell from. “I find the quietest have the loudest minds.”

“You’ll forgive if I don’t know what you’re speaking of,” you countered, trying desperately to dodge any and all open holes you could fall into when it came to your feelings. Your feelings for Daemon, more specifically. “My mind is silent and still. You must have a clear head when claiming a dragon, you know.”

Daemon chuckled, a light, charming sound that made you smile. “You’ll need more than a clear head to claim one grander than Caraxes.”

“Really?” You countered, tilting your chin up towards the Prince in play challenge.

“Really,” he drawled, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze in the middle. “And, the Dragonpit holds only claimed dragons. You’ll need to go to the Dragonmount on Dragonstone to find a riderless beast. Vermithor or Silverwing, my grandsire’s dragons, they rest there.”

“Which is larger?”

“I could take you there.” 

You furrowed your brows and blinked at Daemon, disbelieving. “There?”

“Dragonstone,” he replied, so matter-of-factly that it chilled you to the bone. “Meet me on the morrow, here, and I can take you there on Caraxes.”

“Daemon, this…” You shook your head and pressed your lips into a thin line before you found your voice again, your eyes searching the dirt at your feet. “This isn’t funny anymore.”

“It never was.” 

Before you could reply, another gust of wind rushed at you. Daemon blocked it still but moved to stand directly in front of you so that his frame enveloped you. He went further, leaning his face down towards yours until you could look nowhere else but at him. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him that he was taking this too far, but found your tongue as heavy as lead. It was weighed down by the fact that you did not want to push aside his advances, that you wanted him to go even farther; and he did.

Daemon raised a hand and cupped your face, his thumb pressing softly into the flesh of your bottom lip. “Claiming a dragon is a serious matter. You can claim one but never tame one. Too much fire in our blood, always burning.”

“Blood of the dragon,” you murmured, trying to make sense of his winding words. You barely were able to forge comprehension at all with how close he was and how your lips brushed against his thumb as you spoke. Daemon smelled of warmed pine and wine and smoke, and how distracting that was.

“You cannot cage the beast,” he pressed on, “but you may lie with it.”

“Daemon.” His name came out on a trembling breath, neither a warning nor an invitation.

“Will you meet me?” He asked, leaning further forward until his forehead rested against yours. It was too good to be true, too satisfying to have Daemon so close. Yet, he could be even closer, you discovered, as you tipped your head up so your nose brushed against his.

“How long have you known?”

“Hmm, known about this?” Rather than specify what this was, Daemon sealed his lips to yours in a searing kiss. His other hand roamed up to cup your face and you felt so small in his grasp that you feared he might swallow you whole. He nipped at your bottom lip before pulling away, eyes hooded with desire. “I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know.”

You looked up at him and smiled softly. “And you let me burn that whole time?”

“You cannot fear fire when claiming a dragon,” he teased just before he kissed you again, harder than the last time. The morrow could not come soon enough.

[testingthewatersss]

Questions Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 4800 words fluff, angst, comfort & kissing. 18+ MDNI  Bucky has questions. Questions he's sure she can answer. But she wont, and he thinks he knows why.

“Bucky” Y/N says, “Why are you askin’ me that?”

“Because” he replies, “I can’t ask anyone else.”

The look on his face is sad. She maintains eye contact for a minute before breaking it, averting her gaze to her desk, where she pointedly focuses on a bit of paper that is near enough blank.

“Please, doll?” he presses, “Please, just-”

“What do you want me to say?” she almost snaps, “James, I-”

“Please” he says again, softer this time, “Don’t call me that… Y’know I- I only get James when I’m in trouble.”

When she brings her eyes back to his, she can’t help but sigh, temper retreating like a wave.

“It’s a pretty nice name, y’know” she murmurs, “I don’t know why-”

“-Are you tryin’ to change the subject, darlin’?”

At least his smiling now, even if it’s tight lipped and forced.

She doesn’t deny his statement, just shrugs.

“My point stands” he hears her say, “It’s hardly a mouthful, I don’t know why you hate it so much-”

“I don’t hate it” Bucky counters, “It just reminds me of bein’ yelled at.”

“Have I ever yelled at you?” she quips quickly,

He shakes his head, letting out a slow breath.

“I just want to know” he says quietly, “I can’t just let it go”

“You really want me to tell you wether or not I think you could have gotten away sooner?” she clarifies, “You want me to stand here and tell you if you put up ‘enough of a fight’ in the beginning and then after all that you want me to-”

“make sure the words they put in my head don’t still work” he confirms, “Please, doll, I…I don’t have anyone else I can go to about this kind of stuff, can you imagine Steve’s face if I even tried to bring this up with him?”

For a second, she says nothing. She just stares, trying to read wether or not even considering his line of questioning is a step too far, and then, he reaches out to take hold of her hand and she feels her heart breaking.

“Please…” he whispers thickly, “…I want to know-”

“They’re not easy answers to give” she replies, imploring him to understand, “Bucky, that first question alone isn’t a simple yes or no, there are so many variables, I-”

“You” he mumbles, bringing her knuckles to his lips, “won’t lie to me, darlin’… I trust you, I love you and-”

“I love you to” she counters, “That, is exactly why you comin’ to me like this isn’t fair.”

He’s kissing across her fingers, and all she can do is grumble as she leans back against her desk;

“Do I think you could have gotten away sooner?” she echos, surrounding to his puppy dog eyes, “Physically? probably— They let you carry loaded guns, you were never in particularly bad shape, even if you’d been knocked around a bit— You probably could’ve bolted from a job, or fought your way out if you’d have timed it right, y’know?” he does know, so he nods, gut tightening uneasily, “but-” Y/N says, “just because you might’ve been able to get away, that doesn’t mean you ever stood a chance.”

Bucky feels his face dropping as she lets go of his palm, choosing to tuck her hair behind her ears instead-

“There was a reason they didn’t care about you carrying weapons” she continues, “they knew full well that you weren’t going to try anything, even when given the opportunity.”

He opens his mouth to speak, to ask her to be more decisive in her judgement, but she gets there first, crossing her arms across her chest as she carries on,

“and the reason they trusted that so much” she says, “is because, yes, Bucky, you put up a hell of a fight in the beginning— It wasn’t a one and done where they wiped you and that was that, it took months of them pullin’ you in and out of storage, of them messin’ with the tech, messin’ with you, before they decided that it was just about good enough to move on to any further training, and that, that was just the tip of the iceberg— I mean jesus, weird, torture bullshit, aside, you had at least 3 different trackers active on you— If you’d managed to run they’d have found you eventually. You cut that one out of your neck in Budapest—”

The old scar that’s hidden by his hair aches as she mentions it, and then, as she nods at his arm, he finds himself feeling awfully small,

“—I broke the unit they had in there, that thing was more than just a bug, it was hooked into your nervous system, and-”

“There was always one in the guns”

She nods, in agreement before falling silent again.

It’s a difficult topic to talk about. Y/N hates discussing anything about her own time with HYDRA, but, she still thinks she’d prefer that, to this.

Talking about the horrible things that have happened to the man she loves, seems unfathomably worse, somehow. It’s probably because even though she’d been there in person for the last five years of his time there, she knows that he was there for so long before that.

And then, she’d found herself having to paw through the book he’d brought back with them, having to read, and dissect every insidious detail of his history so that she could make sure that he was okay, now, that he wasn’t in danger—

and that had been bad enough, but, he’d asked her to do it, so she had, but now- now he’s starting to ask questions, and she can’t even be angry at him, because if anyone deserves answers he does.

“I don’t think I remember” he tells her, voice thick, “The beginning it… it’s real hazy—”

“I know” she agrees, smiling a little, “That’s probably a blessin-”

“—But, I think it’s comin’ back” he admits, forcing the words out before he can chicken out, “I- I think it… it might be- some, some of the dreams I’m havin’… It- it’s either not real or it’s just from real early on-”

That silences her. Her lack of interruption only highlights the way that Bucky’s words have drifted off into nothing.

He gulps, and finds himself shifting anxiously on his feet as he awaits her judgment.

She firmly decides to stay quiet. To let him digest what has already been said for a little while longer and to see if he’s going to expand on his own.

“Do you think you could tell me?” he asks eventually, “If… If things really happened or not?”

Again, she lets his question sit for a beat before she offers him a “Maybe” that he doesn’t know how to take.

“Maybe?” he echos, ���Wha-”

“I don’t know everything” she tells him carefully, “I probably know enough to make a good guess on the things I’m not certain of, but wether I’d do that would depend on why you’re askin’ in the first place.”

Why I’m asking in the first place? he thinks, confused,

“I mean” she chuckles falsely, “honestly, I still don’t know why you’ve been asking me the questions you’ve already come up with”

“I just” he begins, “I… I want to know-”

“Why?” she presses, “Why, Buck? What does knowing wether or not you could’ve— maybe— in another reality gotten away sooner change? What does me telling you that you definitely fought back when they first started torturing you do? Does it make you feel better? Worse?—”

“No” he admits, “It… it’s not about that… how I feel, I mean”

“No?” Y/N says, “then what is it about, Buck? I get you wantin’ to check about the words— I know I’ve told you a hundred times that I’m sure— but, you wanting to check, to be a million percent certain? That, I can understand, but the rest of it? You’ve gotta help me out-”

“—I’m scared, doll—”

Bucky’s voice, and the blatant sincerity behind it makes her breath catch in her throat.

“—god,” he sighs, “—I’m terrified, I’m terrified that if I don’t ask you, then one day, one day soon you’re gonna start askin’ yourself and you’ll wonder if I, if I don’t care, and then, then I won’t be able to do anythin’ but watch as you realise that I could’ve done better and, you’ll— you’ll hate me, and I- I’ll lose you too, and I won’t be able to say a damn thing because it’ll be exactly what I deserve and, I—”

“-Stop.”

The natural authority in her tone makes his jaw snap shut. Anxiety driven rambling turning into silence;

Silence that Y/N allows to settle for a second as she tries to rationalise everything he’s just said—

“I’m sorry” Bucky offers nervously, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry, I- I’ll go— I’ll see you later, or, I, I can just… I can just go-”

“C’mere-” she counters, tone softening when she realises that he really is distraught, “What am I goin’ to do with you, huh?”

Her arms are open in invitation, and despite the way he’d been ready to turn and flee just a moment before, Bucky finds himself hiding against her a front in what feels like no time at all.

“Whatever you want” is the answer he gives to her question, though his words are muffled by the crook of her neck, “you can do whatever you want with me”

She chuckles at that, soft and light as she strokes a large circle across the back of his ribs.

They’re straining, he’s panting, and trying so hard to steady his breathing that she feels guilty about not approaching this in a more tactful way;

“How about we make a deal?” she suggests calmly, “How about, I’ll answer your questions, if you answer a few for me?”

“Okay” he agrees, not pulling away, “I… I can do that”

Y/N smiles, feeling his arms tightening around her waist in a silent display of attachment.

“When did you last sleep for more than fifteen minutes in a row?”

“1935” he grumbles, smiling a little when she laughs, “… probably last week, doll… usually… usually when I pass out I, I see things and I- I come round and I can’t settle again after that”

He’s being so blatantly honest that all Y/N can do is press a kiss against his brow, and wait for him to take his turn;

“.I… I don’t know what to ask”

That makes her chuckle again, eyes rolling even though he can’t see,

“and you had so many questions earlier” she teases gently, “Now I’m offerin’ to answer you can’t think of one?”

“I can think of plenty” he says, “Just don’t know where to start”

“How about” Y/N sighs, “you start with what’s botherin’ you most?”

“That ain’t a question…” he grumbles, “…Do… Do you think I could’ve done more? to, y’know… stop everythin’ that happened?”

“No” she says honestly, “No, Bucky, I don’t think there was anything you could’ve done to stop any part of what happened.”

“But, I-”

“You wanted an answer” she cuts in, “Not a debate, now it’s my turn.”

She’s right, so he nods, settling back into an unhappy silence,

“Do you really think that I’m going to suddenly wake up one morning and realise something that makes me ‘hate’ you?”

“Yes” he gulps anxiously, “Yeah”

She doesn’t say anything else. His reply just sits in her chest like a lead weight, as he continues to hide himself against her front,

“Do you?” he asks after a pause, “Do- Do you think that you might… do, do that?”

“No” she says, “Of course not—I could never hate you, Bucky”

“but-”

This time, she barely has to tut before he catches himself and swallows his objection,

“Do you believe me when I tell you that I love you?”

“…Yeah…” he says honestly, “…yeah I do, I- I just don’t understand how you could… or, or why you ever would…”

“Isn’t that up to me?”

“It’s not your turn, doll”

She scoffs at that, but doesn’t argue.

“Why do you?” Bucky asks next, “Why do you love me? after… after everything”

That’s a sad question really, but still Y/N feels a smile blooming across her face as she starts to consider every single reason she has; and then, it falters when she realises that putting them into words might be a problem,

“Christ, Buck, you’re not makin’ this easy on me…” she murmurs, “There are so many reasons… You’re kind, and sweet— you’re so, so sweet, and you make me laugh, you’ve always made me laugh, and, I- I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as brave, or gentle as you are…”

It’s so clear that he needs to hear her kind words that she suddenly can’t bare the thought of stopping,

“You’re thoughtful” she says next, “You’re smart— brilliant, really, without even havin’ to try— you’re… you’re just so good, y’know?… You’re a truly good person, down to your core, and I know that you always try and do the right thing, and see that goodness in other people, even when it’s not there—”

“But the things I-”

“You” she cuts in, not wanting to even hear his argument, “didn’t do a damn thing wrong. This whole thing was always bigger than you, but it's fair that you miss that sometimes.”

