#it's the same idea as all military going by sir. more for show

[ebitenpura]

just had the thought that as Commander the Alliance can't keep calling him Eight, but he can't use his real name of Orradiz either or it'd reveal exactly what he's been up to for the past 20 years. I also headcanon that Echani, if male, due to archaic tradition must take on a female moniker if chosen to lead any grand clan or military group because leadership and might are seen as female roles in their society. Put two and two together and... Eight changes his name to a female one when playing the role of Commander: Yutorin. Only the Echani delegation refer to him as female in their letters, but to him, his role of Commander is a female persona regardless. (However, this results in a few confused mixups by staff who thought he was being misgendered in addresses).

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.

Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.

If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)

Reblog to support content creators!

Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.

 Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way. 

So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around. 

Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you. 

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.

You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it. 

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago. 

Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others. 

You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much. 

In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner.  They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk. 

When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess. 

Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do. 

Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day. 

When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out. 

He saw you cook  finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish  even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands. 

He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War. 

Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit. 

A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day. 

Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it. 

Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake  whiny bitch. 

As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that. 

And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.

It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong. 

One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel. 

Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them. 

Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore. 

Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no. 

That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a  shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle. 

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!” 

“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other. 

He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army.  When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck. 

He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply. 

Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around  scratching, kicking,  and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.

The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off  him and inhaling deep gulps of  precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands. 

“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting. 

Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right. 

“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?” 

“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed  your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain���t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character. 

You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked. 

“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.

“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”

“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”

“Yes.”

“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones. 

Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin. 

“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?” 

Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?

You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of you, quick work was made with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts. 

You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a  block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too. 

Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass. 

Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it. 

Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards. 

They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.

You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. 

“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone. 

“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest. 

“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.” 

Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right.  “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering. 

He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse. 

Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck. 

He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”

Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit. 

You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw  before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.

“What-”

“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there? 

So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below,  your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.

You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places. 

It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination. 

Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his. 

He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.” 

A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”

You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.

“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”

You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”

“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special. 

You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight. 

“It’s done.”

“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”

You faltered. “But -”

“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.

Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking. 

But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight. 

As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms. 

“Husk?”

“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass. 

“Thank you…for everything.”

His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome." 

He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory? 

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens. 

What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter. 

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[missadangel]

Little Bird in a Cage (Javier Peña x Reader)

Part 2 -Kidnapped Again-

Gifs by dinjarring - perotovar - djo

---------------------------- All episodes here ------------------------

The days continued to pass in the same monotonous way, but finally something new had happened. You were now allowed to walk inside the building. To being a good girl, Javi said.

So what it really meant was that you didn't try to escape anymore.

Fucking asshole.

The building was like an old military guesthouse, 2 flat with high and wide hallways, probably having more than 20 rooms. Javi and the others staying in these rooms, but spending their most time in the common area. In this area there was a TV, radio, 3 seater couch, and lots of ashtrays. Cigarette smoke was everywhere, even from a distance you could smell it.

On instinct you thought more than once how you could escape from the building, but it was almost impossible. The soldiers were everywhere.

You were tired of even thinking about it, so just wanted to let it go for now.

----

One morning when you left the room and went downstairs, Chris and Daniel were discussing something, there were a lot of photos and folders in front of them. It was like the case files the cops were going through.

Your eyes looked for Javi and as you looked around, noticed that he was talking on the phone -that you tried to call your father couple times but failed- a little further away, he noticed you immediately, but he lift the phone receiver up making gesture like saying “hey”.

You responded with a half smile and then he turned around, oh you wished he hadn't, he looked much more attractive from behind.

The tight jeans he was wearing showed off his great ass. Suddenly you realized that you flushed and you turned around afraid to caught by him. This kinda thoughts were getting into your head a lot lately and you cursed yourself for not being able to control it.

You looked at the photo Daniel holding.

"This is my house," you said quickly.

Daniel and Chris looked at each other.

"Yes, senorita," Daniel said, "well we..."

"It's okay, I know you followed me, didn’t mean to interrupt you guys," you said, but again someone's face looked very familiar in the photos.

"It's Jorge," you said surprisingly, and this time your voice rang like a silver bell all of the hallway.

Daniel and Chris looked at you curiously.

"Do you know him?"

You slowly nodded your head yes, but you were also worried about Jorge, as far as you knew he was a good guy.

"Okay, keep me posted.” Javi said before he hung up the phone and hurried coming close to you.

"Jorge is a good guy why do you have his photo?" you asked almost mumbling.

"Y/N, how do you know him?" Javi crossed his arms and sat on the arm of the couch where Daniel was sitting on.

You looked up at him, his brown eyes looking at you piercingly, you felt a little like you were being interrogated by this former agent.

"He came to our house a few times, he was nice to me, but, my dad used to talk to him in private. I have no idea what they were talking about but you're not going to do anything to him are you?"

When Javi saw you tense up, he sit beside you. There was a strange excitement in his eyes, but his piercing gaze was back and torturing you again.

"Of course nothing will happen, he's important for us like Cali's KGB," the honesty in his voice was palpable. "He's actually contacted us, but we're not sure if we can trust him yet or not."

"You can, I don't think he would lie, but of course I can't be sure, no one can be trusted these days anymore."

The sarcasm in your voice made Javi roll his eyes, he stood up but eyes locked on you again thinking about something.

"We were supposed to meet him tomorrow," Chris said, "after Gilberto, sir, this might be our only chance to catch his brother."

"Okay, let's do it," Javi said, can't stop smiling at your stubborn attitude though.

Chris and Daniel walked outside in a hurry.

“By the way,” Javi put his hands on waist.

"I'm going to see your dad tomorrow," he finally said.

You were excited for a moment, but then feeling down again, knowing that you wouldn't be able to see him.

"If I asked you to take me with you, you wouldn't, would you?" you asked desperately.

Javi shook his head as no.

"But soon you’re gonna see him again, I promise."

"I hope you keep your promise, Javi," you said without looking at him.

"I believe that we can get along with him," he said sincerely.

As he was about to leave, he plucked a red rose from the ivy that grew from outside through the window.

"Just hang in there little bird, you’ll be free soon" gives you the rose, he winking at you and walked out with that wonderful smile of his.

“’lll try,” smelling the rose he gave you.

It was weird that you can't get mad at him anymore.

---

As soon as Javi left the minister's office, he went downstairs and lit a cigarette. He had just been rewarded for the successful capture of Gilberto Rodriguez. As he enjoyed his cigarette, happy with his victory, he thought of you. He was happy that he was going to keep his promise, but there was something he has to do first.

As he walked into the DEA building, everyone who saw him was congratulating and cheering.

Agent Javier Peña is back.

After getting his gun and badge, he stayed there for a while to celebrate with Chris and Daniel over a drink.

Then when everyone there insisted on going to the bar, he couldn't resist them. They were all quite happy, celebrating and laughing, but also aware that they were just getting started. Javi was close to getting drunk when he saw a familiar face. He was wellknown at this bar so he knew almost all the waitresses.

"Javi," one of the girls said, put her tray on the table and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Why don't we celebrate this together, like the old days," she smirked. "You haven't forgotten the wonderful moments we had, have you?"

When she reached up to kiss him, Javi stopped her and gently lifted her arms around his neck and pushed her away.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," he winked.

"Wow, normally you wouldn't say no to that, but whatever," she said and picked up the tray and move behind the bar, looking quite upset. All Javi could think about right now was you, and maybe this was the first time he'd ever missed an opportunity for sex.

------

By the time you were getting ready for bed, you wondered what was taking Javi so long, why he wouldn’t come, however you were tired of thinking and wanted to go to sleep.

When you pulled the cover of bed, you realized that a piece of paper had been pushed under the door. It was a letter.

With so many questions running through your head, your first thought was to open the door and look into the hallway. But no one was there.

You opened the letter in a hurry and curiously.

"You will see your father tonight, be ready."

Your heart raced, hands shaking. "What in the world,” you said to yourself.

Who could have sent it? Your first thought was Javi, but why would he write a letter?

No, it was probably someone else. But who. What if it was a trap? The possibilities were many, but time was short.

Who could you tell about this?

Finally you open the door slowly, looked down the corridor, the soldiers were still walking around. Was it one of them? You thought of calling Javi, but the soldiers were downstairs, watching over the phone specially because you had tried to call your father several times before.

You went back to the room and closed the door slowly, you body starting to shake. Was your father specially sending troops with the support of the army? Could it be?

"What should I do, what should I do,"  said to yourself as wondered if there was a traitor among the soldiers. Well, he or she wasn't a traitor to you, of course, but still, you couldn't trust anyone.

You get super impatient, opened the door of the room quietly again and looking around. It didn't feel right to wait quietly, so you wanted to try your best.

The soldiers were coming and going, two by two, counting how long it takes, and you had about 30 seconds to get yourself out somehow. Without thinking too much, you tiptoed down the corridor once the soldiers were on the other side. As soon as you heard the footsteps you hid behind the couch, and by the time they turned around for another round you had made it out. This was different from the last time you tried to escape. This time you didn't know what you were running from or where.

This was so stupid of you but you couldn't just sit and wait.

The soldiers outside were talking about something among themselves. This was good for you, first wanted to go to Don Berna who you believed was Javi's ally, can help you. Yes, he is the one who helped him to kidnap you too, but you had no choice, you trusted Javi, you trusted him to take you to your father one way or another.

It was just something doesn't right with that note.

You weren't sure where Don Berna was staying or even if he was here now, but you had to try. When you move forward you accidentally stepped on a piece of broken glass, fuck, then someone grabbed you from behind.

“What do we have here?”

A soldier grabbed your arm roughly, cocky smile on his face.

"I wasn't running away, really," you tried to convince him. "If you take me to Don Berna, I want to tell him--"

“Move,” he jerking your arm roughly heading to the dark green tent out front.

As soon as you entered the tent, you were shocked to see the commander pointing a gun at Don Berna's face. All the soldiers were also pointing their guns at the other men. You were confused, but this made you panicked even more.

"Ah, senorita, you couldn't wait, could you?" the commander laughed looking at you, without moving his hand.

"Fuckin motherfucker, I paid you generously, what the fuck is this? We had an agreement for fucks sake."

"I'm sorry Mr. Berna, but Miguel Rodriguez offered 5 times what you paid for this girl. So what could i do? we're mercenaries, right guys?"

All the soldiers nodded smirking.

"Yes, sir."

"And I have no faith in that fucking agent Peña to do what he promised," he added.

"Miguel Rodriguez? But note you sent to my room were saying im gonna see my father," you yelled at him.

"If only you had waited in your room like you were told, senorita, you wouldn't have seen this part and you would keep thinking you were going to see your father, but what the hell, you'll suffer the consequences. What the fuck are you waiting for? Get her on the fuckin helicopter now!" he ordered his soldiers.

"No, let go," you screamed with all your might, but you were dragged into the helicopter anyway.

It was the second time this happening, you were kidnapping again, but this time you were more afraid of where you were going. You wished you could lost your consciousness again.

As tears falling down your cheeks, thinking about Javi, you would rather he kidnaps you instead.

-----

“FUCK!!!”

When Javi returned to the military base, he was so angry when he find out. He clenching his fists and banging them against the wall wanted to smash everything close.

He had never felt so angry and helpless. 

"We'll find her," Chris said, trying to calm him down.

Daniel added.

"So yes, you're officially an agent now, we can use all our powers to find her. Right?"

"Sure, lemme call the headquarters," Chris run towards to phone.

"We'll back you up," Don Berna said. "I'll do anything to end Cali. Motherfuckers. Miguel made a fool out of me, the fucking cartel king."

He spitting with anger while talking.

Javi walked inside without saying anything, all he could think about as he lit his cigarette was you, he had promised that you wouldn't get hurt, but how was he going to keep that promise now?

As the thoughts raced through his head looked at the red roses and promised to himself.

"I will find you and bring you back little bird, no matter what.”

-------

It was around 3 a.m. when the helicopter approached the helicopter landing area of a large mansion.

Armed men were everywhere, all dressed in civilian clothes, unlike the soldiers, but they all had guns just like them.

As soon as the helicopter landed, the commander grabbed you by the arm and pulled you. He helped you step down and kept pulling you towards a tall man in a suit waiting in the courtyard of the mansion.

"Here, sir, I brought her."

He pushed you forward towards the man. Fucking bastard.

The man in the suit clapped his hands happily.

"Great, now pay the commander and his unit and send them on their way,”

He made hand gesture to his men. “And you,” he looked at you.

“You come with me honey," he said calmly but commanding.  

Unlike the commander, the man didn't grab your arm, he offered his hand for you to take.

"My hand waiting, honey," he said in a threatening tone.

You had to take this stranger's hand even if this disgusts you, but of course you had a guess. This must be the man they called Miguel.

He began to introduce himself as he escorted you inside.

"I'm Miguel, and this is my personal living space, it's a bit of an insult to call it home, you understand right," he laughed to himself.

He was promoting the house like a real estate agent which was super weird.

"And you, sweet Y/N, welcome. You know, your father and I are kind of close friends."

"Then take me to my father." your voice was louder than you wanted it to be.

Miguel stopped and looked at you and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Because this man was looking calm and very threatening at the same time.

"Sweet Y/N, you're going to have to stay here for a while, until we work things out with your father, do you understand? hm?"

"Besides," he continued as he opened a door with golden ornaments on it," whatever you wanti your needs, will be done here, don't worry."

"I've heard that before," you muttered.

He laughed at your reaction.

"One more thing," said Miguel raising his indexfinger just like trying to warn you.

Also with one hand he brushes your hair which was in mess because of the helicopter ride.

Man, this motherfucker likes to touch.

"If you try to betray me, intent to leave or sneak out and somehow get to your friends from DEA, then you no longer will be my friend's daughter, but instead, you will be the most worthless person in the world to me, okay?"

He put his hands on your shoulder now which disgusts you badly. Looks like he wants to be sure about you understand him clearly. You gulped and nodded.

"Great! Good girl," he clapped his hands again.

"Good night, sweetie."

When the door closed your body collapsed on the floor, feeling exhausted, this night consumed you badly.

"Jesus! What a nightmare!"

----------------------------- All episodes here ------------------------

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Helping Hand 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The computer beeps at you again. That shrill offensive chirp that makes your heart zing. You hold your fingers above the keyboard and cringe. You can’t seem to get through one transaction without error. 

You try to back out but a pop-up shows, asking for manager approval. You give a sheepish smile to the customer and apologise. You could point to the trainee sticker on your name tag or tell them it’s only your third day, but you won’t make excuses. The two other associates you started with are doing just fine.

Giselle comes over as you look behind you searchingly. She snaps the gum in her mouth and rolls her eyes, “what is it this time?”

“Sorry, I–”

“Back out of the sale,” she snips.

“I tried, it won’t let me,” you gesture to the screen.

She doesn’t even read it and puts in her pin. You bite your lower lip as the total screen finally shows. You ask the customer cash or card. They say card but you hit cash. When you try to go back, you get the same sirenesque chirp. UGH!

Giselle doesn’t say a word as she keys in her pin again, huffing before she storms off. You blame yourself. You’re not good with technology. You didn’t grow up with a computer lab in your school or a cell phone in your back pocket. You were a bit too early for that.

It all just passed you by. Like everything else in your life. Your career, your marriage, your hopes. You gave up the first for the second, and let the third shrivel away to regret. You definitely never expected to be starting over again at this age. To be a retail slave in your 40s. Divorced and depressed.

You get the customer checked out and bagged up. You hand them the paper-sheathed books and give a smile. There’s a tick of impatience in their cheek. You don’t blame them. Andy always said you were too slow. Clueless. Well, he’s gone now, you don’t have to worry about his opinions. And you won’t get to prove them wrong.

“Go sort the sale tables. They’re a mess.” Giselle orders as she checks her manicure, “I’ll take the till.”

You nod. It’s probably the best idea. You’re not much of a salesman so you don’t often walk the floor, but you’re good for grunt work. You always were in the background, making sure everything looked just right. 

You push through the waist high door that closes out the general public from behind the counter. You surpass the queue of customers waiting and head through the small homegoods section towards the bargain floor. You go to the first table and sift through the mess of cookbooks and crafting manuals.

The next is history. Mostly military and the like. Hollow eyes of soldiers staring through you, men in armour on horses, and tanks rolling over mulched up dirt. You reach for a book on the Battle of Britain but it’s swept up out of your grasp.

You look at the man as he examines the cover. His blonde hair is tidy, his blue eyes gleam as they scan the book, and his grey suit is cute precisely to his figure. You fold your hands over the nearest stack and muster a smile.

“Hello, sir,” you greet, “am I in your way?”

“Not at all,” he lifts his head, an amiable expression softens his features, “browsing.”

He sets the book exactly where it belongs. You slide your hands off the book, keeping them clutched in front of you. You’re not sure how to proceed. Right, customer service.

“Can I help you find anything?” You offer.

“I know my way around, pretty well,” he assures you, “pity,” he takes another book and puts it in its place, “people come and make such a mess. Leave you all this work.”

“Well, it’s what I’m paid for, I suppose,” you grab a book too and another identical one, collecting three before finding their slot.

