#just because there was an issue with her keycard

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

I am in pain writing my boys like this

part thirty-two

❝ EFFORT ❞

MONDAY — JULY 30 — 5:02AM

AFTER AN EVENTFUL DAY OF NEVER COMING OUT OF BELLAMY’S ROOM, BENTLEY WOKE UP ON MONDAY MORNING LAYING BACK TO BACK WITH HIM. 

And the first thing he thought about was Bruce.

He wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him everything so bad — about the parties and the nightmares and the teachers and Tyler and Chloe and the (maybe?) Secret Keeper and his father. He wanted to just lay it all out at his feet so he didn’t have to deal with it alone anymore… but he couldn’t.

Because if he did, Bruce would come get them and take them home, and someone else would move into the dorm. He’d never see any of them again.

He had to show Bruce that he could do this no matter what kind of problems he had — he was thirteen, and he could deal with his issues by himself. He didn’t always need his dad or his brothers to swoop in and do it for him; he was capable. More than capable.

So for now, he decided, not a Wayne in the world would know a thing. Would it be easier on him if they did? Sure. But getting whisked home to live a life of solitude while every other teenager in the world did whatever they wanted didn’t sound like an ideal situation. Plus, he was pretty sure he’d have lost his mind if he didn’t stop homeschooling when he did.

It was okay. He was okay. Everyone was okay. Everything was okay.

He’d just focus on school — it was a good enough distraction. He did have seven classes to survive, and nine friendships to maintain.

(Or eight, if… Asten didn’t want to talk to him.)

So he decided that’s what he was gonna do. Just be a teenager, and try his best to forget about all the existential dread stuff.

He woke up, blocked the number his father had called him from, and left Bellamy’s room to go get ready. 

It was only a little after five, so he was able to get into his room and do everything he needed without waking Asten up, which was nice — because he wasn’t sure where they stood. They hadn't talked at all since the fight, but Bentley did end up in bed arrest in Bellamy's room, so he guessed it wasn't really either of their faults.

He grabbed his bag and all of his things out of his room and left, shutting the door softly behind him. Should he go back in Bellamy's room? Or just sit and the dining table and do something silent?

That moment was about when his phone vibrated in his hand.

The name on the text message was Chloe Singh. (He'd changed it almost immediately after she gave it to him.) It said: Hey, meet me at the fountain at 530?

He didn't even have time to think about replying before a second one came: Or at breakfast, if you're not a psycho that wakes up at 430 for school like me.

Bentley hummed to himself, typing a quick response.

Just text me when you're ready. I'm already dressed and all.

He hardly had time to look away before another message blipped onto the screen. Oh, okay! I'm ready then, haha.

With a faint little smile and a shrug, Bentley made sure he slid his keycard into his phone case and made for the door, leaving the dorm with his schoolbag in the dark.

When he made it down the stairs and the several sidewalks it took to get to the fountain with the willows, Chloe was already there in her uniform with her bag. Her blonde hair was tied up halfway with a black ribbon, and pin-straight so it looked extra long. She glanced back at him when she heard him approach and sent him a friendly wave, which he returned.

Were they technically friends now? How many times did you have to cry in front of someone before you became friends?

With that on his mind, Bentley made for the bench she was on, dropping his bag near his feet and taking a seat next to her.

"Good morning," She said quietly, eyes focused on campus staff that seemed to be moving something into the art building across the way, past the willow trees.

"Good morning," He replied.

"Listen, I just... wanted to apologize for Saturday night," She sighed, looking down at her lap and deflating slightly, a stark comparison to how confident she looked in class or the halls. "I had a massive breakdown and it was really weird. I word vomited so many unnecessary details."

Bentley shook his head, glancing over at her. "Don't apologize. We all have our moments. I, in particular, have had at least thirty since I moved into Redwood."

Chloe glanced at him, furrowing her brow. "I never imagined Bruce Wayne's heir would have moments."

"I wasn't always his," Bentley shrugged, forcing his father's voice out of his mind, focusing on Chloe's brown eyes that were watching him. "Anyways, it's no problem. Breakdowns suck, but they suck even worse if you're alone."

She blinked and looked away, then back. "That's why I wanted to say thank you," She continued, glancing down at her hands, fiddling with her fingers. "For being there for me. I... can honestly say I don't have anyone else, as pitiful and attention seeking as that sounds. Living a double life is really hard when everyone only knows the fake part."

Bentley watched her breathe in deep, then blow it out. "Anyways, not to get all pitiful. I think I have the rumors handled on my end... my roommates were the only ones who knew I was going to meet you, and they swore they wouldn't say anything. What about yours?"

"Only two know I was gone, and they won't say anything," Bentley shrugged. "I think we're safe."

A beat passed.

"Thank God," Chloe exhaled, brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "I'd never forgive myself if a chimp like Tyler Abbott got ahold of information like that. He'd have the entire campus believing whatever he wanted about us in, like, ten seconds."

Bentley didn't reply.

"Hey, you okay?" She continued, lowering her volume just a little. "You seem preoccupied."

Bentley shook his head in an attempt to shake himself back into the present and out of whatever routine of self loathing his mind was trying to put him in. "Yeah, just pretty drained. I've been really stressed lately."

"I'm sorry..." Chloe mumbled, and Bentley shrugged.

"It's not your fault," He continued, waving her off. "What about you? Were you okay after the other night?"

Chloe shrugged. "Same... just kinda drained. Emotions and their stupid, stupid existence have a way of doing that. But I'm feeling okay now. Practice for cheer tryouts starts after school today, so I pretty much am required to be okay."

A beat passed.

"So... did you and Layla end up having fun at the dance?" She questioned, looking across the way at the willows, a little hint of something he couldn't quite place filtering through into her words.

Bentley shrugged. "It was okay, but I... didn't go with her. I went with my roommates. To see the band that was playing."

"Oh," Chloe nodded to herself.

Another few moments of quiet passed.

"I... wanted to ask you something," Chloe started, turning to face him slightly on the bench, getting this... he wasn't sure. Embarrassed sort of look on her face. "You can totally say no if you want to; I know I'm not the easiest person to stomach."

"What is it?" Bentley questioned, turning toward her a little, too.

Chloe breathed in and out. "I know I was really mean and weird and stuff when we met, and I don't have any clever excuses to talk myself out of that. But I still... wanna be friends with you, if you want."

Bentley watched her nervously tuck a piece of hair behind her left her, her brown eyes straying down to the bench they were on.

"Yeah... I'd like that," Bentley replied, watching her anxiously pick at her nails. "But you... I don't want it to be some kind of ploy for your mom. If we're gonna be friends, I just... want to be friends. Not for anybody else."

"A hundred percent," Chloe nodded. "She won't have a clue I'm even talking to you anymore. She seems to have moved on in her searching for my perfect future divorce since I blew it with you already. Which means we're in the clear."

Bentley hummed in acknowledgment, glancing at her for a moment more before looking out at the trees again. "Can I ask an awkward question?"

"Sure," Chloe shrugged. "Can't be more awkward than me word vomiting my entire life's story, and my mothers."

Bentley found it in himself to chuckle at that. "I was just... wondering. Since you were only kinda acting, did you... mean what you told me? In class?"

Chloe glanced over at him quickly, her brow furrowed, before she seemed to realize what he meant. Her face flushed pink and she looked the other way. "That you're hot? I-I mean, yeah, I guess..."

Bentley didn't say anything.

"God, why can't I talk to you?" She mumbled, resting her elbows on her knees and dropping her head into her hands with a nervous little laugh. "It's so weird. Being, like, real. I always know what to say when I'm pretending."

Bentley shrugged. "Maybe you should... not pretend."

"I can't do that!" She said suddenly, sitting up. "My mother would disown me if I even thought about acting contrary to how she wants."

Bentley hummed. "How does she know what you act like here at school?"

Chloe looked up at him, a cringe spreading across her face. "She's the assistant Dean. She lives on campus."

Bentley blinked. "Oh..."

"Yeah..." Chloe shook her head. "I literally can't get away from her and her prying eyes through the school-day. That's why I wanted to talk to you now, before the day starts."

Bentley couldn't even imagine his father watching him like a hawk like that. When he first went to the Wayne's to, quote-on-quote, destroy them, he could hardly fathom the anxiety caused by the fact that his father may have possibly been watching. But Chloe's mom, putting her up to something out of greed, punishing her when she failed, watching her to make sure she was perfect... maybe they weren't so different after all.

Bentley didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

“So, are you liking it so far, here? I’ve heard Gotham is way different from New York,” She questioned. (How many times was he going to be asked that question?)

He shrugged. “New York is really cool. I like it here. It feels more… alive.”

Chloe nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “There’s so much that goes on, it's hard to get away from it all. That's why I like it so much here.”

Another beat passed.

“So, if it's not off limits, what are your powers?” Bentley questioned, glancing over at her. “I haven’t seen or heard anything about them.”

“Oh, I…” Chloe started, looking off at the trees ahead of them. “I… uh…”

Bentley could recognize discomfort when he saw it. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I just…” She trailed off, breathing deep and holding it for a second, then exhaling. “I don’t have any.”

Bentley furrowed his brow. Wasn’t Redwood only for metahumans?

“My sisters do, and I have the genes for it, I just… they… haven’t appeared yet. My mom says that sometimes it takes a lot to make them show up,” Chloe shrugged. 

Bentley vaguely remembered hearing something about that when he was dealing with the whole Dr. Keene disaster -- it was like how Nico’s super speed only started to show up after he learned he was adopted, and only really showed up after he got kidnapped and put in a big machine that messed with his DNA. He remembered that metahumans finding their powers was… usually due to trauma.

He wasn’t quite sure what that said about the rest of the Redwood students. But maybe it was a good thing that Chloe didn’t have hers.

“I guess we’ll just have to see, then,” Bentley shrugged.

“I guess so…”

They fell into a comfortable silence, looking out at the willow trees in front of them.

Okay.. maybe Bentley had ten friendships to maintain.

--

When breakfast came around, Bentley sat across the table from Asten.

They didn’t say anything to each other. Bentley looked over at him a few times, but he was always talking to Rockie, or looking down at the table, or across the room. Valor was watching the both of them -- Bentley noticed his gaze a few times, calculating, contemplating -- but when Bentley’s eyes met his, it always switched to a supportive smile, faint enough to go missed by everyone else but present enough to be a little comforting.

Bentley and Asten didn’t talk at lunch, either.

And when music theory came around, Asten only spoke to Rockie, and Bentley only spoke to Vera, and in free period, Asten sat with Rockie, and Bellamy and Valor sat with Bentley. It was…

Weird.

He went to practice soccer with Varian and Koa, and they talked about nothing and everything. He went to dinner, where Asten deliberately ignored him even though they were within whispering distance from one another. And then he did his homework at the dining table, and listened to his roommates talk, and hung out, and texted Chloe, and went to bed without saying anything to his best friend who was sleeping one bunk away.

As wrong as it felt, Bentley was the one who’d been right. Asten was a hypocrite and all the lovely things Bentley had said in his anger fueled haze. So, for this one time, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t going to allow himself to apologize.

If Asten wanted to talk to him, Asten was going to have to put in the effort.

And as far as Bentley could tell, right now, he didn’t care very much.

--

tag list that never works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[adamshallperish]

if you as a working class person are rude to other working class people we might as well just pack up now and surrender to capitalism

[wandasaura]

EVEN STATUES CRUMBLE

summary — when exhaustion creeps up on you after a long week, you find yourself coming undone quickly. luckily, maria’s there to hold you close and put all of your broken pieces back together

warning(s) — hurt/comfort, elements of fluff, domestic maria hill, platonic blackhill, brief mentions of battle, civilian casualties, and death, sleepy natasha being a softie, maria fixing all of your problems because that’s just what she does

The keycard attached to the waistband of your pants got you into pretty much anywhere aboard the helicarrier; one of the very few perks that came with being a Level Ten agent alongside Nicholas J. Fury. You adored your livelihood, that wasn’t even a question you graveled over on your busiest days – you wouldn’t sacrifice so many nights if you didn’t – however, with being so high on the ladder of ranks came the inevitable burnout when paperwork and mission reports piled up; which they inevitably always did despite your meticulous schedule and borderline obsessive work ethic. You delegated the workload of ten other agents on the daily, usually without so much as breaking a sweat, but a particular mission report from a Level Six had gotten to you in a moment of exhaustion. 

Your boots were the same Shield issued footwear that everyone else wore around the helicarrier, clunky and steel toed with near indestructible black laces, but your footsteps were light as you padded down the dimly lit hallway toward an office you’d practically adopted as your own since the director had found himself another right-hand woman. There was no point in knocking when you reached it after what felt like hours of slowly trudging down void hallways, you were the only one with clearance to enter without being physically let in, other than Fury himself, but he’d never turn up to her office, especially not so late into the night. The soft glow of a desk lamp creeping beneath the crack in the door alerted you of life inside the spacious room, and a faint smile pulled at your lips despite your exhaustion and wary emotions. 

A small light on the side of the metal door flashed green for only a millisecond before it faded and the latch clicked tellingly. You bristled at the assault of frigid air that swept past you when you pushed inside tiredly, but steeled your expressions quickly when your eyes trailed over the room and noted not one, but two bodies. A displeased huff fell off of your lips when you noticed Maria behind her desk, a mountain of paperwork practically hiding her from view entirely, and Natasha sprawled out on her couch with a solemn glaze over her green eyes. 

“She’s in my spot.” You sighed, no real malice behind your words, but exhaustion put a damper on your typically lightspoken banter with the redhead. It seems both you and Natasha, a woman that had somehow wormed her way into the heart of the Deputy Director despite her bloodied past, had sought refuge in Maria’s quiet presence tonight, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about it. You held nothing against the reformed assassin, she’d seen you at some of your worst moments, but you’d been holding out hope that a few stolen minutes with Maria alone would heal the ache you carried deep. 

Natasha, who was always quick with her wit, didn’t seem to have it in her either, and softly she allowed her voice to break the silence that had been light over the office prior to your entrance. “I can leave.” You shook your head dismissively, kicking the door closed behind you in favor of stalking over to Maria’s desk. 

Out of habit, the Commander tilted her screen away from your gaze, her dark yet meticulously kept eyebrows furrowing as you came behind her desk without hesitation. “I’m higher clearance than you, and Natasha’s been able to see everything you're doing from the couch, Ria.” You rolled your eyes fondly, hands bracing themselves on the back of her chair that you pulled away from the desk without taking her responsibilities into account. She had the same deadlines as you, only hers weren’t so structured and rigorous. You knew that anything she was doing could wait until morning, even if she liked to be overly prepared and considered anything but early a direct hit to her reputation. “Just hold me.” 

You fell into her lap without another word, curling up against her battered and stiff uniform that had definitely seen better days. Your head tucked itself into the pocket of darkness and warmth between her chin and shoulder, your fingers already working at the hair tie around her thin chestnut strands, wanting them free from the confines of her tightly secured bun. With the black elastic around your wrist, you sighed contently, absentmindedly pulling your fingers through the loose knots that had formed from your ungraceful removal of her hair tie. It was an apologetic gesture, the tips of your fingers soothing the skin of her scalp that had definitely been snagged with your quick movements, but Maria had become accustomed to your endearing quirks that almost always followed a vicious panic attack. 

“Romanoff, if you move from that couch, I will have you on Clint clean-up duty for the rest of the month.” Even if you couldn’t see the Russian from behind your eyelids, even if you were pressed so tightly against Maria’s neck that even with open eyes all you’d see was darkness, your body could practically feel her silent movements. It was a valid response, however you held her to a higher standard than you did other agents. Your girlfriend trusted her with her life, you’d made something of a friend out of her since her first year at Shield, it was slightly insulting that she thought she had to flee at the first sight of vulnerability from you. “I just… I just need a minute.” 

Even as you tried to pull rank, tried to command her obedience, Natasha could tell that your heart wasn’t in it. Whether to humor you, or simply because she didn’t really want to retreat to her own quarters, she sank into the couch once more, throwing her arm over her eyes as she succumbed to the same darkness that you sought out. A shaky breath fell off your lips when Maria’s thumbs dug into your shoulder blades, applying pressure to all of the knots and tension that had accumulated over the grueling week. You’d been unintentionally ghosting her, although neither of you really counted missed lunch dates and empty beds to mean anything significant, but the premise was all the same, even if she held no resentment toward your work ethic that was too similar to her own. 