He does. He misses it all the time;

“But everything that happened” he mumbles, “all those people are dead because of me”

Y/N shakes her head, chest aching.

“No” she says, “those people are dead because HYDRA decided they needed to die— You just happened to be the weapon they liked using most at the time.”

He doesn’t reply, he just nuzzles in impossibly closer to her front as she lets her chin rest against the top of his bowed head.

“My turn again, huh?” she murmurs, “…How long have you spent worryin’ about all this?”

“all this?” he echos, uncertain of her meaning, “I… I’ve always been worried ‘bout you realisin’ that you deserve better than me, doll, that- that’s not new.”

“It’s ridiculous” she counters, “You deserve the world— but I mean this, specifically— How long have you been worrin’ about talkin’ to me about things you’re remembering just incase it makes me realise that you’re actually some evil monster and-"

“Ever since you wouldn’t answer me the first time” he confesses, “when I asked you about… about if you thought I could’ve done more to get away, and you wouldn’t tell me I… I figured it was because you knew deep down that I… I should’ve done better and I… I tried to stop thinkin’ about it like you said but it… it kept eatin’ at me, and the more I asked—”

“The more I didn’t want to answer, and the more likely the whole thing seemed.”

He nods against her shoulder, and she can’t help but press a kiss into his hair,

“I didn’t mean to annoy ya’, darlin’…” he says, “I, I really didn’t but I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop thinking about it, when you, when you wouldn’t tell me what you thought I was sure there had to be a reason…”

“I’m sorry” she says honestly, “I didn’t think you’d take it that way, I should’ve been clearer about why I didn’t want to talk about it”

“Why didn’t you?” he asks, “Answer, I mean? I… I’ve asked you things before and you… you’ve always answered me”

“Because” Y/N sighs, “I know you, and I know how easy it is for you to blame yourself for situations you had no control over… You do it all the time, and I love you, Buck… I love you and seeing you be so hard on yourself is bad enough without me piling on hypothetical situations that could only ever make it worse”

For a few seconds, there’s silence. Bucky’s arms are still tight around her waist and if she tries, she can feel his pulse rushing anxiously through his body,

“I know you forget that nothing that happened was down to you” she allows, “and I don’t mind reminding you— I really don’t, but, I really don't want to start goin’ into all the different ‘what if scenarios’ that you’re mind can cook up, because that… that’s a hell of a box to open”

“It feels like it was…” he tells her weakly, “It feels like it was all my fault, doll, all of it, it… it’s like I should’ve stopped it somehow, like— like I… like I could’ve just woken up and, and made myself not-”

“But you couldn’t” she inserts, “Sweetheart, you couldn’t just wake up, and even if you had? If by some, bizarre twist of fate you’d have been able to snap out of it and fight back? They’d have just started from scratch, either with you, if they could bring you back in, or with someone else, if they’d have just decided to kill you instead.”

“Do you think I could’ve made them do that?” he wonders, “Kill me, I mean?”

“Is it your turn?” Y/N asks, trying to lighten the atmosphere, “I’ve lost count”

“I don’t know” he mumbles, “I hope so”

She chuckles at that, shaking her head,

“No” she says, “I don’t think there is anything you could’ve done that would’ve made them kill you— not when finding you in the first place was like striking gold in a coal mine.”

“Can I ask what you mean by that, or do I have to wait?”

Y/N laughs again, soft and airy as she pulls back a little so that he can finally pull back and reveal his face.

“You are a good person” she tells him, reaching up to cup his cheek, “Really, Buck— You’re good, all the way through— It’s why they had to keep you, because that kind of genuine goodness isn’t somethin’ that you find often. The serum proved that there wasn’t a bad bone in your body, it magnifies everything it touches, you know about ‘Red Skull’— you know what putting that stuff into someone who’s not decent can do, so… you landing right in their laps, already dosed up and ready to go? that was something that was never going to happen again”

He’s starring at her, hanging on every word she’s saying, so, instead of waiting for him to ask her to expand, she just sighs, brushing her thumb under his eyes.

“You can’t torture evil out of somebody” she says, “no amount of pain or electricity can make a person better, so, even if they had managed to get a never ending supply of the serum, it never would’ve worked out because they’d have still needed subjects who didn’t have an ounce of malice in them, who didn’t want to be powerful, or dangerous, or anything other than decent and I think even they knew that wasn’t going to happen, and that… that’s why they spent so long making sure they kept you how they wanted, and that's why all of those other Winter Solider's never got more than a few hours out of tank at a time. They had no idea what might start to happen.”

“So if I… if I had made them kill me, then they… they wouldn’t have been able to-”

He sounds so genuinely guilty that all Y/N can do is continue stroking his face as she shakes her head, again;

“I don’t think they would’ve ever just killed you, and if they had? or if something had happened out of their control? Then they wouldn’t have given up— They’d have gone through thousands of people trying to find one that worked to replace you.”

Bucky’s brow is furrowed, both his hands still around the back of her waist. He doesn’t want to let go, he wants to stay close, and despite the way he’s trying to not be so obvious about his need for skin on skin, he knows that he’s pressing his cheek into her palm;

“I know it didn’t feel like it” she murmurs, “but they were real careful with you, sweetheart— They spent so much time in the beginning making sure that their tech worked- tailoring it to you, y’know? and makin’ sure that everything from the fall was patched up so that even when they hurt you your heart was never going to give out or anything like that”

“In the beginning…” he parrots, “…later on, when… when I’d been there a while, did… did the tech stop workin’? is, is that why I, why I…”

“No” she whispers softly, “The tech worked how it always did, they just didn’t factor in the fact that you were going to be off ice so much”

He blinks, confused and she can’t help but smile,

“They called them wipes” he hears Y/N explain, “but that’s not what they were, you can’t just erase somebodies personality, not with all the electricity and torture in the world… all you can do, is make someone obedient, you can make good men do bad things, and sometimes if you’re trying really hard you can alter the conscious mind— you can make it so someone can’t fathom fighting back, or questioning what you’ve convinced them is reality, but even that doesn’t last indefinitely— it needs maintenance, y’know? upkeep, because human minds aren’t hard drives that can be reset whenever someone feels like it.”

“They’d… they’d say I was unstable…” he recalls, “..Like when… when I saw Steve on the bridge I- I didn’t understand but I- I knew, that… that I he knew me and they… they wiped me straight away-”

“Well yeah” she chuckles grimly, “They couldn’t let something that major slide”

“and when I’d was bein’ brought out of storage they’d.. they’d usually bring me right to the chair?”

That’s definitely a question, Y/N can tell by the unsure quirk in his voice.

“Yeah, baby” she confirms, “that’s right”

“I… I hated that chair, I- I still… god, I- I still dream about it sometimes… even, even just the door to the room it was in, I, I see myself walking towards it, I- I feel the way my heart is racing…”

“Nobody” she whispers, “Nobody is ever, ever, going to hurt you like that again, you know that, right?”

The nod he gives her is a reflex. He’s so used to agreeing to statements like that, that it’s automatic, and it’s only when he meets Y/N’s gaze that he takes a second to consider wether or not it’s truthful;

“I forget, sometimes” he allows, “but, I trust you, and I know it’s safe here”

She seems to like that, she smiles and brings her fingers back across his cheek, stroking his face like he’s precious,

“It’s very safe…” she agrees, “…You, are very safe.”

“I’m sorry, doll”

That takes her by surprise. She’s not sure where his apology has come from, and she’s already shaking her head to refute it when he starts speaking again,

“I didn’t mean to force you to talk about all of this, I- I know you didn’t want to answer me and I, I should’ve just respected—”

“You can always talk to me” she counters, “about anything— anything at all, Bucky- I just want to make sure that we’re not makin’ you feel worse, not if we can help it.”

He nods, and presses a kiss against the pad of her thumb.

“What would you like to do now, huh?” Y/N asks gently, “we can do whatever you feel like.”

Bucky stays quiet for a beat, working up the courage to make his suggestion,

He already knows what he wants to do, he just don’t know if asking her to do it is pushing his luck, considering how she’s indulged him so much already;

“Could… could you try the… the words?” he asks eventually, “Please? just so, so I know…”

Her instinct is to refuse. To delay for right now, if not forever, but then she sees his face, she sees the need, and longing and, and then she finds herself nodding, even though she’s not sure quite when she decided to say yes.

“C’mere” she murmurs, “Close your eyes for me— FRIDAY, lock us in for right now.”

Bucky does as he’s told, slipping his hands into her back pockets as the room dissolves into blackness.

“Ready?” she checks- he nods, nervously, so she leans in and presses a kiss against his brow, “Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop.”

He knows what kind of pain she means, so he nods, bracing himself to feel his head burning, to feel incredible, pulsing pressure building inside his skull—

“Semnadtsat’… Rzhavyye…. Dozhd’…” her soft voice begins, slow and stable as ever, “…Pustyye…. Nad…. Vnevremennyye….”

He’s tense, and shaking.

He’s honestly, totally ready for something terrible to happen, for his whole brain to collapse inwards as he loses his grip on… on everything other than pain and whatever instructions he’s given— He finds himself thinking about how even if that did happen, at least it’s Y/N he’s with, at least she won’t make him do anything terrible— He’s about to tell her how grateful he is, that she’s always been so good to him, but then, he realises it’s over, she’s not talking anymore, and all he can hear is the violent, panicked thrash of his pulse in his ears.

“See?” Y/N says, almost smugly, “I told you…Nothin’…”

“Ready to comply” Bucky says, aiming for an impression of his former self, "gotov podchinit’sya”

“Oh yeah?” she laughs, pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth, “You gonna do what I tell ya’ for once?”

“Maybe” he mumbles, trying earnestly to coax another kiss from her, “depends on if I'd wind up regretting it later”

“You are full of shit, Barnes—” she chuckles, teasing him with the promise of more affection by letting her nose bump against his, “Have I ever asked you to do anythin’ you’d regret?”

“No” he promises quickly, “No, doll I- I’m just teasin’…”

“Good” she purrs, pecking at his cheek before pulling him closer, so their fronts are touching, “Do you feel better now that’s cleared up?”

He nods, feeling himself blushing.

“Yeah, I- I do, doll”

“Good” she says again, “I’m glad, sweetheart— Did you feel anythin’?”

Her hands are on his cheeks, now— both of them, cupping his jaw as her thumbs brush across his temples.

“No” he whispers, feeling incredible vulnerable under her consideration, “I was… I was nervous, but- but it didn’t feel like I thought it might…”

“It’s been awhile” she says, “If we’d have tried it a couple of weeks ago you might’ve ended up with a migraine, but, I think you’re so far out now that anxiety is the worst you’ll come away with.”

She doesn’t want to downplay that, anxiety is still more than he deserves, but given the situation, it’s definitely better than the alternatives.

“Thank you” he mumbles, head lolling over to the side as she starts to card his hair back, “Doll, for… for humourin’ me with all if this…”

“I think I'm indulging more than humouring” she corrects lightly, “but it's fine, next time you feel like playin' 20 questions just give me a heads up, this version made it impossible to cheat”

Masterlist

[sadfransisko]

Alright here's another take on Mizu's gender:

The thing about Mizu is that characters in the show and people in real life project either "man" or "woman," "boy" or "girl" onto them, and Mizu more or less goes along with what they say, but I didn't notice a single moment where they outright communicated "I'm a woman" or "I'm a man." And I'm guilty too, I'm projecting "nonbinary" onto them!

But the thing is nobody has bothered to ask thus far, which is no doubt period accurate. But we're supposed to be more aware and open about gender than these fictional characters. I'm not saying there is a correct interpretation—because nothing has been confirmed, and regardless of what is or isn't confirmed it is to a degree* still up to the individual really—but it does irk me a bit to see so many people assuming and projecting, is all.

*By "to a degree" I mean there's what is or isn't confirmed, which will probably be that they're a woman; and then there's the undeniable validity of what individuals might see in them. Do you see them as a woman being forced to choose between a life of gendered mistreatment and a life of relative freedom, and choosing freedom? Very cool! But don't use what you see, however valid that is, to dictate what others see in Mizu. Same goes for all the other interpretations.

Bottom line is, if Mizu is confirmed to be a woman, which again would be most likely, that doesn't mean what trans people see in them isn't valid. If anything it becomes even more valid, because we will have been denied representation once again because of the politics of our time.

[fairyniceyeah]

⌛👑No more, keep your soul

Title from HALAZIA (ATEEZ)

Summary: The morning before a concert Yeosang starts feeling awful to a point where he wishes to just be unable to perform but despite Hongjoong’s protests he is forced to be on stage.

CW: emeto, fainting, medics, hospital, idol mistreatment, self-doubt, open ending

Sickie: Yeosang Caretaker: Hongjoong

„Hyung, I don’t feel well.“

The five words every hyung-line K-Pop Idol dreaded to hear. Especially on the day of a concert. Especially when a few moments ago they had been asleep.

Hongjoong was no exception. Every time one of his dongsaengs was in distress he had to try to keep it together in his worry for their health. San, Mingi and Wooyoung were the members most vocal about their wellbeing and so he heard those words often enough, though he would never get used to it.

Over the years and in the close, shared dorm illnesses used to spread like wildfire. Every time one of the members brought home any virus or bacteria be it a head cold, a common flu, the stomach flu or any other sickness soon most of them would be down. Now, in the new dorms divided into three groups and everybody with their own room, illnesses could be contained to one room or at least one apartment. Most of the time. Still, Hongjoong wasn’t any more happy about the words that had pulled him from sleep.