“Still,” he steeples a hand on the nearest book, dragging his fingers thoughtfully. “Do you read? Hmm, that sounds rather… presumptuous. I mean, do you read any of this? History?”

“Um, some, admittedly I’ve devoured a few biographies of Princess Diana,” you shrug, “but nothing more bloody than that.”

“Ah, yes, war, terrible thing. No wonder it’s all on sale,” he chuckles, “what kind of person would subject themselves to such savagery?”

You want to shrug again but it seems rude. Almost dismissive. He’s talkative but not annoyingly so. He is charmingly casual.

“I’ve not seen you here before,” he considers you, eyes flitting up and down, “ah, I see, trainee. You are new.”

You part your lips and pause before you collect your wits, “uh, yeah, I started on Monday. You must come here often?”

“Now and again,” he arches his brow as if telling a joke.

Suddenly, you’re self-conscious. You must be older than this man, if even by only a few years. And look at him, he’s established, confident, and he knows exactly what he wants. But you, you’re just muddling through until you can return to your bachelor apartment and TV dinner.

“I’m certain I’ll see you again,” he winks, “Jonathan,” he touches his lapel subtly, then sounds out your name with a deadly lilt. His voice hits a timbre that plucks in your chest, “it was very nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you as well,” you eke out, “if you need anything else, I’ll be around, sir.”

“I’ll be sure to look for you,” he smiles and the tension dissipates at that simple gesture. “Have a splendid night.”

He taps the stack of books under his hand and pushes away. He fixes his tie as he passes you, strutting off with no special urgency. You fight not to watch after him. He is suave and admittedly handsome. But you are you; middle-aged and painfully average.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Armistice - Part One

Oops random burst of inspiration

Summary: A team of agents investigate a secret weapons lab and find something unexpected.

Contains: Living weapon, scientist whumpers, inhuman whumpee, lab whump, secret agents

Warnings: Dehumanization, cages, military themes, guns, pet whump, living weapon, gunshot wounds

Start Transmission

“I fail to see how this level of security is necessary.” Colonel Blaire, a tense man who had spent too much time in the sun, commented. 

“I assure you, Sir, this is very necessary.” Doctor Cecil, walking right at the Colonel’s side, replied. “We would not be going through these procedures if there was any doubt.”

The two traversed a short stretch of hallway. They had just passed through a large, steel door, affixed with a mechanical lock and key. Another door was up ahead. Doctor Cecil removed an oversized brass keyring from her lab coat, taking the next key-- they were numbered, of course-- and inserting it into the proper hole. The door opened.

“Whatever this thing is, you’re certain it has military usage? Much more of this rigamarole and I’ll have you fired for wasting my time.”

“Most certainly.”

Another key. Another lock. Another key.

“And at what point do you intend on telling me what this thing is?”

“I do not intend on telling you, Colonel. I intend on showing you. I guarantee, it will be well worth the wait, and worth your trouble.”

The colonel only grunted in reply.

The last door required a physical key, a keypad code, as well as remote permission given by someone, somewhere, sitting at a computer. Beyond said door was a room that most would consider unremarkable. The walls had been reinforced first with steel, then with a covering of rubber. 

At the center of it all was a cage, covered in a black tarp.

From beneath the tarp came a snarl.

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“How far out are we?” 

Agent Alces leaned over the shoulder of her team’s pilot, Agent Puda, who didn’t seem all too pleased with the incursion.

“Less than 1000 klicks. Under an hour.”

“How long till we need to batten down the hatches?”

“30 minutes. The crew should be in their seats in 45.”

“Got it.”

The pilot expected that to be the end of it. However, to his surprise, his superior sat down in the empty co-pilot’s seat next to him.

Puda knew exactly what that meant.

“You’re worried.”

“Of course I’m worried.” Alces muttered. 

She fidgeted with her watch. Half of her body had already been put on, excluding her helmet-- as well-engineered as those things were, they were notoriously uncomfortable for long-term wear. That left her short hair, the color of wheat, free to flow. 

“There’s a hell of a lot to be worried about.” She continued. “This isn’t going to be an easy op.”

“Is there such a thing as an easy op?”

“There’s easier ops than this one.” Alces sighed. “We’re going after an unknown object at an unknown facility, guarded by unknown forces. We don’t know what kind of weapons they have. That’s not to mention the American military is rumored to be going after the same thing.”

“Yeah.” Puda grimaced. “We’ve sure had easier ops. You’re sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s our mission. They wouldn’t send us on a mission if they thought we couldn’t manage it.”

“Sure.” The pilot had always been a bit skeptical about their employer.

In a sense, their employers were the whole human race. In a more realistic sense, their employer was an internationally-funded law enforcement agency known as SABRE. 

It was the job of SABRE to maintain international law, mostly in the areas of human rights. Small jobs went to local authorities. Big jobs went to Interpol. Unwieldy, dangerous, stupid jobs went to SABRE.

Who do you think keeps cleaning up after all the UFOs?

“What do we know, then?” Puda questioned.

“Didn’t you come to the briefing?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And did you… Listen?”

Puda didn’t respond to that one, focusing instead on the radars and dashboards of the cockpit.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Alces rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t unused to this particular behavior from her pilot. She was lucky that he was working at all. 

“Alright.” She started. “SABRE’s intelligence sources have been indicating that a lab in Nevada has been working with an unknown weapon. Whatever this weapon is, the lab is absolutely refusing to cooperate with international weapons testing and regulation requirements.

For all we know, they could have the next Manhattan project in there, and the American brass has already caught the scent. We need to figure out what they’re doing.”

“So, we don’t even know if what they have is dangerous?”

“Not necessarily, but the half-meter thick steel walls around the facility would implicate as such. Officially, we’re only going down there to make sure that they start complying with international regulations.”

“And what are we doing unofficially?”

“Figuring out what they’re doing, figuring out if it’s illegal, and, if it is, putting a stop to it.”

“Do they know we’re coming?”

“Of course not. That’s the whole point of a surprise attack.”

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After an absurdly lavish dinner, complete with wine bottles that, for most, would cost an entire year’s salary, Colonel Blaire was being treated to a show.

Alongside Doctor Cecil and a cohort of her white-coated compatriots, the colonel now stood behind a panel of one-way glass, several inches thick.

After so much buildup, their project was overdue for a demonstration.

The room beyond the glass was large, rectangular, and outfitted with padded mats along the wall, similar to those one might see in a wrestling gym. The center of the room was occupied by a ballistics dummy, the kind made of a clear resin, meant to demonstrate how something would penetrate the human body. On one side of the room, a closed gate led to another chamber.

“You have already heard about this weapon’s hardiness.” Doctor Cecil began. “Forget about supply lines, this thing can traverse extreme climates for days on end, requiring only minimal supplies. With extraordinary navigational senses, it does not rely on radar or radio signals. This weapon could travel deep into any enemy warzone, undetected.

And, when it gets there…”

The lights in the chamber beyond the glass brightened. The gate began to rumble open.

Before it opened all the way, something scrabbled underneath, managing to escape into the chamber beyond. 

It took exactly 3.78 seconds for the ballistics dummy to be turned to a pile of resin scraps.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SABRE Team C landed in a clearing in the forest.

For all his nonsense, there was a reason that Alces put up with Puda: The man could land their plane damn near anywhere and not so much as scratch the paint.

Alces, along with the rest of her team, were seated in the cockpit in their individual seats. Once the landing gear steadied, she took off her seatbelt. 

All in all, there were six of them. Puda, of course, was seated at the front, nearest to the controls. The rest were arranged in a semi-circle, with Alces in the center.

Doctor Kuhli was on the far right, a brown-skinned woman with her black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. For all her nagging, everyone on the team understood full-well that she was the main thing keeping them alive. She was their doctor. She was also the one who usually kept Doctor Munty from eating the chemicals from his lab.

Doctor Munty, of course, was the team’s science officer. One might be surprised to learn that a field team would have any need of a science officer, but he had justified his usefulness time and time again. With how many unknown compounds and chemicals they encountered, it was good to have a genius with a lab. He was seated on the far left.

The other two spaces, between Alces and the doctors, were filled by the team’s two field agents: Agent Reeves and Agent Savini. At the moment, both of them looked nearly identical, wearing black uniforms and helmets. If their visors weren’t raised, Alces would’ve had a hard time telling the difference. With their faces visible, however, the differences between the two were stark. 

Agent Reeves was a short woman, chronically underestimated for her size and blonde hair (it wasn’t that color naturally, but SABRE continuously refused to allow her to dye it pink, so they compromised.) Her bangs were a mess under her helmet. It was almost odd to see her without her usual collection of barrettes and scrunchies, but, quite obviously, those didn’t work with a tight-fitting carbon fiber helmet. 

Agent Savini, on the other hand, was tall, muscular, and more than a little standoffish. He was the dream of any SABRE recruiter: Strong, disciplined, smart, and unflappable. Alces didn’t know if she had ever seen him smile, but he had never failed to carry out a single of her orders. His only flaw was a small dependance on whiskey and smokes, but Alces could hardly complain. 

She had a damn good team behind her. They could do this. They would do this, and they would all make it out alive.

She just had to lead them through it.

Lights on the dashboard turned off one by one as the plane settled into a resting state. Meanwhile, Alces moved to the front of the room, addressing the rest of her team with her pilot close at hand.

“Alright.” She began, clearing her throat. “This isn’t going to be an easy op. I want everyone at their best. We’re going to stay together. We don’t know what we’re going to find in there. That makes extraction hard. There’s a chance we won’t be bringing anything out of there at all. We may also be seizing the next advancement in lethal military technology.

Puda.” The pilot turned to listen. “You’re going to drive me, Reeves, and Savini in the UTV as far as you can. Meanwhile, Munty, you’re going to fly the drones out ahead of us. We’ll stay in contact while you find us an entrance. If they won’t open it for us, then we’re going to breach it.

Kuhli, I want you preparing a secure facility back here, ready to contain whatever we find, if anything. You might have some patients, if any weapons are fired.

Does everyone understand?”

Everyone nodded, muttering their acknowledgement. Damn, Alces loved her team.

“Let’s move out!”

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“I hope you liked what you saw.” Doctor Cecil folded her hands in front of herself, seated across a boardroom from Colonel Blaire.

The Colonel’s expression was as firm as ever. However, his earlier anger had melted away, leaving only stoicism behind.

“You have fulfilled your promise. You have quite the weapon.”

“Do you think it will be enough for what you desire?”

“Enough? Yes, yes, more than enough.” He drummed his fingers. “But there is only the one.”

“Only the one, for now. We believe that we can acquire more. We simply require additional funding.”

“More funding. You must understand the risk of bringing this information to my superiors. Laws will need to be changed. But… I will talk to them. I will let you know if you can have your funding.

Until then, I want more data. More tests. This thing needs to be proven six ways to Sunday.”

Doctor Cecil was clearly less than pleased with the answer. She most certainly wasn’t pleased when the door to the boardroom burst open.

Her heart jumped right to her throat at the appearance of three strangers in military garb. Their faces were concealed beneath black helmets and tinted visors. The rest of their bodies were equally concealed beneath vests and carbon fiber elbow pads.Their weapons were clearly intended to intimidate.

Dammit. Dammit! Doctor Cecil leapt to her feet, knocking over the chair she had been sitting in. The colonel across from her did the same.

“Woah, there.” The three strangers were arranged in a triangular formation, with one at the front and two slightly behind, one on either side. It was their presumed leader, at the front, who spoke. “No need to get spooked.”

“Who are you?” Doctor Cecil growled.

“You have no authorization to be here.” Colonel Blair added.

“We do, actually.” The leader of the incursion reached into a specially-placed pocket, revealing a badge. 

SABRE. Of course it had to be SABRE, of course it had to be now.

“We’re here to enforce Chapter 89, Article 3, Subsection B of the international SABRE weapons treaty. All military research facilities are required to register, undergo international third-party inspection, and disclose all weapons possessed. That’s along with Subsection C-- All experiments with potential deadly weapons must be pre-approved.

This is an unauthorized, unsupervised, illegal weapons research facility. So, you’re going to give us the grand tour, then you’re going to shut down until you comply with national and international law.

Is that understood?”

Beneath that visor, Doctor Cecil just knew there was a sly smile.

She knew, of course, the illegality of her operation. She had just been hoping to change the law before that was revealed.

“I understand.” She replied, evenly. 

Reaching a hand into a pocket, she pressed a button, calling for emergency security assistance. With backup on the way, she pulled out a handgun.

“But I don’t think you understand exactly how much danger you’re in.” She continued, coldly.

Given what her operation involved, she had cut no corners on security. As the intruders hesitated on their next move, footsteps pounded down the hallway.

Gunfire filled the hallway.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the smoke cleared, Alces checked her troops. Both Reeves and Savini were still on their feet, even as they gasped for air a bit.

It had been a harsh shootout.

Looking around, she spotted four guards on the ground. All breathing. SABRE didn’t train their agents to kill if there was another option. Still, they were wounded, and would need a hospital sooner rather than later. 

Alces took a step forward. Her field agents took one in turn. She was damn lucky to have the agents that she did.

She hoped that her show of force would work to intimidate the woman in a lab coat in front of her.

“Alright. No more of that.” Alces did her best to keep her voice calm. No one had to get angry, here. “By the way, you are definitely under arrest now. 

You have a weapon. You are going to show us where it is.”

The lab-coated woman’s eyes shifted back and forth. Alces knew what that meant.

She was ready for the woman to run, but didn’t have time to react. The doorway was too wide. Before she knew it, the doctor had burst out of the room, right past her and her agents.

“Dammit!” Alces exclaimed. “Reeves, you stay with him.” 

She pointed at the man in the boardroom. He was definitely military. 

“Don’t let him go anywhere, and take his gun. Savini, you’re with me.”

“Got it, boss!” Reeves gave a big thumbs-up, before pointing a big gun at the big military man.

With a tilt of her head, Alces indicated for Savini to follow her as she moved out in the hallway.

Time to chase down a scientist.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Doctor Cecil whipped around a corner, her own hot breath rushing back in her face. Stupid SABRE, stupid stupid stupid! Of all days, why did this have to happen today?!

Little did they know, they had no clue what they were up against. They thought they were dealing with a gun, or a gas, or a bioweapon.

Stupid agents.

She could hear their footsteps pounding behind her. They would catch up to her, that much was inevitable. She just had to get to the containment unit before they did.

She skidded to a stop in front of one of the many doors in this highway. All at once, she regretted the security measures she herself had mandated. There was nothing to be done for it now, though. At least she had practice in getting the key from her pocket, putting it in the lock.

Once Doctor Cecil was through the door, she slammed it closed. It wouldn’t lock automatically, but it would slow her pursuers down, ever so slightly. She had a head start, and she wasn’t being weighed down by god knows how many pounds of military-issue.

One door after another. They finally arrived at the final one. She had never typed in her keycode so fast, and she had never before been more glad that she kept someone always stationed in the security chair. If she was lucky, the rest of the guards would be here soon.

Not that she would need them.

Doctor Cecil swung open the last door, revealing the same room as she had formerly to Colonel Blair. The weapon had been returned to its cage, covered again by its tarp.

She couldn’t wait to see those SABRE pencil pushers torn to shreds. Pulling out one last key, she raced to the cage, tore away the tarp, and undid the padlock.

The door swung open.

The weapon leapt free.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Alces and Savini skidded to a stop soon after the scientist did. 

This had to be it. This was the weapon. Of course, the scientist would attempt to use her own deadly creation against her attackers.

Alces held out an arm to prevent Savini from getting any closer. Whatever this thing was, it shouldn’t be able to harm them. Their helmets acted as respirators, their bodies covered from head to toe in the best gear any currency could buy. Any chemical, any bioweapon, they could handle it.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as the scientist swung open a cage of some sort. 

The person that lurched from the cage was thin, but muscular, shaggy blonde hair raggedly cut. Muscly bulk rippled beneath their neck as they snarled. Their body was covered only by a cotton undershirt and a pair of shorts.

A person.

The weapon wasn’t a contagion. It wasn’t a gun. It wasn’t a chemical.

It was a person.

“Go!” The scientist snapped.

The person charged. 

Agent Savini discharged his weapon.

[marginal-notes]

You could talk about floodwater management on here instead :3

lololol but seriously, I’m constantly thinking so much about the economics and infrastructure of ATLA, especially at scale, given the existence of bending.

First off, I’m still not 100% sure what percentage of the population has bending. Personally, I think it’s a minority? Let’s say 30% max? Probably more around 10-15%, don’t ask where I’m getting this number from.

Then you gotta think about stuff like, “okay, I want to build this dam around this location along a river, and I have to do a geological survey first along with collecting whatever else elevation data we need.” So, are you planning to find a specialized earthbender? I fully embrace the idea of Toph’s sensing ability being really rare, so how much value does an earthbender bring in? And what if you’re in the Fire Nation’s territory and for various reasons you don’t want to use an earthbender, so you need to develop nonbender methods anyway.

When do things reach sufficient scale that using tools and technology override the need for individual human labor?

“What does this have to do with floodwater management?” Yeah, whatever, this is just some of the usual bean counter ramblings, let’s also talk about security.