“Diaz?” Maria’s voice was soft, understanding even, as she asked. Even the name of the agent had you going rigid in her clutches, a choked whimper falling off of your lips as you tightened your grip on her hair and worked feverishly to weave little braids into the silky chestnut strands that could do for a wash and deep condition. You’d have to remember to remind her next time she had a slow morning, but that wasn’t coming anytime soon for either of you. 

You nodded wordlessly against her neck, pinching your eyes shut even tighter if that was at all possible. You loved your job, adored the livelihood that you’d found a family in, but no amount of experience made reading civilian death counts easier. No amount of experience made loss any lighter. “Seventeen, Ria. Seventeen people died. It just– I haven’t seen a civilian death count that high since Sokovia.” 

In retrospect, seventeen people wasn’t a lot, not when you put it up against the battle of Sokovia that had earned Shield another foreign agent and an inconsolable migraine for months to follow, but when you analyzed the mission objective, when you stripped back everything that it was up against, it was still seventeen innocent people that had been caught in the crossfire. “We can’t save them all, mi alma.” It was a weak condolence, Maria knew that, but it was what you needed to hear, even if you detested it. Shield had saved twenty from a Hydra base in Madripoor, all of them no older than nineteen years old, but still seventeen people that were in the wrong place at the wrong time had died. Shield had saved twenty children, but still parents, and siblings, and people had lost their lives to do so. Was any good really done if the children who got to go home didn’t have a mother to help them through the trauma? Had any good really been done if a daughter didn’t have a father to come home to? 

“Eleven.” To Natasha, the number that fell off your lips was entirely random, but for Maria, who knew everything about you, down to the way you liked to tie your shoes, always starting with the left one first, it meant something more. Eleven people had died in an ambush the night that Nicholas J. Fury had swept you away from the rubble and into the empire that hadn’t been so publicly known at the time. Eleven people that you’d known, some loosely and some deeply intimately. Your single mother that had worked four jobs just to keep the electric on in the biting cold of winter had died, and you’d held her hand as she took her final breath, entirely helpless and terrified. Seventeen people had died in Madripoor, and depressingly, you could only picture yourself in the aftermath of such a tragedy. 

How many kids were going to come home from school without a parent? How many parents were going to come home from work without a child? The guilt of surviving weighed heavily on your heart, but it was exhaustion that pushed you past the point of thinking rationally. Madripoor had sung its praises to Shield after the initial battle just under a month ago. You’d seen the headlines, manned the press conferences, talked with the families that had wanted to reach out, but seeing that number in pristine black ink had rattled you fiercely. 

“When’s the last time you slept, bebé?” The softly spoken pet name was usually enough to bring a smile to your face no matter the conditions you faced, but it only had you sinking deeper into Maria now. Your heart felt so heavy in your chest, your bones felt so dense in your body, everything that you’d been managing had finally crushed you; just like the rubble had crushed your mother’s unsuspecting body on a side street in Manhattan when all she’d wanted to do was show you her new favorite coffee shop. 

“Don’t know… the last time I came home?” Your voice was meek, distant as you trailed through your memory trying to locate the date in your mind. You’d been home that Wednesday night, sank into bed beside Maria and held her close until she’d gotten up for her own shift, and had continued to sleep for another two hours before sunlight brought on more assignments and deadlines, but that was so fuzzy now, so long ago. You barely knew the date, but Maria did, and she sighed softly in confirmation. 

“It’s Friday, sweetheart.” She informed, her thumbs still digging into the spots of tension in your back, working out the knots and kinks that had you stiff beneath her touch. “You’re exhausted.” 

“And you’re not? I check the entry logs, Ria.” Your defiance was softly muttered, and Maria sighed her resignation. She hadn’t been home either, not since Thursday morning when she’d slipped out of your arms and left you to rest a while longer in a stiff bed dressed in scratchy sheets, but she’d taken the breaks she knew her body needed, even if it had been begrudgingly. The couch that Natasha was draped across had seen a similar form from her multiple times since then, even if the longest consecutive rest she’d gotten was merely half an hour. That was the difference between you both. Maria knew when she had to come first, even if she often waited until the very last second to actually step away from her tasks. You, on the other hand, saw everything else as a priority. That was what got you so high on the ranking ladder. That characteristic was one of many reasons why you alone shared the same ranking level as Fury. When shit needed to be done, he knew that you’d do it, no questions asked. But that blindsided work-ethic was going to kill you eventually. 

“You’ve slept once in the last week, mi amor.” Maria sighed, knowing that she was arguing with a wall at this point, but willing to put the effort in anyways. She was always willing to put the effort in for you, even if you couldn’t do it for yourself. Her hands caressed your back affectionately, slipping away from your shoulder blades only to put pressure on your spine, cracking the bones and notches in your back soothingly without spoken word. You sighed, deflating in her lap once again, craning your neck only to release some of the ache and tension in your jaw before you burrowed into her neck once more, still keeping fistfulls of her soft hair between your fingers that had been stained black from smudged ink. 

At some point, you must’ve fallen asleep against her, never slackening your grip on her chestnut tresses but grabbing onto the neckline of her uniform at an undisclosed moment. She hadn’t tried to move you, hadn’t tried to wake you, hadn’t tried to move at all. She’d simply sat in the silence of her office with Natasha’s easy company, shuffling through paperwork and mission reports, but getting no real work done, distracted by your warmth against her chest and the weight of you draped across her lap for the first time in days. When you woke a handful of hours later, the warmth of the sun and the light of a new day rousing you from an uneventful sleep – the level of exhaustion you faced preventing dreams from even playing out – you didn’t stiffen in alarmed surprise when you realized that strong arms were looped around your waist and keeping you steadily upright. Maria was a distinguishable presence even when you were half delirious, and a warm smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you laid a gentle kiss to the neglected patch of skin behind her earring-less earlobe. She really needed to start wearing her cartilage cuffs again, but the last one you’d gotten for her had been lost to a bloodied battle in Argentina. You made the mental note to get her another one sometime soon, but for now, you simply basked in the presence of her company that was so painfully warm and inviting. 

“You had Romanoff on edge last night.” Maria mused, her fingers tightening around your waist in a sweet wordless greeting, prematurely ending the reign of silence that you’d been enjoying, but you didn’t complain. The sound of her voice was just as inviting, if not more intoxicating than silence ever could be. 

“Even statues crumble every now and again.” You huffed against her neck, tightening your grip on her uniform if that was at all possible, allowing your gentle fingers to tickle the skin hidden from view that still carried the lingering scent of your body wash. “She’ll get over it.” 

“You really have to stop referring to yourself as a statue. The rookies are going to start thinking an alien attack sucked the emotions out of your body..” She chortled, breathy laughter twinged with traces of mental exhaustion jostling both of your bodies, and you couldn’t help the smile that twisted your dehydrated lips upward involuntarily in response. How you could spend so many days away from her never made sense when you were wrapped up in her presence, but it was reassuring to know that no matter the length of time that separated your passionate love, she would always be there to crawl home to. 

“As soon as you stop feeding into being called Hard-Ass Hill, I’ll stop fucking with the rookies.” Another chaste kiss was laid onto her skin, the second in too many days to count, but you’d make up for your absence before you inevitably returned to your own office to continue drowning in paperwork that never ended. “Te amo tanto.” You signed your unarguable admiration, but she wouldn’t be Maria Hill if she didn’t have a sharp comeback to silence your efforts. 

“Te amo mucho mas, mi alma.”

[donutz]

What aboutttttt............ Sebastian with his daughter/son/kid? Maybe before he got experimented on he had a child but couldn't see them anymore once he got fished, and recognizes them while they're a prisoner? I'll leave age/gender up to you

Not forcing!! Thank youu

Sebastian Solace reuniting with his kid

Meeting up with your father once again...

— Omg dad time!!!😂��

Warnings: Father issues; PLATONIC!!!!; Negative thoughts, please DO NOT take them to heart, I don't mean any of that towards you, you're an amazing person ^^; Implied depression; Thoughts of su!c!de; Angsty but not so much; Reader can't get hurt by the monsters; No mention of age or gender, but Reader is over 21; Short :P(569 words); Cliffhanger!!

Staring at the blank and reflecting submarine ground, you see yourself. Well is it really yourself? With all that gear it could be anybody else.  They sent you to that prison because of what you’ve done.

Or did you really even do it?

No of course you didn’t.

They just think what your father did passes down to you.

Framing innocent people, killing them.

Disgusting.

To cover up your ‘mistake’ you signed up for this. They would’ve killed you like every other person, you’re not special(This is a lie, you’re amazing).

You arrive at the Hadal Blacksite, the large door opening. Revealing a large working site.

Stepping out, you hear a man’s voice through the speakers above. You look up. Nothing. Are they really even above you? Maybe they’re in the walls.

Are they watching you?

Can they hear you?

Can he hear you?

Does he know where you are?

Where is he?

Where are they?

Oh yeah, look upon the task ahead of course.

‘Ugh, this anxious stuff going on really hurts’.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have signed this. Just so I could die’.

‘Being with dad sounds nice’.

You slide the keycard through the door. Door 001. You’re somewhat ready for what lies ahead. Any monsters, I mean you’re meters below the sea levels! Who knows what’s down here!

Door 020

You walked into a room, with a large window. Darkened, not really seeing much. Then a bright green light illuminates the room to your left.

Stupidly, you look at the source of light, seeing multiple green eyes with stars in them. Though they don’t affect you, at all. 

It’s.. Confused. Why won’t it affect you?

Oh. You’re his.

Nevermind then.

The shark swims away, leaving you in the dark. Again. It comes back a few times, but only to just see you.

Still, her eyes don’t affect you.

30 doors later, a vent grille quickly shoots to the other side of the room. Your tired eyes showing no fear or shock. Looking at the vent, you wait for something or someone.

“Need to stock up”?

.

.

.

What.

Now your eyes show some type of emotion.

They shrink, crinkles showing at the edge of your eyes, straightening your lips with a look of confusion on your face.

“Da—”

Your voice blanks out, your own vocal cords cutting itself off. Not from belief, you just haven’t talked for a bit. Your lips are dry, and your throat feels like a desert.

You clear your throat, going up to rub your eyes, only for your hand to bump against your visor.

Damn it.

“I have good thingss I swearrr”!! He jokes.

You walk over to the smaller space, getting down on your knees to crawl through it.

Reaching the end of it, you stand up.

“Welcome wel—”

Sebastian cuts himself off when he meets your gaze. His smile fading.

Comically, zigzags lightly shake around yours and his head, as if making some sort of connection through a radio channel. Your face makes a confused and focused look once again. While Sebastian looks surprised.

It’s silent.

You shake your head—

“Sorry— Do I know you”? You ask, cupping your sweating hand(Though it’s not like you can feel it) around the back of your neck, rubbing it.

Sebastian is taken aback, as if he recognizes that voice.

“Well I—… I just might”…

“… What’s your name”?

.

.

.

“Sebastian”.

You gasp—

“Dad”??

Short because... I'm more used to romantic stuff... And like... Yeah

[dragonroilz]

The Lifesurger: Genetic Anomaly

**Given my track record, I'd like to state that there are no further plans for this concept.**

this concept was made because i hate how there's not a true support character in this game which i understand why thats the case. if youre in singleplayer theres no point for it. the medimarker and feedback loop passive gives a reason to want to pick up allies and heal people. maybe this game will never fit a true support archetype but as a permanent support class mf in games like OW, TF2, and LOL it scratches an itch in my brain lmao

Feedback Loop - Passive

Healing yourself(via items) or others will make your attacks stronger. Decays over time. Amount charged is proportional to healing done.

Feedback Pulse - Alternative Passive

Healing past a certain threshold creates a burst of healing around you, harming enemies and healing allies. The threshold increases with level.

Stimshot - Primary

A single shot that can be held down to do more damage. The projectile heals and pierces through allies, while dealing damage to enemies. A fully charged shot pierces enemies and heals more damage. While an uncharged shot is a projectile with gravity, the charged shot is hitscan.

DIRECTORY: MARK - Secondary

The Medimarker targets a selected enemy and attacks it. Additionally, all damage done to the target is tripled.

DIRECTORY: BLOCK - Alternative Secondary

The Medimarker targets an ally and shields them. The target is only able to take an amount of damage up to 50% of their max HP in one hit.

DIRECTORY: ESCORT - Utility

Recall the Medimarker and grab onto it to ascend upward. This skill recalls your secondary.

DIRECTORY: MOUNT - Alternative Utility

Recall the Medumarker and ride it. The drone is weighed down by you, but can be controlled for ten seconds. The drone has less gravity and is faster than your sprint speed.

Pulse Accelerator - Special

Empower yourself and surrounding allies, giving a 50% chance to critical hit chance, removing all debuffs(except void kills, cooldown debuffs like rings, etc.), and a slight healing aura to anyone within range of the skill.

THE MEDIMARKER V1.0.0 LOGBOOK ENTRY:

The Lifesurger(Patent pending) is a prototype firearm that is meant for quick healing on the battlefield. The Lifesurger(Patent pending) excels in its ability to both heal organic creatures and repair machines, meaning that cybernetic enhancements can benefit from the effects of the firearm.

The Lifesurger(Patent pending) is also able to hurt enemy combatants by disrupting cardiovascular tissue, genetic material, and electronic signals. Through the help of an accompanying MED-E to identify friendly and hostile entities, the Lifesurger(Patent pending) is slated to be one of the greatest supporting assets on the battlefield.

Side effects may include: Vomiting, nausea, soreness, sudden bruising, death, genetic scrambling of previous users, limb loss, fever symptoms.

-

LIFESURGER LOGBOOK:

[CAM 3]

Patient 4-B is seen through the facility. She is escorted by a damaged MED-E.

4-B: COME ON MED-E. JUST A BIT FURTHER.

Something is pursuing them.

[Connection to this camera has been lost.]

[CAM 4]

Patient 4-B is seen using Dr. A. Kurosawa's keycard to access Restricted Section 2.

[Unauthorized access. Security has been alerted. No response received.]

Patient 4-B is seen entering Restricted Section B.

[Unauthorized access. Security has been alerted. No response. Automatic alert issued to UESC authorities. This is the last alert they receive from this station.]

Something is pursuing them.

[Connection to this camera has been lost.]

[CAM B-1]

Patient 4-B is seen running down the hall. Her IV is disconnected as she trips. The MED-E helps her up. They continue running. 4-B's vital signals are dropping as a result of loss of ?????.

She stops in front of ROOM 1.

Something is pursuing them.

[Connection to this camera has been lost.]

[CAM ROOM 1]

The door opens.

[Admin has been alerted to the breach. No response.]

Patient 4-B pulls the Lifesurger(Patent Pending) off of the wall. She misfires into her chest and falls unconscious.

The MED-E prods her body with stimulants. There is no response.

Something is pressed up against the glass. It's cracking.

[Connection to this camera has been lost.]

[EXT. CAM A]

Dr. A. Kurosawa is seen standing over the corpse of an unidentified creature. Her hands are up as UESC-dispatched enforcers approach her. The Lifesurger(Patent pending) is strapped over her back.

Enforcer: IDENTIFY YOURSELF.

KUROSAWA: I AM DOCTOR KUROSAWA.

Enforcer: DOCTOR KUROSAWA. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?

KUROSAWA: I DON'T KNOW. THERE ARE MORE INSIDE.

Enforcer: GET TO THE SHIP.

Three enforcers enter the facility. Dr. A. Kurosawa moves out of the FOV. The escorting MED-E follows her.

[Post analysis: Patient 4-B did not report to UESC authorities following this encounter. Her current location is unknown.]

Detective's Notes: I don't know how, but she somehow passed the genetic and facial recognition tests. Someone please let Captain ???? know about the background of his alleged "doctor". Although somehow I doubt he'll really care, seeing as how he's got some real screwballs on board.

[blacktofade]

not sure if you're still taking gemtho prompts but something with secret relationship/relationship reveal 👀 that isn't much to go off of so it could definitely be paired with another prompt too, i just love that trope (my brain goes to rpf since i love the idea of them trying and failing to hide a relationship from the viewers, but could be in game too)

I'm back to fill more gemtho prompts from earlier this year! I'm not setting a schedule though. You guys will get them as I find time and/or motivation. Enjoy!!

--

Impulse first notices him when Gem steps through the front door of the hotel in Detroit. She’s laughing, glancing over her shoulder at him, and he’s smiling, one hand tucked against the small of her back, the touch clearly familiar. He’s tall with dark hair, and sticks close as Gem pauses just inside the entrance way, dropping her backpack on the ground and crouching to dig through it.