ATEEZ were to perform in about twelve hours in one of the biggest stadiums in Seoul. ‘At least they were in Seoul and not in a hotel in a foreign country’, Hongjoong thought to himself as he stared at his pale dongsaeng, who was clutching the door frame to his hyung’s room with one arm, the other wrapped around his stomach.

It was unusual for Yeosang to admit to sickness at times, even to his members, so color Hongjoong surprised and, most of all, very very worried. Besides, to have his shy dongsaeng wake him up was enough of a reg flag.

The hallway was flooded with light but as Hongjoong’s room was still dark, he concluded that it was very early. After a quick look at his alarm clock, his suspicion was confirmed. Not even six am. Despite wanting nothing more than curling up and going back to sleep, Hongjoong lifted his covers to invite the younger man in.

They had had a movie night the previous evening and Yeosang had fallen asleep half-way through. Jongho had carried him to his bed, none of them willing to wake him if he was so exhausted, and then had just decided to spend the night in Yeosang’s bed at the dorm he shared with Yunho.

Maybe they should have been more worried about Yeosang’s unusual behavior.

“Come in, Sang-ah, and tell me what is going on”, he encouraged and quickly Yeosang crossed the room and crawled under the covers to press himself to his hyung. It was not often that Yeosang willingly sought out skinship but Hongjoong supposed if he was awake now something must be wrong enough that he wanted a hug anyway.

Hongjoong wrapped his arm around the younger man, letting him seek any comfort he needed. Who was he to deny him that?

He briefly touched Yeosang’s forehead, feeling for a fever. He was warm, yes, but he had been under the bedcovers as far as Hongjoong knew and so he wasn’t warm enough to worry Hongjoong into leaving him to fetch a thermometer.

“Hyung, my stomach hurts and I feel sick”, Yeosang muttered, sounding close to tears. The captain sighed. It was really terrible timing but it wasn’t Yeosang’s fault.

“Did you throw up?”, he asked. Yeosang shook his head. At least something - though if Yeosang was up in the middle of the night because of the nausea, he didn’t doubt that it stood in their near future. How near remained to be seen.

“Think you are going to?”

“Maybe”, Yeosang whispered, “I don’t want to, hyung.”

“If you need to, you need to, Yeosangie. You might feel better after”, Hongjoong reassured him. If Yeosang truly was sick, there was nothing to be done, concert be damned. Either Yeosang got better soon enough to sing sitting down or they would need to perform as seven. It wasn’t ideal but there was no better alternative. After all, they couldn’t just cancel the concert.

Yeosang whined, not sounding convinced at all. “Hyung, I just want to sleep. I’ve been up for hours. Maybe I will feel better when I wake up.” He sounded hopeful but Hongjoong wasn’t.

“You could have woken me up earlier, baby”, he settled on saying.

The younger just shrugged, clearly not wanting to talk about it. “Can I just try to sleep here?”

“Of course”, Hongjoong said softly, running his hand through Yeosang’s hair to try to get him to calm down.

⌛

It didn’t work. Less than twenty minutes later Yeosang, who had fallen into a light sleep, jerked upright, a gag ringing in the otherwise silent room.

“Alright, okay, let’s sit in the bathroom for the moment”, Hongjoong said, pushing himself up to try to get his dongsaeng to the toilet in time. He pulled Yeosang to his feet, the younger not at all steady, and moved them to the bathroom as fast as possible. Hongjoong spared a fleeting thought to Wooyoung, hoping he didn’t wake up from their frantic run. He didn’t feel awake enough to deal with a sick dongsaeng and a panicked one on top.

They crashed to the floor in front of the toilet just in time for Yeosang to start gagging violently again. Hongjoong positioned him so he was kneeling down and sat beside him, one hand rubbing his back, the other gently holding his hair out of Yeosang’s eyes. He retched helplessly, over and over again, but nothing came up. A few strands of spit dangled from his lips but otherwise his efforts weren’t effective. He dry-heaved for a few minutes, Hongjoong whispering comforting nonsense into his ears.

“Baby, try to calm down”, the captain encouraged, heart breaking for his unwell member. Involuntary tears were running down Yeosang’s face and he was gasping for breath. Slowly, with Hongjoong’s help, the younger managed to calm down enough to slump into his hyung. Hongjoong kept running his hand over Yeosang’s back in a soothing motion and settled the younger into a more comfortable position against his side.

“I want my noona”, Yeosang whispered, voice a bit hoarse. Hongjoong took a deep breath. He felt about the same – he never had been that good with sickness and he longed for his eomma, who could comfort anybody who needed it. She would be so much better than Hongjoong in this position. It really wasn’t his forte, no wonder Yeosang wanted the reassurance of his older sister. Yeosang’s family lived so far away and due to their work the younger never had much time with them. He hadn’t seen them in so long – maybe Hongjoong could ask the CEO for a free week at one point.

“I know, baby, I know”, Hongjoong said helplessly. “How about I check for a fever and then you can lie down in my bed? I’ll get you a bucket in case you need to throw up?”

Yeosang nodded slightly but didn’t remove his hands that were clutching Hongjoong’s arm.

“Let me get up”, Hongjoong said and swiped Yeosang’s sweaty hair from his forehead.

Reluctantly the younger let go of him and Hongjoong walked to the cabinet, rummaging around trying to find where Seonghwa had placed the medical supplies last time Hongjoong had been sick. Maybe they even had something against the violent nausea.

Aha! Deep down in the cabinets Hongjoong never willingly opened he found what he was looking for and soon he crouched down next to Yeosang, holding out the forehead thermometer which was so much more hygienic than the in-mouth ones they had before.

“37.9”, he read out and leafed through the instructions to find out if that was a fever already. No matter how often he checked for elevated temperatures he never managed to remember the critical numbers. “That’s a low fever alright”, he muttered to himself, then looked up to the younger. “Do you think you can stomach some anti-nausea medication and something for the fever?”

Yeosang shook his head. “I don’t think I can put anything in my mouth.”

“Alright, let’s see if you feel better later on. Think you’re ready to go back to bed?”, Hongjoong asked. Yeosang nodded.

Carefully he helped the younger man up, letting him gain his bearings before they made their slow track back to Hongjoong’s bedroom. He laid Yeosang down on the mattress, pulled the covers over him and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Try to sleep, okay? I’ll get a bucket just in case and then I’ll join you.”

Yeosang nodded sleepily. Now that he was lying down again he seemed to be barely able to keep his eyes open.

Quietly Hongjoong walked out of the room towards the small alcove in the hallway where they stored their cleaning supplies, towels, bed sheets and so on. He grabbed one of the old, stained towels – a mirage to their constantly changing hair colors – and the designated sick bucket. When he entered his room again, he found Yeosang already deep asleep, so he silently crept the distance to the bed and placed the towel on the ground, the bucket on top. Seeing no possibility how he could crawl back under the blankets without waking his dongsaeng, he glanced towards his alarm clock. 06:09 am. He would take it – he had been up earlier often enough.

So he made his way back out and set about disinfecting the bathroom. While Yeosang hadn’t actually vomited (yet) he wanted to make sure the bathroom was as germ-free as possible. He knew it wouldn’t do much to calm Wooyoung’s nerves – the younger one so terrified of nausea and vomiting that he would probably refuse to use the bathroom nevertheless. Hongjoong sighed, not looking forward to the coming day.

⌛

Three hours and countless cups of coffee later Hongjoong had finished about two lines for their next comeback. Which wasn’t good but sue him, he was tired and he had been more focused on any sounds of distress coming from the bedroom than on his work.

Giving up on that particular task he took his phone out and sent a message to Yunho before calling Seonghwa. About nine o’clock on a concert day, most members would be up.

“Yeoboseyo”, Seonghwa greeted him, voice still deep from sleep. So much for expecting them to be awake.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”, Hongjoong said, hating if he disturbed some well deserved rest.

“Nah, I just haven’t found the motivation to leave my warm bed yet”, Seonghwa said with a laugh, “anyways, what can I do for you? It’s not like you to call so early.” Well, early was maybe a bit of a stretch but Seonghwa had a point. Hongjoong seldomly called first.

Hongjoong sighed and rested his head on his free hand. “It’s Yeosang-ah”, he answered and heard Seonghwa breathe in loudly in worry, “he’s sick. Woke me up at around five because he was nauseous and had a stomach ache. He hasn’t thrown up but I don’t doubt he will at some point. He really isn’t doing well.”

“Oh no, poor baby”, Seonghwa replied, sounding heartfeltly sorry for their younger member. “Does he have a fever? Do you need help? Did you talk with management yet?”

Hongjoong laughed a bit at the rapid questions. No wonder people always called him the mother of the group. “He was at 37.9° earlier. I haven’t called the manager yet, I wanted to do that as soon as I knew if it’s just Yeosang or if the others are feeling bad too. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine”, Seonghwa reassured him quickly, “I’ll go ask the kids how they are feeling. I think Mingi and Yeosang shared dinner yesterday, if it’s food poisoning he will be down too. Otherwise I guess we’ll all soon have the stomach flu.”

“Yey”, Hongjoong said in the least enthusiastic way possible.

“Hold on”, Seonghwa said and then a bit muffled Hongjoong heard him speak to somebody else. He took the time to check his messages to find Yunho saying that he and Jongho were feeling fine and that Jongho would stay over for the day.

“Mingi-yah is feeling fine, he asked me to tell you that you should tell Yeosang to feel better. Sannie isn’t up yet but he was gaming until late, I won’t be surprised if he sleeps a few hours yet. If he hasn’t gotten up by eleven I’ll be worried”, Seonghwa concluded, having put the phone back to his ear.

“Alright”, Hongjoong said, “well, that’s good. I texted Yunho already and it seems like it’s just Yeosang-ah. Wooyoungie isn’t up yet though.”

“He’ll have a hard time today”, Seonghwa mumbled sadly, knowing how badly Wooyoung’s emetophobia was, “if he wants he can come over as soon as he’s up.”

“Thank you, Hwa”, Hongjoong replied, “I wanted to ask that too.”

“Of course.”

They chatted for a few minutes until Hongjoong decided that he better text the manager as early as possible.

To Manager-hyung (09:20): Good morning! Yeosang isn’t feeling well, he was up with nausea and a slight fever (37.9°) earlier. I can’t say for sure but I don’t think he can perform today.

From Manager-hyung (09:22): Good morning, Joong-ah! We’ll have to see if he can sit out. If he absolutely can’t perform I’ll do everything in my power to keep him off the stage but I can’t make any promises. Sorry.

To Manager-hyung (09:24): Please do your best! I’m worried about him.

Hongjoong nearly suffered a heart attack when suddenly a voice next to his ear called a loud “Good morning, hyung!”. He barely managed to suppress the scream but might have hit Wooyoung who was grinning gleefully at him. Hongjoong threw him a dirty look.

“Who are you so intensely texting that you don’t notice me?”, Wooyoung asked with a small and very fake pout. Hongjoong sighed. He was very much not looking forward to telling the younger man about the events of the night.

“Morning, Wooyoungie. I was texting manager-hyung. I was up with Yeosangie early this morning, he isn’t feeling very well. Nauseous and a slightly higher temperature than I would like but he hasn’t thrown up”, he informed Wooyoung who immediately paled and had a slightly panicked look on his face.

“Oh”, he whispered and then: “I was just in the bathroom…”

“I disinfected everything and as I said he didn’t actually throw up. He’s just really nauseous, so you don’t need to wo…”

“Hongjoong-hyung?”, the panicked voice of Yeosang called loudly, followed by a harsh gag. It was like fate hated him.

“Sorry, Wooyoungie, why don’t you go over to Seonghwa’s?”, Hongjoong called over his shoulder, already half-way out of the kitchen.

He found Yeosang sitting on the edge of his bed, the bucket on his lap and his face buried in there. Coughing and gagging echoed from inside though Hongjoong didn’t hear the tell-tale sound of liquid hitting plastic.

“Oh, baby”, Hongjoong mumbled and took a seat next to Yeosang, gently rubbing his back. A glance into the bucket (though he would rather do anything else) revealed what he had already suspected – Yeosang was still not bringing anything up.

“Try to take a deep breath, love”, Hongjoong suggested when it became clear that Yeosang would not vomit at this point. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so sick.”

“I really don’t feel good, hyung”, Yeosang whispered and turned so he could bury his face in Hongjoong’s shoulder. With a sigh, Hongjoong drew him in his arms. He wished he could help the younger somehow.

“I already texted with manager-hyung”, he said instead, “he said you might be able to get out of performing tonight if you don’t feel better.”

Of course Yeosang immediately heard the other part of that sentence.

“I might have to perform?”, Yeosang asked, eyes wide and instantly teary. It was clear that he wasn’t in any position to work that day. Normally he would fight to perform so it must be really bad. “Hyung, I…?”

He was interrupted by the sound of Hongjoong’s phone ringing. As Hongjoong was about to decline he saw it was the same manager who he had texted with earlier. Maybe he had good news.

⌛

“I have bad news”, the manager started, sounding apologetic, “I called a few of the higher-up executives and they said unless Yeosangie is running a higher fever than 38.5°C or keeps throwing up he has to perform.”

“Well, shit”, Hongjoong said, running a hand through his hair. God, this was the worst possible outcome, “Hyung, isn’t there anything you can do?”

“I can’t do anything right now. I’ll have the medics check on him before the show though, maybe they are more helpful. I’m sorry I can’t do more for you.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault”, Hongjoong said, “thank you, see you later. Bye.”

Yeosang was looking at him with fear written all over his face. “I have to perform?”, he guessed from the parts of the conversation he had been able to hear.