In the show, Jet already proves the knowledge that infrastructure’s destruction can be a weapon. He needed blasting jelly to destroy that dam, but what if you had an earthbender. The thing with dams is that you just need to punch one hole through the wall, and the weight of the water and physics will do all the rest for you. Bitch slapping a meter cube of material out of a dam is way too easy for an earthbender.

Like, bro, what the fuck. Why are you forcing me to pay so much money on effective security to keep you maniacs out.

Real talk, would you really want to have a lot of dams in the world of ATLA when you have to live with the constant threat of some drunk idiot stumbling along and fucking up the earth around your giant water infrastructure and immediately threatening the lives of thousands downstream.

Good grief.

Now also take that constant aggravation and apply it to rivers. Rivers already don’t want to stay along the same course. Those things famously shift around constantly to find the path of least resistance. How easy would it be for someone to weaken and manipulate the ground along a riverbank to lay a strategic time bomb waiting for the next heavy rain to hit.

Oh, what’s that Mr. Fire Army General sir, you planned your supply routes along this path near the vicinity of this river? If I have a sneaky enough crew of earthbender willing to be relentless mole people for a couple of weeks, I can utterly ruin your day and career.

Man, imagine if the Fire Nation already had an interest in instruments that can measure seismic activity because these people are crazy enough to put their SEAT OF POLITICAL POWER inside the caldera of an ACTIVE VOLCANO, WHY. But the real reason why the Fire Nation has such good instruments is because of the military trying to fend off renegade bands of mole people laying mines under their camps.

I mean, that’s how a lot of tech development tends to go anyway irl.

[chobit92]

Far Cry 5: Reunited: Part One

This is an idea I have had for ages and I've been playing Far Cry 5 again and needed more Jacob...And Faith...And Joseph and John.

(Joseph and John Seed walk down the busy road leading into an industrial estate.).

John: What makes you think he’s going to be here?

Joseph: Have faith.

(They have been trying to track down their brother Jacob for months. They have discovered that after being discharged from the military he stayed in a hospital for a while. Since then however he seems to have dropped off the map.).

John: We must have searched every shelter in Georgia.

Joseph: We have not searched this one.

(They reach the doors of the shelter and Joseph pulls the door open walking inside. John follows him. The place is just as shabby and basic as all of the other shelters. Though this one is cleaner than some they have visited. Joseph walks up to the small desk and stands there waiting. The woman sat behind the desk looks tired and is clearly trying to do several things at once. She’s currently talking on the phone while tapping away at the computer. She then finishes the call and looks through several files before looking up at Joseph and John and smiling. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes however and Joseph thinks it might be forced.).

Woman: Afternoon. How can I help you?

Joseph: Hello. We’re looking for someone.

Woman: Ain’t we all?

John: Our brother, Jacob. Last name Seed. He was in the army.

Woman: Get a lot of guys come through here that are ex military.

Joseph: Please try to think madam. This isn’t a recent photo but...

(Joseph shows the woman a photo of a young soldier with red hair.).

Woman: Look I see so many faces every day sir. Some the same but a lot different.

Joseph: I appreciate that but-

Woman: I’m sorry. I can’t help you. But...Eileen might be able to. She remembers everything that woman. Eidetic memory or something.

(The woman gets up and goes down the hall. She returns a few minutes later with an older woman, mid fifties, with greying hair.).

Woman: This is Eileen.

Eileen: Hello, how can I help you?

Joseph: We’re looking for our brother Jacob. He was in the military and spent some time in a hospital but he was discharged a while ago. We can’t find an address for him so we’ve been looking around the shelters.

Eileen: Oh. Jacob...Do you have a photo?

Joseph: Yes.

(Joseph shows her the photo and she peers down at it.).

Joseph: It’s not a recent photo I’m afraid.

Eileen: Hmmm. He does seem familiar. Jacob. Red hair. Yes. There was a man here oh it was a long time ago now. He always wore a grubby old army jacket.

(The woman frowns.).

Eileen: I think it had J. Seed written on it.

Joseph: He was here?

Eileen: Well somebody matching your description was. He never spoke. Would just lie in bed all day, would hardly eat or drink. Poor thing. He had terrible nightmares too. Was always screaming. He would call out for someone called Joseph. John too.

Joseph: I’m Joseph and this is my brother John.

Eileen: Oh. I see.

Joseph: I take it he is no longer here.

Eileen: I’m afraid not.

Joseph: Do you know where he might have gone?

Eileen: I don’t, no. But...There might be something. A young girl was volunteering here at the time. She seemed to get on well with Jacob. Not sure how he would never speak to me or any of the others but she spent a lot of time in his room. She was always bringing him coffee and biscuits. Trying to get him to eat. They seemed to build up a bit of a rapport.

Woman: Oh I remember now. She was always in his room. Did no work whatsoever just sat in his room for her whole shift.

Eileen: Yes well she was only trying to help the poor man. She must have done some good too. He started to eat and drink a little. I would even hear them talking. Then one day he left. She was with him. She said she was going to drop him off. I didn’t ask where I’m sorry.

John: Does she still work here?

Eileen: No. She quit a few days after that.

John: What was her name?

Eileen: Her name was Mara.

John: Do you have an address or a contact number?

Eileen: If I did I’m afraid I couldn’t give it to you.

John: Why not?

Eileen: Look I want you to find your brother I do. But I can’t in good conscience just hand out people’s private information.

John: But she might know where our brother is. Please we just want to find him.

(John gives the woman a pleading look.).

Eileen: I’m sorry. I need to get back to work.

(Eileen walks off. John sighs.).

John: This is ridiculous. All we want to know is this woman’s phone number so that we can ask if she remembers our brother and where she dropped him off.

Woman: If she remembers. Even if she does he might not be where she dropped him off now. It was a long time ago.

John: But it’s the only lead we have. Please.

(The woman sighs.).

Woman: You better not tell anyone I gave you this.

(She opens up a filing cabinet and rifles through it. She then pulls out a sheet of paper.).

Woman: Mara Jessop. Here she is. Her volunteer application. Got her phone number and her address.

John: I’ll take both.

(The woman writes down the phone number and the address on a slip of paper then hands it to John.).

John: Thank you for all your help.

Woman: Don’t mention it. I never liked her anyway. Bit of a tart if you ask me.

(Joseph and John leave the shelter. John takes out his phone and dials the number. Then he sighs.).

John: The numbers no longer in service.

Joseph: Well then let’s try the address.

John: Do you think this woman will actually remember Jacob?

Joseph: Have faith John. We are going to find him.

*

(John drives through the residential streets of Silver Creek. Most of the area is covered with woodland and the houses are quite spaced out here.).

John: Whereabouts is this address?

Joseph: Um, Lakeview road. Number 27.

John: Hm.

(John frowns peering down at the navigation system display on the dashboard. He then turns off and drives down a bumpy dirt road. He then turns off again and sighs.).

John: This is Lakeview road.

(John pulls over and they get out of the car. He locks it up and they walk down the street. John looks at the houses and sighs again.).

John: How do we know this address even exists? Or that this woman even lives there anymore?

Joseph: Have faith. Ah there it is.

(Joseph stops in front of a large bungalow. The mailbox has number 27 painted on the side of it. The front lawn is tidy however the hot weather and lack of rain hasn’t done the grass much good. They are just about to walk up the drive when they hear a shout from behind them. They turn to see a man holding two bags of groceries.).

Man: I wouldn’t bother trying to sell them anything.

Joseph: We are not salesman.

Man: Must be bible thumpers then. I wouldn’t bother knocking the door they’ll slam it in your face they will. That’s if you’re lucky. Mad that lot. Mad.

(He walks off down the road. John shrugs and walks up the driveway, Joseph follows him. They walk up to the front door. There are some flowers in pots either side.).

John: So...What if she doesn’t live here anymore? What if she doesn’t even remember Jacob? She might not know where he is now.

Joseph: Brother. Have faith. We will find him.

John: What do you think about what that man said?

Joseph: Idle gossip.

John: Gossip usually comes from a shred of truth.

Joseph: No. It doesn’t. We must not listen to the opinions of others for they are just that, opinions, not fact.

(Joseph knocks on the door. They wait a few moments before Joseph knocks again.).

John: Well nobody’s home so what now?

(Before Joseph can answer the front door opens and a young woman stands there staring at them. Joseph smiles at her and glances at her very pregnant belly.).

Joseph: Afternoon.

Mara: I don’t want to buy anything. I wouldn’t waste my money.

John: Good because we’re not selling anything.

(Mara narrows her eyes at John.).

Joseph: John please. Ma’am are you Mara Jessop?

Mara: What’s it to yah?

Joseph: Well we’re looking for our brother and the woman at one of the homeless shelters we visited gave us this address. She said a Mara Jessop used to volunteer there.

Mara: So what if she did?

Joseph: Please, we would just like to find our brother. If you could just give us a few minutes of your time.

Mara: What makes you think I have a few minutes?

John: We just want to know if you know anything about where our brother might be.

Mara: What makes you think I know where he is?

Joseph: Are you Mara?

Mara: Might be.

John: Oh for heaven’s sake. Enough of this nonsense. Miss Jessop you used to look after a man named Jacob at the shelter yes?

(She stares at John for a moment.).

Mara: Jacob?

John: Yes. He’s our brother.

(She is silent for a moment. Her eyes narrow as she looks both of them up and down.).

Mara: Are you Joseph or John?

John: I’m John. This is Joseph.

Joseph: You remember him?

(The woman’s whole demeanour seems to change for a moment.).

Mara: I should do. I married him.

John: What?

(John’s mouth drops open and Joseph stares at Mara.).

Joseph: You are Jacob’s wife?

Mara: Yes.

John: So he’s here?

Mara: Not at the moment.

Joseph: Where is he?

Mara: He went to the store but he’s most likely stopped off at the bar on the way back.

Joseph: I see.

(Just then a young girl emerges from the back gate and walks down the driveway.).

Mara: Rachel! Where do you think you’re going?

Rachel: Out.

Mara: Look at the state of you. Get back inside now. You’re not hanging around with those thugs again!

(The girl, Rachel, just tilts her head and carries on walking. Mara sighs.).

Joseph: Is she alright?

Mara: What’s it to you?

Joseph: My apologies I was just concerned.

Mara: We don’t need your concern.

John: We’ve just told you that Jacob is our brother and you have made no effort to contact him to tell him that we’re here! You haven’t even invited us in.

Mara: Oh do forgive me. Where are my manners? Would you like to come in?

(Mara has said this very sarcastically and John looks furious but Joseph places a hand on his arm.).

Joseph: We are very sorry to turn up like this. But you see we have been searching for our brother for many years.

Mara: Have you? Is that why he was left in a shelter to rot?

John: We didn’t know where he was! You-

(Joseph once again silences John.).

Joseph: Which bar does he usually frequent?

Mara: A few of ‘em. There’s one about two miles that way that he likes.

Joseph: Perhaps we will head there and see if we can find him.

Mara: You do that.

(She smiles before closing the door.).

John: Jacob married that?!

Joseph: John. We must not judge. We should be grateful that he has found himself a family.

John: Grateful? She’s a stone cold bitch I tell you!

Joseph: I am sure that once we get to know her-

John: Get to know her? It doesn’t look like she wants to know us. We’ve just told her that we are here looking for our long lost brother and she couldn’t give a damn!

Joseph: Come. Let us see if we can track him down and bring him home.

[news365timesindia]

[ad_1] D Gukesh at the Chess Olympiad 2024 (Image: FIDE)  Boria Majumdar Great champions are all about humility. And it is a quality that is passed on across generations. D Gukesh is no different. Since he won the World Chess Championship, we had been planning an interview. In fact, the exchange was on with his father, Dr Rajnikanth. We did not want to do a two-minute news interview. That was already done in Singapore, so the idea was to go deeper and do a proper celebration. Dr Rajnikanth had suggested that he’d message the moment they settled down in Chennai, and had a breather from the celebrations. And true to his word, he sent me a message on Wednesday evening suggesting we do the interview, as Gukesh had an evening window and it would be good if we recorded immediately. With my Ravichandran Ashwin special show just done, the plan worked to perfection and we fixed the interview for 7pm. While it is now known what Gukesh’s mother had told him that she wanted him to be a better human being than a chess player, it was only fair that I asked him about his parents. And when he echoed his mother’s sentiments, I reminded him that someone else had said the very same words to me during the writing of Playing it My Way. The moment I mentioned it, his eyes lit up. “I have read Playing it My Way and have read this quote many times,” said Gukesh. “I know what Sachin Sir’s father told him.” There is an invisible bond. One that binds champions across generations. From Sachin to Gukesh, the tradition continues. As the interview went on, and I asked him about the bungee-jumping story, I sensed Gukesh relax. “You all know the bungee-jumping story by now,” he said. “I have to tell you it was scary, but cool as well. I have forever been very scared of heights. So much so I wouldn’t even climb a ladder for I was scared of falling. Doing bungee jumping was also a way to overcome fear. And I must say it helped.” For More Sports Related Content Click Here D Gukesh (PC: FIDE_chess/X) Within a second, I was taken back to another great Indian champion and what he had said to me. “Just ahead of Beijing 2008, I climbed the lamp post in Germany to overcome fear,” Abhinav Bindra told me. “Each one of us has a fear of failure. It was a German military drill and they would climb the lamp pole fairly easily. I decided to do it and did so without anything tied to my waist. So, in case I fell, I could even die. Halfway into it, I looked down and must say was scared. But I did not stop. And when I managed to climb to the top of the pole, I sensed the top was like a pizza box. I had overcome my fear.” Yet again, two champions had come together for me. I mentioned Abhinav to Gukesh, and again, he was off in a flash. “I know the pizza pole story,” he said with a huge smile. Bindra is coming to the Trailblazers Conclave, and you will meet him for sure in March, I mentioned. “That would be just fantastic,” said Gukesh. “Abhinav Sir, [Viswanathan] Anand Sir, Gopi [Pullela Gopichand] Sir – they are legends of our sport. Would be an honour.” Champions and humility – the story continues. Watch the interview on RevSportz at 12 noon today. Also Read: Gukesh won the world championship because of his attitude – Viswanathan Anand The post A RevSportz Exclusive || “I know what Sachin Sir’s father told him”: D Gukesh opens up on the importance of staying grounded appeared first on Sports News Portal | Latest Sports Articles | Revsports. [ad_2] Source link

[news365times]

[ad_1] D Gukesh at the Chess Olympiad 2024 (Image: FIDE)  Boria Majumdar Great champions are all about humility. And it is a quality that is passed on across generations. D Gukesh is no different. Since he won the World Chess Championship, we had been planning an interview. In fact, the exchange was on with his father, Dr Rajnikanth. We did not want to do a two-minute news interview. That was already done in Singapore, so the idea was to go deeper and do a proper celebration. Dr Rajnikanth had suggested that he’d message the moment they settled down in Chennai, and had a breather from the celebrations. And true to his word, he sent me a message on Wednesday evening suggesting we do the interview, as Gukesh had an evening window and it would be good if we recorded immediately. With my Ravichandran Ashwin special show just done, the plan worked to perfection and we fixed the interview for 7pm. While it is now known what Gukesh’s mother had told him that she wanted him to be a better human being than a chess player, it was only fair that I asked him about his parents. And when he echoed his mother’s sentiments, I reminded him that someone else had said the very same words to me during the writing of Playing it My Way. The moment I mentioned it, his eyes lit up. “I have read Playing it My Way and have read this quote many times,” said Gukesh. “I know what Sachin Sir’s father told him.” There is an invisible bond. One that binds champions across generations. From Sachin to Gukesh, the tradition continues. As the interview went on, and I asked him about the bungee-jumping story, I sensed Gukesh relax. “You all know the bungee-jumping story by now,” he said. “I have to tell you it was scary, but cool as well. I have forever been very scared of heights. So much so I wouldn’t even climb a ladder for I was scared of falling. Doing bungee jumping was also a way to overcome fear. And I must say it helped.” For More Sports Related Content Click Here D Gukesh (PC: FIDE_chess/X) Within a second, I was taken back to another great Indian champion and what he had said to me. “Just ahead of Beijing 2008, I climbed the lamp post in Germany to overcome fear,” Abhinav Bindra told me. “Each one of us has a fear of failure. It was a German military drill and they would climb the lamp pole fairly easily. I decided to do it and did so without anything tied to my waist. So, in case I fell, I could even die. Halfway into it, I looked down and must say was scared. But I did not stop. And when I managed to climb to the top of the pole, I sensed the top was like a pizza box. I had overcome my fear.” Yet again, two champions had come together for me. I mentioned Abhinav to Gukesh, and again, he was off in a flash. “I know the pizza pole story,” he said with a huge smile. Bindra is coming to the Trailblazers Conclave, and you will meet him for sure in March, I mentioned. “That would be just fantastic,” said Gukesh. “Abhinav Sir, [Viswanathan] Anand Sir, Gopi [Pullela Gopichand] Sir – they are legends of our sport. Would be an honour.” Champions and humility – the story continues. Watch the interview on RevSportz at 12 noon today. Also Read: Gukesh won the world championship because of his attitude – Viswanathan Anand The post A RevSportz Exclusive || “I know what Sachin Sir’s father told him”: D Gukesh opens up on the importance of staying grounded appeared first on Sports News Portal | Latest Sports Articles | Revsports. [ad_2] Source link

[kgreen200]

Please, God, Let Me Live

By KathyG

Summary: In this prequel to “A Study in Pink,” Captain John Hamish Watson, MBBS, licensed general practitioner, and combat surgeon in training, is shot while on a retrieval mission in Afghanistan, and spends weeks afterwards fighting for his life.  Originally written and posted as a one-shot, it has since been expanded into a 20-chapter pre-Sherlock story, covering the time from John’s shooting until he returns to London.  Be forewarned: Sherlock himself makes no appearance at all in this story!  I’ve modeled this story on Pompey’s “On Afghanistan’s Plains,” which is posted on Fanfiction dot net.  (Thanks to Besleybean for beta-reading and Brit-picking my story!  And to sgam76 for helping me to getting some details straight.)