For just a moment, the man looks over, maybe sensing Impulse’s stare, but he doesn’t react, just glances back down at Gem, offering his hand on her elbow when she stands up again. She’s holding something that might be her wallet, but she passes it over, saying something that Impulse can’t hear from across the other side of the lobby.

The man dips down, kissing Gem — quick and chaste — and she smiles, watching him walk away toward the check-in desk.

Impulse almost startles when she turns, catching his gaze, like she’s known he was there the whole time.

Her smile widens and she pulls her backpack on, jogging toward him, as though she can’t contain her excitement.

“Impy!” she says, dragging him into a hug once she’s close enough, and it’s effortless to fold around her, quickly forgetting about everything apart from how much he’s missed her.

“Hey, Gem,” he murmurs into her hair, giving her an extra squeeze, just so she knows how happy he is to see her.

“Is that Gemstone?” a voice says behind them and Gem laughs, finally letting Impulse go as Skizz moves in to sweep her up, lifting her straight off the ground.

“Careful,” Impulse warns, stepping back, but neither of them seem to hear and Tango laughs as he sidles up beside him.

“You think they’re listening?”

“About as well as my kids,” Impulse scoffs and Tango laughs again.

“Are you surprised?”

Impulse isn’t. At all. What he is surprised by is the guy Gem’s with, who’s now edging past them, carry-on bag in tow. But he doesn’t stop to check in with Gem, doesn’t even glance in their direction, just heads toward the elevators, a keycard held in one hand.

“Did you know Gem was bringing her boyfriend?” Impulse asks without thinking, and Tango offers him a look, like he’s lost his entire mind.

“Why would she tell me?”

Which he supposes is his issue, because why would she tell him either? They’re close, but he’s far from being Gem’s confidant.

Impulse tries to shrug as casually as he can. “Was just wondering.”

In front of him, Gem finally untangles herself from Skizz’s grasp before noticing Tango’s there.

Their hug isn’t as enthusiastic — probably much to Tango’s relief — but Gem pulls away, grinning.

“It feels good to be back together,” she tells them. “Where are the others?”

Impulse is pretty sure Grian’s napping in his room, and Pearl isn’t due in until later that night, but he thinks False and Zed are in the hotel’s bar already.

“They’re around,” Skizz promises. “C’mon, let’s get you a drink. You look like you could use one.”

Gem blows out a breath. “I look that bad, huh?”

“The worst I’ve ever seen,” Skizz jokes, nudging her with his elbow as though to make sure she knows he’s only messing about.

“Not surprising,” Gem starts, already walking with Skizz, heading toward the back of the hotel. “The airline lost my bag.”

Impulse finds himself following, automatically glancing over at the elevators as they pass. But the mystery guy isn’t there and Gem doesn’t seem concerned about wandering off without him.

“Man, that sucks,” Skizz says and Impulse belatedly makes a noise of agreement.

“Might need a couple of drinks,” he adds and Gem laughs, nodding in agreement.

“Please.”

-

Gem shows up for breakfast in a flannel shirt that definitely isn’t hers. She makes it look good — the bottom of it tied at her waist, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows — but the collar hangs open, the shoulders too broad.

It’s a man’s shirt.

“Heard anything about your luggage?” he tries, digging into the scrambled egg whites that he’d paid extra for.

Gem shakes her head, sipping at a mug of tea, a picked-apart pastry in front of her. “Nothing yet. Think I’m gonna have to do a clothes-run before the event today.”

Gem doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d enjoy a last minute shopping spree, but maybe she’ll drag Pearl with her to make it fun. Or maybe her secret boyfriend.

“What’s wrong with that?” he asks, tipping his head toward the shirt she’s in, and she smiles like they both know damn well what.

“Did you sleep well?” she asks, cleanly changing the subject completely, and Impulse shouldn’t be surprised.

He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m so nervous, I think I’m gonna have to take a second shower later.”

She laughs, not unkindly. “You’ll have a good time once it starts,” she promises, and Impulse knows that, but that doesn’t mean the jitters will go away.

“What about you?” he asks. “How’d you sleep after everything?”

She takes another mouthful of tea, swallowing before answering. “We woke up early. I guess even just a little time difference can mess me up.”

We. Not I. She means herself and whoever’s up in her room right now.

“You’ll both have to go to bed earlier tonight,” he says, wanting to push, to make sure she knows he heard the slip-up, and Gem grins, clearly enjoying this game they’re playing.

“Guess so,” she agrees, but Impulse already knows that with the group they have, there’s no way anyone is bailing early.

Impulse takes a drink of his coffee, watching her silently, and under the table, her foot gently knocks into his own, once and then again — not an accident.

“This’ll be a fun weekend,” she says and something uncurls in Impulse’s stomach.

He’s getting too caught up in his own thoughts and she’s right. They’re there to have a good time.

Gem keeping part of her life private isn’t something he should take personally. If he did, he’d need to have beef with everyone else on the server. Except maybe Skizz. He almost knows too much about that guy.

He offers her a smile and finds himself nodding. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It will.”

-

He might be less upset about the situation, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to push.

“Snacks for later?” he asks when they’re riding the elevator back upstairs together, watching as she tries to carry a cup of coffee, a banana, a chocolate muffin, and a bowl of fresh fruit.

She glances over at him, the corner of her mouth curled up, before she holds out the bowl.

“Can you hold that for me?”

She doesn’t answer the question, but Impulse still finds himself doing as she asks. He’s a sucker like that.

“Didn’t know you liked coffee,” he tries instead, and her eyes are bright, like she knows what he’s doing.

The elevator slows, the doors opening with a quiet groan.

“C’mon,” Gem says, tipping her head. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Impulse’s room is two floors above and he knows he should probably go back so he can brush his teeth and get ready for the rest of their day, but he hesitates, watching Gem hold the door with her elbow.

He waits a beat, then another, and then nods, his curiosity getting the better of him.

She’s silent as she leads the way down the hallway, but eventually she stops by a room near the fire exit, knocking on the door in a familiar rhythm.

Apparently, she didn’t bring her key. But it doesn’t matter, because after a moment, the door swings open to reveal the man Impulse had seen the day before.

His expression is gentle when he looks at Gem, but shifts into something cooler — maybe a little uncertain — when he notices Impulse is there with her.

“I wanted you two to finally meet,” Gem says, glancing between them, and for some reason Impulse feels the need to vet the guy. Like Gem is his daughter and he wants to make sure she’s not picking up some random lowlife, someone Impulse deems unworthy.

He squares his shoulders and holds out his hand.

“Hey,” he says, “I’m Scott.”

The guy in the doorway shifts, smiling as he takes Impulse’s hand and shakes it firmly.

“Hi, Scott, I’ve heard so much about you,” the man says, and Impulse’s eyes widen as he recognizes the voice.

Gem laughs, delighted, stepping closer to fit herself against the man’s side, grinning at Impulse, clearly pleased with herself.

Impulse finally drops his hand back down, but there’s no doubt in his mind.

“Etho?” he asks, earning a laugh — the same he’s heard in-game so many times before.

“Hey, Impulse,” Etho replies easily, and Impulse’s mind goes a little blank.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s kind of a half-way point for both of us,” Gem tells him. “We figured it would be an easy way to meet up again.”

Again.

“Again?” he echoes and Gem nods, like it’s not a big deal. “How long have you been meeting up?”

It feels easier to ask than whether or not they’re actually dating. Ironically, after everything, he’s suddenly almost certain it’s none of his business.

Gem shrugs with one shoulder. “First time was just before season ten began? We wanted to wait a bit before we told anyone. Y’know, in case.”

They obviously hadn’t needed to worry about that — the proof being they’re both there together, Gem tucked comfortably under Etho’s arm, like it’s exactly where she belongs.

“He’s gonna join us for the roadtrip,” Gem continues. “I thought maybe we could grab dinner together?”

Impulse is nodding before his brain can catch up. “Of course,” he agrees. “Anytime. I’d love that.”

He stares between them a little longer before laughing, perhaps from the adrenaline of the surprise.

“Skizz isn’t going to shut up about this when you tell him,” he says. “Do you know how many questions I made him cut from the podcast?”

“Part three?” Etho jokes with a laugh and Impulse shakes his head.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” he warns. “The first thing out of his mouth is gonna be ‘I told you so.’”

“We weren’t being subtle,” Gem agrees. “We’ll let him have that one.”

“I can’t believe — ” Impulse starts before laughing again. “As if my nerves weren’t frayed enough today.”

“We’re about to really find out how good you are at keeping secrets,” Gem jokes and Impulse snorts.

“Hope you guys are ready to go public then.”

Gem shifts, grinning up at Etho, who smiles back, and Impulse can see it — the affection, the respect between them.

“I think we could be,” she says, and when Etho nods, Impulse can tell they’re not lying.

Out of everyone — anyone Gem could’ve picked — he knows she’s made the right choice.

“I’m happy for you both,” he says, and as Gem smiles at him, brighter than he’s ever seen, he finds that he means it.

[somber-sapphic]

Just Want To Sleep

You're sick, Natasha is stuck working, Wanda is doing her best to help you. (natasha x reader)

Word Count. 1012

----

“Please, you know me, I’m here all the time, I just want to go to sleep!” You half sobbed, pleading with the agent who was just typing away on her keyboard, effectively ignoring your desperate pleas. You shivered in your soaked sweater, wanting nothing more than to curl up in the arms of your girlfriend. Your nose was running but you were so stuffy. 

“Ms, you know I can’t let you up without your keycard.” The woman explained, rolling her eyes as tears began to slip down your flushed cheeks. 

“I am Agent Romanoff’s girlfriend. I called her, but she was in a meeting and couldn’t pick me up. I lost my wallet, dropped the keys to my apartment in a sewer grate and walked two miles to get here because I don’t have anywhere else to go. Now for the love of all the gods, let me go up or I will break something.” You breathed, your threats muddled with congestion. 

“Y/n?” A feminine voice called, pulling you away from where you were probably getting too close to the other woman. You looked over and saw Wanda half jogging over to you, brow furrowed in concern.

“Oh sweetie, what happened to you?” She cupped your cheeks in warm hands and moved one to your forehead, trying to gauge your temperature. 

“Wanda, she won’t let me up.” You sobbed, leaning into the arms of your best friend. Wanda slipped her arms around you and glared at the woman behind the desk, rubbing your back as you cried. She didn’t care that you were soaking her clothes, she was too angry. Her eyes glowed red, making the agent cower. 

“Come on honey, I’ll have Stark deal with this later. Let’s get you warmed up.” The brunette fussed, walking you to the elevator. She didn’t try to make you stop crying, didn’t push you away and didn’t say anything except to whisper words of encouragement. 

“Do you need help changing?” She asked as she led you to the room you and Nat shared when you came over. Embarrassment overcame you as you realized there was no way you could do this on your own. Then there was the sobbing. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it out loud. We’re going to get you changed, and I’ll dry your hair while we watch a movie. Nat’s going to be in a meeting with Fury for another hour or so, but I texted her and she’s trying to get out of it.” Wanda talked as she helped you undress, keeping her eyes locked on yours to reduce some of your humiliation. 

“Fuzzy PJ’s?” She murmured, rifling through your drawers to find what she knew were your favorite clothes to wear when you were sick. They happened to be Natasha’s clothes, but still. They were your favorites. 

“Where’s Tasha?” You sniffled, shivering as she helped you into Natasha’s departmentally issued sweatshirt and her softest sweatpants. She smiled gently and kissed your forehead, smoothing your hair back in a motherly show of comfort. 

“Tasha’s in a meeting Y/n. She’ll be out soon, okay? For now, why don’t we get you something for this fever?” She held out a hand that she clearly wanted you to take, but you hesitated, blinking up at her with teary eyes.

“C’mon, you won’t want to get everything in here wet, hm?” You nodded and took the offered hand, allowing yourself to be led into a small living room where she deposited you on the comfortable looking couch. You curled up with a fluffy blanket and stared at the blank TV, only moving to cough into the blanket. 

“Alright you, take this and I’ll dry your hair. What do you want to watch?” Wanda plopped down beside you and shoved a cup of medicine into your hand. Too tired to argue, you took it like a shot and leaned into your friend, smiling when she turned on The Lion King. It was your favorite movie of all time and she knew it. 

The witch carded her fingers through your hair and began to dry your hair, the hot air soothing the chills and lulling you into a comfortable daze. You felt your head drooping and closed your eyes, allowing the brunette to help you feel better. Your head dropped against your chest and you shot back up, bumping into the hairdryer. 

“Woah, easy. Take a nap Y/n/n, it’s okay.” She soothed, pulling you back into her lap. You shrugged mentally and sighed, a painful cough bubbling from your lips. Wanda rubbed your back comfortingly, shushing you softly as you fought back tears. Your throat hurt so badly, but the medicine was already taking effect. This time when sleep beckoned you, you fell into its embrace.

–

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself in a different place. Instead of the couch you fell asleep on, you were curled up amongst a mountain of pillows, a heavy duvet encircling your sick body. You turned your head and squinted at the blurry figure beside you. The blurry figure with the flaming red hair and beautiful green eyes. 

“Natty?” You rasped, drawing her from her reading. She set the book aside and pulled you against her chest, holding her tightly in her arms. All of the anxiety from before disappeared. She was here, she was finally here.

“I’m so sorry baby, I’m so, so sorry. You needed me and I couldn’t get you and now-” She broke off, cupping your face in her hands. You smiled sleepily and cuddled close to her, nuzzling into her chest. 

“S’okay. You’re workin’. M’tired.” You slurred, exhaustion blurring your words. Natasha kissed the top of your head, her lips lingering against your hair. She didn’t seem to mind that you were sweaty or congested or blubbering all over her, she was just there. Holding you. Being warm and strong. 

“You’re perfect, Y/n. You’re always here for me. I should’ve been here for you. But I am now rebenok and I’m not leaving you again.”

[mcufan72]

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki and female reader (AU) / 18+

Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Warnings: smutty, protected sex and it might end differently than you expect, contains fluff, angst, morally grey stuff, and uncertainty

Note: this chapter got a bit long (~6.7k words) but I didn't know where to cut

About two hours later, you arrived at the premium five-star hotel in Manhattan. Walker had driven you there and was now opening the limousine's door for you. Loki left the car first and nodded in thanks to Walker before he offered you his hand helping you to get out of the limousine's backseat. You straightened the blazer of your trouser suit and asked him for a minute alone with Walker. Loki walked a few steps away from you two to give you the space to talk to Walker undisturbed.

“You know what to do, y/n? In case he does anything you dislike and doesn't stop doing it?” Walker questioned quietly.

“Yes, pushing the emergency number on my phone,” you answered calmly.

“Right. Please, place it close to you in reachable distance. If you call me, I'll be there in under a minute.”

“Thank you, Walker. You'll be waiting here for me, right?”

“Yes, Ma'am. I'm here. After your date ends, at midnight at the latest, I'll await you within 30 minutes as usual. If you're not back right in time, I'll be looking for you. Promised. Take care, y/n.”

You nodded at Walker and your mouth formed a silent ‘thank you’ and you gave him a shy smile. You felt a bit embarrassed because he knew exactly why you were here and what you were going to do here next. He also knew it was the first time you would spend intimate hours with a client. But Walker was your protector, your support since you worked as an escort lady and he would never judge you.

Loki guided you through the entrance hall to the lift. When you stood beside him in the lift he saw your hands trembling. You were nervous, and so was he. Was this your first time, too? Having paid sex in a hotel? You were an escort lady and you didn't answer his question concerning this issue and it wouldn't be unusual or bad if you'd done it before. He had casual sex with several women, too…but not paid sex yet. But he didn't mind. He just wanted to be together with you and he just hoped you weren't afraid of him. He would never hurt you.

You were so nervous and tried not to show him how much. You wanted to be self-confident and tempting for him. That's what he would pay for and he deserved first-class treatment from you.

“Come,” you said to him when the lift had reached the floor where your room was and took him by his hand. His hand felt good and soft and somehow it took some of your nervousness away.

You opened the door with the keycard and entered the spacious suite. Pure luxury welcomed you two. A comfortable king-size bed with many fluffy cushions and an oversized duvet made of silk, across from the bed a big sofa, and a coffee table with a bowl filled with exotic fruits. A golden champagne bucket with a bottle of the best champagne, next to it a bottle of the best Scottish whisky and of course, two champagne glasses and two whisky tumblers were also placed on the table. Dimmed lights created a comfortable atmosphere and an amazing view over downtown Manhattan through two floor-to-ceiling window fronts crowned this luxury suite.