“Not if I can help it, baby. If you get a higher fever or throw up you won’t set a foot on stage. I’ll try to convince the medics to declare you unfit for performing”, Hongjoong promised. If Yeosang did not want to perform then it really was bad. Normally he never even actively sought out anybody for help. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the past months, maybe it was something else but Hongjoong had a bad feeling about it.

Yet, for now, all they could do was wait.

⌛

Yeosang managed to sleep for most parts of the day. His fever wasn’t rising but it also didn’t go down.

The worst was the moments he was awake, feeling sick and gagging over the bucket for minutes at times without getting sick. Hongjoong was quickly becoming sick of that particular problem. It hurt to see the poor dancer this ill.

The manager was to take them to the venue in the afternoon so after a few hours Hongjoong had no choice but to go see if he could get Yeosang to wake up again. He had slept soundly for longer than an hour at this point and Hongjoong wanted anything but to wake him. He had no choice, however.

“Yeosang-ah”, he whispered, shaking his shoulder slightly. The younger man barely stirred, so Hongjoong tried a bit harder. It took a few minutes until he was looking into Yeosang’s barely awake but already teary eyes.

“It’s time?”, he guessed, his voice full of fear. 

Hongjoong just nodded. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“It’s not your fault, hyung”, Yeosang replied quietly, sitting up over the side of the bed. “I want to take a shower. Can you get me some clothes?”

Hongjoong nodded. “Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

Yeosang shook his head and shakily made his way out of the bedroom.

Hongjoong sighed and followed him. He decided to get some of Jongho’s clothes for him - he knew that Yunho could bring over some of Yeosang’s own clothes but he knew it would bring comfort to his dongsaeng to wear borrowed clothes.

As Hongjoong knocked on the bathroom door, he heard the sound of the tap running. Concluding that Yeosang wasn’t in the shower yet, he decided to walk in and nearly dropped the clothes in shock.

“Yeosang-ah? What are you doing?”, he asked his sobbing dongsaeng, who was chucking back a glass of water - not the first one from the splashes of liquid on his shirt. Yeosang didn’t seem to hear him - or just straight-up ignored him - and refilled the empty glass to start drinking again.

Now Hongjoong did drop the clothes and ran over to him, grasping his wrist before the glass could make contact with Yeosang’s lips.

“What are you doing?”, he repeated frantically. He couldn’t make sense of the younger’s actions. Just earlier he had refused a few sips of water and now he was drinking it like no tomorrow?

“Hyung”, Yeosang cried and lowered the glass, “I … the manager said I can’t perform if I throw up, right? So I thought drinking a lot of water would actually make me sick and I could sit out but now I just feel even worse.” He started to cry at that and, feeling helpless and not knowing what to say, Hongjoong just pried the cup from his fingers and set it down before pulling Yeosang in an embrace.

Hongjoong had always promised himself he would never ever let his members get mistreated. Yet, here he was, stopping his dongsaeng from making himself throw up so he didn’t have to be on stage when sick. How had it come to this?

Why couldn’t he be a good captain? But he was too scared to boycott the concert – ATEEZ was just growing in popularity and they couldn’t just refuse to perform for some “minor illness”. Was he really such a coward?

“Oh, baby, I am so sorry”, he whispered and rubbed the sobbing younger’s back. There was nothing else he could do.

“Hyung, hyungie”, Yeosang sobbed, shaking like a leaf, “I can’t do this.”

Hongjoong took a deep breath, scared he would start to cry along with his dongsaeng. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t force Yeosang to perform. There was no way. He hid his face in Yeosang’s shoulder to hide his own tears.

⌛

“I can’t do anything”, the manager said, “I tried, I promise, Joong-ah. He needs to be on stage…”

“Hyung, Sang-ah tried to force himself to throw up so he wouldn’t have to perform. You know him, Yeosang always wants to be on stage but he can’t do it today”, Hongjoong yelled.

After the whole ordeal he had helped Yeosang take a shower, the younger predictably feeling even worse than before. They had waited for the manager to gather them, hoping that seeing Yeosang would help sway the decision but it was clear that the manager was as powerless as they were.

“I … I am sorry”, the captain immediately apologized, seeing the hurt look on the manager-hyungs face, “I am sorry. Just … I’m so scared.”

“I know, Joong-ah”, the manager said and wrapped him in a quick hug. Hongjoong relaxed for a moment, letting himself and his responsibility be held. “I am too. I even tried to reach the CEO on his vacation but I couldn’t reach him. I know he would let Yeosang sit out. The best I could do was make his substitute allow Yeosang-ah to sit down while singing. He doesn’t have to dance.”

Hongjoong exhaled. At least something. It was like a tiny bread crumb was thrown to a starving man but he would take it. It minimized the risk of falling and injury if nothing else.

“I am so sorry, Yeosangie”, the manager said and bowed to the younger man sitting curled up on the couch with his arms wrapped around his bloated and churning stomach.

“Thank you for trying”, Yeosang said quietly, “at least I don’t have to fear puking on stage from moving.”

That was barely any consolation, wasn’t it?

⌛

“Hello ATINY”, Hongjoong yelled into the mic, causing the whole stadium to start cheering. He threw a glance at Yeosang, who was sitting off to the side on a chair as promised, before he continued: “Yeosang-ah isn’t feeling 100% today so he will stay sitting down. Please give him all your love.” The crowd cheered again and a chant of ‘feel better, Yeosang-ah’ started up.

For the first time today Yeosang smiled.

For the first time today Hongjoong thought they could do it.

⌛

The VCR break was much needed. Somehow it was always more difficult to perform with one member less dancing with them - it threw off their energy. None of them wanted to be on stage when they knew one of eight was off their game.

The members were all so worried for Yeosang and it clearly showed though they tried to hide it. 

Hongjoong was taken to the side by the stylist-noona as soon as he got off stage so he had lost sight of the sick member. He was impatient to return to Yeosang’s side but he knew he had to let the stylist do her job.

Just as she was done fixing his make-up and he was already half-way out of his seat to look for Yeosang, Hongjoong spotted the younger man leaning against the far wall. His face was completely ashen, sweat was pouring down his face and body, leaving him more sweat-soaked than any of them and he was swaying slightly.

“Joong-hyung”, he called out weakly, as if sensing Hongjoong’s eyes on him. All members turned to face him. 

Then Yeosang leaned forward, nearly falling flat on his face, and threw up. Huge amounts of the water he had drunk spilled from his lips to create a disgusting puddle on the floor which was growing rapidly as all of them were frozen in shock, except for Wooyoung who whimpered and was pulled into a comforting embrace by Mingi.

It was what Hongjoong had nearly hoped for but now as he watched his dongsaeng get so sick he couldn’t do anything but stare. How had they come to this? How was throwing up during a clothing change a good thing?

Between a few retches, Yeosang was able to look up at Hongjoong with teary eyes.

There was a smile on his face, so unfitting the position he was in. Then Yeosang mumbled: “This means I don’t have to perform anymore, right?”

Before Hongjoong could respond, Yeosang’s eyes rolled back into his head and it was as if it was in slow-motion that Hongjoong watched him stumble a few steps backwards before collapsing. Yunho, who had been sitting on a nearby sofa, jumped to his feet and barely managed to catch him before he hit the floor.

Everything happened so fast then. The managers called for the medics who came running, swarming him and Yunho, shoving an oxygen mask on Yeosang’s face, taking his vitals. The numbers flew right over Hongjoong’s head as he watched in shock. 

“Hyung”, a small voice said and Hongjoong turned to see Jongho standing beside him, looking on with worry. But he grasped Hongjoong’s hand tightly and whispered: “Yeosangie-hyung is going to be fine, don’t worry, hyung.”

All Hongjoong could do was squeeze his hand back.

⌛

“He’s just exhausted and dehydrated”, the head medic concluded, “that’s why he passed out. We’ll take him to the hospital for fluids and medication but he will be fine in a few days.”

“Thank you”, the manager said, “I’ll go with him. Then I will contact the CEO by all means necessary. Hongjoong-ah, I’ll have the other manager make an announcement that the break will take a bit longer. Take your time to get the team’s nerves together and continue. For Yeosang and for ATINY! Hwaiting!”

Hongjoong closed his eyes and nodded. He didn’t want to watch the medics carry off his Yeosangie on a stretcher. But they were idols. They had to go on. People had paid to see them. 

Suddenly an arm was wrapped around the captain and then more and more until all members held him in a group hug. 

It was going to be a long concert. 

Was it even worth it?

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - ATEEZ

[ghostofskywalker]

Hi 🫶🏼

Could u write Harley Quinn x fem reader who is her soft masc gf with the prompt “I need you to kiss me. Right now. Please.”

She/her pronouns pls❤️

hi! i'm sorry this is a little shorter but i hope the softness makes up for it <3

words: 462

summary: A quiet and happy morning spent with your girlfriend.

Let's Just Stay Here

harley quinn masterlist || request a winter ficlet!

The first thing you heard when you opened your eyes in the morning was your girlfriend’s voice. “I need you to kiss me.” 

“Whaaa?” you said, with a voice barely recognizable as your own. A quick glance at the clock on your bedside table confirmed that it was certainly too early for you to even be awake on a weekend, so you weren’t exactly on top of the ball at this point. 

“Right now. Please,” Harley continued, and once you got your bearings there was no way you were going to deny her request. The morning sunlight filtered in through the chunky blinds in your bedroom, and you wrapped your arms around your girlfriend and pulled her into you as your lips molded together. 

Okay, maybe you changed your mind about the whole morning thing. As far as wake up calls go, you would consider this one pretty perfect.

Blankets were practically thrown off the bed as you two tried to get as close to one another as physically possible, and once you were sufficiently intertwined, you absentmindedly ran your fingers through her hair as she laid on your chest. 

“This is nice,” she mused, reaching up to run her hand down your face. “Why don’t we do this more often?” 

You paused before answering. “I don’t know,” you said. “We’re not always around at the same times I think.” 

“Yeah, the whole saving the world thing gets in the way of this life sometimes.” 

You laughed. “And of course, the crime does the same thing.” 

She nodded sagely, even though she knew you were lightly teasing her. She had teased you enough times about being too good of a liar when it came to your job as a private detective, which sometimes directly conflicted with her lines of work. “Yeah, it’s not easy balancing some of this stuff.” 

She snuggled back into you, and a comfortable silence fell over the two of you like a warm blanket. You never wanted to leave this moment, and even though you knew that there were things you needed to do today, nothing seemed important enough to cut this short. 

You didn’t realize that Harley had fallen asleep until well after she had, and you spent a good few moments making sure she was as comfortable as possible before closing your eyes and returning to dreamland yourself. 

Lists filled your head for a moment as you considered all the things that needed to be done today, and your stomach growled as your body wondered when you were going to get up and make breakfast. 

But as good of an idea as breakfast sounded right now, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed and leave Harley. You could always order something for later anyway.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[multiplicity-positivity]

Heya! I hope you're having a great day! I saw in your askbox guidelines that you're open to advice asks so I thought I'd drop by but please delete this if you're uncomfortable! I know this is a MASSIVE ask so I really will not be offended if you don't want to answer. Para in this context is meaning another character in my paracosm that I interact with instead of being. If anyone else sees this and wants to add their own opinions in the notes, please do!

I'm really struggling to figure out if I'm plural so I thought I'd get your opinion (/nf) given I've been using the resources off your blog for months LOL. I have a potential headmate who was originally a maladaptive daydreaming para. This para would be a fictive from a popular game. He follows the same archetype I've latched onto for paras since I was little & has told me he sees the other characters as similar to him when asked. I've been daydreaming since I was 4ish, he has been my para since I was 11. I'm currently 17. I'm going to bullet point real quick to stop it being an absolute wall of text! Reasons I have to believe he might be a headmate:

He often expresses different opinions to me or interest in different topics.

He seems to generally know almost all of what's going on/what has happened, but sometimes asks me to remind him or explain something (moreso for stuff several years back).

His voice sounds different in the internal monologue.

I think I've sensed him watching what I've been doing in the past & possibly felt him be triggered by stuff relating to his source.

One of the times he interacted unprompted was due to me being very negatively triggered.

He has gender dysphoria (see the bit below).

He's nothing like me identity wise. He's middle-aged and a cis guy and I'm fairly certain he has a different sexuality.

Reasons I doubt him:

He only speaks once prompted or once I think about him passively, excluding a couple of rare occasions. I very rarely hear from him unprompted at the moment unless I'm stressed.

He has never fronted fully. We might've switched once or twice in the past (though it was more co-fronting). It normally feels like the internal monologue switching to be his in the front & mine in the back. I'd say the terms non-possessive & monoconscious would be most fitting. I think us being able to switch on demand that early though feels wrong - though we can't always. Oh adding it here as it connects but not as a point against him: these 'switches' are sometimes accompanied by gender dysphoria, though I'm genderqueer anyway. His dysphoria is more for being male though (I actually realised I wasn't cis because of him abt 3 years back!).

I can talk to any fictional character I've engaged a lot with due to maladaptive daydreaming. I'm nervous I'm just daydreaming him tbh or forcing his responses bc sometimes he merges with my daydreaming and the lines blur.

I had a past episode where I thought I was a system a few years back but that was unrelated to him (though he was an 'alter' in that) and totally ungrounded in anything LOL.