Notes: In the military, a bullet wound alone is not considered grounds for a medical discharge.  Even though John’s left shoulder is extensively damaged in this story, given the sheer amount of repair work that his shoulder goes through and the rehab he undergoes afterwards, the army would keep him if at all possible, even if he had to be assigned amended duties at least for a time.  His skills are too valuable and too desperately needed for the army to let him go if there’s any way that it can hold onto him.  Something more has to happen, to prompt the decision to invalid him out of the army.  I have my own ideas of what that something more could be, and you’ll see what it turns out to be as you read the story.

When Pompey set out to write her great ACD story, “On Afghanistan’s Plains,” her goal was to write a canonical and historically accurate account of what happened to Dr. Watson in Afghanistan from the day he was shot to the day he met Sherlock Holmes, based on what is told in Sir Arthur Conan Doyles’s first Sherlock story, A Study in Scarlet.  As a result of the sheer amount of research that she engaged in beforehand, she did a marvelous job of attaining her goal!  Since it was sometime after BBC Sherlock’s third season came on the air that I first read her story, which was posted on Fanfiction dot net back in 2008, I really wanted someone to write a comparable account of what happened to modern-day John in Moffat and Gatiss’s version of Sherlock Holmes.  Alas, Pompey herself showed no interest in writing such a story, and I could find no other author who did.  A number of stories about John getting shot in Afghanistan, yes, but nothing that told the whole story.  It finally became clear that if such a story was ever to be written, I would have to write it.  Early this year, I wrote a one-shot about that fateful day, and sometime after that, I extended the story into a 20-chapter novel.

In writing this story, I've drawn on the back history I gave John that is described in “Background Check,” which is posted on Fanfiction dot net and Archive of Our Own.  The back history in that story, in turn, is based in part on the articles that are posted on wellingtongoose’s tumblr and LiveJournal accounts, and partly on the history that BlueSkye12, in the stories on her Fanfiction dot net and Archive of our Own accounts, has given John Watson.  I have used that same back history to create this story.

In truth, I've borrowed from the stories of several great fanfiction authors—mainly BlueSkye12, as explained above but also others, including thebakerstreetgirl and sgam76—as well as wellingtongoose's equally great metas, to create John’s back story.  And I’ve modeled this story on Pompey’s “On Afghanistan’s Plains,” which is posted on Fanfiction.net.  I highly recommend that everybody who hasn’t yet done so head over there and read her story! =) And then, when you've finished it, read her equally great post-Hiatus sequel to that story, “A Young British Soldier”!

Chapter 1: “Skirmish”

A/N: Since this chapter started out as a one-shot, I've edited it to transform it into Chapter 1.

I've borrowed from John's nightmare at the beginning of "A Study in Pink" to create the scenario in which he gets shot.

XXXXXXX

JULY 27, 2009: (1) FOB HAMIDULLAH, SANGIN VALLEY, HELMAND PROVINCE, AFGHANISTAN

13:30 p.m., army time (1:30 p.m.)

Captain John Hamish Watson lay on his cot, reading The Lord of the Rings, which he had purchased back in England while on leave before the Fusiliers had been redeployed to that U.S. base in Kandahar.  He hadn’t had a real chance to start reading it yet; so much had happened since then.  Finally, though, there was some downtime, and he had a chance to catch his breath and relax.  And read his new book, which he had just started reading the night before.  Only, after almost two years, it wasn’t so new anymore.  Until lights out at bedtime, the captain had read voraciously the introduction, the prologue, and the first three chapters of the novel.  Since he had read The Hobbit as a child back in Chelmsford, this was a return to a fantasy world he had enjoyed back then.

So far, it had been a normal day—well, as normal as any day could be for a trainee trauma surgeon stationed at (1) FOB Hamidullah in Helmand Province.  He had eaten breakfast with Major James Sholto, their unit’s commanding officer, as he usually did on a weekly basis—sometimes with Major Robert Clancy, the Fusiliers’ consultant surgeon.  Sholto and his men had since gone out on patrol; only Dr. Clancy, Dr. Watson, and the nurses had stayed behind, in case any casualties were brought in.  After breakfast, Dr. Watson and Dr. Clancy had gone on their daily rounds of their patients in the forwarding operating base’s field hospital; for now, there were only a few, so there was plenty of downtime at present.  They both knew, though, that that could change at any time.

Stopping to rest his eyes, Dr. Watson glanced up at the calendar on the bulletin board.  It was Monday, July 27th, 2009.  And the wall clock showed that it was 13:30, army time.  He smiled at the memory of Corporal Tanner taking another photograph of him two weeks earlier; he had emailed it to Clara in London as soon as time had permitted.  His older sister, Harry, should have it by now. (2)  It had long since become his practice to send pictures of himself to his sister every few months; since he didn’t own a camera, and since Corporal Tanner did, the good corporal always used his to take those pictures.  John always made sure that there was nothing in the pictures that would upset or irritate Harry.  In some of the photos, John posed by himself; in the others, he posed with some or all of his mates.  Mates whom he had long since become close friends with during his years in Afghanistan.

Three years, he thought.  Ending up my second tour, so I’ve been in Afghanistan for close to three years now.  Clearing his throat, he turned his attention back to the chapter he had arrived at, Chapter Four: “A Short Cut to Mushrooms”.  He was reading the part about the hobbits’ efforts to evade the Black Riders while they were travelling.

Suddenly, just as John came to the sequence where the hobbits ran into Farmer Maggot, there was a siren, and John leaped off the bed, inserted a bookmark into the chapter, and dropped his book on the nightstand.  Dr. Clancy hurried into John’s officer’s quarters.  “The patrol Sholto took the Fusiliers out on split up, and some of them joined another patrol that was out looking for trouble.  That bunch has run into a skirmish five kilometres west of Sangin; from what I hear tell, a bad one.  You better hurry, Watson,” he ordered.  “Murray’s already waiting at the helicopter.”

To read the rest of this 20-chapter story, click here:

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Stay with me

Pairing: Dave York x f!Reader 

Word Count: 9.7k

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Omegaverse), Alpha!Dave, Omega!Reader, mentions of prejudices against Omegas, canon-typical violence, suspense elements, watch me make shit up about a/b/o to suit my needs, heats, rutting, knotting, scent glands, biting, compulsion (the thing with the voice), LOTS of sex, soft!Dave gets his own warning, enemies to lovers, Penny gets VERY vague about whatever the hell the DIA does, the plot is not the point of this fic

Summary: You’re Dave York’s ‘favorite’ analyst at the DIA. You’re also an Omega. When you go into heat during an emergency situation, can the two of you keep your mutual attraction from coming to a head?

A/N: Yeah, I don’t know where this came from. I truly think @leslie-lyman and I share the same braincell; she wrote 12k of Alpha Max and then the week after I was hit with an Alpha Dave idea and here we are. Thank you Les for egging me on, tolerating the constant depraved screenshots. Thanks for @pedropascalx and @honestly-shite, my two ‘Hot for Dave’ besties who ALWAYS encourage Dave filth. Now I promise I’ll go work on my stupid book. 

Masterlist

“The intelligence shows–”

“I fucking know what the intelligence shows, I’m looking at it,” Dave barks.

It’s not that Dave York is the type of Alpha to be an asshole, to be brash, inconsiderate, even violent. It’s the job that makes him this way; the years of military training that have muted his empathetic response, for better or for worse, in favor of emotionless calculation. It helps, when making life or death decisions.

Not so much when it comes to social interaction.

The man snaps his mouth shut, and Dave grimaces inwardly. It was probably the wrong thing to say. The head of Intelligence was an Omega; even on suppressants, as nearly everyone is these days, Dave can still sniff it out. It’s considered crass for an Alpha to shout one down–it fucks with their instinct to shrink away from an Alpha’s command, and no Omega wants to appear lesser at work.

Contrary to popular belief, Dave does not take Alpha suppressants. One of the military’s more creative trainings for Alpha special forces was to throw them in a room and pipe in the scent of Omega in heat.

For weeks at a time.

That sort of forced desensitization has left Dave with an unusually strong ability to resist Omega pheromones and a tight leash on his Alpha tendencies. They only really come out in times of high stress, when his tone of voice  can come out harsher than intended, or he accidentally uses Compulsion when giving an order instead of just… giving the order. Still, he's hardly the most aggressive Alpha at the DIA, a breeding ground for ex-military types in the first place.

Dave tries again. “Who wrote this report?” 

“One of our new analysts, she–”

“I want to talk to her,” Dave says abruptly. “I have questions.”

The Omega nods slowly as he backs out of the office. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

Dave sinks into his desk chair with a sigh. This report is the last thing he wanted to see cross his desk. No one wants to hear that the call is coming from inside the house, so to speak, and this analysis points to a mole within the DIA, feeding classified information to outside organizations and compromising all of their operations. 

A few minutes later, someone knocks on his door, and Dave looks up. “Come in,” he calls out.

The door opens, and Dave is hit with the strongest smell of Omega pheromones he’s smelled in the longest time. He raises his eyes in surprise as a woman enters his office with a stern expression. “You wanted to see me?”

Dave frowns at her for a moment, at a loss. He’s never seen an Omega off suppressants, especially in the office like this. It must be incredibly inconvenient, having everyone gawking, right? He doesn’t understand–is there a medical reason she can’t be on them? 

“Sir?” she arches one perfectly-penciled eyebrow at him.

Dave clears his throat. “You wrote this?” 

“Yes,” she answers. “Is there a problem with my analysis?”

“You misunderstand,” Dave says. “I agree with the report. I want to know how you know.”

— — — — — — 

That had been Dave’s first of what would become many interactions with the woman who is quickly becoming his ‘favorite’ analyst. She’s the only person who doesn’t mince words around him, who’s brutally honest, almost cutting in her assessments, and doesn’t seem to acknowledge or care that Dave is an Alpha. 

In turn, Dave makes an effort to treat her the same way as he would any other Alpha around the office. Not that she needs his help–she carries herself with a haughtiness that would put most Alphas to shame. He's seen her face down conference rooms full of them without batting an eye, or purposefully not stepping demurely to the side to let an Alpha pass in the hallway, as many Omegas do out of habit, resulting in a few awkward shoulder-checks that Dave has observed with an amused smile.

Most Alphas around the office don't know what to make of her, and treat her with confusion at best, and outright hostility at worst. Dave–as much as he’s tried to stop himself, or, more accurately, stop his Alpha–is starting to view her as his. The long hours she’s spent in his office going over her intelligence reports have left him feeling possessive, even territorial, over his analyst.

"She's one of those 'Out and Proud' Omegas that think they're so fucking special just because of their designation," Dave overhears in the breakroom one morning, and for the first time in a long time, he has to stop his Alpha from reacting–grabbing the man's shirt and shoving him against the wall with a growl. 

“If she’s so proud of being an Omega, why is she so fucking standoffish?” is another scathing comment Dave has heard around the office. “Her designation is Omega. If she’s as proud of it as she claims, strutting around here with all those pheromones on display, she should be more demure.”

Dave doesn’t give a shit whether she’s demure; in fact, he likes that she’s assertive. She’s a challenge, his Alpha purrs. Dave likes a challenge. 

“Can I ask a question?” Dave asks, unable to help himself one morning when she’s sitting across from him in the spare chair in his office, an open report draped over her crossed legs..

She looks up from the report questioningly.

“You don’t take suppressants,” Dave says.

“That’s not a question,” she points out, and Dave smiles.

“Why?” he asks.

“I personally believe that Omegas should be allowed to exist in public whether or not they are on suppressants,” she responds quickly, in what sounds like a very well-practiced speech. “I’m part of a group of Omegas that refuse to take them in order to show that we’re perfectly capable of existing alongside Alphas, and that we deserve to take up space.” As she speaks, her voice becomes louder, more impassioned. Her chin tips up as if she’s challenging Dave to disagree. He doesn’t.

“Of course,” Dave says. “But isn’t that… inconvenient?”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

“Is it inconvenient for me to exist in public?” she retorts with a scoff. “No, it’s not, thank you very much, and when it is, it’s because some asshole Alpha with outdated views on Omegas thinks they know something about it.”

“I don’t think that,” Dave counters. “I just mean, doesn’t it put you in danger?” 

“So I should suppress who I am instead of, y’know Alphas not being violent?” she snaps, rising to her feet.

Dave blinks up at her in silence, unsure of what to say. 

“Excuse me,” she says briskly, and walks out of the room.

That… hadn’t gone how Dave had intended.

— — — — — — 

You’re struggling to focus. The Threat Vulnerability Matrix you’re studying keeps blurring, and you blink rapidly to focus on the computer screen.

You keep thinking back to your meeting today, at the wounded expression in those pretty, dark eyes. Even after two months of working with the man, you don’t know what to make of Dave York.

Dave fucking York. An Alpha if there ever was one–abrupt, aggressive, and dominating. And yet, there’s something about him that you can’t put your finger on. He treats you the same as he treats everyone else in the office (which means he’s an asshole to you, but he’s an asshole to everyone, that’s the point). He doesn’t treat you like a subordinate, he doesn’t treat you like a piece of meat, and he doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass–which is the worst of the three, honestly. 

There are times when the two of you are in his office and he’s grilling you incessantly about the smallest detail in your latest report, and Dave will suddenly look up and smile at you with warmth in his eyes. Why? If you examine the evidence too hard, it appears that Dave York… likes you. 

But then he has to go and do something shitty, like question your decision to be off suppressants. Dick. 

Because of your position in Intelligence, you know things about Dave York that you shouldn’t. The man isn’t just the quintessential Alpha–he’s a killer. You’ve read the classified reports, read the things he’s done in nauseating detail. He’s ruthless, violent, and unforgiving. Typical Alpha behavior. Regardless of how those pretty brown eyes and plush lips make you feel when you steal a glance at the man, you’d do well to stay far away. 

Besides, a man who is so very much an Alpha would want nothing to do with you. You know what they say about you in the office. Assertive. (That’s one of the nicer ones.) Stuck-up. Rude. A fucking bitch. You don’t fit their expectations for an Omega, and they hate it. You don’t fit in any box, really. That’s why it was so refreshing when you’d found your tribe at Omega Out Loud. You could be yourself without having to feel like you were doing something inherently wrong. You have plenty of Omega traits, sure, but you also have a lot of qualities that would be more common in a Beta, or even an Alpha. As a result, many Omegas don’t think you’re Omega enough, and Alphas generally don’t see you as an attractive mate. 

You’re a real hit on dating sites.

It’s fine–you’re too attached to your work to spend much time worrying about whether you’re mate-able. In fact, that’s where you are right now–in your cubicle at 8pm, working late. 

You’d be at home in your pajamas already, but your heat is due any day now, and you usually take a few days off leading up to it as well in order to avoid any uncomfortable situations at work. It’s a little bit more of an inconvenience, but it’s worth it to be able to feel like you’re being true to yourself. No one ever mentions the fucking side effects of suppressants: Mood swings. Weight gain. Heart problems. High blood pressure. Sexual dysfunction. Why is it always assumed that Omegas want to be on them?

An uncomfortable twinge in your abdomen reminds you of why. Oh right–your heats. As much as you hate to admit it, Dave really was right–being off suppressants can be dangerous. If you run into an Alpha right now, your twin pheromones might cause both of you to act in ways you normally wouldn’t. An Omega that’s almost in heat is a fucking beacon signal. Get it here! And during that time, you’re frustratingly susceptible to an Alpha’s influence. As the slick starts to gather between your thighs, your inhibitions lower, and you start to crave something to ease the ache–a toy, your fingers, an unsuspecting Alpha with deep brown eyes and pouty lips and wavy hair and–wait, where did that come from?

You shake your head rapidly and continue typing.

You don’t focus for very long before the building lights flicker ominously, and your computer abruptly switches off. A power surge, perhaps? Frowning, you stand up, casting your eyes around the empty floor. Weird. It’s dark outside now–you hadn’t realized how late it was getting. Well, your computer randomly turning off is as good a cue as any to hurry home to where your nest, copious amounts of snacks, and your favorite knotted toys are already waiting for you.

Grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you head toward the nearest elevators. You almost push the ‘down’ button, but something makes you stop, your finger hovering in the air as you look up. The numbers. They’re moving. The elevators are in use, all four of them, traveling down to the first floor and then up again, heading this way. Signals in your brain start to go haywire. Something isn’t right about this. You head to the window and look down at the entrance to the building. 