Next to the bed stood a vanity table and a chair, your small travel bag already waiting there for you, non-visibly and discreetly next to the vanity table. You had some personal things in it, things like spare clothes, additional lingerie, condoms, cigarettes and some toiletries. You stored the bag at REA a few days ago after you had told Rhea you were bookable for the weekends now too. In case you would spend unforeseen intimate hours with a client, Rhea could bring it there and prepare the suite for the tryst. She preferred to do it herself for her escort ladies to ensure that everything was perfectly prepared for them. The suite also enclosed a first-class bathroom with a big bathtub for two and a half-open shower, big enough to dance in it. It also had a floor-to-ceiling window and the view over Manhattan was breathtaking.

While Loki crossed the room to look out of the window you took some things out of your bag. You draped your black kimono with lace-trimmed sleeves over the back of the chair and a bottle of lube and condoms on the nightstand. In long, slow strides Loki went from the floor-to-ceiling windows over to you and took the bottle of lube from the nightstand into his hand. His hand was so big and the bulging veins were such a turn-on for you that you had to suppress a whimper. Did you ever find veiny hands that sexy?

Loki raised an eyebrow. ”Will we need that?” he asked, astonished.

“Depends on how wet you can get me,” you answered with your arms crossed and a smirk curved his lips because of your sassy undertone.

“No one complained so far,” he responded, still smirking and looking deep into your eyes. Gosh, this guy could undress you with just his gaze.

“If you say so,” you said and walked slowly over to the coffee table. You poured some of the whisky into the tumblers and passed one to Loki who already walked over to you.

“Cheers, handsome,” and you raised your glass. You definitely needed a whisky now to calm your nerves down. Loki raised his glass as well and took a sip, never breaking eye contact with you. This gaze…

“We should talk about the conditions now, the rules we have. Do you agree?”

You didn't want to beat around the bush and clarify this issue quickly.

Loki took a seat on the sofa, one arm placed on the backrest and crossed one leg over the other. “Okay, you start,” he offered you.

You took a deep breath. You were trembling inwardly and before you gave him your clear rules and limits you took a further sip of your drink. The whisky slowly warmed your stomach.

“Okay, here we go. I won't do any perverse shit or hard-core sex. No slaps or spanking, no degrading, no anal sex. I won't suck your dick or swallow your sperm. You can go rough on me but you won't get brutal. No extensive foreplay and you will use a condom. No kissing! You won't kiss me on my mouth, you won't kiss any part of my face. Don't you dare mark me in any way! I'm not your property and my body stays markless. You're not my only client and my body is my asset. If you do anything during the act I don't like, I'll let you know and you'll stop doing it. A no is a no. In case you violate my rules, I'll end our fuck session immediately.” You took a deep breath again, awaiting his reaction to your statement. Your heart raced as if you had run a marathon.

“Any questions?”

Loki stared silently at you, processing every single word you had said. You had been very clear and he understood and accepted your rules and boundaries. He still had some questions because maybe one or two of his rules would collide with one of yours. He also wondered what you were thinking he wanted to do to you. He hadn't even thought about most of the things you said. Yes, he preferred being in control and he was dominant, which didn't mean he disliked the gentle way of sex. But maybe you had different experiences.

“What about some…kinky stuff?” He asked you cautiously.

“Depends on the kink, I'd say. But I have a limited scope for negotiation,” you answered firmly, looking into his eyes. You were still standing at the coffee table and he, still sitting on the sofa, continued staring at you.

“What about a blindfold?” He wanted to know.

"Negotiable."

“Soft bondage?” He took a sip of his whisky.

“What do you want to tie up?” You questioned, irritated.

“Your wrists,” he said, his voice deep and warm.

“No and non-negotiable,” you answered calmly but strictly.

“I don't want you to touch me or my naked skin during the act. That's why I need your wrists tied up. And I want to blindfold you because I don't want you to look at me while we fornicate. Furthermore, I'm always in control and as I already told you, I'm not a tender lover which also means I don't do aftercare,” Loki responded firmly, his voice dark and raspy. “But I'll treat you carefully and with respect,” he said more softly now. “You can rely on it.” His voice was so dark and soft, it sent shivers down your spine.

“Why am I not allowed to touch you?” you were curious about that. Men liked to get touched.

“Why am I not allowed to kiss you?”

“I asked first.”

“I find it unpleasant. I don't really enjoy getting touched especially when it comes to my naked skin, my face or my hair. To get touched there, particularly by a woman I'm not in a relationship with, is too intimate and I don't want that."

That was only halfway true. He knew he could never stand your touch, he would completely lose it, when you would caress his body. And also he would probably kiss the heck out of you, you were too hard to resist. He wanted nothing more than to feel your soft lips on his. But you had forbidden him to kiss you and he had to accept it.

“For me, to kiss a man on his mouth or to get my mouth kissed by him means to be in love with each other. We're not in love with each other, Luke. We're far away from that.”

You sounded harsher than you wanted but you knew if you'd kiss him or he'd kiss you, there would be no way back. And you should better not forget you still had a professional relationship with him.

“That's true, I've nothing to add,” he responded affirmatively.

“Fine, guess that answers that.”

You emptied your whisky and it would be the first and last whisky for tonight. You had to keep your senses clear. You took off your blazer and kicked off your high heels. It was such a relief but you suppress a redemptive sigh. You needed to feel a bit more comfortable before you could go on. Loki's gaze wandered down your body and he couldn't even imagine how much your feet must hurt from these ‘little beasts’. He liked that name you had for your high heels. He appreciated that you wore them for him and accepted the pain they caused. He loved you wearing them, they looked extremely sexy but he didn't want you to suffer for him. He could give you a proper foot massage, that would be a bare minimum he could do for you. Did it count for you as foreplay? If so, he better shouldn't do it.

“Okay, Luke, you can blindfold me if it makes you feel more comfortable but my wrist and hands remain free.”

It was okay for you to not see him but you needed your hands to be untied in case you had to end a possible unacceptable situation or to reach for your phone. You won't discuss it.

“I offer you to put my hands above or behind my head and to keep them there. I promise you I won't touch you,” you told him.

You'd love to run your fingers through his hair, caressing his scalp and tugging at his dark locks. They looked so soft.

“I don't know you well enough to trust you with that. And I cannot allow you to touch me.” Loki placed the whisky tumbler on the coffee table and leaned back again. He looked sceptically at you.

You chuckled in disbelief and placed your hands on your hips. “But I have to trust you with that blindfold, huh? I don't know you well enough either. I cannot even see what you're doing once you're settled between my legs and… fucking me, or what you're doing before that.”

A frustrated laugh escaped your throat. “So we have to find a compromise, Mr. Luke Larsson.” You made a pause. “I allow you to blindfold me and you allow me to keep my hands above my head without tying my wrists… Do we have a deal?” you wanted to know, waiting for his answer.

Loki considered your offer and he couldn't find an argument against it because you were right. He couldn't demand everything from you when he wasn't willing to give something in return. Trust has never been his biggest strength but in your case, it seemed possible for him to trust you with that matter. And damn it, he wanted you so much. He was on edge since you tried to entice him at the gallery so he nodded slowly.

“We have a deal, Miss Sugar Black,” and a mischievous smile curved his lips.

You turned around and went towards the vanity table and sat down on the chair. You took your cigarettes and a lighter out of your bag and onto the table, and you prepared your phone and held it in your hand.

“There are two more things, Luke. I'll keep my phone close to me and our tryst ends at midnight sharp. Got it?”

Slowly like a panther on the way to hunt his prey he stood up from the sofa, took his jacket off and walked over to the bed where you just put your phone on the bedside table.

Loki was already behind you when you stood straight again, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Fine with me,” he murmured. His deep voice made you shiver.

“Is this okay for you?”, he wanted to know while his fingers circled gently on your shoulders.

You tilted your head a bit and you felt his nose nudging your earlobe. He was so gentle. “Yes, it's okay for me, Luke.”

“You always smell so good, Sugar,” and he sniffed your neck. It was tickling you and you tried not to giggle.

“Want me to run a bath for you, for relaxation…I could join you,” you offered him sweetly.

“No, I'm used to bathing alone… do you really want to get laid by me, Sugar?” He whispered into your ear.

“Yeah, I want it, Luke, I want you.” It was the truth and you wouldn't back down. You wanted him more than you thought. He nibbled at your earlobe and down your throat, gently as a feather. You could barely hold back a whimper and you bit on your lower lip.

“I have wanted it since I got to know you, sweet thing. Perhaps I knew it all along, just wouldn't admit it to myself. Does it scare you?” His hands wandered down your arms and his mouth lingered on the skin of your neck, his breath fanning along your throat. Your body was immediately covered in goosebumps. The firm muscles of his torso were tightly pressed against your back, his hard-on pressed against your ass.

“No, other things scare me more and they have nothing to do with you.” Your voice wasn't more than a whisper.

“I want to show you pleasure, sweet thing, pleasure you've never felt before,” His voice was pure velvet, his breathing calmly and evenly.

“You don't know that, you don't know me, Luke” you answered silently.

“I can sense it, Sugar. The way your body responded to mine when we danced, how it responds to mine now and the way you look at me, gives it away. But I won't force you, I only take what you're willing to give me.”

How could you deny him? You have never met anyone like him. Dark, arrogant, magnetic, seductive, hot as hell but also caring, gentle and interested without being intrusive. He scared you sometimes, with his piercing stare right into your soul, his whole behaviour and his subtle possessiveness, the way he had held you in his arms and grabbed your wrist as if you were his. You should be completely terrified by him but you weren't. You maybe should stay away from him but you couldn't. You were aroused in a way you had never been before and you wished for nothing more than spending more time, more dates with him. But he might not book you again after tonight after he finally had you in the sheets and his carnal desires were satisfied. You wanted to give yourself to him even if you knew you might not satisfy him or be able to feel the pleasure he promised you.

Loki was so hard already and he wished he had more time with you. Your soft body closely pressed against his, felt so perfect and he wanted to enjoy every minute with you to the fullest but time was ticking. He didn't know how long he would last tonight. He hadn't been with a woman for too long and you were so cute and seductive. He saw you unbuttoning your blouse and he helped you to take it off. Your trousers followed and then you were just in your white lace underwear. You slowly turned around to face him. You curled one arm around his neck, and with your other hand, you began to unbutton his shirt, the silk scarf still around his neck. He would use it later for another purpose. At your sight in that white lace, he could hardly restrain himself. You looked so innocent and enticing at the same time. When you had unbuttoned his shirt completely you tugged it out of his slacks and unbuckled his belt. His hands lingered on your hips when you cupped his still-clothed but rock-hard manhood and felt him throbbing in your hand.

“How do you want me?” you asked him so gently that he couldn't believe you just did a job here and how easy you made it for him to forget about that. He slipped one of the straps of your bra off your shoulder, pushed it down your arm and caressed your skin tenderly. He felt you shivering. He hoped you weren't scared.

“I want you on the bed, on your back. ”

“I want to leave my bra on,” you whispered.

“No problem, sweet thing and I leave my shirt on,” he answered, holding your gaze and giving you a little smile.

Loki laid you gently down on the bed. He looked so unbelievably sexy with his open shirt. His chiselled chest with the right amount of soft, curly chest hair, his defined abs and his trimmed happy trail beneath his belly button made your mouth watering and you wanted to lick and bite every inch of his perfect torso. His whole body was pure sin but you weren't allowed to touch his naked torso.

You were relieved that you could leave your bra on. It lets you feel less vulnerable and more safe. You couldn't really explain it but you felt better with your bra on. Maybe it was the same for him with his shirt. When you lay down on the bed, he followed you promptly. You were on your back as he asked you to do. He laid on his side right next to you, propped up on one elbow and cupping your breast, his thumb tenderly teasing your nipples through the lace, one after the other. They hardened instantly under his touch and it let your clit throb with desire and your arousal drenched your thong. He stripped his scarf from his neck and you knew what would follow.

“Are you ready, Sugar?” You nodded yes. “I need your words, sweet thing,” he demanded.

“Yes,” it was more of a squeak, you could barely speak because of desire and nervousness. But you were sure he'd stay true to his words and would not harm you. He covered your eyes with his scarf and tied the ends behind your head above your hair bun together, avoiding too much pressure on your eyes. You were afraid and aroused at the same time. Was that even possible?

“Hands above your head… don't move them and don't remove the blindfold from your eyes.” he stated.

“I won't, I promise,” you answered silently.

You felt him leaving the bed to get rid of his shoes, socks, his trousers and underwear. His shirt stayed on, he just rolled up the sleeves. He came back to you and laid down again. You expected him to quickly fuck you but he took his time with you. You felt his engorged cock pressed against your thigh. He must be aching for relief, he must've been on edge the whole evening …just because of you. You should give him his relief soon, you didn't want to torture him further. You spread your legs for him so he could settle between them. But he made no effort to penetrate you immediately.

He didn't kiss any part of your body. You just felt his nose and his mouth brushing softly over your skin. He started at your throat down to your cleavage, dipping down between the swell of your breasts, further down to your belly button and your hips, his hands slowly sliding down your sides. In one swift move he pulled your thong down and you lifted your legs so he could get it off of you completely. He grazed his lips over your pubic mound and you voluntarily spread your legs for him again and you felt his soft mouth on your pussy lips. Goosebumps, all over your body were goosebumps. Your nipples were hardened further and you suppress a moan. He gave your clit a few gentle licks before he made his way upwards again over your tummy to your throat and your ear.

Everything felt so much more intense because you were robbed of one of your senses and his wonderful scent added to your arousal. You didn't expect such feelings, you didn't expect such tender treatment. Luke could do anything to you but he was patient and careful. You weren't used to it and it irritated you, not in a bad way though but you were just used to quickies or a man just having it his way. Why must he be so tender and caring, you could barely handle it and you should better not get used to it because he wasn't yours and you would likely never see him again after tonight. You were glad you couldn't look at him. If you could look into his beautiful eyes it would be your undoing and you couldn't allow this to happen.

“Are you sure you want this? Do I still have your consent?” He whispered into your ear.

“Yes, go on.” You said it harsher than you intended to.

He got up on his knees and shifted to the side. You immediately missed his warmth and his body close to yours. You heard him unfoil a condom and shortly after, he caged you beneath him and you felt the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. Why were you so wet? Have you ever been so wet? You never became that wet so quickly. And there hadn't been much foreplay. You didn't even need the lube. What was wrong with you?

“May I?”

“Yes, just go on,” you said impatiently. You were irritated because of your bodily reaction you didn't expect in this situation.

“Don't move your hands, Sugar! Don't even think about touching me!” he murmured darkly.

“And you don't even think about kissing me!” You responded.

“Do I have your consent?” He questioned again.

“Why are you asking again? You talk too much!” you whispered.

“Just to be sure,” he growled.

“Keep going before I change my mind,” you growled quietly back.

When he carefully penetrated you, slowly and inch by inch, a deep moan escaped your mouth you didn't know you were capable of. You had never felt that full and it felt good. Unfortunately, it felt good and when he began to move in and out of you, it felt even better. No, no, no you shouldn't enjoy it, you shouldn't allow yourself to like it that he made you feel good. And anyway he wouldn't last very long, would he? Just two or three minutes more and he would be done. That's the way it always has been in former relationships. You were used to being left high and dry. You weren't even in a relationship with Luke, he was just your client so how dare he give you that good feeling? And he made it worse with his nose in the crook of your neck, his toneless moans and his chest rubbing over your breasts, his thumb teasing your nipples. You should distract yourself, should be possible for two or three minutes.

Did you do your laundry? Was there enough milk in the fridge for your coffee in the morning? Did you already buy new shampoo and body lotion? Another moan of pleasure escaped your throat when you felt his cock moving deep inside of you, hitting a spot you didn't know existed. How dare he distract you from your distraction? And why did his soft skin feel so damn good on yours? And when did you wrap your legs around his waist?

You had to end it immediately, you couldn't stand this good feeling anymore. There was only one way to do it. You were an expert in it. An ability honed over the years. The reasons had been different ones but you knew how to do it. You faked it. You let your walls willingly clench around his sensitive cock. You knew he was close, it seemed it had been a while since he fucked with someone. So it took him just two more strokes and a faked moan of pleasure of yours and he came hard. If you know how to clench your cunt around the dick and if you moan just right, they go crazy. That's how it worked, that's what always led to success. You gave him a short moment before you pushed him off you, pulling the blindfold hurriedly off of your eyes, throwing it aside and standing up from the bed.