As far as labels go, I think we might be median?? Perhaps OSDD but unlikely. I got a 35.7 on the dissociative experiences scale denoting OSDD but I got 21 on the MIID (though that felt heavily geared towards aggressive and/or childlike alters imo). I promise I'm not looking for a yes or no or a diagnosis or anything! Just any general opinions/pointers/advice you've got. It's good to hear the opinions of outsiders sometimes. Don't feel pressured to say yes either, I won't feel invalidated if you're like "urmm no that's definitely something else" because it very possibly is! If anyone else sees this and wants to add their own opinions in the notes, please do! This is all /nav /lh

hey, so we (and anyone else, really) can’t confirm or deny whether or not you’re plural. in the end, it’s going to be something you have to figure out or decide for yourself(ves). no one knows you better than you know yourself, after all, especially not people online.

plurality is an at-will label that anyone at all can use if they feel like it fits for them. it’s a label you can put on and take off at your own discretion as it works for you. if you feel plural, you’re welcome to call yourself plural, and you belong in the community just as you are. if you ever realize and decide that you’re not actually plural in the future, no harm done. it’s okay to question, and it’s okay to be wrong. it’s all a part of learning and growing as a person.

it is totally possible for someone with maladaptive daydreaming to consider the beings from their daydreams as headmates. in fact, paragenic as a term refers to systems whose plurality originated from madd or some other form of immersive daydreaming.

switching is not a requirement for plurality. our partner system is plural, and they do not switch at all. having imaginary friends or talking to characters in your mind doesn’t always have to be a plural experience, but it definitely could be. it all depends on your comfort level and how you and your potential headmates choose to identify. you very well could be a median system, if you feel like that label works for you.

as far as osdd goes, we will say that complex dissociative disorders (like did and osdd) do often arise from a history of repeated childhood trauma. these disorders form by helping children dissociate or disconnect from overwhelming stress or painful situations as a method of survival. it is absolutely possible to be plural or a system without a complex dissociative disorder, but it is not possible to develop a cdd without a history of repeated trauma in childhood.

if you suspect that you may have osdd, we can’t stress enough the importance of seeking outside help, preferably from a understanding, trauma-informed therapist or counselor. while we do believe it is possible and sometimes necessary for individuals to self-diagnose, healing from the complex trauma that accompanies dissociative disorders like osdd may require some form of outside guidance and/or support.

we’ll leave you with this post we have with resources for questioning systems. if you’ve been following us for a while, you’ve probably already seen it, but we’re sharing it anyway.

and of course, if anyone reads this who has advice for anon, you’re welcomed and encouraged to share :)

discovering and coming to terms with potential plurality can be a difficult, lengthy process. please don’t rush yourself on this journey, and give yourself space to breathe and process as you try to come to a conclusion about whether or not you’re a system (or a member of one). we’re always happy to help however we can if you have any more questions throughout this process and beyond. best of luck to you :)

[freeuselandonorris]

lines of light ranged in the non-space of the mind (cyberpunk) because every time you so much as mention it i go crazy insane - luv, @vroombeams

yayyy ty kee for the chance to scream about cyberpunkverse again 💕 honestly the more i write of it the more i realise this is gonna be a p long one, i think probably in the range of 20-30k? and i’m not posting it as a WIP multichap because doing that with monday nearly killed me at times so it might be a way off yet i’m afraid :( but i’m having sooo much fun doing all the world building. having said that i do quite want them to hurry up and start cyberfucking. it’s 3.5k so far and they’ve not even met face to face yet 💀

snippet under the cut! 🦾

A soft warning bleep sounds inside the helmet, and a pop-up ranges across Oscar’s field of vision.

New Neural Stimulus Connection Requested: <Lando Norris> [ID #13118104] would like to establish two-way neural input/output connection. Accept/Deny request and confirm with DNA signature when prompted.

Accept, Oscar thinks. The FIA-spec neural implants can’t actually read his mind – at least that’s what they say, although they’ve been known to lie about worse, a concept he doesn’t like to consider too closely – but it can read his brain activity well enough to translate certain words and phrases. The DNA-sig emblem flashes in the lower right-hand corner of his vision.

For a moment, nothing changes. Then he feels like someone’s dripped ice water down his spine: a slow, rippling sensation of being known. Inhabited.

“Hi,” Lando says. The connection is only one-way when he’s in the sim, the same as it would be inside the car, so Oscar can’t actually feel him do it, but somehow he knows Lando’s smiling. “Weird, isn’t it?”

The hairs on the back of Oscar’s neck prickle. He feels like someone’s standing too close, just outside of his range of vision.

“Yeah,” he says, a bit roughly. “Weird is the word.”

[docholligay]

Oh yeah, she is going to fall for whatever he says, hook, line, and sinker, because he is very likely one of the few people who recognizes that she is NOT 11. That she has been around for ages, that she is far older than the people she interacts with. And it may be that she's not any more EXPERIENCED than a lot of people, because unless I've missed my guess, she never really leaves this place. So she may read a lot and have a long line to look back at, but her experience is deep and not wide, if you get what I mean.

Which makes her a PERFECT victim.

I have never seen this show and know absolutely nothing about it! As that is the fun of having me liveblog this, please let it be fun for EVERYONE by not confirming denying, hinting, saying things like “oh just wait til episode x’, telling me about outside interviews, or anything that is cultural or historical that I’m not picking up on! PLEASE LET ME BE A STUPID PIECE OF SHIT

[kookiecrush]

ig this is kinda triggered by the “as a jikooker, taekookers r deluded” comment…

im a taekooker but i rlly have these moments where i think we all must just be deluded (jkkers, tkkers, other shippers etc) bc everyone believes SO strongly that their ship is right and we all feel like we can back it up w “evidence”. jikookers genuinely see something btwn jm and jk and us taekookers genuinely see something between v and jk. i do feel like taekook makes the most sense logically (especially during the solo era) and i feel like i did a lot of research to come to that conclusion (including watching videos on a lot of other pairings like jikook), but i could rlly just have underlying biases that are making me see things between tk that my brain wants to see. to other shippers and fans tkkers r insane, to tkkers others r insane. so honestly aren’t we probably all insane lol ? ik it’s POSSIBLE that tk are together but it just seems so improbable. i often try to talk myself out of taekook bc like rly what r the chances of two members in the biggest band in the word actually secretly dating for like many years ? and they’ve been able to successfully hide it all this time ? and we believe they still are together ? idk it sounds too good/far-fetched to be true and like i can’t imagine a day coming way later on down the line where it would actually be confirmed or like super super obvious even without confirmation. but i can totally imagine a day where it comes out that jk is officially dating some girl or something like that and then we’d all be proven wrong. ik that leans into assuming heterosexuality is the default which is not good and i don’t believe that but i can’t help but to feel like nah we’re all just delusional and fantasizing and tk r not together. i do definitely believe v is queer in some way but maybe that’s all.

Maybe we are all delusional? I certainly thought the taekookers that actually believed taekook were together were delusional when I first started delving deeper into the ship. For a good while I was very resistant to the possibility of them being real. Because that's ridiculous, right? The clearer it became to me that there was actually something going on between taekook, the more and more I tried to deny it. So while confirmation bias is very much real, and I have no doubt that I'm guilty of it at times, it doesn't really apply to my actual belief in taekook because the foundations of that belief are built on a healthy amount of scepticism and doubt. I was looking for ways to disprove taekook, not confirm they were real. Yet here i am 🤷‍♀️

Is the idea of taekook so improbable, though? Wouldn't their situation have made it more likely, in fact? It's pretty obvious that there was an attraction between taekook when they were younger, that is something I'm confident of, and it's pretty easy for close friendship to turn into a romantic relationship when attraction and feelings are involved. Surely there's a higher chance of falling in love with someone when you spend all your time with them? It sounds like the perfect environment for something to develop to me.

In terms of them keeping their relationship a secret all these years, I highly doubt taekook's is the only hidden relationship going on. There's plenty of dating and relationships going on in secret within the industry. Idols have alluded to it many times. People have even got married or had a baby without anyone finding out, so I don't think taekook's situation is that much of a stretch.

You seem kind of bothered by the fact that you have doubts about taekook, but that's completely normal, anon. Realistically speaking, we can't say with 100% certainty that taekook are real, can we? You don't need to come to a concrete decision about taekook. You don't even have to believe in taekook at all. It doesn't have to be black and white. Think of it more like a spectrum. Maybe you're only at 60%. Maybe you'll never be sure about them. There's nothing wrong with that. I truly believe taekook are together but I also leave a little room for the possibility that I'm wrong.

At the end of the day, what everyone else believes is irrelevant. Just focus on what you believe, anon. There's no right or wrong decision. Honestly, I think some doubt and uncertainty is far better than just blindly believing everything. If we just accepted every random taekook theory without ever questioning anything then we really would be delusional.

[clericofshadows]

trust doesn't come cheap

Description: Regis learns who brought his body to Cerberus, has a productive conversation with Miranda, and finds comfort with Zaeed and their budding relationship post-meeting with Kaidan and rekindling their triad.

Pairing: Regis Shepard/Kaidan Alenko/Zaeed Massani, primarily Regis Shepard/Zaeed Massani

Rating: E

Note: Sequel to feeling numb, lost in time. Title is from Take a Bullet - Nothing More.

Regis ran his hand down his coat, feeling for the hidden pocket where his N7 Eagle laid inside.  “Ready to get some answers?” He said, shouldering his bag.

Zaeed nodded, pulling out his Talon from his bag, connecting it to an empty holster on his belt.  “Sure, but are you ready for whatever you’re going to hear?”

Regis pulled a face.  “I have to be.  I need to be.”

“You know this already, but don’t let it show.”

He appreciated the concern, despite already knowing how to handle Aria.  Regis wasn’t sure what he thought about her.  Did he like her?  No.  He nearly blasted her head off when she suggested that she could find him a nice man to help him loosen up.

Chances are she feels the same way about him.  He’s perfectly okay with that.  

She’s a valuable resource and nothing more to him.  He wouldn’t shed any tears if something happened to her, but better the enemy you know than the one you don’t.  

With one last look at the apartment, they left and locked the door, ready for when whoever else in their family needs a safe and accessible place to recharge and regroup.

“I do, but thanks.” Regis nodded, throwing his sling bag over his body.  

Afterlife wasn’t far from the apartment, and soon they both walked past the growing line, heading inside without a second glance at the bouncer.  The pounding music filled the air, normally a backdrop Regis loved.

Now it’s merely the soundtrack to a conversation that could easily go south.

They approached her couch, the guards parting at the sight of Regis and Zaeed.

She crossed her legs, leaning into the couch with barely a glance.  “Meeting up with an Alliance soldier.  You’ve been productive.”

“Nothing misses your gaze?” Regis asked, staying standing.

“You didn’t deny it.”

“Why would we?” Zaeed interjected.  “You know what happened.  No need to challenge it.”

“Which means I might have an idea why you are here.” She dismissed the guards around her with a wave.  “Ask.”

“Liara T’Soni met up with you regarding my body, correct?” Regis asked point blank, keeping his tone neutral.

Aria’s face slowly broke out into a smirk.  “She did.  Did Vik tell you about what little they knew?  Shame they didn’t take up my offer.  Omega misses them.”

If they weren’t surrounded by guards and loyalists, Regis would take her head off for the comment about Vik alone. 

But to have that direct confirmation that T’Soni was the one who brought him back, who had the means to let him rest and give his family closure, to possibly get his goddamn ring back…  

Regis found himself nearly consumed with anger.

“They don’t miss you,” Regis said, not missing a beat. She didn’t react.  “So, it’s true then that she was working with Cerberus in order to get my body?  Why was it even on Omega in the first place?”

Her expression darkened. “Blue Suns were going to exchange it with the Shadow Broker to give it to the Collectors.”

The Collectors wanted his body?  Why?  Nothing about this made any sense.  Were they interested in his visions?  So much about the Collectors were unknowns, and yet here they were kidnapping human colonies for some purpose.

“It sounds like you weren’t too happy about that,” Regis observed.  “Not too happy about Collectors involved on your station?”

“No one’s happy about Collectors,” she replied.  “But yes, you could say that.  Did a major favor for me clearing out most of the trash when dealing with Archangel.”

“In other words, the idiots dumb enough to sign up for that mess of an operation,” Zaeed said.  “Wasn’t sad to see it happen.  Org has gone to shit since I left.”

“Vido is still at large,” she commented, turning to face Zaeed, who looked none too pleased at the mention of his name.  “Perhaps one day I’ll see new leadership.  Anything else?  I think you’ve learned everything you wanted to know.”

He did, not that he was particularly happy about any of it, knowing how he has all the cards to approach Lawson with what he knows.

An unpleasant conversation was waiting for both of them.

“I think we’ve covered everything,” Regis said, turning to leave.

“Wait,” she said, stopping both of them in their tracks.  “I’m going to ask you something in return: What was your relationship with T’Soni?”

Despite his growing anger, Regis had to hold back a snort.  “Why do you care?”

“I don’t, but I am curious as to why she went to all these lengths to bring you back when you obviously find it offensive that she did it.”

“I rescued her last, refused any sort of meld to gain information, and tried to get her off my ship as I saw her as a liability.  I believe she took what was mine, and I’m going to get it back,” Regis replied, staring her down with his glowing eyes.

“She’s in Illium,” she offered.  “If you’re so hell-bent on confronting her.”

Regis nodded, already aware of her location but thankful she told him.  “Are we done here?”

“We are,” she replied, sitting back down.  “Get rid of the Collectors.  They are a stain on this galaxy.”  The guards returned.  She made herself comfortable back on the couch, her stance loose and relaxed even under Regis’s scrutiny.  “I’ll be happy when we stop crossing paths, Shepard.”

“I share the same sentiment,” he replied, turning his back on her.  Zaeed followed a step behind him.  “You likely won’t see me again once I’m back with the Alliance.”

“And I look forward to it.”

Regis walked down the stairs and quickly made his way out of the bar, the tails of his trenchcoat flowing behind him.  He stopped once they were at the entrance to their dock, leaning against the wall by the doorway.