It’s being swarmed by unidentified people wearing black.

You can see their assault rifles from here.

A sudden stab of pain in your core makes you double over, your fist hitting the glass of the window. Shit. Want to know one of the best ways to trigger an early heat?

Stress.

Suddenly, the symptoms hit you like a freight train. Body sweats, cramps, light-headedness, you name it. You struggle to stay upright as you watch the tide of assailants entering the building.

You have to hide.

Any Alpha will be able to scent you out behind closed doors, so you have to choose somewhere with limited points of entry. Somewhere where you can potentially create a seal where air cannot escape. What in this building could be used to create a seal? You cast your eyes around in desperation before they land on a nondescript door labeled Maintenance. You drag yourself gingerly over to the door, and open it, rifling through the shelves for something you can use. Paint thinner? Sandpaper? Bleach? Screwdriver? Caulk? 

Caulk! You grab the bottle and shut the door, applying an inelegant line of sealant to the seam. You go over it once, twice, three times, four, before the bottle is empty and you cast it aside. Honestly, if any air escapes at all, you’d be surprised. It’s not pretty, and it’s probably overkill, but you have a feeling it’s going to work. 

It’s not a moment too soon, because as another wave of equal parts nausea and arousal hits, you hear voices as the intruders step off of the elevators and into the Intelligence department. 

It’s only then that you realize you left your messenger bag–and your phone–sitting by the windows. 

— — — — —

The call comes when Dave is at the gym.

“Sir?” the voice says. “There’s been a breach.”

Thirty-six hours of preparation later, and Dave York is slipping, silent and undetected, into the DIA offices, followed by a handful of his most trusted men. He’s covered from head to toe in black clothing, his favorite gun held aloft in front of him as he moves up the stairs to Intelligence. They make quick work of dispatching the guards along the way. They always make the same mistake–appointing their weakest links as guards. Half of them barely even saw him coming. 

The main office floor is a bit more of a challenge. The open floor plan makes any offensive position vulnerable, and Dave and his team are exposed and outnumbered the moment they open the door. Still, there’s a reason this team is the best at what they do. Before long, all the intruders are down and the floor is silent once more. 

“Sweep the area,” Dave orders under his breath, not wanting to break the eerie silence. The hair on the back of his neck is standing up–something isn’t right. He can feel–wait. He sniffs the air.

“You smell that?” he asks the Alpha beside him.

“Smell what?”   

Dave shakes his head. “Never mind.”

Someone is here. And not just someone…

Dave has been completely fixated on that smell for months. He can smell it on his clothes when he leaves work, he can feel the ghost of it on his skin even after a shower, he can call it up at night when he lies awake in bed. It’s an obsession for him. He can’t stop thinking of her–’his’ analyst. 

He would know her scent anywhere.

She works here, of course, so it wouldn’t be unusual for her scent to linger on her office chair, but that’s not where Dave smells it. 

It’s coming from that door. 

Frowning, he moves over to it and shakes the handle.

Locked. 

Holding his gun loosely–just in case it’s a trick–Dave steps back and slams his foot into the door.

— — — — — 

Can someone die of arousal? 

It seems like a stupid thing to ask, but as the time in your self-imposed prison ticks on, the question keeps coming around to haunt you. Each cramp is becoming more and more painful, each wave of nausea stronger, the sensation of emptiness more and more unbearable, to the point that your entire body physically aches and your hands are shaking.

You’ve tried to seek relief with your own fingers, but without a knotted toy filling you up, all it does is provide a seconds-long moment of temporary relief before the ache returns, stronger than before. You’ve managed to make a little nest for yourself out of some (hopefully) clean towels and shop rags, and you’ve discarded your pants and underwear as you try fruitlessly to work yourself through it. 

You can’t die from an unassisted heat… can you? 

You lose track of time. You know it’s probably been hours, because you’re also becoming incredibly hungry, but how much? Eight hours? Twelve? Twenty-four? It’s hard to mark time with no stimulus, no outward change that you can mark.

You fight down a frightened sob. This isn’t fair–you’re trapped in a maintenance closet trying to silently work through a heat unaided by any toys while people with guns are trying to hack into your systems. You can hear them trying–and they’ve as of yet been unsuccessful. If only you weren’t an Omega, you could stop them, somehow. If you were a Beta, or even better, an Alpha, you wouldn’t be shaking and dizzy from arousal in a storage closet, you’d be able to escape, to alert someone, to try and do something to thwart them yourself. 

Instead, you’re stuck. 

You think of what some of your fellow activists at Omega Out Loud would say. Your Omega is part of you. Be proud to be an Omega. Wear your designation with pride. You fight down a little moan as the cramps start to hit. It's relatively easy to embrace it in a work setting, in front of a bunch of Alphas who think they know better simply because of what they are. It’s much more difficult when your heat is interfering with a life or death situation.

You drift in and out of awareness, alternating between not-really-sleeping, rubbing your clit frantically, and being curled in a ball shaking with silent tears. 

Maybe you should go on suppressants, after all. 

You’ve completely lost track of what the hell is happening outside of the four walls of your prison when the door handle suddenly rattles, and a curse is muttered. Oh fuck. Oh shit. You’re in no condition to defend yourself. Even if you grab a spare hammer and hurl it at the intruder, your shaking hands and dizzy head all but guarantee you’ll miss. You can barely even hold the thing, much less throw it with all of your strength with the intent to disable your foe. 

Bam! 

The loud, jarring sound of a boot connecting with wood makes you drop the hammer anyway, sending you scooting backwards. 

Bam!

That kick dislodges most of the caulk that you’d applied around the seam of the door.

CRACK!

The third and final kick sends the door flying inward, and you scramble back into the corner at the sight of the man entering the room gun-first, swallowing the nausea and shame at being so utterly helpless during your heats. This is what your Omega turns you into, you think with a frustrated sob. You’re barely able to move, much less defend yourself, and you hate it. You’d been hit with the man’s scent abruptly when the seal on the door broke. An Alpha. He’s an Alpha, he’s found you, and you are so fucked. You look up at him, some sort of plea for mercy on your lips, before you stop. 

“D-Dave?” you whimper, your voice hoarse.

Dave’s eyebrows pinch together, his mouth pursing into a surprised oh as he takes in the scene–a makeshift nest of towels, the scent of Omega heavy in the air, and you, half-clothed and cowering in the corner of the room, one hand over your abdomen as it cramps with pain, the other held aloft in a gesture of surrender. 

“Oh my God,” he murmurs. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Him. Why does it have to be him? Dave fucking York. You can smell him, and to your utter disgust, you want him, your Omega fighting for any kind of relief, from any source.

No. You bite back a grunt of pain. “Get away from me,” you cry out through clenched teeth, your voice wavering. 

“How long have you been trapped in here?” Dave asks, ignoring your desperate command.

“Get–please,” you try again. “I can’t–”

“Stop.” 

It’s a command, from an Alpha. So you do. Your mouth closes abruptly, but you don’t stop glaring at Dave defiantly.

“How long have you been here?” he tries again.

“F-few days?” you murmur. Another flare of pain courses through you, and you gasp, doubling over, clutching at your abdomen. “Fuck!”

“And how long have you been in heat?” Dave asks, his voice softening.

“I was–It was already coming on when–-when they got here,” you answer.

“And you stayed hidden?” His eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Door…” you say weakly. “I put… caulk.” You gesture weakly at the empty bottle on the floor by the entrance. Dave purses his lips, looking impressed.

Your heat had been almost unbearable before, and now that an Alpha is here in the room, it almost feels like you’ll die if you don’t get relief. A few tears course their way down your cheeks as another cramp hits. 

“Do you not have anything to–?”

“No!” you cry out. “Does it fucking look like I do?”

The pain hits a crescendo, and you curl into a ball. “Shit, shit shit–” 

“Omega.” The word is barely audible, Dave says it so gently, but your Omega sure as hell hears it. You stiffen, quieting.

“It’s only going to get worse.”

Your temper flares again. “Are you just going to–hnng–stand there and… p-point out the obvious?” you grit out through the pain.

Dave doesn’t respond. He watches you for a few moments longer, then, with what appears to be herculean effort, starts to back away. 

Your Omega breaks.

“Apha, please,” you whimper, before you can catch yourself. 

It’s the phrase he’s waiting for; Dave suddenly at your side, lifting you into his arms and placing you gently back into your makeshift nest. 

“Listen to me,” he says quietly, “I don’t know if you’ve gone through a heat without help, artificial or not, but I’ve seen it used as a torture technique before, and I’ve never seen anyone who hasn’t broken.”

“Oh god–” you start to cry.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Dave urges. “I’m going to help you.” He reaches out to touch your arm, and you flinch away with fear, eyes wide. He looks pained, but he stops, his hand hovering just above your skin. 

“You don’t need to be afraid.” It’s not an order. The man puts zero compulsion into his voice, and yet you find yourself relaxing under his gaze. 

“Can I touch your arm now?” 

You stare incredulously at Dave. His hand is hovering inches from your arm. As an Alpha, he must have ironclad restraint in order to stop himself from simply reaching out and taking an Omega in heat, but the only outward sign of discomfort you can see is a vein on the side of his neck. His eyes are black pools, boring into yours, but his lips are soft and relaxed. He remains patient, waiting for your consent. For your trust. Slowly, you start to nod. 

Dave’s hand on your forearm sends a wave of relief coursing through you, and you crumple, slumping against him, your hands grabbing uselessly in your desperation. 

“Shh, okay,” he murmurs into your ear. “I’m going to help you. Slow down.”

“Please, it hurts–” 

“I know,” he says, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Stay with me.”

“Dave…” 

“I’m here.” 

You feel his hand gently sliding up your inner thigh to your weeping cunt, and your hips buck of their own accord at the feel of Alpha’s touch. A finger slips inside, then two fingers, and it already feels far better than you were able to do yourself, making you sob in relief. 

“Good girl,” Dave soothes you as he starts fucking you slowly with his fingers. “Good Omega. I’m going to make you feel better, okay? I’ll make it stop hurting.”

You nod and bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent. It’s been so long without relief that you come almost immediately, clenching around his fingers and causing another wave of slick to gather on his fingers.

“That’s it, fuck, you’re so wet, Omega. Can you do it again for me? You went far too long without any relief, honey. You’re going to need more than one for it to stop hurting.”

You nod in agreement. Dave’s fingers don’t let up, thrusting in and curling up against your sweet spot over and over again while you whimper and babble nonsense into his chest. 

“Good girl, I’ve got you,” Dave keeps talking you through the unbearable heat. “Just relax, I’m going to take care of you. It’ll stop,” he soothes. “It will. I’ll let you come as many times as it takes.”

You come twice, then three times, on Dave’s fingers, but it’s not enough. Now that you have this, you want more–your Omega needs more. 

“Alpha, please, I need–” 

“What do you need, sweet thing?” Dave asks. “You need my tongue?”

You shake your head rapidly. “I need–she needs–oh, fuck.” You duck your head in embarrassment.

“Tell me.” It’s a compulsion, but you’re not sure if Dave had intended for it to be. His Alpha instincts have to be screaming at him right now. You aren’t sure how he’s remaining so incredibly calm. He grimaces at his own tone, but doesn’t say anything further. 

“Your knot, Alpha.” Even if he hadn’t ordered you, you would have told him anyway. 

Dave hums low in his throat. “You need more?” he asks. “You need another finger?” You feel another one of his thick digits slide into your heat, and you moan wantonly, but it’s not enough. You need him. 

“No,” you whimper. “It’s not enough. I want you.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Dave murmurs, shaking his head against your temple. 

“Why?” you whine.

“You’re in heat,” he says simply. “You’re not in your right mind–neither of us are. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You fall apart again around three of Dave’s fingers with a strangled gasp and a wild buck of your hips, but your Omega reminds you that you’re empty, empty, empty…

“Alpha, please,” you say again. “I want it, I do. And… she needs it,” you admit, unable to meet Dave’s eyes. “I–I feel like I’m not going to get through this without it. W-Without you.”

“You don’t understand,” Dave says, his voice low and dangerous. “This is already very difficult. I’m already holding myself back. If I give you my knot, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back any longer.”

“Good. I don’t care. I don’t want you to hold back,” you say immediately. “It’s been days, I let it get too bad, I’m too far gone.”

Dave growls low in his throat. “I’ve kept this at bay for years,” he grits out. “I don’t know what will happen if I let it go. I’ll lose control. I’ll hurt you.”

Yes, your Omega cries. Yes, yes, yes—

You realize you’re saying it out loud as well when Dave interrupts your last ‘yes’ with his lips crashing into yours with a pained cry. 

Everything happens quickly after that. The rest of your clothing is discarded, along with Dave’s, and the two of you are molded together in the nest of blankets and pillows. He hisses when you reach out to grasp his cock, and you suddenly realize why he’s concerned about hurting you. If this is the size of his cock, what will his knot feel like? Your eyes flick up to him in trepidation, but Dave shakes his head, his jaw tense.

“You asked for this, little Omega,” he says softly.

Dave enters you in one, swift thrust. 

You throw your head back as he breaches you–far bigger than his fingers, both longer and thicker. It’s already too much, but your Omega finally feels sated after days of the burning sensation of being so incredibly empty. 

Your hands scrabble for purchase on Dave’s shoulders, and he doesn’t slow down, punching into you again and again and again until you’re gasping for air. He looks down at you with a smirk, watching you struggle–trying to squirm away from him and push yourself further onto him at the same time. 

“Come.”

This time, the compulsion is purposeful. Dave throws all of his intent behind the command, and your Omega obeys, clenching around his cock as he fucks you through it. 

“Good,” his Alpha purrs. “Again.”

You gasp in surprise as another climax follows, your Omega unable to disobey, even though the overstimulation is almost painful. 

You can feel Dave’s cock starting to swell as his knot rises. Tears are already squeezing out of the corners of your eyes as the pressure increases, and Dave’s nose scrapes against the swollen gland on your neck. Bite it, your Omega urges. Bite it, bite it, bite it–

“One more time,” Dave urges, dropping the edge from his voice. “You can do it. One more time for me, honey.”

You immediately shake your head. “T-Too much,” you whimper. 

“I need you to come while you take my knot,” Dave insists. “It will make your heat go away faster.”

“I-I don’t know if I can,” you admit.

“Don’t make me do it,” Dave says, his lips quirking upward with amusement, but you already know he’s going to.

His lips still brushing against your gland, Dave gives you one more command.

“Omega… come.”

Your back arches with the force of it, clamping down on Dave’s knot as it grows. Dave’s teeth start to scrape against the skin of your neck, and you throw your head back in invitation without thinking. Bite it bite it bite it—

At the last second, Daves mouth moves and he sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder instead as he comes with a deep groan. You sink with a mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief that Dave, a man you hardly know, didn’t accidentally mate you in the heat of the moment, but disappointment because your Omega very much wanted to be bitten.

You can’t focus on either emotion for long because Dave��s knot hurts in a way that you didn’t expect, even knowing the size of his cock. You whimper and squirm, starting to panic at your inability to move, but Dave is there, talking to you quietly and soothingly.

“I know,” he murmurs, his voice far softer than it had been before. “I know, it’s a lot. It’s a lot, but you can take it. Look at you,” he purrs. “You’re all stretched out on my knot. It’s hard, huh? I told you I would hurt you.”

Your Omega is blissfully silent for the first time in days, but you’re starting to wonder whether you’d make a mistake in asking for his knot. You bury your head in Dave’s shoulder as the tears come.

“Breathe,” Dave instructs. “Breathe, little Omega.”

You think you might sleep. You drift in and out of awareness, only able to focus on the overwhelming feeling of fullness. It feels as if Dave’s knot will never go down, that you’ll be swollen with it forever. Eventually, it starts to hurt less, but you can’t tell if the knot is actually receding, or if you’re getting used to the feeling of him stretching you past your limits. 

When the little crease of discomfort on your forehead goes away and you relax into him fully, Dave starts to talk.

“What on earth are you doing here?” he asks quietly.  

“I was staying late,” you answer. “My–I knew my heat was coming in a few days, and I was trying to get caught up on work before I took a few days off for it.” Then they came, and I–I couldn’t evacuate the building,” you answer. “I misjudged. I was already so close to being in heat; I obviously couldn’t be in public. I hid myself in here and sealed the doors.”

“Why here?” Dave asks, amused. “Why a storage closet?”

“That’s where the caulk was,” you murmur. “I was running out of time.” 

Dave hums and rubs his nose along your scent gland again, making you shiver pleasantly. “Plus, no windows,” he points out. “Less ways for the scent to get out.”

“Exactly,” you say. 

“Smart girl,” Dave praises. 

“I didn’t really have a plan beyond that,” you admit. “I didn’t have any of my toys, I was just trying to get through it with my fingers, and it wasn’t enough–I felt like I was going to die.”

“Shh,” Dave whispers. “You did so well, my brave girl.”

When his knot goes down enough for him to finally slip out of you, Dave announces that he needs to get you out of here.

“You haven’t had anything to eat in here,” he observes. “And I’m not going to let you go through the rest of your heat hungry, in a storage closet.”

“I can’t move, they’ll know, they’ll see–”

“Oh, honey,” Dave tuts. “They’re all dead.”