You grabbed your kimono from the back of the chair and covered your body with it by taking it on and tying its belt. Your job was done and he had to go now. No aftercare, no small talk, as agreed. Your cunt was still throbbing, unsatisfied lust running through your body. But this feeling was nothing new to you. The feeling of having fooled him was worse than the feeling of being unsatisfied. You grabbed your cigarette pack and lighter from the vanity table and lit up a cigarette. You had given up smoking several years ago but now you were having the urgent need to take a drag and inhale the unhealthy stuff to calm the bad feeling down with it.

Loki didn't know how much he was in need of carnal satisfaction. Of course, he jerked off regularly under the shower or on his bed but it wasn't as satisfying as burying himself into the warmth of a wonderful woman, a woman like you. Your skin was so soft and your scent was so beguiling. A mixture of roses in the summer rain and honey. He wasn't allowed to kiss your lips or your pretty face so he just let his lips travel down over your gorgeous, tempting body and when he reached your most intimate part and you opened your thighs for him further, he gave your clit just a few gentle licks. You had already been so wet without him giving you a proper, deserved preparation before claiming you completely. You tasted so good and deliciously sweet, he'd love to have more of it, more of you but you didn't want extensive foreplay which he accepted.

He wasn't sure but you seemed to enjoy your intimate encounter, he could tell because of how your body reacted to him but something felt odd. It seems you forbid yourself sexual pleasure. He wasn't used to it because normally when he pleasured a woman they wanted him to give them endless pleasure and the sweetest fulfilment. But maybe he shouldn't forget that you were doing a ‘job’ here. You surely thought this here was just about him, getting satisfied in every way but it wasn't how he saw it. He wanted you to feel good too. At least he hoped you felt safe with him and that you wouldn't hate him afterwards.

When you unconsciously wrapped your beautiful legs around his waist and pulled him closer to you, allowing him to get deeper, it was nearly his undoing. He had dreamt of it since he had seen you for the first time and to feel you doing it sent him nearly over the edge. It didn't take him long and he came hard when he felt you suddenly clenching around him but he could've sworn your climax wasn't that close. Shortly after he came you pushed him away and he felt kind of irritated but he didn't mind, he told you he doesn't do aftercare. Just the act, nothing more. But to his own surprise, it would've felt nice to stay a bit longer in that intimate position.

“Are you okay?" He asked you thoughtfully, still lying on the bed and catching his breath.

“Yeah, of course,” you tried to sound lighthearted but Loki doubted it.

He got out of bed, picked up his underwear from the floor and headed for the bathroom to clean himself. You were still smoking your cigarette, fidgeting nervously with it.

“My performance wasn't sublime and a little bit disappointing for you, wasn't it?” He said when he returned from the bathroom. He and he asked you that question as if you had booked him for sex. It wasn't his obligation to satisfy you. It was your job and your obligation to satisfy him.

“What?” You looked astonished.

“Your orgasm.”

“What do you mean?” You questioned him, irritated.

“Your orgasm. ..you faked it,” he said.

“I didn't," you said unbelievingly and appalled. He had noticed it? How? “You came good and hard, right?” You answered a bit annoyed. You had to keep your walls up. You had to keep your feelings out.

“That's not the point, Sugar.”

“That is exactly the point, handsome. I did my job and apparently I did it well.”

You glanced at him. Could he please get completely dressed again? This guy just dressed in an unbuttoned shirt with rolled-up sleeves and black briefs wasn't just distracting you, it also made you want to snuggle up to him.

“Did you enjoy it at least a little bit? I don't want you to feel used,” he asked concernedly.

You gave him no answer. You enjoyed it much more than you were ready to admit.

Frowning and smirking unbelievingly, Loki walked past you to sit down on the end of the bed, resting his forearms on his thighs and staring at your back. He hated cuddling and cuddling after sex even more but he wanted to hug you and keep you in his arms. Why didn't you tell him if you had enjoyed it or not?

“Who did this to you? Who hurt you so much?”

“Why would you want to know that?”

“Maybe because I care about you.”

“Mind your own business, Luke. We just had sex. This here has nothing to do with love or care or anything like that. I just expanded my service for you. I neither need love nor am I looking for it. I don't need a savior. I need money and I work for it, that's all,” you dragged on your cigarette, turned around and looked provocatively at him, blowing the smoke out. He looked devastatingly sexy with his rumpled, open shirt and tousled black curls. You just wanted to hug and kiss him. But both would violate your rules.

“Everyone has their secrets, Luke. You have yours and I have mine and there's nothing to complain about. We owe each other nothing. This is a business relationship and we both got what we wanted. You pay for me and I give you my time and my body. I'm sure you're done with me now. Thank you for booking me,” you said bitterly.

“What makes you think I don't want to see you again? Do you think so badly of me? Did I treat you that disrespectfully?” He asked you silently, your words stinging in his chest.

“No, no you didn't. It's not you, it's me. I'm an escort lady who is also a call girl now. I cannot fall any deeper. So why should you care about me? Maybe you'd like to try someone else now because I couldn't fulfil your expectations tonight. Some other lovely escort ladies are working for REA…” You suppressed the upcoming tears and swallowed hard on the lump in your throat.

There was so much pain and sadness in your voice, that it made Loki's heart clench painfully in his chest.

“That's not how I see it, Sugar. And I can assure you I don't want to meet any other escort lady… just you. You shouldn't speak so badly about yourself because… it's not the truth. Whatever happened to you and caused this dreadful situation… You're a fallen angel, someone has broken your wings and if I ever find this cruel prick who hurt you so much, I'll kill him.” Loki stated, his voice full of compassion.

“Don't make any promises you'll never keep, Luke. ” You struggled to make your voice work. “It's not midnight yet but I want you to go now...please,” you asked of him.

“Can I really leave you alone? I could…,”

“I'm good,” you interrupted him quickly, “don't worry. Walker will drive me home so no need for you to worry about me.”

“What exactly is Walker for you? Is he your bodyguard? He protects you, right?” Loki questioned.

He began to dress himself while questioning. It was like a reverse strip. How could someone be so sexy? How was it even possible to get dressed in a sexy manner?

“He is my chauffeur, my chaperone, my life assurance in case someone becomes a menace,” you told him calmly.

“I'm genuinely glad to hear that.”

“Yes, I feel much better knowing he's there for me.” You answered genuinely.

“I feel much better with that, too,” Loki said and put his jacket on. He headed to the suite door and turned around to look at you.

“Can I ask you one last question?” You shrugged and nodded.

“Do you believe in love, Sugar?” You hesitated with the answer.

“Do you, Luke?”

“I already told you, no, I don't.”

“And I don't either. I don't believe in love anymore. Someone has destroyed it for me. Love is overrated…and sex too.” You tried to smile and look self-confident.

“Is that so Sugar?” He asked you sadly.

You smiled softly at him and shrugged a shoulder, tears brimming in your eyes. You glanced at him, searching for the right words but unfortunately, you couldn't find them.

Loki made an effort to open the door and you swallowed thickly before you found your voice again.

“Luke…You have a completely wrong image of yourself. You might be dominant but…You are a tender lover. Thank you for being so…careful. And I'm sure there's someone out there to love you. But it's not me.” He could barely hear you because you ou spoke so quietly.

Loki smiled unbelievingly at you and opened the door.

“Good night, Sugar. Take care.” He said calmly.

“Good night, Luke,” you answered silently, tears brimming painfully in your eyes and with a soft thud he closed the door and was gone.

You allowed two tears to escape your eyes, wiped them angrily away, and opened your tight hair bun. You got a headache from it. You would take a quick shower, it wouldn't take you longer than fifteen minutes to get ready and then, Walker would drive you home. You weren't sure if you would find sleep tonight. There were too many thoughts in your mind. You felt just exhausted now. You took off your kimono and the bra, dropped them on the floor, and headed for the bathroom. After the hurried shower, you got dressed into the fresh clothes that were stored in your bag and put every piece of your worn clothes, the high heels, and your other belongings into the bag. There was also a package of biscuits in it but you would look for it on your way down to the limousine. It was time to go now and you left the hotel suite.

While walking through the streets of Manhattan in the middle of the night, Loki couldn't stop thinking about you. He always refused to gain too much feelings for a girl but with you, it was something completely different. He wasn't overly proud of what he did tonight. He lusted for you, wanted you but now he felt bad. Not for himself, but for you. Was it right to take your offer? He had used you, he took advantage of your situation you were in. That's how it felt for him now. He had your consent and he knew you wanted it too. He was a skilled lover, always striving to satisfy his sexual partner but he wasn't even able to do that for you. He wished you would've enjoyed it but maybe by taking your offer, he had just added more to your desperation and the difficult situation you were stuck in.

You had told him you would only escort him and then, you reversed your decision. Why? Because you lusted for him or liked him as a person? Surely not. He needed to find out why you needed more money because to sleep with a client meant to get more money than just escorting them. After sleeping with you he felt more worried about you. Maybe this was intrusive but he wanted to help you. His inner turmoil got the better of him and something about you touched his heart. On his way to hail a taxi on his way home, he recognised that he was missing his scarf.

‘Damn,’ he scolded himself. Turning on his heels, he walked hurriedly back to the hotel. When Loki left the lift, he hurried down the hallway with long steps back to the suite. Maybe you were still there and you could open him so he could get his scarf back. A woman walked past him when he was on his way back to the suite, casually dressed in jeans, an oversized black blazer and trainers, busily looking for something in a bag, her head deeply stuck in it, her hair covering her face. She paid no attention to him when he greeted her and he kept walking. He knocked at the door and waited for a minute or two but no one answered or opened the door. You must've been gone already. If you say yes to a further date with him he could ask you if you took his scarf with you and you surely would give it back to him. Or he would ask tomorrow at the reception desk if the housekeeping staff found his scarf.

When you left the entrance hall of the hotel, Walker was already awaiting you. He had just driven the limousine to the entrance of the hotel and opened the car's door for you. You tossed your bag on the backseat and got in the car. Walker rounded the limousine, got into the car himself, started the engine and you fastened your seat belt. You hadn't found the biscuits in the depths of your bag and now you didn't feel like looking for it anymore. You didn't even feel like listening to music anymore so you took your earplugs out and put them into the pocket of your blazer. You leaned your forehead against the glass of the side window and stared at the glittering lights of Manhattan by night. Walker observed you through the rear-view mirror.

“Are you all right, y/n?” he asked concernedly.

You turned your head towards his gaze in the mirror and nodded.

“Yes, I'm ok, Walker, thank you,” and you leaned your head against the glass again.

“Mr.Larsson…, was he good to you?”

“Yeah, … yeah he was,” you answered silently, and you kept staring at the passing city lights.

“Good. He seems to me to be a man with decency and manners.”

“He's wonderful, Walker. He was the best,” and you fought against the tears in your eyes. You couldn't allow yourself to like him too much. ‘Do not fall in love with a client. Do not gain feelings for someone who would never be yours.’ You didn't even know if you would ever see Luke again.

Maybe it was too late already, maybe you had already gained feelings for him. The worst case might have already happened. You might not be able to draw a line between sex and love. Well, you guessed that's what you'd call an occupational hazard.

You should stay away from him but you wished to see him again. Even though you might not be able to keep pretending everything between you two is just professional business.

🌹🥂🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂❤️🌃🌹🥃🌃🌹🥂🌃

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[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

Chapter Thirteen | Where It All Started…

Dom between my legs was exactly the kind of weakness I couldn’t recover from. We were always fixing things with sex. Hell, we even ruined things with sex. It was the one thing we never had an issue with - attraction.

“Dom, I’m serious. They can probably hear us.”

His hips drove into mine and I sucked in a breath of air sharply. “I hate to break it to you but that vibrator wasn’t quiet. Everyone knew, baby.”

My cheeks flushed and I hid under him even more. “Dad felt bad… asked me to give you advice. He had no idea I couldn’t.”

“You did give me advice. Before prom. You went with Marie and I went with Blaine. We all split the suite upstairs in the hotel. I couldn’t help it, watching you all night in a suite.” Kissing his neck I moaned every time he thrusted inside me.

Prom, not any dance but senior prom, was a disaster. Dom went with Marie instead of asking me and that forced me to go with Blaine. Blaine got so wasted he mad a scene about my lack of follow through on the sex part of our relationship. Marie had been by his side all night, caressing him and giving him all the hints that she would put out. Not that she hadn’t before.

Leaning over enough to whisper to Dom, “I’m gonna call an Uber. I’m over it.”

Scrunching up his face he gave me a look. “You aren’t leaving. This is our senior prom. Let’s go to the room, take a break from this.”

Blaine didn’t care, he was sharing a bottle of vodka with his boys and Marie was gossiping with her friends across the ballroom. Taking Dom’s hand I followed him to the room.

I didn’t care who we came with or why anymore. We had avoided loving him more than I already did so much it felt exhausting. I was constantly leaving early, bailing, making up excuses and lies just to not have to avoid it.

Using the keycard he popped the door open, leading me to an empty room with a big bed. “You’re here with Marie. Prom is notorious for sex. I appreciate you looking out for me.” Another lie and excuse.

“Because you came with Blaine. He’s gonna get drunk, handsy, maybe even aggressive and you’re gonna say no. He talks in the locker room, apparently you guys haven’t mad it past second base. A lot is riding on tonight if you wanna keep lying to yourself. I’m asking you to not fuck him, mi amore.” Undoing his tie and kicking off his shoes he stood there in the room fighting for me.

“He’s my boyfriend, Dom. It’s prom. There’s no way out of this.” I retorted.

Padding over to me, his hands found my waist, pawing at me to give into him. “He doesn’t have to know, baby. What’s the difference? I’ve already been inside you.”

The vulgarness of his words skated right down to my lace panties. “Everyone is downstairs. What if someone comes up?”

Pulling my dress up my legs I felt his fingertips skim my skin. “Take your panties off.”

“Dom.”

“Do you really care who sees? Blaine? Marie? My parents? When I’m inside you… nothing else matters.” My panties skated down my legs and I stepped out of them softly.

“You care,” I crawled on the bed around him as he got up. On my hands and knees I pushed my ass towards the edge and sat back waiting for him. “We have rooms next to each other, Dom. I can hear exactly how much you care.”

I could hear his zipper scream and the footsteps behind me when he kneeled on the bed behind me. Lifting my ass just enough in the air, I felt his hand squeeze my ass before slapping it. “What do you want me to do? Stay a virgin after what we did at sixteen? You opened a floodgate. I had to have more and you wouldn’t let me.”

“Let you? You took what you wanted.” I sucked in a big breath when I felt all of Dom fill me up to the hilt. Pushing my ass back felt like autopilot. “It wasn’t easy for me either. It’s not easy avoiding Blaine and making excuses.”

His punishing thrust from behind rendered me breathless, forcing to listening to him. “You could have told me the truth about Blaine.”

“What truth? He’s your best friend. You knew it didn’t go far.”

Another wave of thrusts collided into while his moans became jagged. “I didn’t know until yesterday. We all thought… he said you refused, that you only let him touch you if I was around, that the furthest you went was making out and dry humping. Why are you not fucking him? Your right little pussy only wants me?”

I didn’t speak, instead I kept rocking into my palms against the bed. Dom’s hands grasped my tits, and pinched my nipples through my dress, forcing me to drive my ass back into his lap.

“Good girl, hermosa.”

The obvious click of the door rang through the silence and I buried my face in the plush covers trying to keep quiet. Marie’s soft voice called out for Dom more than once while I clamped my eyelids and tried to not feel guilty. I didn’t expect her to parade through the bedroom door. She didn’t seem to have that kind of confidence yet the gasp of her seeing Dom drive himself inside of me from behind must of broke whatever bravery she had left.

Stilling, his hands anchored my ass to his crotch and I couldn’t bear to look up. “Marie. It’s complicated. I can explain.”

She didn’t wait for his explanation I knew wouldn’t help her erase him being inside me instead of her. I was the villain in her story. Hell, we were the villains in a lot of stories. Marie wasn’t the first or last one to walk in on all the ways we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

The fist against our bedroom door forced my grip on Dom’s arms to sink in. I felt like a caught teenager again when our shaking breaths collided and his thrusts only rocked my core.