“What now?” Zaeed asked, giving him a concerned look. 

“Going to confront Lawson because I want more answers from her.  She lied to me about not knowing who had my body, who probably has my fucking dogtags,” Regis muttered, shaking his head and taking a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.  “I’m not sure who I hate more. “

“What are you more angry about?  Being brought to Cerberus by her or being revived by them?” Zaeed asked, his voice soft despite his usual gravel.

Regis frowned, his thoughts swirling with anger, betrayal, and a sense of loss.  “She had the means to inform the most important people in my life that my body was found at the bare fucking minimum.  If I didn’t have you, I may not have ever answered any call or reached out to anyone I cared about.  And who knows what would’ve happened between Kaidan and I, or the Alliance and I…” 

He wasn’t sure if Kaidan would have forgiven him for working with Cerberus, if he found out in the midst of his posting…

“But you do have me, and I’m here however you need me,” Zaeed replied, leaning in close.  Regis closed the distance between them, more free and open with his affection now that he met up with Kaidan, that they were able to clear the air and open the possibility for more.  That their triad can and will continue one day.

Zaeed pushed him up against the wall, the same spot where Regis first saw him on Omega, threatening a target. The feeling of the cold, hard panel sent a shiver down Regis's spine, heightening the intensity of the moment. Regis let out a pleased sound, letting Zaeed take over despite where they were, submitting to his advances.

Someone cleared their throat a short distance from them.  “I wouldn’t say this is the best time and place, Commander.”   

“And why is it that you care, Lawson?” Regis asked with a hard glare, his earlier desire replaced by irritation at the intrusion.  She stood with an arched eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in her expression. She folded her arms across her chest, seemingly unfazed by the situation, her confidence unshaken.

Changed out of her normal Cerberus dress “whites,” she wore a long coat belted around her body with a pair of black pants and boots, a clean and pristine look that suited her well.  

Out of all the fucking people to interrupt… but perhaps this was a good opportunity to go ahead and get that damn conversation out of the way. 

Zaeed slowly pulled away, tilting his head to the side as if to ask if Regis was going to go ahead and deal with what he learned from Aria.  Regis nodded, answering the silent question.

“I assumed you wouldn’t want the crew to gossip about your love life,” she replied, keeping her expression neutral.  “Or perhaps even beyond that.  Word travels fast about you.”

Regis wouldn’t have called it concern, the barb at the end seeming to signify she was talking about the Alliance being aware of him… and all his connections there. As if she was baiting him, dangling the knowledge that she knew about his relationship with Kaidan.  And what that could mean if he were to learn of this "affair."

“You’re right.  Word does travel fast about me.  Shame that it took me a while to learn who exactly handled my body here on this fucking station,” Regis said, watching her eyes widen in recognition.  The truth hung in the air between them.

She stepped back.  The gravity well stirred.  

“I knew your word was full of shit, but I never expected this,” he continued, staying against the wall.  “We are going to have a long talk.”

She almost seemed like she wanted to run, remembering his clear threat from their last conversation about his resurrection.  Her expression was tight, hands poised in such a way to cast a mnemonic at any moment.  

Zaeed took pity on her.  “All he wants is the goddamn truth.”

She took a deep breath.  “And where are we going to have this talk?”

“My family has an apartment.  Small, quiet, out of the way,” Regis offered, kicking off from the wall.  “Zaeed’s right. At this point, I’m so fucking tired of being misled, lied to, and used.  I want the full story.”

“And after?” 

“We’ll see where it goes.”

Lawson nodded, and Regis led the way.  Zaeed followed them a step behind.  Regis didn't really want to use the apartment for their conversation, but it was neutral enough and safe from wandering ears. 

Once back inside, Regis motioned for her to take a seat.  She declined the offer, staying standing.  Any easy escape, perhaps, but Regis didn't want to make good on his threat, not really. 

Not when there was more to gain from Lawson.  

"How the hell did T'Soni even get involved in this?  Did you get a motivation out of her?  Was she paid off?" Regis started, firing off questions. 

"Somehow, she got word your body was on Omega, and we got word that the Shadow Broker wanted it.  She was… rescuing it, you could say, and we gained a partnership.  You had quite the impact on her if she wanted to risk everything to save a corpse," Lawson explained, answering his rapid fire questions without a blink of an eye, wanting to please him, perhaps, or get him to stand down. 

Regis continued with barely an acknowledgement, "And that's the problem!  She had the means to inform the Alliance, to give my mother and my family some peace about my body, but instead she sold it to you and conveniently left that juicy little tidbit to herself."

"It seems like you are more angry about her involvement versus us bringing you back," she observed. "Am I wrong?"

The same damn dilemma Zaeed presented to him.  Regis figured at this point, she knew too much about him, what was one more fucking secret.  “No, not really,” he sighed, sitting down on the couch, letting his guard down.  He was tired, no longer caring about putting up a front.  “Sure, I’m still pissed at the lack of autonomy I’ve had here.  Your organization could’ve spinned something more interesting than just keeping me hostage.  But you didn’t and I’m still here, so what does that say about me?” 

Zaeed kept a concerned eye on them from the kitchen.   Regis didn’t meet his gaze.  “Ever since Torfan, the one thing I’ve fought for is my autonomy.  I’m not some fucking dog for the Alliance who isn’t afraid to rip a target to shreds.  You’ve seen my service record.  You know what I’m capable of.”

“You fought back and made your own path,” she said, sitting down on the far end of the couch.  “Noble.”

He scoffed.  “Hardly.  I didn’t want to be used.  Still don’t.  Didn’t.  Whatever.”  He turned to face her.  “All this to say, why did you lie?  You knew I wanted answers, you knew I would cooperate better knowing the truth.  So why hide it?”

She almost seemed to be fighting with herself, her expression twisting until falling flat.  “I was wrong about a lot of things concerning you, Shepard.  I started to realize that during our first conversation that I was misled by T’Soni.  I could tell that you were ready to strike back, and I didn’t want to lose you to that.  All I cared about then was the mission.  And you were an obstacle to that.  But now?  I was wrong.”

“And it pains you to admit it?” Regis asked, keeping his voice neutral.  “I don’t necessarily blame you for wanting to protect your mission, even if you’ve put your lot in with the wrong group.  But you saw how important my own body and personal effects were to me.  And you brushed it off like it was nothing.”

“I’ve never been able to feel truly at home in my own body,” She admitted, turning away from him and staring down at her folded hands in her lap.  “I joined Cerberus to get away from my father who created me as a genetic dynasty based on his template.  I never had a life, a personhood away from him.  Everything he did was calculated to make a perfect individual.  I’m sure you’ve read my file.” 

Regis nodded.  “I did.  You were quite thorough on your abilities.  Clearly full of talent, not much field experience but that could’ve been improved on.  But why tell me this?” 

A sign of surrender, perhaps.  Maybe the beginning of a truce.  Both of them were tired of holding up the standards they had set for themselves at the beginning of the mission, a Cerberus loyalist and a trapped Alliance soldier.

Lawson sighed, a deep, almost reluctant exhalation. She finally met Regis's gaze, her normally confident demeanor faltering. "I tell you this because I want you to understand, Shepard. I may have been wrong, but I also know I can't change the past. What I can do is acknowledge my mistakes and try to make amends.  I was built for perfection, and you… you challenged that.”

“By being an imperfect resurrection?” He challenged.

“I consider you some of my best work,” she said with a sense of pride. “Even if you did wake up early.  You were a marvel.”

“I hope that you at least plan to use what you learned for the greater good.  Hell, I might even be inclined to help if you decide to abandon Cerberus.  The interfacing changes you made to my amp port are exactly the kind of advancements we need for all our biotics,” Regis said, praise evident in his tone.  “Look, I’m still angry at you, don’t get me wrong.  But I can admit you are competent at what you do.”

“And you are right to feel that way.  I shouldn’t have hid that from you.”  A calculated risk she made that backfired on her.  He knew he was an important asset, and he can begrudgingly admit that he would have immediately gone after T’Soni the moment he learned the truth.  Now that he only just found out, he’s going to bide his time some more.  Maybe try to get some more information out of Kaidan about Wren’s surveillance.  

“No, but at this point, it’s in the past.” He ran his hand down his face, rubbing at his beard.  “Let’s start over.  We may never fully agree on anything, but this mission needs as many hands as I can get, and I’m losing out by not at least giving you a chance.”

She nodded. “We definitely did not start on the best of terms.  I’d like to get to know you beyond reports.”

He held out a hand, glancing at Zaeed out of the corner of his eye.  His arms were folded against his chest, but he looked pleased, a small smile gracing his features.  “Regis Lucian Shepard.  N7 Sentinel, Human Spectre, and cybernetics specialist.”

She shook his hand, a subtle sense of relief in her touch.  “Miranda Lawson.  Cerberus officer and biotic and medical specialist.  It’s good to finally meet you.”

He nodded in response, pulling away and leaning back against the couch.  “For what it's worth, I hate that Cerberus was the only way you could get away from your father.”  He met her gaze and gave her a slight smile.  “I’ve made it clear what my stance on Cerberus is.  When we get out of this shit alive, you know I’ll help get everyone out, not questions asked.”

“I’ll… consider it.  At the very least, I’ll let the crew know in case they wish to go to the Alliance,” she said.  “I haven’t told many about my past.  We may be enemies, barely even acquaintances, but… you understand what it’s like to have a legacy.”

Legacy… Yeah, he understood.  Having a feeling from the beginning that he and Lawson were cut from the same cloth, a part of him mourned the loss of an interesting friendship, marked by Cerberus associations.

“When I enlisted, they expected another Hannah Shepard, and they got something completely different.  Her legacy followed me even after Torfan, and I almost imagine that if she didn’t have the history she had with the Alliance, I may have gotten a different reaction out of them publicly.”  Regis closed his eyes.  “But I embraced it anyway.”

They may not get there anytime soon, and he won’t deny the trauma that Ceberus has brought him… but one day, if they survive this, she could be more than just a useful pawn in the chase against the Collectors. 

“That you have.  It feels like I’m talking to another person now.”

“Figured someone like you would be familiar with that.”

“I am,” she admitted, tucking her hair behind her ear.  “We all have many faces.  Good to meet what I think is the real you?”

“Dare I say the same about you?” He challenged, and she laughed.  

Regis made a motion with his head, and Zaeed rejoined them.  He made some space for him, scooting over closer to Miranda.  She raised an eyebrow.  “I guess I should also apologize for my earlier comments, but I don’t think I was wrong to call you out.”

Zaeed chuckled, waving it off.  “No hard feelings.  It was his goddamn fault anyway.”

“You didn’t push me away.  You were the one that pushed me against the wall.  Hell, you knew what the spot was, didn’t you?” Regis accused, pointing a finger at his lover.

He shrugged.  “Complain all you want about it.  You wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.”

Regis hated that he was right.  One thing they all shared was the thrill of being caught, playing around with the dynamics of being just in sight, waiting for someone’s wandering eyes to catch them in the act.

“There was history between you two, yes?” Miranda asked, watching the two with clear interest.  “Didn’t come up at all.  You both did well hiding that you knew each other.”

Regis nodded.  “We met a few years ago.  Lovers for a short time, then friends, and now back to lovers.”

She glanced away from them for a second before turning her gaze back to them.  “Sorry for asking but… what about Alenko?”

Of course she would know about him.  Not that they really hid their relationship, and with the photo in his cabin, anyone could see there was something between them.  He had to appreciate her being concerned about something that in reality should never have bothered her.

“Let me rephrase.  The three of us were lovers, then friends, and now back to a triad,” Regis amended.  The change didn’t phase her, merely acknowledging him with a nod.  Speaking of Kaidan.  “Where did you get that photo of him if you didn’t retrieve my personal effects?”

She sighed.  “As you could probably guess, T’Soni gave it to us along with a few others.  I’m not sure why she did.  Maybe to help by giving you a reminder of what you were fighting for?  I almost deleted them.” Miranda admitted, folding her arms against her chest.  “I thought it was a bit much.  Why give us something so precious?”

Regis's expression darkened, and he clenched his jaw.   “Either way, she had no fucking right.  When I saw that photo… I saw it as a threat.  I almost didn’t get in contact with him to clear the air.”

“That’s why you organized this leave,” she realized.  “Smart.”

“Not going to chastise me for spilling all your dirty secrets?”

“Well, since you’re talking to me, it seemed like you didn’t have much time.  Alenko’s moving up in the Alliance, and we couldn’t get much information about him.  Still, we gave you free reign on the ship, and we knew the risks.  I won’t stop you from getting closure or going out on requests that concern your skills and the ship.  Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Regis inclined his head. “I appreciate that.”

"She’s right.  If we had our way… this would not be how we would be spending our time in this apartment,” he purred, not at all caring that they weren’t alone.  Damn him.  

Regis sighed and shot Zaeed an exasperated look. "Zaeed..."

Miranda shook her head at them. "What have I signed up for… Well, if there's anything else you need from me, I can leave you to the rest of your leave, now that you’re behind closed doors.”

Regis felt his face turning red.  "No, no. We're good, Miranda."

“Right, it’s not like we have that much time left,” she said, standing up from the couch.  “I won’t push it, but the next mission that’s coming up… the convict recruitment–”

Regis saw where she was going and interrupted her. “I need to start evaluating you and Taylor, but this upcoming mission is meant to be a transfer.”

Zaeed shrugged.  “Remember our record so far?  Be prepared for the worst.”