— — — — — — — — 

Dave half-carries her through the office–where his team is cleaning up the aftermath of their operation tonight.

She flinches slightly at the sight of the bodies scattered about the floor, but otherwise barely reacts. She’s still somewhat delirious, and Dave can understand why. If the reports are correct, the building has been occupied since Thursday. It’s now Saturday night. He’s never seen an Omega go three days into a heat completely unassisted. She must have been in terrible pain, and yet she stayed quiet enough to go undetected, suffering through her heat in silence. 

Fuck, he’s so attracted to her.

The Alphas on his team whip their heads around when they detect the scent of an Omega in heat, but with one look from Dave–his hand curled possessively around her and his eyes black coals–they avert their eyes and go back to their work. 

They make it to Dave’s car without incident. 

“Tell me where you live,” Dave orders quietly, pulling up the map on his phone.

She recites her address in a monotone, her eyes falling shut as she tips her head back on the headrest. She must be exhausted–but another wave will come sooner rather than later, Dave is sure of it. 

She dozes while he drives, and he hates to wake her when they arrive, but he shakes her shoulder gently.

“We’re here.”

She blinks slowly, looking at Dave with parted lips and hooded eyes. “Alpha…” she murmurs.

So it’s starting again.

“We need to get you some food,” Dave says, getting out of the car and coming around to her side to lift her up. This time, he pulls her properly into his arms, inhaling her scent as he brushes his nose against her temple. 

It’s hard not to lay her down right inside the door and give her his knot again with the little whimpers and moans she’s making, but Dave grits his teeth and walks into her kitchen instead, setting her down on the countertop. 

“It aches,” she whimpers, grabbing onto Dave’s wrist like a vice. 

“I know,” Dave answers softly. “But you’re eating first, it’s been three days.”

“But I need–” 

“No.” Dave puts all of his intent behind the word, and not just for her. It’s for him, a reminder to himself that he has a responsibility to take care of her and not just rut into her over and over until his Alpha is sated. Except she’s looking at him like he’d just slapped her across the face, and he realizes he’d probably been too harsh. “What can I get you to eat?” he asks, opening cabinets at random until he finds the glassware. 

“I’ve got heat snacks in there,” she says, waving her arm at a cabinet behind him. He retrieves a few granola bars and fills the glass with water, and returns to her.

“Eat all of these, drink two full glasses, and then–” Dave cuts himself off, clearing his throat. 

Even after he’s already filled her, it feels awkward to say it out loud. And then I’ll fuck you again. They both know what the end of the sentence was going to be, so he doesn’t bother continuing, and she occupies herself with the granola bars, taking big, enthusiastic bites interspersed with long swigs of water as if she hasn’t eaten in days. She hasn’t, Dave reminds himself. God, she’s strong. Whoever had said Omegas were the weaker sex were imbeciles–she went through a hostage situation with no food for three days, having to stay completely silent during an unassisted heat that must have been intolerable by the time he’d found her. 

The moment she’s done with the third granola bar, Dave gently grabs her face with both hands and presses his lips to hers. 

“Oh!” she makes a muffled sound of surprise. “Alpha–”

“Dave,” he corrects. “Don’t call me that–call me Dave.”

“Dave,” she says immediately, her wide eyes searching his face.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck, like that.”

“Dave, please,” she whimpers. 

“Hang on–” Dave grabs three more granola bars and two bottles of gatorade from the fridge. “You’re eating again right after,” he announces. 

“Yes, Alpha,” she drawls lazily, a small, dazed smile on her face, already drunk on her own pheromones. It’s incredibly cute. 

She enters her bedroom with a relieved sigh, moving forward and collapsing onto her bed, where a much larger and more comfortable nest is waiting for her. For them. She scrubs her hands over her face and lets out a groan that has less to do with pleasure and more with the relief of being somewhere where she feels safe. Dave feels off-balance for a moment, unsure if he has a place here, but then she looks over at him with a question in those sultry, half-lidded eyes. Alpha?

Dave smiles and walks forward, climbing over her on the bed and pressing his body against hers. Omega. She lets out a little gasp at the contact and arches into him, seeking more friction. 

“Patience,” he scolds teasingly. 

“Been three days,” she growls, clenching her teeth. “You don’t get to tell me to be patient.”

“Touché.” Dave grinds down on her roughly, making her cry out. “Then you won’t be opposed if I give this to you exactly how I want?”

“Depends on how you want it,” she retorts, although she’s already pulling at her shirt. 

“I’ll show you how I want it,” Dave grunts, sitting up to yank her pants and underwear off in one swift motion. “Turn around,” he orders. “Get on your knees for me.”

She’s nodding rapidly, her breath coming in pants as she obeys. Dave gives in to the temptation to grab her cheeks and spread her apart, showing him every inch of her glistening pussy. 

“Fucking perfect,” he growls. “You’re so wet; you’ve been waiting so long for this, honey,” he says, his voice honey-thick. “Let me give you what you’ve been needing all this time.”

Despite his posturing, Dave still enters her slowly, giving her plenty of time to adjust to his size. He rubs her lower back soothingly until he’s buried to the hilt and she’s letting out those pretty little whimpers that tell him she wants him to move. 

Well, Dave thinks with a smirk. He can do that. He pulls almost all the way out, then pushes back in, giving her his cock in long, hard strokes that immediately send her to her elbows as her arms give out. She moans wordlessly into the blankets, taking every punishing thrust with an arched back, her hands clutching uselessly at the sheets. When she starts pushing back onto him, Dave grabs her cheeks again and spreads her open the same way, using his grip to pull her back onto his cock. The new angle makes her wail and he feels her core starting to tighten around him.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Come on, come for me again. Come for me and then I’ll give you my knot, little Omega.”

She keens.

“Oh, you like that?” Dave teases. “Desperate little Omega wants my knot?”

She nods frantically into the covers, and Dave’s smile falters. 

“It hurt you before, silly thing. It made you cry. You sure you want that again?”

She mumbles something unintelligible into the sheets.

“I didn’t hear that, honey, say it again.”

“L-Liked it,” she pants.

It’s Dave’s undoing. His knot starts to swell as fucks into her once, twice, three times, and stills as the pressure in his cock reaches a breaking point and he’s fully seated within her.

“Good girl,” Dave whispers as it stretches her. “Good girl, you’re taking it so well. My good girl–my Omega.”

She whimpers and squirms just like the last time, a few more tears of discomfort escaping her eyes. Dave keeps murmuring to her, watching her face intently, seeing her lower lip tremble even as she sinks with palpable relief. Her Omega needs it, even if it’s too much, and his Alpha is practically triumphant that she wants his knot even though it hurts her. 

Still catching his breath, Dave lowers down and pulls her slightly on her side so that they’re both resting flush against each other, his knot still pulsing deep inside her. He places his hand on her lower abdomen, and fuck, he can feel the swell of his knot against his palm. He drops his forehead to her shoulder and hisses a curse under his breath. Down, Alpha. Dave swallows and presses a kiss to her skin before reaching for the food.

“Have some more,” Dave says, handing her a granola bar. 

She bites her lip, fighting down a whimper of discomfort. “RIght now? While we’re–”

“Please?” Dave asks softly. “Do it for me.” 

She finishes off all of the snacks he’d brought, plus the two gatorades, while his knot still pulsed thick and hot, refusing to go down. Good. The longer he fills her, the longer she’ll go without needing him again, and she can get some much needed rest.

“You should sleep,” Dave says.

“Mm,” she grunts. Her eyes are already closed.

Dave closes his eyes too, pulling her closer still. Just before sleep pulls him under, she speaks again.

“D-Dave?”

“Hmm?”

“Is this—I–” she swallows thickly. “I’ve never had an Alpha help me through a heat, and–fuck,” she cuts herself off again. 

“Where’s the assertive woman who yelled at me because I was ‘reading the data wrong?’” Dave teases.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Stupid Omega shit has me all… discombobulated.”

Dave chuckles. “Thought you were proud of being an Omega,” he counters. “That you deserve to take up space. Isn’t this part of taking up space?”

She’s quiet for a moment. 

“Damn you,” she whispers. “You used my words against me.”

“Tell me what you were going to say,” Dave says, fighting tooth and nail against his Alpha to keep the compulsion out of his voice. 

“Is this–is this just because of wh-what we are?” she asks, her voice wavering. “Our biology? Or is there–”

No, Dave immediately thinks to himself. No, no, no. Never just that. He opens his mouth to speak and then, inexplicably, loses his nerve. He can’t remember the last time he didn’t say what was on his mind, no matter the circumstance, but he finds himself second-guessing the words before he says them. He never second-guesses.

“Do you want it to be just that?” he asks softly.

“I–” she takes a shaky breath. “I don’t want that,” she says. “I don’t want this to just be scratching some primal urge, I want–” 

Frustratingly, she doesn’t finish, but Dave has the answer he needs already.

Tightening his hold around her, he presses his lips against her scent gland when he speaks. 

“It was always just you.”

— — — — — — 

You aren’t sure what wakes you. It could be the overwhelming need to pee after two large glasses of water and two gatorades. It could be your Omega starting to claw her way to the surface again, letting her desires be known. You’re still in your heat, after all. Or even still, it could be the fact that it feels as if a goddamn furnace is at your back, beads of sweat starting to pool between your shoulder blades as your body tries, in vain, to lower the temperature. 

It could also be the snoring in your ear. 

You smile to yourself as you look around the room. It’s daylight now–you must have slept through the night, although you don’t know what time Dave had rescued you, or when you got home. 

His cock had slipped out of you sometime during the night, and your hips shift back against him reflexively. You need it again. You need Alpha.

At the feel of your ass pressing back against his cock, Dave stirs, grunting softly as he wakes. 

Dave. Had you imagined last night? Not the rutting–the ache between your thighs assures you that was real. But what came after… It was always just you. Is that truly what he had said? You can still hear it–the exact timbre of his voice, the way it vibrated low in his chest, the feel of his lips forming the words on your scent gland, but it still doesn’t feel real. It was always just you. 

The subject of your ruminations lets out another soft grunt, his hand coming to your hips, guiding you back against him, then again, and again, until you’re rocking rhythmically together.

“That’s it,” Dave urges, his voice thick and gravelly with sleep. “Does someone need me again, little Omega?”

“Yes,” you grumble, still half asleep even though your Omega is very much awake.

“Ask nicely.”

“Alpha, I need you,” you pout, pushing back against Dave.

“Try again.”

“Alph–” 

Dave growls low in his throat.

“Dave,” you breathe, and his grip immediately tightens on your hip. “Fuck, Dave please. I need you.”

“Me?” he asks, although the tip of him is already lining up with your cunt.

“You,” you answer, and Dave slides home.

This time, your coupling is unhurried–although Dave’s grip is still rough and bruising, his thrusts still deep and overwhelming, but his lips are soft and tender on your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against your scent glands until you’re a panting mess.

Dave sucks his own fingers into his mouth and reaches down to rub little circles on your clit. 

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, and although it’s meant to be condescending, you can still hear the hint of genuine feeling in his words. “Going to be sore after this is over.”

You nod in agreement but push back harder on his cock.

“Fuck, you perfect thing,” Dave groans, his teeth biting down slightly on your gland–not enough to leave a mark, to properly mate you, but enough to feel his intent. “Fuck, I want–oh, honey–” 

“Please,” you whine. “Yes–yesyesyes–do it, please.” 

Dave’s thrusts speed up as he makes a broken sound of pleasure into your neck. You cock it to the side, inviting him in. Bite it, your Omega urges for the second time during this heat. Bite it, bite it–

For the second time, Dave’s mouth finds the meat of your shoulder instead, sinking his teeth into your skin with a rough groan. His knot swells again and you hiss at the mixture of pleasure and pain. It’s more of a stretch than any toy you’ve ever tried, but it seems that you’re finally adjusting to it after the third time. Hell, you don’t even cry. 

Dave’s hand finds yours and slides it sensually down your body–over your breasts and down to the soft swell of your stomach.

“Feel me there?” he asks, pressing down slightly.

Your breath catches. You can–there’s an unnatural fullness to your belly, a hard bump deep inside where Dave is filling you with his seed, over and over and over. Suddenly, your Omega rears her head, overcome with the idea of being filled, of being his, being Dave’s, of being his Omega and not just someone that he’s helping through a heat.

“Dave, why–” you begin. “Why didn’t you–” your hand moves up to your scent gland, where Dave had chosen not to mark you in the heat of the moment.

“I want you to want it,” Dave replies softly.

“I do–”

“I want you,” he repeats, firmer, “to want it. You. Nothing else.”

An avalanche of recent memories crashes through your mind. Don’t call me that–call me Dave. It was always just you. I want you to want it. 

He’s been telling you all this time: it’s not just an Alpha and Omega thing. It’s him–it’s you. The both of you.

“Dave,” you whisper, a shaky smile appearing on your face. “It was always just you, too.” 

Dave buries his head between your shoulder blades, but doesn’t say anything further. Finally, he says, “What would you like for breakfast?”

You giggle at the sudden shift in tone. “What?”

“You can’t just have granola bars all weekend,” Dave argues. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“Are you asking me how I like my eggs?” you say with a playful wink.

“Tell me, or I’m making you what I fucking feel like making you,” Dave grumbles, apparently annoyed with your silly joke. 

You are still very hungry. “I like pancakes,” you offer. “And sausage. And bacon. And eggs, any style really. I’ve got toast, and peanut butter, and–”

Dave’s hand comes down on one cheek with a satisfying slap, and you squeal in surprise.

“Shut up,” he grumbles–with absolutely no malice in his voice. “When my knot goes down, I’m making you whatever the fuck I want.”

‘Whatever he wants’ turns out to be a little bit of everything–pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs, toast, some frozen fruit that he found in the back of your freezer–all prepared while you sit at the kitchen table, feeling a little silly, drinking the coffee that had also been made by Dave.

“Eat up,” he says, putting a heaping plate down in front of you.

You gape up at him. “You didn’t need to–”

“Eat.” Dave throws a hint of compulsion into his voice, but it has a playful tone to it–as if he’s doing it only to tease you. You used to hate being compelled, but you find that, with Dave, you actually like it. He always seems to use it in a way that’s caring–like when you’re being obstinate for no reason and he’s had enough, or when you’re feeling too overwhelmed to accept the help that he’s freely giving. 

You’re starving. You dig into the plate with gusto, devouring every bit until nothing remains. You smile up at him.

“That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?” Dave asks, a smile teasing at his lips.

“No, Alpha,” you pout playfully.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Good. I think–I think it’s lightening up,” you say. “It doesn’t feel quite as urgent this morning.”

“Good,” Dave says. “It’ll probably be over before the day is up.”

“It’s been a hell of a heat,” you say with a sardonic laugh. “Not sure I ever want to repeat those first few days ever again.”

“What about the last few?” Dave quirks one eyebrow at you.

You duck your head, smiling shyly. “Remains to be seen.”

Dave huffs a laugh through his nose. “You’re hard to please.”

“Am I?” 

“Mmhmm,” he grunts, stepping closer. “I need more practice.”

“Your knot just went down,” you protest, swatting his chest.

“I could go again,” Dave counters.

“Well I can’t,” you grumble. 

“No,” Dave agrees, giving you a far-too-tender kiss on the forehead. “You can’t.”

Instead, you spend the morning curled up on the couch, reading a book with your legs draped over Dave’s lap. His own choice is propped against your knees, his free hand resting on your thigh. He glances at you every so often, although you pretend not to notice. Your mind starts to wander as you read, and you start wondering about whether Dave has ever helped anyone through a heat before, whether he’s marked anyone before, whether he’ll want to see you when the fog clears and the two of you are back at work.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Dave remarks wryly.

“I’m reading,” you say quickly.

“No, you’re not.”

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask.

“Nope, I’m a virgin,” Dave drawls. You roll your eyes.

“Helped an Omega through their heat,” you clarify. “You know what I meant.”

Dave nods. “A few times, mostly out of necessity.” He looks over at you. “You’ve really never gone through your heat with an Alpha?”

You shake your head. “Believe it or not, I’m not much of a catch,” you deadpan. “At least, not to an Alpha. I’ve been with Betas, mostly.”

“Not a catch?”

“I know you know what the Alphas say about me around the office,” you tell him. “It’s pretty much the same everywhere else, too.”

“They’re idiots,” Dave remarks.

You stare at him challengingly. “What do you think?”

Dave is silent for a few beats, the two of you watching each other, apparently waiting for the other to snap.

“I think it’s time for lunch.”

“Dave!”

“I think you’re incredible, is that what you want to hear?” Dave says, his voice rising in volume. “Do you want to know how many times I’ve gone home with your scent on my skin and fucked my hand, wishing it was you? Do you know how fucking hard it is not to mark you as mine?”

Your mouth falls open at the outburst. There are a hundred things you could say–I like you, let’s go on a date when this is over, will you stay until tomorrow, can we go back to bed–-but the thing that comes out of your mouth is, “Do it.”

Dave searches your face with a small frown. “You understand what that would mean?”

You nod. “I want it.”

With surprising speed, Dave grabs you and pulls you properly into his lap, so that your legs are on either side of his hips and he’s pulling you down on him, kissing you messily.