“Fuck,” he exhaled as his hips stopped. Getting off the bed I watched him drag the decorative blanket off the end of our bed to cover himself up. It’s was obvious it was one of his parents who we abandoned at dinner downstairs.

Yanking the door open enough to let whoever was on the other side see he was naked he waited for them to talk. “What?”

“Dominik. This isn’t the way to fix your relationship. Papi and I had issues once, I know what she is going through. No amount of sex is going to let her trust you again. We can all talk, figure things out.” His mom begged him to fix it like she knew a part of her was still shattered from her past.

“We both fucked up. We’re even. There’s zero issues now.” Dominik said his words slowly, the alcohol truly working. Every ounce of confidence was lathered in liquid courage.

“That’s a bandaid. Having sex isn’t something that makes trust issues go away. What happens when you leave again, Dominik?” His mom’s voice wobbled and I could feel the pain in her voice from the door. 

Dominik was this ruthless version since he got home, liquor or not, he was willing to hurt everyone. Even his mom. “Yet, you two are just fine now. If you two can make it work then so can we. I’m not a child anymore, no one asked for your advice or opinions. Neither of you accepted this. We’ll this is my house and she’s mine.”

“Please, Dominik, go talk with Papi. For your child’s sake. He can help, Mija.”

Exhaling he mustered up the rest of the malice, “She was mine the minute you gave her the room next to mine. Nothing is going to change that. Do you need to see me fuck her? To make love? When is it enough to actually support our relationship? Your horror stories aren’t going to scare me into anything. I’m gonna make her my wife and she is having my baby. Unless you want to be scarred for life I would vacate the premises.”

Closing the door on his mother he flicked the lock effortlessly before pivoting on his foot. “Dom. She’s really worried. I feel bad.”

“She’ll be fine,” crawling into bed he held himself above me, wedged between my legs. Staring down at me worried he exhaled in a labored way. “Nothing can fuck with fate. Were fate. I’m pissed, you’re pissed. Eventually we won’t be. Right now? I’m drunk and I want to taste your pussy. Is that alright with you?”

Nodding my head up and down I laid back against the pillows. “I never wanted anyone but you, Dom.” His mouth covered my pussy and all I saw was his head between my legs. My breath hitched and my back arched all at the same time. “Fuck. Dom. Slow, slow.”

“You want me to lick you slowly? Like this baby?” His warm tongue swiped at my clit and I felt my body scream. 

“Dom,” I begged and pleaded but nothing was going to stop him. His mouth sucked and kissed while his tongue teased me until I felt like I was going to fall off the edge entirely. 

“Already baby? I barely got to taste you.” His hands wrapped under my legs and I felt his palms against my hips trying to keep me in place. 

“I’m scared it’ll happen again when you go back out. Your parents were picture perfect, married 28 years. How did we not know they went through the same thing?” Dom stopped his mouth from working up to my neck in favor of hovering over me. 

“I knew. I mean, I didn’t know for sure but I knew something was going on.” I stared at him above me wondering why he never said anything. Sighing out loud he crashed down beside me on the bed, “I heard them arguing more. My dad kept saying shit like if you won’t put out, someone will. He kept defending himself. When he came home they stopped fucking. You didn’t need to worry about them when you already had your own family issues.”

I analyzed his face, my hands trailing up his sides and I wanted to cry for him. His parents were the couple everyone idolized. 

“Being on the road doesn’t help. It’s not easy. Our life hits pause but none of those urges do. Your family doesn’t pause. No one wants to fuck up like that. It’s a necessity.”

I whispered between us, “Exactly. So it’ll keep happening. I’m pregnant, I can’t be on the road. I’m gonna be home like your mom and wonder if it’s happened again.”

Dom snickered, “And they fuck like rabbits still. They got over it.”

“So it’s okay, as long as we get over it?” I inched away from him, pushing him away. 

His hands boxed me in, “It’s not okay. It’s not okay that Randy can rub it in my face everyday that he knows how you come. Not even Blaine shit like that in the locker rooms. Fuck, it’s not okay that I fucked up. But it happened and now we have to move on.”

Pushing him down I straddled his lap. “And what happens when you leave again? What happens if Randy uses it as leverage? What if you can’t control yourself?” 

His hands smoothed up me, squeezing my breasts. His tongue licked his bottom lip as he softly forced me back down on the bed, “it’s not going to happen again. You either trust me or don’t.”

I was silent under him, letting his hands touch me and myself spin out of control.

“What more do you need? Beg forgiveness, every detail, beating up Randy, getting suspended - you’re having my baby. I’m committed to us.” He said it while pulling my dress from my body, over my head. 

Marriage didn’t mean more trust or less infidelity yet I wanted him to ask me. I wanted to be his in a way that made it hard for us to leave. 

It was like he could read my mind, “you want a ring, that’s it, isn’t it?”

A small, single, tear rushed down my face, “you feel like everyone’s except mine.” My hands on his chest I slowly impaled myself on every inch of him. Small whimpers escaped my lips before I started riding him the way I wanted. 

“You really think I don’t plan on asking you to be my wife? Everyone knows I call you my wife. Everyone knows you’re mine. You know me, you know you aren’t just having my baby. You’re my life.” His hands dragged my hips over his lap forcing me to pick up the pace. “Just like that, mi amore. Jesus. Still so fucking tight.”

My face hiding in his neck I whispered, “Still?”

“I’ve been fucking you since we were kids, how are you tighter than at sixteen? Fuck baby.”

Smiling against him I kept swaying my hips, moaning uncontrollably, and shaking the closer I got. “Dom. Dom.”

We didn’t fuck the way Dom wanted, instead we made love. Every movement painfully slow, every moan hushed and tortured. Somehow it felt like it could have fixed us. If we just focused on the love instead of all the ways we sabotaged it. Planting a kiss on my temple, Dom announced he was getting food from downstairs. Cuddling into his pillow I took a death inhale of his scent. He was leaving again and all I could do was trust him.

[19871997]

Culd you do a drabble of connor/leon in the ocean's 11 au?

"Tell me this isn't about him"

send me a drabble prompt to kickstart me into eventually finishing a hrpf wip!

“He’s like a machine,” Holloway says, as they watch Eichel greet high rollers on the casino floor, “comes in at eight every day, does everything the same as he did yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that.” 

“I’ve heard,” Leon tells Dylan, because anyone who had ten dollars worth of business in Vegas knew of Eichel and Eichel’s idiosyncrasies.

Dylan chews his lip for a second - Leon had sworn he’d spoken to Connor about that, and Connor had said something about weeding the tells out the group - before he rakes together the courage to say, “I’ve heard, also, that he’s fucking ruthless, he won’t go after just you, but your sister and your mom and your wife. Everyone you’ve ever met will be worse off just for knowing you.”

He sounds–

“Scared?”

Because he and Connor might need to start weeding out something more than just the tells of the group. If Holloway, Holloway who walks and talks like he’s just been shot out of a cannon, who walks and talks like failure isn’t an option, like that just isn’t something that can happen to them, starts building up Eichel the boogeyman, then their slim chances become fucking anorexic.

They watch Eichel charm his way into a smile from a woman draped in Van Cleef and adorned in Cartier, and a handshake from her partner. Holloway turns to him. “Are you and Connor fucking suicidal?”

Leon just grins at him. 

“Now what?”

“Now,” Holloway watches one of the private marked doors. 

“Dylan.”

“Yeah?”

“Not you.” Leon tracks the guy who’d come out the door - well dressed, head ducked typing rapidfie on his phone, and slipping around the tables directly to Eichel.

He stands near him, closer than Leon is with Holloway now, lets Eichel rest a hand on the small of his back, lets him drag his eyes from his styled hair down to his Louboutins, and murmurs something to him. Eichel grins, slides his hand around to squeeze his waist, lets go, and turns back to the patrons.

-

“Tell me this isn’t about him.”

He's in the elevator with Connor.

Connor flushes a dull red, fiddles with his hands. He does a better job of pretending he isn’t a rather unbecoming shade of burgundy, than he would before, and shoves his hands into his pockets faster.  Leon wants to laugh, “You’re a shitty fucking liar,” he reminds him.

“It’s not,” Connor tries to convince him, mullish.

“He went to Eichel, because you weren’t there, and now you want to, what? Tear down his town?”

“He went to Eichel because he stopped–”

The door dings open onto Connor’s floor. He flushes darker.

“Are you following me?”

“He doesn't love you anymore?”

Connor shoves the keycard in the wrong way at first. A young couple stumbles out a door down the hall, giggling. Connor manages to get his door open on the third try and Leon crowds into him, getting intimately familiar with his pale blue shirt, entering the suite, lest he shuts him out. 

“He doesn’t love you?”

“He didn’t divorce me for the fucking– the fun of it, did he?” Connor snaps. He goes to toe off his shoes, thinks better of it, and undoes his laces standing up. “He left before the Met job.” He sheds his tie, takes off his belt and pulls his shirt out his trousers. Leon’s still standing in his suit and his shoes and just watching him litter his room.

“He divorced you in prison.” For going to prison. Love between Connor and Dylan had never been in question. Such a non-issue, so assumed - the sun will set in the west tonight and rise in the east tomorrow morning and Connor and Dylan love each other - that Nuge had once, humiliatingly, when they were younger and ready to eat the world whole in a single bite, taken him aside to tell him that he didn’t have a chance of a chance. 

(“Connor’s a good friend,” Nuge tells him in his kitchen, handing him beer after beer. Leon feels a little like this is a test. Connor is a good friend. Good at what he does. Makes his heart soar when he pulls a grin out of him. Leon agrees with Nuge, mostly because anything else would result in a big, bold F on his report card, follows him out the kitchen and hands Connor and Dylan a beer each. Doesn’t watch them make eyes at each other and the easy way they touch each other, and disappear intermittently to the bathroom all throughout the evening.)

“He asked me to choose.”

“You don’t love him?”

Connor shrugs. He blew the Met job for them. Leon was lucky to leave the state mostly unscathed. Nuge had to disappear to Canada for a few months. Tyson’s still there - though Leon thinks he just likes it there nowadays. 

“What the fuck? Connor?”

“What?”

Leon’s trying really fucking hard.

“You blew the Met job for fucking what?”

Connor flushes bright red, his eyes harden, and there’s a part of Leon that relaxes for the first time since seeing Connor. There's another part that notches arrows and digs trenches and loads canons. 

“It was three fucking years ago, get over it.” 

Connor would’ve blown shoplifting in Sephora, Leon realises now. “Your husband asked you to choose between him and this and you chose prison.”

“He already knew he was going to leave.”

Nuge was right, all those years ago. It doesn’t stop him from protesting, years too late: “I was still there.”

Connor’s in front of him. Smaller than he’s ever seen him. Leon’s still in his shoes, a scant inch taller than he is barefoot, two-some inches taller than Connor.

“You didn’t write. Or call.” Connor accuses him, quiet, unable to keep the frown off his face. He wears his beard longer now. Leon thinks he can see some greys, but it could be the lighting.

“You went to prison.” And you didn’t have to. You went to prison, rather than eat the world whole with me.

Connor’s mouth is on his, and his ex is within a ten-mile radius, and they’ve bitten off more than they can chew, and in a month they might not have kneecaps - depending on how this all goes. It's a bad fucking idea. Leon’s lived most of his life with his mouth too full. Anything he’s ever done with Connor is drenched in impossibility, chance, luck, and blind faith.

Leon kisses back.

[jawritter]

Something About Fate...

Chapter 4

Summary:  Y/N has been homeless and living on the streets of Dallas, Texas since the start of Covid. Until one day, a handsome, green eyes strange notices her and turns her whole world upside down.

Warning: Change, even good change, can be scary, and even a little hard...

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader (eventually).

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This series is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine! This series will contain mature content eventually, and therefore is unsuitable for persons under 18 years of age! Anyone under the age of 18 will be blocked for my blog! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you all enjoy this series!

Main Masterlist                  Series Masterlist

Y/N and Jensen had been trapped in the hotel room in Dallas for three days and three nights. In that time period, Y/N had learned a few things about the mysterious actor. First, he didn’t act like any rich guy she’d EVER encountered, whether that be while she was still living on the street, or while she was a working-class citizen. 

He was mostly a quiet person, but somehow, it seemed easy to just BE with the man, and not feel the need to be pressured into a conversation. He was perfectly content to sit next to her on the bed or couch, and just watch whatever was on TV. 

TV. That was a whole new topic all together. Having been living on the streets for so long, and only seeing any form of news or goings on in the world around her from the passing magazine stand, or outdoor advertisement, she didn’t realize just HOW behind on things as she was, but more on that later. 

When they were talking, he was the tentative, focused, and open person she’d ever met. Which shocked the hell out of her. 

She didn’t realize this about herself either, but she had forgotten how to converse with people. She forgot how to hold a casual conversation with someone. She had no idea how that had happened, but it had. It took a lot of silent, long stretches of Jensen probing her a little to attempt to get to know her, but finally, she figured it out, and when she did, it took an immense effort on her part to actively not shut down every time Jensen asked her a question. She had to almost convince herself it was okay to talk to him, and that he wasn’t out to hurt her, like so many other had been in the past before she could get herself to open up to him, but she was glad she, because she like the person she found herself with, even if she still didn’t really recognize herself yet. She really had lost herself along the way…

Jensen was also very patient with her; something she’d ever experienced with ANY man, rich and famous or not. Never once did he get irritated with her. Even when he had to press her a little to figure out if she was hungry, or to convince her to allow him to pay for food. He didn’t get irritated when he ordered her a cell phone, and handed it to her, only to quickly learn she knew nothing about phones anymore, and he had to basically teach her how to use one. He never complained when she had to learn how to work the keycard for the room, or maybe spent too much time in the bath. He never even raised his voice at her, not once.

She’d only spent three years on the street, but trying to take a step back into society, she felt like she’d been out for decades. So much had changed in just three years it wasn’t even funny. She felt like she’d never catch up, and never be normal again. If there was really such a thing as ‘normal’ anyway. Jensen said there wasn’t. He was probably the most understanding person she’d ever met in her life. 

She couldn’t for the life of her understand how the man was still single, though, he did tell her that he was married at one point, and had three kids with the woman, but they had just grown apart in the latter part of their marriage, and they were better as co parents than an actual married couple. It made her wonder if there were some things Jensen was hiding, some issues or flaws she was too blindsided by the things going on around her to see, but so far, he’d given no hint to anything being gravely wrong.

“Have you ever flown before?” Jensen questioned, bringing her out of her head with a slight jump when he spoke as he zipped the bag of clothing up in front of him, and placed it onto the floor next to the bed. 

They were getting ready to fly out to California in a few hours, which would give her a little glimpse of his life outside of this room, and that made her incredibly nervous. 

“I have, but it’s been years,” she admitted. “Somewhere around the age of ten I think, and I don’t really remember it.”

Jensen nodded as he looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was barely four in the morning, and they were already about to head down to the Uber that was going to take them to the airport. She was no idiot. She’d heard him talking to his friends, and they were flying out so early to spare her the gawking fans asking questions as to who she was, and why she was flying with Jensen, when he usually flew alone. 

She wanted to confront him, ask him why, if he was ashamed of her or something, but she didn't. She kept her peace. For one, she was lucky he didn’t just fuck her like she thought he was going to, slit her throat, and throw her in a dumpster to rot somewhere. So she wasn’t going to question his methods right now. 

“It will be fine,” Jensen continued as he tossed not only his bag over his shoulder, but also the small bag of things that Felicia had collected for her and brought to the room. Literally, all she owned right now to her name, fit in a gym bag. The sad part about this was it was already more than she’d had in years. “It’s a super early flight, and it’s first class. I wouldn’t be surprised if we are the only ones in first class this morning, we can probably catch some sleep before we land.”

Y/N nodded, knowing damn good and well sleep wasn’t something that was going to happen for her. Maybe him, but not her. She wasn’t even nervous about flying until he brought it up… damn him.

“Will your friends be flying with us?” she questioned as she followed him down the completely vacant hallway, and to the elevator that would take them downstairs. 

“Na, Jared’s just going back to Austin, so he and Clif are just gonna drive, and Felicia has a later flight out to New York. Something about a project she has to get ready for, but honestly I was so tired when she was talking to me about it I wasn’t really listening,” he revealed with a chuckle as they stepped inside the elevator, and the large metal doors close behind them, leaving behind the kinda, sorta HOME she’d known for the last three day, in well, three years…

“Once we get to LA and get to the Air B&B, we can go shopping for a few things you're gonna need to actually do the job I’ve got you hired for; a laptop, pick up your iPad, things like that. I’m not filming or anything, but I wanted to spend some time In LA before we have to gear up for the next con.” 