Having to cure a plague, rescue a damn vigilante from three different gangs, and figure out what to do with a krogan in stasis was not in any of the dossiers.  Regis was sure that the handoff wasn’t going to go well, but he wasn’t about to say it out loud.

“Fine, but I’m blaming you if it all goes to shit,” Regis muttered.  “Sure, you can come.  Might not be a bad idea to have two biotics evaluating them.”

“Thank you, Shepard,” she said.  “Let me know if you need anything?”

“Same for you,” Regis said, standing up.  “We’ll follow you out.  Might as well get back on the ship.”

“I have to ask.  What did you do to Moreau earlier?  He seemed subdued…” Miranda trailed off as Regis moved to open the door for her.  

“Zaeed and I both changed his worldview a bit,” Regis chuckled.  “Gave him a little too much information about our past.”

“Shame you can’t always use that.  I like him, but someone needs to put him in place on occasion.”

“Is that why you set up EDI next to him?” Zaeed asked, amused.   Miranda didn’t say anything and only gave him a smile in response.  

“She’s great, isn’t she?” Regis said with a smile, locking the door behind them.  “I even looked into parts of her code.  She’s quite special.”

“Not about to remove her locks, are you?” Miranda asked, though not accusatory.

“Not going to say I won’t ever do it,” Regis said.  “If you know my cybernetics background, you know how interested I was in VI.”

“It came up, yes,” she said.  “It’s why we leaned so hard into getting EDI for you.”

“Like I said, she’s great, and while at first I figured my background had to do with her involvement in our mission, I also knew she’s quite the important asset.  Do you happen to know where she came from?”

She shook her head.  “I was given access to a lot of things, but not her project and origins.”  This time, Regis felt he could believe her.  

He nodded.  “Another mystery for me to solve.”

She merely smiled at him, and they continued their walk back to the Normandy in silence.

– –

Back on board the ship, Regis headed straight for his quarters, knowing nothing was on the agenda until the next day shift tomorrow, back to work after the short leave.  Just a day’s leave, nothing much to it.  

But the crew seemed to appreciate it enough.  Despite his earlier hostility, at the bare minimum, he wants them all functioning.  Important for the mission.

He’s still not happy with any of their career prospects, especially the yeoman who insists on keeping track of everyone’s daily on-goings next to him at the galaxy map.

Zaeed followed behind him as Miranda popped into the armory, likely to speak with Taylor.  Regis needs to get to know him more and start evaluating him as well, knowing the man was former Alliance–Corsairs.  He didn't know much about them, but was curious to find out why he left.

Zaeed pressed the console to summon the elevator.  Thankfully, it was already on the second deck, and they quickly went inside and headed to his cabin.

Once back inside, Regis dropped his bag in his desk chair, removed his gun from his coat, set it on the desk, and sat down on the couch, putting his head in his hands.  Zaeed put his Talon on the coffee table and sat down next to him.  “Regis?” He asked, scooting over so that their thighs were touching.

Ever since he learned that T’Soni was the one who betrayed him, who thought she had the right to make that choice for him, a feeling of anger and disgust was growing inside him, waiting to be unleashed, waiting to get the revenge he craved so goddamn much.  

Now he only felt tired, exhausted by what he learned.  Unable to do a damn thing about it except wonder why?  Why did she focus on me?  

“I prioritized her mission last,” Regis let out a sigh, his voice heavy with resignation.  “I didn’t think we could get much out of her.  An estranged daughter forging her own path?  I figured saving her would be more of a burden. The priority was getting Benezia and saving the colony, finding leads on Saren. Then Virmire happened, and I nearly lost everything."

Zaeed leaned against the couch, and Regis allowed himself to lie on his chest.  “I almost had to make a choice between saving Kaidan or my best friend, I said no and saved them both anyway, nearly jeopardizing the mission.  At that point, I had been yelled at, bossed by, and dismissed by the Council, and we still didn’t know where Saren was headed.  We had one lead left, and it was her.”

Regis closed his eyes, recalling the mission.  “We rescued her in the nick of time.  She had trapped herself in some Prothean contraption, likely for days.   We used a mining laser to get her out and it triggered a collapse of the ruins.  We barely got us and her out.   Once back on the ship, we gave her the medical attention she needed. But when I pushed for the Council to place her in protective custody, they shot me down.”

“And what happened next?” He asked.

Regis grimaced at the memory.  “She suggested melding with me.  With her prothean knowledge and the cipher and the beacon in my head, she could likely pinpoint where Saren wanted to go.  I refused.  I didn’t even want to meld with the asari that had the cypher, but there was no way around it.  This… I fought back.  She was young, naive… I didn’t trust her in my head.  Instead, I gave her detailed accounts of my visions, and we managed to figure out where Ilos was with some cross-referencing of galaxy maps and her own knowledge.  She stayed on board until after the battle, and left voluntarily.”  Regis finished.  “Sure, you could say I was too hard on her.  But I was ready to end Saren and I considered her a liability.”

“And she had no goddamn reason to be so attached,” Zaeed murmured.  “I’d almost understand if you did meld with her.  I’ve done it before, and it’s intimate as hell.  Even among friends, it feels like it leaves traces, changes you, changes them. I've never regretted it, but it definitely leaves its mark.”

Exactly what he was afraid of.  “So, I wasn’t wrong to feel the way I do,” Regis said.  “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“We will get them back.  I’m sure she’s waiting for you to come to her at some point.  Illiuim’s not a long flight from here.  Maybe after we get the goddamn convict?”

Regis rolled his eyes and continued to make himself comfortable in Zaeed’s arms, sighing.  “All I want is to have my fucking dog tags back.”

Regis shrugged.  “I’m almost waiting to get back in contact with Kaidan to get more information about her surveillance.  She’s being watched by an old friend of mine, Wren.  Don’t want to fuck up whatever they are doing.”

“And to tell him what you learned.” Zaeed shook his head.  “She gave you a gift in the worst goddamn way.  You said it yourself.  Who knows what would’ve happened if you didn’t reach out?  Kaidan’s seen the worst of Cerberus.”  Did Zaeed know about his missions, about what the Alliance had him doing?

Regis sighed.  “We both have blinders on when it comes to them.  I can’t wait to tear this organization and The Illusive Man apart.” His biotics reacted to his anger, a thin corona of purple wisps surrounding him.  “I wouldn’t have blamed him if he refused to even consider speaking to me.”  And would it be mine or her fault?

“Don’t think it would’ve gotten that far, babe.  He–we–still loved you.  Would probably be scared for you–hell, I was when I saw you walking towards me back when you were recruiting me.” Zaeed’s voice softened.  Regis raised up and leaned in for a kiss, soft, slow, and sweet.

They maneuvered themselves so that Regis was now on his lap.  Regis started kissing down his neck, at the Blue Suns tattoo, mouthing against clean, vanilla scented skin.  Zaeed tilted his head back for better access, tangling his fingers in his hair.  “Dare I say you’ve gotten even goddamn better at that?”

Regis smirked against his skin, taking a moment to toss his own coat on the couch before working on Zaeed’s.  He stilled him, taking it off himself and wrapping his arms underneath him.  “Let’s move this to the goddamn bed.”

Zaeed picked up him effortlessly–fuck, he forgot how strong he was–and placed him on the bed, climbing on top of him.  Zaeed pinned his arms above his head and he traded places, kissing down Regis’s neck and his tattoo.  “You and your damn turtlenecks,” Zaeed said in a low, throaty growl. 

“Gives you a challenge,” he teased, nearly gasping out the last word as Zaeed kissed that sensitive spot just underneath his ear.

“You know I like a goddamn challenge,” Zaeed purred, full of warm smoke.  “Let me know what you want out of me?”

A question posed as a command.  Needing to set boundaries, what they wanted out of this.  Regis nodded.  “Same as before, mostly.  Just don’t put too much pressure on my neck.  Not sure if… I ever want to do that again.”

He nodded.  “Of course, love.  Anything else?  Stay with the traffic light system?”

“Yes, but if I want it all to stop and want you to be here with me, take care of me, I’ll say ‘oxygen.’”

Zaeed stayed stoic, but pain flashed behind his eyes.  Regis furrowed his eyebrows.  “Too much?”

“Don’t like thinking about how you died, but it makes for a good word because of that.  Mine is still ‘Suns.’  Not much has changed for me either.  Though, I found a new appreciation for being manhandled…” He trailed off with a knowing look in his eye.

“Kaidan’s so good at that, isn’t he?” Regis said with a smile.  “Wonder if he’s already back on Horizon.”

“Might be.  We can send him a picture or two later.”

“Maybe he can send some in return.”

“That would be so goddamn nice.  So, Regis, what do you want out of me?” He asked again, leaning in, his lips brushing against his.  

Regis chased after him.  “Whatever you want to give.”

“I think I’m going to take care of you.  Something nice and slow, soft.  Take it easy.  Been a while since I”ve been able to appreciate you,” Zaeed said, moving to toy with the hem of Regis’s turtleneck.  “How does that sound?”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Good,” Zaeed said, and he surged forward, claiming his mouth once more and tugging off his turtleneck.  They broke apart briefly to get rid of the offending garment.  Regis reached to take off Zaeed’s shirt, pulling it over his head, taking in the expanse of rough, tattooed skin, his gaze falling back on the new flowers on his hip.  Zaeed positioned himself so Regis could get a better look at the ink, tracing it lighty.  

“A perfect recreation,” he murmured, looking at his own porcelain flower sleeve.  

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Zaeed turned to meet his gaze.

Regis responded by kissing down his chest, lightly teasing his nipples, tracing the lines of ink down his chest.  Zaeed let out a pleased sigh, a hand tangling in his hair as Regis made his way down, tracing and kissing new scars, new lines of ink, relearning and reacquainting himself with the man in front of him.  Before continuing, Regis deftly removed his pants and boxers, tossing them aside. He sat back down on Zaeed's clothed lap, gently grinding into his slowly hardening length.

Zaeed took in the sight with a seductive grin. "I have an idea," he purred. "Turn around for me, back against my chest.  Grab the lube and condoms before you do.”

Regis immediately knew where he was going, quickly moving to do what he asked.  He leaned over to grab the lube and condoms he stashed in the side table, glancing back to see Zaeed tugging off his boxers, revealing his leaking, hard cock.  Regis’s mouth watered, wanting to worship all of Zaeed with everything he has. 

He’ll have to promise to take care of him later, taking him apart with his mouth and biotics.  

Regis grabbed what he requested and slowly turned around to face Zaeed, his heart pounding with anticipation. He placed the supplies within easy reach and settled himself back against Zaeed's chest.

Zaeed's hands roamed Regis's body, tracing lines of ink and contours of muscle. "You know, I've missed this," he rumbled. "Feeling your warmth against my skin, knowing you're mine."

“I’ve missed this, too,” Regis agreed, closing his eyes and losing himself in the feeling of Zaeed’s hands roaming down his body, his lips teasing his neck.  “I’m yours.  Both of yours.”

Zaeed's skilled fingers worked their magic, one hand lightly resting on Regis's neck, exerting just enough pressure to send shivers down his spine, mindful of his earlier warning.  A soft touch was good.  Regis nodded, whispering, “Green” when Zaeed’s hand stilled, waiting for confirmation.

The other hand moved lower, seeking the heat and need between Regis's legs.  “Just enough for a tease,” Zaeed whispered into his ear. 

With skilled precision, he took Regis's cock in his hand and began to slowly work it, his rough, scarred hands providing a perfect balance of pleasure and friction. Regis fought the urge to thrust into Zaeed's grasp, knowing that his impatience might lead to an early end. He moaned Zaeed's name, squeezing his eyes shut, surrendering to the sensations as Zaeed masterfully guided him closer and closer to the brink. He was leaking all over his hand, providing the perfect lubricant. 

"Just a tease," Regis gasped, echoing Zaeed's words, even as his body ached for release. "The man says. Always such a bastard."

Zaeed's hand stilled, and he whispered a playful warning, "Careful, this bastard is your key to getting what you want."

He’s going to play that game, hm?  Regis will gladly join in, remembering back during their days on Omega, cleaning up their messes and getting to know each other beyond the battlefield.

“And what is it I want, exactly?”

Zaeed leaned in, nipping at Regis's earlobe, his voice gravelly and full of desire.  “You want me.  All of me.  And you’re not going to get it unless you play nice, baby.”

“I’ll be nice,” Regis gritted out.  “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

"That's what I like to hear," he purred, his voice heavy with desire.  “Let’s see if you’re good at listening.  Get on your knees, resting on your thighs.”  Regis moved into the position, feeling Zaeed settle back behind him.  Zaeed's lips found his neck, placing soft kisses along the sensitive skin, removing his hand to grant better access to his tattoos.  “Perfect,” he whispered, his approval evident.

With a soft click, Regis heard him open the bottle and coat his fingers with lube, teasing downward until reaching his waiting entrance, teasing his hole in soft, slow circles before pushing a finger in.  Regis threw his head back and moaned out his name, hearing him chuckle as he slowly worked him open.  

“You’re doing so good, babe,” Zaeed praised, slowly pushing another finger in.  “Relax and let go.”

Regis let out a shaky breath, smiling as Zaeed rested his chin on his shoulder, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, distracting him with words as he pushed yet another finger in.  “Think you’re ready for me?  Tell me what you want.” 

Regis wasn’t afraid to beg, to ask for what he wanted.  “I want you to fuck me, Zaeed.  Hard and fast, slow and soft, whatever you want.  Please,” he begged, nearly sobbing when he slowly removed his fingers.

“Now I’m asking what you want.  I got you right where I want you,” he said.  Regis looked back and watched as Zaeed stroked his cock, keeping his composure steady as he rolled on the condom and slicked up his cock with expertise.  