“Not gonna make it to the fucking bed,” Dave mumbles against your skin as he hastily pulls out his cock. “Any objections to that?”

You shake your head. “I want it here.”

“Good girl.” 

It’s frantic–the two of you grasping, panting, fighting to get closer. Your nails dig into Dave’s back and he groans low in his throat. He guides your hips, helping you fuck yourself on him, slamming you down on his cock over and over again.

“Tell me you meant it,” Dave growls.

“Meant…?” you repeat in a daze.

Dave licks your scent gland rather than giving a verbal response.

Suddenly, you’re very clear-headed. The brain fog associated with your Omega taking over during a heat immediately dissipates, and while your Omega is very much along for the ride, it’s all you when you open your mouth to speak. 

“Yes, Dave.”

Dave grips your neck roughly and jerks your head to the side, baring you to him. He inhales deeply, scenting you one last time before his teeth sink sharply into your gland.

The pleasure is explosive. Dave has spent the last two days showing you exactly how good your heat can be with an Alpha, but no orgasm so far has compared to how it feels with Dave’s teeth buried in your scent gland. You buck helplessly against him as he holds you still, the pleasure-pain of the bite and his growing knot making you dizzy and weak. It seems to have a similar reaction on Dave–he’s lost in it, groaning loudly, his face buried in your neck and his hands pulling you down on his knot, seating himself even deeper.

Dave’s teeth don’t release from your gland until his knot swells to its largest and he’s filling you with his seed yet again. His lips drag from the throbbing bite mark up to claim your lips, smearing the little tinge of blood on your neck up to your mouth. It’s feral, it’s depraved, and you love it. 

“Mine,” Dave growls against your lips. “Mine, mine, Omega.”

“Don’t call me that,” you tease with a watery smile, throwing Dave’s request back at him.. “Call me by my name.”

Dave does, murmuring it over and over as you come down from your high. You realize you’re trembling with the overwhelming release of pheromones, and Dave makes soft shushing noises, rubbing up and down your back to soothe you as you slump into his chest. 

“I can’t believe we did that,” you say with a giddy laugh after you’ve calmed down.

Dave hums softly in response. “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you.”

“No, you didn’t,” you argue back. “You just grilled me about my reports for thirty minutes.”

“Fair,” Dave agrees. “Maybe it was the second time I saw you.”

“I called you an idiot that time,” you remind him. “You read the fucking graph wrong–”

“I remember,” Dave grumbles. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“That’s when you wanted me as a mate,” you say skeptically.

Dave pulls back, arching one eyebrow in challenge. “Problem?”

Your face slowly spreads into a smile. “Not at all.”

— — — — — —

Six Months Later

“As you can see from the data, the threat of attack has decreased from 42 to 37 percent, which–”

“Actually,” someone across the crowded conference room interrupts, “I think that can be attributed to a number of factors, including–.”

“Are you… are you attempting to explain my own reporting to me?” she asks, raising her eyebrows at the Alpha. 

The man glances over at Dave nervously, and Dave can see the fear in his eyes. He’s just insulted his mate, and he expects Dave to come rushing to her defense. 

Instead, Dave crosses his arms, leans back in his chair with a neutral expression, and waits.

“What are you looking at him for?” his mate snaps. “Look at me. I’m giving the report.”

The other Alpha jumps, tearing his eyes from Dave, whose eyes are now glimmering with amusement. 

“Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbles, looking down at the conference table. 

“Let’s continue,” she says, stealing a fond look back at Dave before turning back to the presentation.

[koulakoukoula2003]

Overwhelmed: Pt. 3 (Yandere!Levi x Cadet!Reader)

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Genre: angsty angst, fluffy fluff, and yandere themes uwu Trigger Warnings: there's no smut in this part but there will be in part four (if I ever write it), there's yandere themes tho Part 1 >>> Part 2 >>> Part 3

The weeks passed by as usual. You were a soldier of Levi's squad — the first cadet that actually caught his eye and also the first cadet to actually be added in the special operations squad. It was the new Commander's idea. He needed a special squad to be trained by captain Levi himself.

It wasn't easy to let this man train you. He was a nightmare. No matter how close you two were, he showed you no mercy when it came to training and you weren't really expecting him to.

You didn't even know what kind of relationship you two had.

"You look exhausted." Hange commented and you tensed up right away, saluting them.

"S- Section Commander-!"

"I want you to help me convince Levi to convince the Commander TO LET ME CATCH A TITAN!" The crazy scientist caught you by the shirt tugging you close.

Your eyes widened. "Uhh... why me though?"

"You're the closest to captain Levi around here!"

"NO, I'M NOT!"

Your hands fisted to your sides. You most certainly didn't want people to know that there was something more than just a relationship of equal respect with your superior.

It was forbidden for relationships to occur between members of the military, especially a cadet and their superior captain.

"Yes, you are! Have you seen the heart eyes he's giving you???"

"HEART EYES?!?!"

"Ahem."

Both of you turned around to see Levi standing there with a look of displeasure, borderline irritation. Maybe you were the only one who could notice it. For Hange, it was just a look of utter indifference, the one he always wore.

"C- Captain!" It was infuriating how this man always startled you so much.

"Hange. Do not verbally molest my squad members," Levi grumbled before catching your wrist and dragging you to his side. "Y/n, with me."

"Y- Yes, sir!"

He let go of your wrist and you followed him down the hall of the Survey Corps headquarters like an obedient puppy.

He was taking you to his office. Most times, you weren't just his one and only squad member - for now - but you were also his secretary. Section Commander Hange said something from down the hall but Levi ignored them with a frown, urging you to do the same.

"Go to Erwin's office. Find the stack of papers he's got for me and bring them to me."

"Yes, sir!"

It was the standard routine. You brought him the papers and files and everything else that he was supposed to take care of, but most importantly, you prepared his tea. Jasmine tea, one teaspoon of honey - but only when he was in a good mood - quite a rare occurrence. Today didn't seem to be one of those days.

You placed the teacup on his desk, right beside his paperwork. He kept his eyes down on the white papers. "Thank you, y/n."

"Do you need anything else, Captain?"

"No, but stay."

Another standard routine request. It was not surprising when you found out that he couldn't read and write. No one taught anything like that in the Underground. He never talked about his past, but you could tell he had been through things and he had seen things that you couldn't even imagine.

You dragged your own chair beside his own and you started helping him out with the paperwork. You helped him all you could. You taught him how to read and write. He was trying his best to fix his handwriting. To make it neat and readable by everyone.

You loved him for it.

How smart he was. How hard he tried to blend in. How hesitant he was the first time he told you that he didn't know how to do any of this. Erwin just delivered him a stack of paperwork out of nowhere one day and Levi just stared at it for an entire afternoon contemplating whether he could learn or just abandon everything and go back underground.

He had been so... so insecure and shy to tell anyone about it. You found it out on your own and you helped him without him even having to ask you.

He loved you for it.

How patient you were with him. No matter what he did to you, you were always by his side. Your loyalty, your kindness, your sweet smile. How you knew exactly what kind of tea he liked. How you were always there in the mornings to tie his ascot around his neck. If he ever lost any of this, he'd go insane.

"Sir?"

He had been staring at you. Did he want something? Before you could say another word, he caught your chin and guided your face to his, slowly. His eyes rested on your lips, before he caught them with his own. It was so different from every other time he kissed you. He kissed you slow and sensual.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you from your chair, settling you on his lap with zero effort. His arms tightened around you, bringing your chest against his own and the kiss deepened forcing your head to arch back. He caught your chin, urging you to part your mouth so that he could slip his tongue deeper inside your mouth.

You let out the sweetest hum when he pulled from your lips to look at you.

"I delivered your resignation to the Commander this morning." He said out of nowhere and your eyes widened.

"What?!"

"I'll get us a home in the outskirts of Trost. You're going to marry me-"

"Levi-"

"You're mine, y/n," Levi's fingers clenched in your hair, pulling you closer. "You're all mine and I can't lose you to the titans. I can't lose you to anyone. You'll be safe there." He pecked your lips, your chin, your neck. "You'll be safe... I'll keep you safe... my wife-"

"B- But I don't... I don't want to resign..." You said. What the hell was he doing? Marriage? A house??? Your resignation???? You hadn't even talked about this "...I don't want to leave the scouts! I'm still too young to marry and I- I want to fight! I want to live my life before settling down, I don't want to-"

"Sshh..." He pressed his thumb to your lips, shushing you. "...you'll live your life, by my side."

What were you supposed to do? Give in and let him take care of you? Surrender yourself and your entire life to a man you had just started being with? To a man who hadn't even told you he loved you. Maybe he didn't even love you.

You cupped his cheek and you pecked his lips. You just needed him to surrender to you. You needed him to let his guard down before you'd make the crucial question. And he did.

You were the only possible person in this world who had seen this man veing something close to vulnerable and exposed.

He pressed his forehead against your own and closed his eyes briefly. He must've thought he had done everything right and that you'd instantly bend to his will, but that wasn't going to happen.

"Levi?" You spoke at last. "Do you love me?"

His eyes opened and stared at you. His heart thrummed hard beneath his chest. You knew you had just struck a sensitive spot because his answer took some time to come. It almost looked like he was asking you why — why make such an important and serious question right now? Why?

"It's just that..." you licked your lips. You had always been a patient person. You were going to explain it to him, but you weren't going to marry a man who hadn't even told you those three words. "...you asked me to marry you, and be with you and... and be your housewife... and I'm willing to do it because I love you but..."

You didn't know much about relationships. All the 'relationships' you've ever had were just meaningless hookups with your fellow cadets when you were in the training corps.

"...I think... It would be unfair if I love and marry a man who doesn't love me."

Oh but he loved you. He loved you so much. You were his precious little woman that he couldn't do without. You were his everything, his all. But he couldn't tell you that because every person he has ever loved has died. One day he might tell you he loves you... and the next you might die.

How would he handle that?

He wouldn't handle that. He couldn't.

He nodded in understanding. Maybe he couldn't yet make you his housewife. Maybe he'd let you stay in the survey corps for now.

"I'll... talk to Erwin myself."

You smiled at him. You knew the entire conversation would result to this.

"Thank you." You stood off his lap. You couldn't deny it. Your heart ached because he hadn't told you he loved you.

But maybe he never will.

You made your way to his door to exit his office. If you stayed a little longer you'd probably start crying.

"But I... I'm here for you to love you." You smiled him a bitter smile. "I always will be."

[seeingteacupsindragons]

It is Moriarthree week (?? I guess?) and because my inbox is so quiet lately, I have to think of ideas for my own content (how rude), and I think I can make today's prompt (????) into a meta idea.

Sibling Bonding! Let's go.

Let's go, in fact, all the way back to chapter two, when Albert takes time off work to help Louis and Albert move into their manor in Durham. Albert does not live there and I'm not sure he's ever actually even there after his little brothers are all moved in; most of the plot takes place in London, where he canonically lives, and it's mentioned he sees William (and accordingly, Louis) maybe once or twice a month (in The Final Problem). And yet, despite there not being any real plans to carry out their murder plot from Durham, or any actual intention yet of starting their plot in earnest, Albert comes and helps them move in because that's the brotherly thing to do!

I will say that later it's not totally clear when this chapter takes place. If he's just moving to Durham, it would make sense for Liam to be 17 and just having gotten his professorship. And it might make sense for Albert to help…literal children move in. But they don't actually look that young in any other respect, William actually appears in that chapter to have already had his job while living…elsewhere? (Sir, it is a multi-hour train ride from London to Durham; what is happening?). And it would require an extra time skip that's not indicated and it would fuck up the years.

So we're just going to have to assume they've actually known each other for 14 years already and the timeline is just a bit of mess yet again.

It's been 13 years since we last saw them, and things have changed. Albert has really been fully integrated into the sibling trio by then. So this chapter has to do a lot of work. Since their relationship is so critical to and such a huge emotional component of the story, it needs to be established very early. And I actually think the way it's done here is significantly more effective than massive exposition. It's just some small details, the careful interactions and inside jokes and the well-oiled reactions to each other's habits. There's not much heavy exposition. We find out more about their middling years together later, with Jack and even Milverton.

But in chapter two, we see this wealth of years between them in small details and not stories. We see Albert's overly detailed map, which William is just politely exasperated about and knew to expect. We hear Louis talk about Albert's fastidiousness as common knowledge among the brothers, a sign they've lived closely together for a long time, since Albert's bio family never seemed to pick up on it. We hear about Albert having made his excuses to the military to give his brothers a hand and see where they're going to be living. We see them comfortable, with sleeves rolled up, working together on domestic tasks before they work together on murderous tasks again. They work together even on something as simple as cleaning as an effective team.

But those little details, shown right up front, kind of establish the same thing as William liking the Fibonacci sequence and Shakespeare do. They actually show the lived in relationship instead of telling us what it is. They give us small details to find cute and which aren't overwhelming when actual plot is supposed to be happening. A lot of those details upfront grow into something else later.

And, apparently, Louis even hates grapefruit, but eats it for their plan. Cute.

[starfinss]

hello!! i’m new to your blog but if your requests are open how about childe with a harbinger s/o? someone who help fuels his need for battle and keeps him warm at night?

Ah, hello, Anon! Welcome to my blog! My requests are very much open indeed!

I‘m unsure of if you wanted headcanons or a short fic, but I’ll write both for good measure. Also, if you’re on my blog’s actual page and there’s no read more button on this post, click the date just above the post and it should show you the whole thing. I have no idea why it won’t show the read more and can’t seem to fix it.

Anyway, please enjoy!

———

- Tartaglia would be smitten with someone who has that fighting spirit.

- Of course, if you’re not much of a fighter, there are certainly other aspects of you he likes.

- But having someone who will give him cuddles and sparring matches?

- This boy is in heaven.

- If you’re a fellow Harbinger, he’ll find any chance he can get to work alongside you.

- The two of you together have more than a little sway in the Snezhnayan military as literally two of its aces, so you’re more often than not the dynamic duo of the Fatui.

- Harbingers Eleven and Twelve are a package deal and everyone knows it.

- Power couple? Power couple indeed. The definition of a power couple.

- Literally. With the combined power of your visions, combat ability, and your looove, you kick ass.

- Tartaglia is literally like “look at my girl, off to destroy people.”

- He’s proud of your power and will brag about how strong you are any chance he can get.

- Your sparring matches are fierce.

- The two of you are pretty evenly matched in terms of power, so you need a wide open space to spar or things will get… messy.

- Like I’m talking vases smashed, tables broken in half kind of messy.

- It’s best you spar outside so you don’t wreck the house.

- You’re his enabler, like he’ll say something really fucking ominous about how the snow is a perfect backdrop for bloodshed and you’re like ‘shit, you right.’

- I’m getting Rakan and Xaya from League of Legends vibes but with way less freedom fighter and way more murder and battle hunger.

- I don’t know why I like the thought of him calling you his ‘little dove,’ but I do and I will be using that.

- You treat each other’s wounds after battles, all that fun stuff.

- Partners in Crime 100%.

- But at the end of the day, the two of you end up snuggled close at night no matter where you are, be it out camping in the wild or stationed in Liyue Harbor.

———

“Ouch.”

A huffed chuckle, and you felt the bandages around your waist go slack.

“Sorry,” Tartaglia said, “That pyro arrow really came out of nowhere, hm?”

You snorted. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

Another chuckle, and you felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head, making you smile.

“That’s my little dove,” he said, and you smiled wider at the affectionate nickname, “tough as nails.”

“You’re the same way,” you said, “Always— shit!”

You felt the bandages tighten again, and Tartaglia muttered a soft apology as he finished tying them around your wound.

“There,” he said, “all wrapped up.”

You pressed a palm to your bandaged waist, wincing at the tenderness beneath it, and Tartaglia pulled your hand away, making you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t mess with it too much,” he said, “it’ll form a lovely scar, but it’s best to let it heal for now.”

He loved your scars, something you’d been insecure about before you met him. But he told you they showed you were strong, that you were a fighter befitting the title of Twelfth Harbinger. And in turn, you loved his scars. The uneven skin beneath your fingertips reminded you that the man you loved was real, and that what you had with him wasn’t just a dream.

“Thank you for patching me up, love,” you said, and Tartaglia smiled, lips pressing tenderly to your forehead.

“Always.”

The door to the office swung open, revealing a young Fatui foot soldier. When he saw your state of undress, he covered his masked face, turning around.

“L-Lord Harbingers, headquarters have sent further orders. Please pick them up at your convenience.”

You reached for your shirt, buttoning it on over your chest, followed by your jacket. You hadn’t been fully naked, you were wearing a bra, but you still felt a little bad for giving the young man such a surprising eyeful.

“Thank you,” Tartaglia said, and you noticed a sliver of venom in his voice when he spoke again, “but maybe consider knocking next time.”

The foot soldier turned around, his cheeks beet red. “Y-yes, Lord Harbinger, sir! Will do, sir!”

Nearly tripping over himself, the soldier scurried from the room, closing the door after him.

“You scared the wits out of the poor kid,” you said, and Tartaglia scowled.

“Nobody but I am able to see you like that.”

His jealousy was a little adorable, you had to admit. You stood up from your perch on the edge of the desk and crossed to stand close to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“It was an accident, love. Give it a rest.”