Jensen continued to ramble about LA as they made their way through the mostly empty lobby towards the black SUV that awaited the pair outside that would take them to the airport, and Y/N’s heart seemed to pick up speed as a heavy weight settled in her chest. 

This was real… This was happening…

She’d never not left Dallas since she was a child. She never imagined herself living anywhere else. Now, he’s about to literally take her away from the only place she’d ever known, drag her all the way to LA, then once they were done there to Rome, then Toronto, then finally, when all that was done, possible New Mexico if they get renewed for a fourth season, before they could finally go back to Texas. Only God knew what would come up between them. It was surreal…

“Hey,” Jensen said, taking her hand in his own and pulling her out of the sudden fog she’d fallen into, and back to reality where he stood in front of her with the car door open, waiting for her to slide inside. “You okay?” 

Y/N nodded as her eyes suddenly started to sting, but she shoved it down, WAY down, and when he fell asleep on the plane, she’d cry then. She’d mourn the future she thought she’d have, that clearly she never was meant to have here in Dallas. She’d mourn the life she should have had, but now had to leave behind. She’d mourn it, and she’d leave it right there in the air, miles and miles above the past she was leaving behind. 

Not all of her memories from Dallas were bad ones, there were some good mixed in there too, but not enough to hold her here, not enough to make her stay. There had been plenty of warning from the Universe that it was time to move on. Some sort of higher power had sent Jensen her way that fateful day, or she was certain she would have frozen to death. This is the path she was meant to take, but that didn’t make things any less hard, or scary for that matter. 

Jensen watched her closely as she slid herself into the backseat, and took a deep breath as she watched him close the door with a tightlipped smile on his face. It was almost as if he knew how hard this was for her, but wouldn’t say anything out loud, not that she even wanted him too. Some things, even though you have someone sitting right next to you, you just have to walk through all by yourself. 

“Hey, if you need some time, if this feels like we’re moving around way too fast, just tell me. I can move some things around and give us more downtime. I don’t mind. I want you to be okay, that’s my main concern,” Jensen offered as the Uber driver took off towards the airport, and Y/N watched out of the frosty window at the dim light of the morning as it stretched it’s arms just over the top of tall buildings, still casting their own light over the streets of Dallas, the streets that she’d once called home. 

“No, it’s okay,” she assured him, not even taking her eyes off of the window as the familiar sights rolled by. Like the park she’d slept on the benches of so many nights, or the little sandwich shop she’d met Jensen at. All these familiar things, and yet, they all seemed so far away now. To which she was grateful, even if she was a little dumb struck in the moment. “I’ll be okay.”

Jensen reached over the small space between the pair of them, grabbing her hand in his to catch her attention away from the past that was now zooming by her so fast she could only see a cold blur, to focus on the more important future that was sitting right next to her. 

She’d be a liar if she said her heart didn’t skip a beat every time he touched her in any way, and that was dangerous. Very, very dangerous. She couldn’t go catching feelings and fucking this up, she just couldn’t let herself do it.

“It’s gonna get easier, I promise,” Jensen said, and she could only nod at him, and look down at the floorboard, a lump the size of Texas suddenly invading her throat and cutting off her ability to speak. 

“I got something for you while you were asleep this morning,” Jensen offered, letting go of her hand to reach into his pocket and she stared back at him in confusion. 

“While I was asleep? We’ve been up since 4AM! Did you sleep at all?!” she questioned, and he chuckled as he pulled a small, silver set of keys from his pocket. One looked like a house key, and the other was very clearly a car key.

“Na, not really, I guess I don’t sleep much anymore. But that’s not important,” he blew her off, as she examined the small set of keys in her hand. “One of those is the key to our house in Austin, where you will be staying with me, and the other is to one of the cars in the garage that you can use. No sense in being stuck at home while we’re there if you want to get out because you have to wait for me to get home to go somewhere.”

“Jensen!” She breathed, looking back up at him in utter shock as the car pulled up to the airport. 

“Hey, I don’t want an argument about it,” he teased, clearly amused at the shocked look on her face. “If you’re gonna be my assistant, then you’re gonna have to be able to get around for me sometimes, and besides, I want you to have some independence.”

“But… Jensen… I don’t even have a driver’s license anymore! It’s been three years since I’ve driven! What if I can’t even drive anymore?” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured her for what seemed like a thousand times that morning. “It’s just like riding a bike. Not something you tend to forget how to do, and I can fix the license thing once we get back to Austin. You’re gonna be fine sweetheart, just trust me.”

Y/N swallowed hard and followed suit as Jensen made to step out of the car at the airport, and began to retrieve their bags from the back of the SUV. 

She did trust him, she didn’t understand why, but she did. That didn’t mean she trusted herself though, that was the problem.

Forever:

@britnwinchester​​

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat​​

@wittysunflower

@demongirl1996​​  

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe​​

@jensenslady79​​

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@donnaintx​​

@maliburenee​​

@the-family-business67​​

@agirlwithdemonblood​​

@captainsoldiergirl​​

@twinkleinadiamondsky​​

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma​​  

@impalaslytherin​​

@perpetualabsurdity​​

@msmarvelouswinchester​​

@akshi8278​​

@love-jackles​​

@irmcpar​​

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@lassie-bird​​

@samsgirl93​​

@shawnie74​​  

@kaz11283​​

@mlovesstories​​

@ladysparks78

@sarahgracej​

SAF tag list

@itsdesiree86​

@evilunicorns4minions​

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld​

@thefemalestorywriter​

@tapedeck-hearts​​

@tristanrosspada-ackles  

@southerngal96

@mavisiceroo

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Under Pressure || Chapter 2/3

Prev: Chapter 1

Warnings: selfworth issues, guns, very slight warning for someone hurting themselves somewhat on purpose out of frustration by hitting their hand on some prison bars. anything else? let me know Wordcount: 3629 Summary: Mission Objective - Save your love interest partner friend by any bluffing means necessary. Try not to get caught. Good luck. ---------------------------- The only thing Miranda could think of was a deceptively easy sounding plan of finding Kurt, getting the stupid repression collar off him, and leave via teleporting mutant. It wasn’t like there were any other options available besides that. So, with that said; if she were running a criminal organization like this; where would she keep a prisoner?

Sneaking around the place that seemed to grow in scope by the minute, Miranda couldn't exactly consider it a marvelous sign that there were boards everywhere detailing the floors of the building- just how deep into the ground did this place go? Nothing seemed to obvious label where prisoners would be held; maybe to have plausible deniability if this place ever got rounded up by police. But then how was she supposed to find Kurt?

Well, the locations of the locker rooms were labelled. Maybe if she could get an outfit in there, she could wander around the place without her invisibility and feign that she was meant to be there, maybe even talk someone into giving her a keycard and the directions to where the prisoners were held. Here's to hoping Sheila had left her work clothes here. Sneaking her way through the locker room, she halted as someone else was snooping through a locker labelled S. Demoore, this person looking somewhat more important than the guard she had seen before. Miranda figured that with a rumor going around of Sheila changing her mind on things now that she knew a mutant, well... That seemed like a bad change of heart to have around these people.

"Chief," came through the communication device, and the lady picked it up immediately, "They've caught another. Weird looking fella. You want to come over and check it out?"

"Great, more mutant bullshit for me to record in endless paper forms. Fine, I'll be there in a minute," she left immediately, not even bothering to close the locket she was rummaging through as the rumor apparently meant all sense of privacy was revoked. Miranda just watched the chief leave, rolling her eyes a little at the blatant display of the fear tactics in place to keep the people around here in line, and then happily rummaged through the locker herself.

Scoring the jackpot for her intentions as Sheila had indeed left her work clothes behind, they seemed to be large enough that she could slip into them to hide her own clothes underneath, and thank the heavens above they were made of a blend with enough cotton that it would obey to her invisibility threshold if she needed it to. Miranda considered that divine intervention enough, making a mental note that if she ever ran into this Sheila Demoore that she would buy her a drink, and tell her to stay away from this place as this was clearly a rumor she was never recovering from whether it was true or not. Because some part of Miranda hoped the rumor was true.

The idea that even people on the FOH side could and would abandon this path was a far more appealing thought than the bleak feeling they were all lost causes doomed to be going after mutants the whole time. Feeling something odd in an inner pocket, she fished out a folded up piece of paper from a very hidden inner pocket. Unfolding it, she took one look at the photograph before folding it back up and tucking it back in the same pocket. She deliberately clicked her invisibility off, sauntering out of the locker room with the attitude of someone who belonged among the crowd while formulating a plan in her head to find out where they kept Kurt.

Right, the chief mentioned paperwork; probably had something to do with keeping track of who they had caught and what they were able to do. Miranda had no idea why anyone would willingly tell them what their powers were, but she didn't really have the luxury to ponder that for too long. Her best bet of getting to Kurt was getting into the chief's office and just plucking some file from wherever to pass it off as some important form she had forgotten. If she could pretend well enough that she needed to get to the jail cells only for that...

Thankfully, the offices were also labelled; apparently the higher ups each had their own title and job. 'Chief' was apparently solely in charge of the initial intake of anyone caught and brought to this block of the building- apparently there were four in total, probably each with their own chief overseeing things? Walking over to the office as casually as she could, Miranda momentarily worried what she would do if the place was locked, only to be genuinely surprised when the door swung open with zero protest.

Wow, someone really needed to be told by her higher up about the importance of privacy at her next salary evaluation. Miranda shook off the thought, grabbing a random file and just as easily walked back out, shutting the door behind her. Now to find someone to tell her where to go. She settled on the control room she had passed on the way to the office, gently knocking on the door before opening it. It was a decently sided room with a lot of panels with glowing buttons and handles, and cctv looking systems all around showing- Honestly, an absolute pathetic amount of empty cells.

This was either a recently set up quarter of this building or a poor functioning one; Kurt seemed to be the only one they had gotten their hands on at least for now. She tried to not let her heart sink too much at the sight of him locked up; she couldn't afford to look sympathetic to him right now.

"Hey, chief forgot one of the intake forms she needs for that one. I'm new, how do I get to where she is?" even Miranda was surprised at how casual she sounded, her words rolling out of her with a nonchalant, bored attitude fitting of the equally bored looking employees in the control room that barely acknowledged her as she entered. She knew she had been the first to claim that it was easy to just waltz in somewhere if you acted like you belonged there the whole time, but this was a deception feat she still kind of wished she had Gambit’s inherent charm for to pull off. But she had to pull it off, it had to work the way she knew to be true, for him.

She had to get him out of here.

"Third floor, first room on your left," the guard gave as a very bored response, looking on his watch, "I doubt the chief needs us here for the whole process- I'm not skipping lunch again just to stare at her filing paperwork for the next hour or so."

The one with him agreed that they had the right to an hour of break time, and Miranda simply muttered a thanks and left. The poor morale around the place was working in her favor right now, and she heard the door she had just closed open and reclose behind her. So, with that, the timer was set to her; she had an hour to get Kurt the hell out of here. Finding the floor and the room took five minutes with their directions and she silently walked in as if she was just an employee just send to give a file to the chief, no big deal what so ever. She watched the camera for a moment as the light on it refused to blink red. She did a quick scan of the room, trying to not focus on Kurt. The chief kept trying to talk to him, reading some things off the collar on his neck and scribbling that down on some notepad. Miranda's bigger concern was the guard with the big looking gun. She just silently placed the file on the table. Both the chief and Kurt ignored her as they kept their eyes firmly on each other while locked in some kind of mental cat and mouse game that they didn’t want anyone else to be a part of.

"So, teleportation, huh? Interesting. That's definitely something we can work with."

Miranda just kept her eyes firmly on the guard instead, knowing fully well that if she wanted any chance of this succeeding she had to take him out. Her mind only had one solution to offer to this particular problem. As she stood a little diagonally behind him she went invisible, grabbing the weapon with both of her hands and yanking with all of her might to rip it from his hands. At the shock of the gun suddenly springing to life, the guy let go only to immediately get budded in the head with the back end of the gun hard enough to knock him out.

The chief just watched in growing horror as the gun floated her way, the heavy stapler on the desk suddenly taking flight as well and hard crashing into the camera in the corner that snapped off its mount from the impact; shattering on the floor below. Then the floating gun came towards her, threatening and not stopping as she tried to back away into any possible crevice of the room. She realised too late she had been backed into one of the empty open cells, and when she decided to still try and make a run for it to get out the gun just as merciless came down on her, knocking her out as well. Miranda turned visible again, taking the keycard off the chief and getting out of the cell to go back over to the guard she had knocked out. “Drifting?! I didn’t even realise that it was you,” Kurt was genuinely astounded that he hadn’t even seen her telling hair color from his peripheral, watching with growing surprise and confusion as she grabbed the guard by his arms and started dragging him towards the open cell next to him. As she struggled to move the unconscious body, he wondered why she wasn’t calling for someone with more strength to help. Wait a minute- He thought about it for a moment longer, his eyes somehow widening even further when he realised there was no way she could’ve gone to the mansion and gotten back here with back up in the little time the FOH had him locked up in this cell.

"Süße,” he flung himself at the bars on his cell, watching as she pushed and shoved the guard into the cell next to him before taking the keycard that controlled the cell doors from the chief, "tell me you did not come here all on your own. Wait, where are your clothes?"

"Under these borrowed ones,” she shut the cell door behind herself as she left, “what other choice did I have?"

"Miranda," Kurt knew he sounded like a disappointed parent at this moment, but this wasn't the first time she straight up pulled her own plan over his, "I told you to get back up."

"And I told you getting involved was a horrible idea; you didn't listen to me either!" she was right, but the snappy tone of her voice still made him flinch

"I wanted you to stay safe."

"Why does only my safety matter in this to you?!” she couldn’t help it, in the blink of an eye everything that she had been holding onto and buried away deep within her came pouring out in a wave of frustration and hurt, “instead of constantly worrying about my safety, how about you worry about your own for a change, and stop making me feel like I’m something you’re just meant to park seventy miles away from it all?! I know, I’m the last person anyone would want to come rescue them, by herself; I’m nothing but a fucking burden to be calculated into the escape plan. Of course you would want the other X-men, or even my group of friends. I wouldn’t even want me to come rescue me! Fuck; we have people with lasers, mind control, time control, fucking storm powers, kinetic explosions, power sapping, invincibility, teleporters, healers, shapeshifters; my team has a fucking bear that can be as big as a semitruck with teeth to match and what do I get?! This!” She snapped her fingers, her invisibility clicking on at the same time. As the angry storm in her subsided, she tried to not sound as broken as she felt; she failed miserably.

“… The ability to hide from view whenever the world scares me. Great. Everyone else got something useful, and I’m stuck as the back up to get the better back up, because what I was given is fucking worthless in comparison.”

She came back into view, emerald eyes meeting yellow ones as hers betrayed how shattered she felt on the inside. How out of place even among those she considered her peers, how insignificant compared to them. She shook it off, somehow, wandering over to the cell and staring at the keycard before looking at the lock, trying to figure out how this was supposed to work. It didn’t seem to be a hold over and it clicks open kind of situation. “Miranda…” Kurt’s voice was soft, unsure even, as he didn’t know what to say to the onslaught of emotion that had poured out of her. He had known that she struggled seeing the value in herself, seen for himself how she constantly undermined herself even in their trainings. He had never known all of it had run this deep. 

"I’m… Miranda, you’re not useless. I’m- I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel like I don’t want your help. Of course I want your help, but I want you safe as well. Look, your power is so much more than just hiding from things that scare you. You infiltrate, you figure things out, you are the best person anyone could ask for to be set on an inside job because you will not leave until you got what you came for. Your power is not the ‘useless gimmick’ you somehow convinced yourself it is, it helped you get to me, I am glad you came to get me before these people decided to ship me off to who knows where, I just hoped that bringing a group would keep you safe because-" “We really need to shelf this conversation, we don’t have time to be arguing about this right now,” she said softly, apologetically, never having meant to throw all of that on his plate in one go. These were her own issues, things she grappled with by herself and should deal with by herself, building up a new sense of annoyance but this time at herself more than anything “you keep saying that my safety matters to you but you still won’t consider that your safety matters to me because-“ I love you.

They said it in near perfect synch. Their eyes met each other in equally shocked silence at the double exchange of those words, blinking slowly until Miranda broke eye contact to look at the lock; pulling the keycard through it correctly so it clicked open.