Regis knew exactly what he wanted. 

“Fuck me, Zaeed,” Regis said again.  “I want it hard.” 

Zaeed leaned in for a kiss.  “Gladly.”  With a single, controlled thrust, he pushed inside, drawing out long moans from the both of them.   He stilled once inside, letting Regis adjust to the feeling.  So perfect and thick, Zaeed always made him feel so full.  

Regis was almost tempted enough to do it, thinking about what Kaidan’s reaction would be back on Horizon, likely about to make good on his promise to smoke Regis’s cigarettes he stole.  “Don’t tempt me,” He moaned, pushing back against Zaeed’s thrusts.

Zaeed wrapped one arm around his chest, his hand resting close to Regis’s nipples.  The other rested on his thigh, grabbing it tight and wrenching his legs further apart.  “Going to have to tell Kaidan all about this,” Zaeed purred into his ear, starting to move his hips in shallow, quick thrusts, working Regis up to more.   “Maybe get that drone out of yours, record you moaning his name as I’m the one fucking you, showing him how much we need him here.  How does that sound?”

“Maybe after,” Zaeed murmured, picking up the pace.  His lips found Regis's neck, leaving biting kisses, marks to show off later.  “We can send him a picture like the two of you did.  Teasing me with what you had.”  He punctuated his statement with a hard and deep thrust. “So goddamn cruel of you.”  

Regis choked out a moan, moving to grab his leaking, throbbing cock, desperate for release, but Zaeed batted his hand away, replacing it with his. “I’m going to get you off,” he said, stroking his dick lightly, a firm grip made all the better with his calloused, rough hands.  “When I say so.  When I do.”

Regis could barely think, much less speak, all at mercy to Zaeed.  Every roll of his hips, every bite against his neck, every scratching tease against his nipples brought him closer and closer to release.

But it wasn’t enough.

Zaeed whispered, pausing his thrusts for a moment.  “You said you wanted it hard?  I can make it rougher for you.” Regis whined at the loss.  

“Remember the last night we shared… you rode me, and before you came on my cock, I pushed you face down into the bed on Kaidan’s orders.”

“How much?” Regis groaned, tears filling his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath.

Regis remembered, the night haunting his fantasies and dreams long after.  Kaidan loved to watch them, not always participating directly but making the scene his in every way with every order he made.  

"Yes," he moaned, his voice shaking with need. "Do it, Zaeed. Make it rough."

Zaeed didn’t respond.  Instead, he pulled out of him and pushed Regis against the bed, putting his weight on top of him, grabbing a fist full of hair and pulling just enough for it to burn, to bring tears to his eyes.  “Regis?” He asked, his voice low.  Another affirmation, another check in. 

“He loves it when you yank on his curls,” Kaidan said from the armchair, legs crossed and fully clothed, a direct contrast to Zaeed and Regis on the bed.  “Oh, he might complain that you’re messing up his routine, screwing up all his time and effort.  Don’t listen.” He wanted to argue with Kaidan, to bite back for revealing all his secrets.  He couldn't.  Zaeed had stuck his fingers in his mouth, to lick and suck on as he was getting prepped, likely keeping him from being mouthy.  His cock twitched at their words, betraying how much he enjoyed behind an outsider to their conversation.  “I’ll keep that in mind.  He likes to fight, doesn’t he?” “He does.  And I love that about him.  It’s all talk to rile us up.  He’ll submit in the end.  It’s his favorite thing.” “That I figured out right from the goddamn beginning.”

“Green,” he replied, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets.  “Fuck me.”  He punctuated the reply with a pulse of his corona, letting it surround him in a wave of purple, his fingers ready to twitch and send it careening towards Zaeed.

Zaeed pushed back inside with one swift thrust, setting a hard, brutal pace, keeping Regis’s head pulled back with his grip on his hair, the other resting possessively on his thigh.  All Regis could do was surrender to the intense pleasure, letting out a stream of grunts, moans, whines, and writhing beneath Zaeed's warm, heavy body.  The pain from his hair being pulled and the pleasure of being fucked and filled was a delicious sensation, one that Regis didn’t want to ever end.  

Every forceful thrust drove them further toward the brink, and Regis knew he was teetering on the edge and his release was rapidly approaching.  Zaeed had to be close too, his grunts slowly being turned into vocal moans.  “Goddamn, you feel so good.  I’m getting close, love.”

In response, Regis could only whimper and moan, unable to form coherent words, barely able to think beyond the haze of pleasure.  “Please,” he choked out between sobs, grinding up against the soft, silky sheets.  His corona flashed with every thrust, his control waning, his biotics betraying how close he was to letting go.

“Wrap those biotics around me,” he ordered, his thrusts losing their rhythm and becoming more erratic.  Regis gripped the sheets tighter, threatening to tear, raising one shaky hand to force the barrier outward, enveloping both him and Zaeed into pulsing waves of violet.  Without warning, Zaeed cried out Regis's name as he found his release, his hips slowing as warmth filled the condom inside him.

Regis couldn't hold back any longer. He let go, channeling his biotics to intensify the pleasure, sending shockwaves of ecstasy down to his throbbing cock. He came with a shuddering release, moaning loudly as he painted his chest and the sheets beneath him with his come, trembling with his release. 

Zaeed collapsed on top of him, his weight a pleasant, grounding sensation as he pulled out of him.  Regis stayed where he was, feeling his come and sweat drying on him, the room suddenly cold.  

Zaeed rolled off of him.  Regis watched him dispose of the condom, tossing it in the bin by his bed.  He settled down back beside him, reaching for the box of tissues on his night stand.  “Let me clean you up, babe,” he murmured, careful to not sit in the wet spot.

Regis rolled over, feeling utterly wrecked, whining as Zaeed slowly wiped off the drying come on his chest and on his oversensitive cock, his body aching with every movement.  “I might need more than that,” he groaned, feeling content and sated. 

“Wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“It was exactly what I wanted.  Love you,” Regis said, reaching up to caress his face, fingers gently touching the scar around his white eye.  “But not the brightest idea I’ve had with our mission coming up.”

“Probably not,” he chuckled, tossing the dirty tissues in the bin. “I love you, too.  I missed this.”

“Me too.”  Regis closed his eyes.  “Still want to send Kaidan that picture?”

Zaeed activated his omnitool with a gleam in his eye.  “Of course.”

Regis settled against Zaeed's chest, knowing that they must look thoroughly debauched after their evening together. His frizzed, sweaty hair framed his face, bite marks and scratches adorning their bodies.  Zaeed took the picture with a smirk on his face, sending it to their private chat.

Regis’s own omnitool pinged with the message.

ZM: Payback is a bitch.  We’re missing you already.  [Image Attachment]

They settled in their afterglow, knowing they should get up and trade out the sheets and get a little cleaned up before tomorrow, but neither wanted to move just yet.  The conversation he had with Aria and later Miranda weighed heavily on his mind even after all the distractions he tried to do to set it aside for now.

Their omnitools pinged.  They shared a look, Zaeed moving in to peck Regis on the lips before he opened the message.

KA: Payback is a bitch, huh? Here’s another view to remember while we're apart. Glad you two are making it together, it’s a beautiful sight.  [Image Attachment]

The photo was a picture of him on a balcony on what must be Horizon, sitting out in the late-night air. He was shirtless, and the picture showed him smoking a cigarette, looking impossibly handsome and relaxed.

“He made good on his promise to smoke my damn Astras,” Regis said, shaking his head.

“That he did,” Zaeed said, staring fondly at the photo before turning off his omnitool.  “Want to vid call him?”

Regis nodded.  “Not that I want to ruin what’s going on here, but I need to tell him.  Hopefully Hackett and his team can figure out what they want to do with her next.”

Regis pressed the request to call and Kaidan answered it right away, the stub of a cigarette between his fingers.

He took them in and his smiling face immediately morphed into one of concern.  “What’s wrong?” he asked, putting out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

“T’Soni brought my body to Cerberus,” Regis said after taking a deep breath.  “Aria confirmed it, as well as Lawson.”

Kaidan covered his mouth with his hand, looking away from the screen.  “Fuck.  This whole goddamn time, she knew where you were, she knew where your body was and gave it to them!”  His hands were balled into fists.  “I’m so glad now that Vik was able to give me that footage so we were able to keep an eye on her, but I never anticipated this.” His voice was laced with venom.

Kaidan didn’t have the same reservations about T’Soni the way Regis and even Ashley did, but he wasn’t quick to trust her either.  No one was, not when they were so close to pinning down Saren, not when they had no time to integrate her into the crew.

Not when they all saw his violent reaction against a mind meld.

“Does this mean she has your dog tags?” he asked, motioning to his own against his chest.

“That’s my working theory.  I hate to say it, but I trust that Lawson wasn’t lying to me when she said Cerberus never retrieved them.” Zaeed’s arms tightened around him.

“Yeah, I read through all those reports.  Gave them to Hackett as well.  I also talked about them with Vik,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair.  “You were missing armor and other parts, but most notably your whole damn chest piece was gone.”

��I didn’t like the implications of that either, but one way or another, I’m going to find out what happened to them.”

“I’ll contact Hackett and see what Wren thinks and you can go from there.  Illium is in your territory, right?”

“More or less,” he shrugged.  “I have some freedoms, believe it or not.”

“Probably to try and get our goddamn guard down,” Zaeed muttered, pressing a kiss into Regis’s hair. 

“Still, it works in our favor.  You heard what she said earlier.  I’m able to do as a please to some extent,” Regis said.  “I’ve come to an understanding with Lawson,” he amended for Kaidan’s benefit.

“Is that wise?” Kaidan asked, though no judgment laced his tone.

“I think she’s tired of putting on a show as well.  We have similar goals for now, and honestly, I want her to be an ally only for the stuff she did to bring me back,” Regis admitted.  “You know how easy it is now to access my port?  Send a signal and it’s ready to be accessed.”

Kaidan nodded.  “I get it.  Trying to get her to defect?”

“You’re damn right.  She’s wasted here.”

“We’re already preparing to have a whole ship full of people defecting whenever you’re done with your mission.   You sure do like convincing people of your opinion,” Kaidan chuckled, eyeing them up and down.  “Seems like the two of you had fun.”

“We wanted to recreate that last night we shared.  Missed you and your goddamn orders,” Zaeed said, wrapping a possessive arm over Regis.  

“You know how we love following orders, Kaidan," Regis quipped playfully.

“Oh?” Kaidan replied, leaning forward, a grin slowly forming on his face.  

Zaeed joined in, his voice a low, suggestive purr. "We thought it'd be a nice little reminder of you while we're apart."

“I’ll keep that in mind on these lonely nights,” he said, stretching out in the chair, spreading his legs and moving his hand up his thigh.  “Thought I wore you out today.  Should’ve remembered you were never satisfied after one quick fuck with a long stretch without it…” he trailed off.

“Should’ve made the brass give you more time,” Regis teased.  “It was enough, love,” he emphasized.  “I would’ve been happy with just a chat and you gave me more than that.”

“I know,” he said. “Wish I was able to worship you both the way you deserve.”  He let out a yawn.  “Probably time for me to go.  Got a colony to take care of.”

Regis pressed his hand against the screen, and Kaidan mirrored the action.  Zaeed placed his hand over Regis’s, and with one last longing look, Kaidan ended the call.  

“Be seeing you, Kaid.  We won’t be goddamn strangers,” Zaeed said.  “Be safe out there.”

“Same to you.  Love you both.”

Regis shut off his omnitool with a sigh, looking up at Zaeed.  They shared another kiss, seeking out comfort from each other.

After a few minutes of soft teasing, Regis finally broke apart, resting his forehead against Zaeed’s.  “Want to get cleaned up real quick?”

Zaeed barked out a laugh.  “Gotta make it quick, or else we’ll get even dirtier than when we started.”

“Tempting.”

“Oh, really?” He asked, throwing the sheets off of him and getting up from the bed.  “Tell me more.”

“I can think of a few things.  Sucking you off in the shower, letting you fuck my throat until you come.  Or maybe we can switch roles, let you pleasure me for a while,” Regis said, following behind his lover.

“Insatiable.”

“Says you.”

“I’ll give you that.  We’re all terrible.”

“It’s why we work so well together.”

“The only reason why?” Zaeed teased, leaning in the bathroom doorway.  

Regis kissed him.  “It helps.  Now get your ass in there and get the water warm.  I’ll switch out the sheets.”

“Yes, sir,” he chuckled, heading into the bathroom.  Regis rolled his eyes and got busy, tossing the soiled sheets into a bin and replacing the ones on his bed.  Wasn’t the cleanest and nicest work he’s ever done, but it’ll do for now.  

He joined Zaeed in the shower, gently touching his shoulder before grabbing his preferred products.  They shared some heated glances and light teases, but never went any further than that, enjoying the time they had together and wanting to get some sleep after getting all cleaned up.  

After drying off, slipping on some comfortable pants, and finishing their routines–and oh how Regis loved the domesticity of getting ready for bed with him–they got back under the covers in the fresh set of bedding.  

Regis hoped that the convict recruitment would go well.  Of course, it probably won’t, but he’ll at least have a new ally by his side.  Maybe.  He still has to figure out what to do with the krogan and how he wants to evaluate Vakarian.

Zaeed settled against his chest, and Regis wrapped an arm around him, smiling as they got comfortable.  Regis was usually the little spoon, but he was happy to oblige the other position at any time.

He looked forward to working with Miranda and getting to know her more, to see if she’ll be willing to join the Alliance or leave Cerberus after this mess.  Always planning for something.

T’Soni’s consequences can wait for now.  He has a mission to complete.