He sighed, resting his chin on your head. “Okay, if you say so, dove.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, happy and warm before heading off to take care of official business. As you walked, you stood close, fingers brushing together every so often, just on the verge of interlacing.

The Eleventh and Twelfth were a package deal, everyone knew that. Even your new orders knew that. And as you looked up at your love, meeting his smile with yours, everything was perfect.

[ye4gerismarchives]

the royal selection: chp 1

an: first chapter of the selection!

taglist: @thelovehashira143 @conexion9

The idea of marrying just for the sake of your kingdom seemed noble but so stressful at the same time. Your parents didn’t like the idea of the kingdom’s popularity going down and you completely understood why. Although the royal family of Iyoureyne was no longer in political power, they brought in the money via tourism. But with other kingdoms like Paradis and Marley taking all the attention, Iyoureyne was slowly being pushed to the side.

So, your parent’s great idea was to hold a selection. They would send you to a villa with eight different nobles that would fight for your heart. The attention from the press, the idea of an upcoming royal wedding, and a possible alliance would definitely bring Iyoureyne to the top.

“Truthfully, how do you feel about this?”

“I know it does good for Iyoureyne-.”

“How do you feel?”

You sat in front of your vanity, looking for the answer. “I’m nervous, Moblit. What if they’re greedy and untrustworthy? Most of these men are from Marley and Paradis- bigger kingdoms. Who knows what they’re up to?”

Moblit places a hand on your shoulder. “I understand. I trust you’ll make the right choice and if something is found out about one of the men, it will be out to the public and Iyoureyne will definitely get the publicity it needs.”

Sir Moblit’s, your guard, words made you feel a little bit more comfortable. Regardless of the outcome, your task would be completed.

You were slowly filtering yourself from the couples when someone tapped your shoulder. You turn around and are face to face with a man with his hair pushed back. He had a dress coat on (like every other male at the venue) that was decorated with medals. “Your Royal Highness, may I have this dance?” he bows slightly as he asks. You take a moment to prepare your answer.

“Yes.”

You could either dance or look like a fool alone. The mystery man grinned at your answer and led you to the dance floor. A waltz began to play and the couples began to move. As you danced with your partner, you found it easier each moment to make eye contact with him. “I don’t know if this is appropriate to say at the moment but, I’m Porco Galliard...the viscount from Liberio. I’m here for the selection.”

Ah. Viscount Galliard. Porco was the second Viscount of Liberio. You had learned that his brother, Marcel was the first viscount. Unfortunately, he had passed away due to an act of violence. Porco, in the middle of mourning, was immediately made the next viscount.

“Well, lucky you. You’re the first selected that I’ve met with. It’s really nice to meet you,” you reply. Porco raises his eyebrows. “I’m honored. Are you aware of any of the selected?” he asks. “Why? So you can know your competition and make some sort of plan to get rid of them?” You joke. “Somewhat,” Porco replies with the same joking manner. You pause the conversation so that Porco can twirl you briefly. “No, I’m not aware of the selected,” you answer once you were back together. Before Porco can continue your conversation, you’re interrupted by another noble.

“Viscount Galliard, you don’t mind if I steal the princess away from you, do you?”

The Earl of Shiganshina or simply Armin Arlert. He comes from a family of military heroes. He happens to be one in the making.

You give Porco an apologetic look. “I should probably continue chatting with my guest. It was really nice talking with you, Viscount Galliard. I’ll see you at the villa, possibly.” Porco bows to you again before leaving you and Armin. “I’m sure you’re tired from all that dancing. Let me treat you, Princess.” Armin’s greeting was completely informal. He didn’t bow and didn’t refer to you by your styling. You didn’t mind but he had to show a little respect. It was protocol. Dismissing protocol was disrespectful. You nod instead of giving him a verbal answer. He doesn’t even offer you his hand as he leaves the dancefloor. Maybe he wasn’t comfortable? You hoped that was the case. Some servers stood on the side, admiring the dancers with their beverages and snacks on standby. One of them snapped out of their gaze once they noticed you approaching. “Apple cider, Your Royal Highness?” You take a glass before giving the server a small thank you. Earl Arlert admires you as you take a sip from your glass.

“Your Royal Highness?” Another voice approaches you. This time the person bows. “I’m Eren, the prince of Shiganshina, one of the selected. But you can call me Eren Yeager if it makes you more comfortable.”

Wow, what a charmer.

“Oh, shoot, I forgot to introduce myself as a selected as well. My apologies, Princess Y/N,” Armin interrupts. There are several things you’ve forgotten, you pointed out to yourself. “Armin, I didn’t know you were participating in this as well.” Eren looked over at Armin, with a somewhat surprised expression. “I didn’t know you were participating as well. Whatever helps Iyoureyne’s…” Armin pauses and looks you over for a moment, “image.” Eren gives him a blank look. “What does that mean?” You place your empty glass on the tray of the server that you got it from. “Excuse me, Prince Eren and Earl Arlert, I do have other people to meet. I will see you at the villa…possibly.” Unable to give Armin the stage he clearly needed, you walked off.

What was it with Armin? Was the military status? Is he trying to impress someone? How dare he talk-

“Oof-”

“Oh-! I am so sorry!”

“I swear Jean, you have two left feet. You just bumped into the Princess. THEE PRINCESS.”

You had bumped into a pretty big man. Cute, too. “I apologize too…I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m really sorry,” you spluttered. When your brain began to calm down from the embarrassment, you finally took in the details of the two new people you had just met. The guy you had bumped into had an ash brown mullet and what you thought was a goatee. The second guy was short and had grey shaved hair. From what you could pick up on, the taller guy’s name was Jean. “No need to apologize, Your Royal Highness. I was distracted as well,” Jean replied sheepishly. “This fool…My name’s Connie Springer but I GUESS we have to be formal in this setting. I’m the Viscount of Regako. And this big awkward tree-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You’re right. He’s not as awkward as he portrays himself to be. Jean is such a people person. The number of girls AND guys he’s gotten with is-”

“I’m the Marquess of Trost. It’s nice to finally meet you, Your Royal Highness. Connie and I are here for the selection.”

That was a lot to take in.

“So, are you two voluntarily here, or are you being forced to show up?” You ask, thinking about Armin’s comment. The two look at each other before answering. “I got an invitation and decided to come just to get a taste of the higher life,” Connie answers.

The Viscount of Regako had his title passed down from generation to generation. Although they hold no importance to the main royal family of Paradis (Eren’s family), the Springer don’t hesitate to use their title for good.

“I was kind of forced to come. I wasn’t going to, but after a lot of pestering, I decided to show up. I’m really hoping to have a good time and learn something though,” Jean added.

The Marquess of Trost did have a little controversy around his name but no one really knows since he doesn’t talk to the public.

“Thank you for being honest with me.” You give the guys a small smile. “I have to find the rest of the guys but I do hope to see you two at the villa. Do enjoy yourself.”

As the night went on, you managed to bump into two more of the guys you were supposed to meet.

The Duke of Liberio, Reiner Bruan, and his friend Sir Bertholdt had come together. You had learned from Reiner that the two were very good friends growing up. Everything you had learned about Bertholdt…came from Reiner.

You had one more guy left but everyone else that you had come across was not a part of the selection. You had learned before the ending of the ball, your last selected, Prince Onyankopon of Teye, had to pull out at the last minute due to a political emergency- he would be eliminated from the selection immediately.

The night finally came to an end. You were extremely exhausted yet excited to go to the villa the next morning.

You had decided to eliminate Bertholdt due to his lack of communication. Yeah, Armin was something…but at least you knew the guy.

Hopefully, Bertholdt didn’t feel too bad. You couldn’t feel bad either because there were six more men to focus on.

kinda questioning about bertholdt got the most votes 😭 i thought y’all loved him in the bachelorette. clearly we’re not over what onyankopon did😕

here’s the next poll!

the next post will be a q&a post to help you get to know the remaining guys :)

[dissociativesworld]

Unexpected Matrimony

Pairing: Captain Rex x reader

Word Count: ~1.9K

Tags: NSFW, slow-burn-ish (familiar with each other before the story), marriage for the mission, Rex sucks at flirting, reader teases the shit out of him, both are oblivious, PiV (wrap it up in rl), cum outside (whoa I know), some dom energy from Rex, not edited because this got rewritten three times already

A/N: Kinda find Rex hard to write, not being he's not amazing but because I feel like his character is a little more complex emotionally than some of the other clones? (I feel the same way about Echo, I'd love to write him but shit there's so many facets) idk either way - enjoy

Story below the cut

“So how’s it feel being the only clone trooper to be legally married?” You giggle, taking a sip of wine.

You had no idea why you and Rex getting married was so important to the mission but Anakin seemed pressed that you would say no. So much so that he didn’t tell either of you until Ahsoka let it slip on the ride here. While initially annoyed, you enjoyed Rex’s shocked face way too much.

“What the matter Captain? The idea of marrying me that appalling?” You elbowed him in the ribs, earning a hearty laugh from his crew.

He didn’t respond but looked even more flustered at your jesting. Well, there were certainly worse men in the Republic to be forced to marry than him.

Rex’s nervous chuckle brought you back to the moment.

“I have to admit, I never thought that would be something I experienced.” He rubbed the back of his head like he did when nervous.

Since when did you know that? You caught yourself. Being friends with Anakin and Padme meant you got more face time with the 501st than normal civilians so you and Rex weren’t strangers. You’d even accompanied them to 79s on more than one occasion. But Rex, while there, had always hung back a bit while you were there. Or at least that’s what his team told you.

Now it was just the two of you sitting in a honeymoon suite on some planet you’d never been to before while Anakin and the rest of the squad were traipsing around completing the mission. Maybe afterward he’d actually explain why you two were just sitting here. Surely Rex would be more useful helping out or at least happier than he seemed to be in your presence.

“Still bummed that it had to be me?” You circled back to your earlier joke.

Rex glanced up at you, his brown eyes searching your face. His face was hard to read, probably got plenty of practice with a general like Anakin.

“I definitely didn’t imagine it being you. But I wouldn’t consider that a bad thing.” His voice trailed off as he spoke, you almost couldn’t hear the last part.

“Aw well, I’m glad I’m not a complete letdown.” You laughed, happy to see you earned another blush from the man. “I guess the guys will never let you hear the end of this, huh?”

“I don’t mind. I get to rub it in their faces if anything.” Rex mumbled into his drink, a pink tint still coloring his face.

You giggled, biting your lower lips as you watched him. The muscle in his jaw was tensed as he swallowed, the tip of his tongue flicking across his lips. For a clone, he was so distinct and not just from the blond hair. The way he held himself was different, you’d noticed it the second you met him and he hadn’t disappointed since. You found her eyes dipping lower, enjoying the new sight of him without the top pieces of his armor on.

“You’re staring.” Rex’s voice brought you back to reality yet again.

“I can’t help it, you’re pretty good-looking you know.” You smirked, lifting your glass back up to your lips.

“You’re one to talk.” He chuckled. “You ever wonder why the boys are always inviting you out?”

You scoffed with a giggle, “here I thought it was because of my impeccable sense of humor.”

“I mean, you’re so much more than beautiful,” there was the neck scratch again. “You really haven’t noticed their flirting?”

You paused, considering the question.

“Nope, I just assumed they’re like that with all women.” You giggled, pausing a moment.

Maybe you should just go for it. What’s the harm? The poor guy was already married to you.

“To be honest I was probably watching you more than listening to them.” You feigned a cough before taking another sip of your drink.

Rex’s head snapped up.

“Why is that?”

“I told you, you’re a handsome guy.” You giggled.

Rex glanced back down at the floor for a second before standing from where he was leaning. Your eyes followed him, watching the way he moved toward you the way he always did. Shoulder’s back, spine straight, chin up. He paused in front of you before holding out a hand.

You took it without hesitation, allowing yourself to be pulled to your feet curious what he was up to. Maybe the impassive face wasn’t such a good thing. At least to you.

Rex inhaled sharply, this was the closest you’d been to him besides the wedding ceremony. He smelled like the military issue soap you’d come to associate with the troopers and you could catch a whiff of the whiskey he’d been drinking, a wedding gift from Anakin. Or a condolence gift, who knew with him.

“I’d like to kiss you if you’re not opposed,” Rex spoke formally, previous relaxed chatter seemed to be forgotten.

You paused for a moment, surprised at the sudden forward approach. Never once before did you think he would ever be genuinely interested in you. Especially after his teams’ comments about him being standoffish whenever you were around.

Rex’s blank face faltered, it was only a second but you saw the momentary collapse in confidence.

Fuck it.

You reached up, grabbing his shoulders before pushing your lips against his. He didn’t move for a second, seemly surprised by your actions. After a moment you felt arms circle your waist and pull you closer against his chest. You melted into the embrace, feeling the sinewy muscle through his blacks.

He reluctantly pulled away, eyes soft as he stared into yours.

“Why’d you stop?” You asked quietly, eyes flicking between his searching for an answer.

His lips crashed back into yours making your heart leap in your chest. A hand went to the back of your head, fingers knotting in your hair as his lips moved against yours. You looped your arms around his neck both of you pulling each other into yourselves.

Rex’s hands went to your thighs, lifting them so you could circle your legs around his waist. You paid no mind as he moved, just focused on his mouth as his tongue danced with yours.

Suddenly he broke away and dropped you onto the bed in the middle of the room. You gazed up at the captain to see him staring back with an adoring gaze that you had never seen before, not that you were complaining.

“I don’t know where you got the idea that I don’t like you.” Rex spoke in a husky tone. “But hopefully this clears that up.”

He leaned down and caged you down to the bed with his body, lips back on yours. You could feel your lips becoming raw from the attention but you didn’t want it to stop. It wasn’t long though before he moved to kiss down your jaw then neck to your shoulder where he bit down gently, sucking at your soft flesh.

You could feel the heat pool between your legs, your hands moving to his back as you moan. He bit down a little harder and you dug your nails into his back. The rumble of his groan could be felt against your skin before he moved to continue trailing kisses down between your breasts to your navel. You mentally cursed the dress that you were wearing, it was going to take way too long to get it off and you did not want to wait that long.

Rex on the other hand didn’t seem to mind as he reached for your calf, hand moving up your leg and under the dress skirts before stopping right above your knee. His eyes met yours again, unspoken question hanging in the air.

And then his comm rung.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you blurted out, sexual frustration clouding your mind.

Rex chuckled before reluctantly getting up and retrieving the device from where his armor was. He walked back over to where you were, now sitting up.

“General Anakin?” Rex answered.

“Hey Rex - sorry for ditching you two, we needed a convincing cover for being planet-side. Are you two both still alive?”

You could hear hushed laughter in the background, gazing up at Rex you could see his face starting to flush again. He was so lucky color didn’t show well over holo or else he’d never hear the end of it.

“Yes sir.” He answered curtly, eyes darting down to look at you with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Good, we’ll be back in about a half-hour to get you guys. Hang in there.” Anakin said before signing off.

Both of you stood in silence for a moment before you smirked and stood up next to him.

“I don’t know about you but I think that means we still have some time to kill.”

Rex reached around your back to unlace the back when you pushed him down onto the bed. He looked up at you with an arched brow.

“Still not enough to get this thing off,” your smirk remaining on your face as you move to straddle his waist.

His eyes widened momentarily before returning your smirk and pulling you into another bruising kiss. You moved your hips just enough for him to be able to push the waistband of his blacks down before you felt his hard cock press against your damp panties. His fingers pushed the fabric aside as you reached down to guide his cock.

You could feel your own blush crawling along your cheeks as you watched Rex’s face. His eyes were hungry as they locked between your legs as you sat on his cock, he moaned and dropped his head back onto the bed as you bottomed out. Moving your hips slightly earned another loud groan from him emboldening you to set a slow teasing pace.

Suddenly he gripped your hips before sitting up so your bodies were flush against each other again.

“We don’t have time for that mesh’la and I’m not leaving here until I feel you cum on my cock.” His hips gyrating into yours, making sure to hit every sensitive spot inside you.

His hand went to your clit as you rode him, the heat coiling quickly in your belly. You could hear him murmuring in Mando’a as your pussy clenched around him, the tension threatening to snap.

Rex’s comm rang again.

You paused, beyond frustrated.

“I didn’t say stop mesh’la,” Rex growled, hips snapping up into you again encouraging you to keep going.

“But Skyw-” You started before Rex grabbed the back of your head, pulling your face to his in a searing kiss.

The tension building snapped and you felt your orgasm wash over you like a wave, your legs shaking from the force. Rex pushed his hips up into you twice more before pulling you off him, ropes of cum spilling down his cock as you two panted.

Rex moved you to his side as he got up and grabbed the comm, yet again, slipping his cock into his pants before answering.

You didn’t bother to eavesdrop this time, laying back on the bed letting the blissed-out feeling numb your senses. Soon Rex was standing over you, a genuine smile on his face.

“It’s time to go mesh’la.” His voice was soft, as he stroked your still exposed thigh.

You smiled back, sighing deeply. “One more kiss?”

Rex chuckled, grabbing your hand to help you stand. He pressed his forehead against yours before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“There will be plenty more later mesh’la."