"We really don't have time for this right now, at some point they’re gonna figure out that they don’t have eyes in this room anymore," she muttered softly, trying to ignore how her heart cried at her own statement, "here. let me get that off you." He turned to her so she could get to the mechanism in the back of the collar and- she couldn’t. The bastards had changed the design of the collar; what first was a simple button press to unlock the device was now replaced with some complicated looking mechanic that she had no idea how to unlock. And without that, she couldn't give him back his teleportation to-

She flung herself back around to the jailcell door and hitting it hard with the palm of her hand, the sharp bite of the metal as it hit against her skin being a needed distraction for the frustration and guilt in her as she turned her back and lightly leaned on the bars beside the door, both hands in her hair as her own plan of getting out of here fell apart in front of her. Had she at least gotten someone else, anyone else, she could’ve had another set of eyes to take a look at this stupid thing and figure out together how this was supposed to come off. Panic immediately took back its reign, constricting her breathing into panicked gasps.

"Miranda,” Kurt said softly as he turned back towards her, the sudden outburst not scaring him but he knew it didn’t bode well if that was her reaction

"You were my plan out," she admitted, tears burning sharp in her eyes. She slid down the bars until she sat on the floor, her breath racing through her chest as her mind desperately tried to come up with some kind of plan, “Fuck, I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve gotten back up. See, this is exactly what I mean about- N-Now what do I do?! The only thing I can do is turn invisible and pretend. Pretend I belong here, pretend I have the suave persuasion of Gambit, pretend I know what I’m doing like how Shadow just knows what she’s doing all the time and does what needs to be done, pretend I have a plan like Ebak or Scott have an actual plan and a plan B and C they can fall back on, I’m-“ His arms were around her. She was pulled into a hug, pushed into fur that always smelled like the smoldering embers of a fireplace seconds after it’s extinguished. That lingering smoky scent, the soft velvet feeling of fur, the rumbling, comforting sound of a purr meant to sooth… She melted into it, wrapping her arms around him as she burrowed her face in the curve of his neck and allowing him to quiet the racing chaos in her mind through his physical affection as she instinctively started to take deeper breaths to calm down. “You got this far already, and you have me with you now,” he assured, “We’ll think of something to get out of here. Like… Maybe you can hide me from view as well?”

"I still can't seem to properly hide our shorter friends from view, let alone someone taller than me, and that collar isn't going to be affected no matter what I do. I can't explain a floating repression collar to the people in here," she sighed, going along with him when he stood back up. She could feel how he ran a hand soothingly over her back, softly kissed the top of her head; she appreciated every little gesture meant to comfort her so much. She took another couple of deep breaths before gently pushing herself out of his embrace, looking up and into his eyes in-

His eyes. The cogs of her mind immediately started to turn, as she looked around herself to see if there was some way to shut the lights in the room in order to test something. He let go of her as soon as she pulled away, following after her out of the jailcell to which she slightly gestured at him to stay by the door while she went over to the entrance of the room; and promptly clicked the light off. "Can you still see me?"

"... Yes," Kurt replied, just as relieved as she was that his night vision wasn't affected by the collar. He hooked his thumb slightly under the offending machinery, "but I don't know for how long. If the design on this has changed, who knows what it'll try to suppress in me aside from my teleportation." She tapped her nails rhythmically on the plastic around the light switch, clearly deep in thought to figure something out to get both of them out of this mess; "We just need it to last long enough to get out. The control room I went to should be in charge of the light of this place. I can't hide you under my invisibility, but if I can hide you under the cover of darkness.."

"Mir-" "It's the only idea I've got, Kurt. I don't have a plan B, so the best I can do is a B-part to my plan A of having you be my escape. The control room is on the first floor, straight ahead from where you go up by the stairs. Takes five minutes to get there, so give me like ten to get the lights off and as soon as they are meet me there as fast as you can." She fully intended to leave, but before she could his tail wrapped around her and pulled her back, twirling her towards him so he could cup her face in his hands. He thought for a moment, thinking about what to say that wouldn’t sound like he was undermining her, because where she at least had an idea he had absolutely nothing to offer.

"… I need you,” he settled on, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips and pulling back just as quick as he was also very aware that they were on a time limit here, “take care of yourself out there; be safe.”

"I will. It's this, or nothing; you're just going to have to trust me."

"I do. I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t."

“Apology accepted. When those lights go off, run.”

[goldandgreenflakes]

Aizawa x Fem! Reader (PART 2!!!!!)

Here's part one 👇 maybe read this first

THERE'S ONLY ONE BED?!

ENEMIES TO LOVERS?!?!??!?!

(Not quite enemies but close enough)

I LOVE CLICHÉSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Your hero name is Shockwave, btw)

I watched as Aizawa's form retreated to the bathroom, turning off the main bedroom light on his way.

Once he closed the door, I rolled over in the bed and faced the large window that overlooked the city. The convention center was just a short way away, and I could see trucks labeled "Hero Week!" Parked outside of it.

I sat up slightly to take a sip of the drink Aizawa had gotten me as sleep started to officially pull at the corners of my eyes.

Laying back down, I glared out the window as cars the size of matchboxes sped by.

The bathroom door opened, and Aizawa quietly walked back towards our bed. I could feel a tense, unpleasant silence settle over the two of us and genuinely couldn't think of anything to kill it with.

Aizawa spoke first. "Did you get your schedule for tomorrow?"

I let out a small sigh before responding. "Yeah," I said. The sudden rush of stress from my upcoming busy day made my already heavy eyelids pull down farther.

Aizawa hummed. "Go to sleep, L/n. We have work to do in the morning."

Nodding, I finally closed my eyes and let myself try to relax despite the other person in the room who I hadn't even considered as a teamate before.

Now, I felt more like he was my friend. I didn't want to admit it, but his sticking up for me at the bar and trying to help my eventual hangover was uncharacteristically kind of him.

I must have drifted off because I awoke to gentle poking on my face.

"L/n, wake up," a deep voice grunted. I lifted my head and opened my eyes to see none other than Aizawa, laying on his back in front of me.

And I had somehow managed to curl up against him and lay my head on his chest.

I pulled away in embarrassment, ignoring the slight pounding in my head and sitting up on the edge of the bed and putting my face in my hands. "Sorry," was all I could manage to mumble out.

The man shrugged, stood, and began picking out his hero costume for the conference. I decided to follow suit.

After a few moments of yet another awkward silence, Aizawa spoke. "How's your head?"

I thought for a moment. "It's... could be worse," I responded. He nodded before moving to change in the bathroom.

While Aizawa was in the bathroom, I decided it would be faster for me to just put my hero costume on and hope I was fast enough for him not to see anything. I quickly pulled my night shirt up and over my head, slipping on my outfit for the day and sitting down on the bed.

Just as I was pulling the bottom half of my costume on, Aizawa walked out of the bathroom. I shuffled to pull it up the rest of the way, but by the time he rounded the corner, I had only made it about halfway.

The man looked me over, muttered out a "nice" with a roll of his eyes, and grabbed his keycard.

Then he left.

I paused for a moment, fingers absent-mindedly pulling at the hem of my costume. What was his issue? One second, he's looking out for me, and the next he's... well, he's doing whatever it is that he just did.

Deciding that I was fighting a war I'd never win, I finished putting my costume on and grabbed my bag. I put my own keycard in my bag as well as grabbed my identification badge for the convention to put around my neck.

Nemuri and Mic met me in the hallway, arms once again linked in humor as the three of us walked.

"How's your head?" Mic asked, leaning forward to see me on the other side of Nemuri.

I shrugged. The headache was still there, but I felt as though it could have been much worse if it weren't for Aizawa trying to help.

Nemuri snapped her fingers and pulled out a small bag that hung around her hips. She quickly produced a tablet, handing it to me.

"Take this with breakfast. You'll feel better," she said. I thanked her.

"Shockwave!" A voice called as soon as the three of us turned a corner towards the hotel lobby where breakfast was being served.

I turned and watched as the blond approached me, his red wings fluttering behind him as he waved.

"The name's Takami, but you can call me Hawks, Sweetheart," the man introduced himself with a flourish, "it's great to finally meet you after hearing about you upcoming the ranks!"

I felt my cheeks flush in a modest embarrassment as I returned his greeting. "Oh, um I'm Shockwave," I introduced myself awkwardly, "but... you knew that already."

This was the first time I've ever been approached as a pro hero.

And by the number 2 ranked pro hero? I was honored to even be recognized and painfully aware of the fact that I was making a complete fool of myself.

Hawks held out a hand, flashing a charming smile my way. "I've been looking for you since I found out you'd be at the conference!"

I could hardly bring myself to look him in his piercing eyes. "O-oh, why's that?"

The man in front of me kept moving his head into my line of vision. Grinning at my flustered state.

"Wow, you're really not good with people, are you?" He asked, though it was more of a statement. "I wanted you to sit with me and Mirko for breakfast."

I looked at Nemuri, who had busied herself in a conversation with Mic, the both of them laughing quietly. She turned to me and smiled, sending me a thumbs up.

"Sure, I'll sit with you," I responded as I let the warm feeling of being accepted spread through my core.

Hawks walked me over to a booth, and I sat opposite him and Mirko. The Bunny Hero smiled at me, and a waiter appeared at the snap of Hawk's fingers.

A hotel with waiters? For breakfast? Holy shit.

We ordered, with me having to pick a dish quickly without getting to think much, then the two heros turned to me.

"So, Shockwave," Mirko started, "You're moving up the hero ranks pretty quickly."

I nodded, glancing around and catching Aizawa's gaze from where he stood at the other side of the room with Mic.

I averted my eyes down to the table as Mirko continued.

"You're shy, though. How do you deal with getting recognized in public?"

That question threw me off a little bit. "I... don't. I've never been recognized."

Hawks shook his head as the waiter returned with our dishes. That was fast. "I don't believe that. You're so memorable!"

My face flushed thoroughly. "Oh! Well, thank you, I appreciate that. I normally work in the background, so I'm not -"

He continued. "Do you mind telling me a little bit about your powers?" He leaned forward and paid me full attention, which only made my cheeks warm more.

🖤🐈🚫🐈🖤

Aizawa's POV (3rd Person)

Aizawa watched as Y/n sat with her newfound friends. Hawks was already working his magic on her, and Aizawa could see the modest blush spreading over her, not just through a red hue, but through her facial expressions as well. From the looks of it, Hawks knew exactly what buttons to press to take a girl home for a night.

"Is Zawa getting jealous?" Nemuri asked, siding up to the hero in black.

The man shook his head. "No. I'm just admiring the fact that Hawks has her wrapped around his finger already. She's not nearly as observant as you'd think."

Mic piped up. "You're way too invested to not be at least a little jealous. We know you slept with her last night!"

Aizawa sputtered. "What the hell do you mean? We didn't-"

"I'm just messing with you!" Mic cut him off. "But seriously, wipe that look off your face, yo. You're obvious." Aizawa rolled his eyes and shot a glare at Mic at the same time.

But. His legs moved without him even realizing it. He stopped at the table.

"The limo is pulling up soon for the teachers. Get ready to go, L/n," He said.

Y/n's smile faltered slightly, "Oh.. um, alright." She turned to Hawks. "Thanks for inviting me over."

Hawks waved her off. "No problem, and don't worry about breakfast, I'll pay."

Y/n tried to deflect. "N-no, you don't have to do that," she tried.

"It's really okay, Shockwave, I can cover it!"

"She doesn't need it," Aizawa cut in, pulling his wallet out. He threw down more than enough money to cover Y/n's food, then grabbed her hand and led her in the direction of the exit, where the rest of the teachers were gathering to head to the convention center.

Once Aizawa and Y/n were out of Hawk's line of vision, Aizawa dropped her hand and walked away from her with his back turned in her direction.

The limousine pulled up to the hotel entrance, and the teacher heros all piled in.

Aizawa sat near the back, eyeing Y/n as she climbed into the vehicle.

He wasn't quite sure what came over him, but he did know that he needed it to stop or this would be a long convention.

A/n

Aaannnd a part 2! This is turning into a mini series I'm losing my mind. Thanks for reading ig and I'll put out a part 3 whenever I end up getting to it but it depends on how well this one does.

Please consider reading part 3!

[driz-zle]

⌕ JUST IN: EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW

NOW UPLOADED: EPISODE #1 / EXES AND OH'S! / M.R.

Featuring: Sponsor! Mikage Reo and Actress! Y/n L/n Bonus Appearance: Pro Gamer! Nagi Seishiro Tropes: Arranged Marriage

VIDEO SEGMENTS: ###. WHAT IS YOUR NAME AND YOUR EX'S NAME? (Introduction) #1. Who took the break-up the hardest? #2. What do you miss the most about your relationship? #3. What bad habit about the other did you dislike?

We decided to bring together pairs of ex-lovers, iconic and famous all around the world, for a little Q&A. Welcome to Exes and Oh's! First up, Mikage Reo and Y/n L/n, an "IT couple" for many! The ex-couple debuted their relationship at the Oscars, where actress Y/n L/n dedicated her award won to her then-boyfriend, Mikage Reo in a loving display. Their fanbase grew day by day as they kept posting each other on social media, showed up together at events, and kept being sighted together, so what a shock it was to find out that they had split off!

###. WHAT IS YOUR NAME AND YOUR EX'S NAME? (Introduction)

"My name is Y/n L/n, an actress, and my ex's name is Mikage Reo."

"My name is Mikage Reo. I am CEO of the Mikage Corporation and the Sponsor of the band "EGOIST/S" and my ex's name is Y/n L/n."

#1. Who took the break-up the hardest?

▶ PLAYING: Y/N L/N

"Oh wow, straight to where it hurts huh?" —you chuckle, thinking about it— "I think, the impact it had on us both was enough to make it hurt."

"Can you elaborate on that?"

"Well, Reo is always swamped with work and meetings, and I'm either at events, filming, or preparing to. The selfish part of me wants to say that I took it the hardest, since, we did break it off in the middle of filming a big production. The baggage from my job as an actress and our personal issues, it was— it was just a lot."

"It was revealed soon after your break-up that your relationship was arranged ever since you were children?"

"It was. We met when we were young and we hit it off. Eventually, we were put in an arranged marriage."

"But you two never reached that stage."

"Yes —a sad smile comes across your face— we didn't."

"You stated that you wanted to believe that you took it the hardest, I assume there's a but?"

"I can't fully bring myself to think that."

"Why is that?"

"Because I know he tried to keep our relationship alive just as much as I did."

You don't know what day it is, just that it's morning with the sun peeking through your windows.

There are clothes on the floor, a tub or two of ice cream on your night stand where a polaroid picture of you and Reo sat atop. You're crying again.

Three knocks on your hotel room door. "Y/n L/n! Open up!" You can't even bring yourself to roll your eyes at your manager's attempts. Your head rolls over to the sight of the closet. Eyes catching sight of the extra football jersey with the number 14. You're crying even more.

The mattress and blanket alike are damp. While you don't know what day it is, you do know that you've been crying all night. Why wouldn't you? Every single thing you owned brought back memories. You hate that you can't hide from him anywhere.

Your phone? Texts, photos, reminders, notes, hell even your wallpaper. Your hotel room? His old jersey you always pack, the Polaroid picture of you two you always carry, even some of the fucking clothes you have in your closet were gifts from him.

Your bed dips, and a sigh is pulled out of your manager. You don't know if it's frustration at the state you're in or pity. Either way, you can't bring yourself to care. The extra keycard is in her hand.

"I'm pathetic."

"Hey, come on, you're not."

You're about to retort but she cuts you off, "You just came out of a 5 year relationship. You have every right to be upset, sad, angry, frustrated, or whatever you feel."

"I just don't know what to do." You're full on heaving by now, sobbing in her arms.

#1. Who took the break-up the hardest?

▶ PLAYING: MIKAGE REO

"Y/n. 100%."

"You sound very sure. How come?"

"The break-up was honestly horrible timing, especially for her. She was filming something big and I guess everything just took a toll on both of us. In all honesty, I should've tried to stop it from happening." A bitter smile appears on Reo's face.

"Your relationship was arranged, correct?"

"Yes. Our families were close, we grew up with each other just a call away."

"Did the implication that it was arranged ever deter your relationship?"

"Absolutely not. What we had was as true as any romantic relationship, all the way from start to end."

"Earlier you made it sound as if you were at fault, do you blame yourself?"

He takes a deep breath. "Partly." He purses his lips. "Like I said it was also just horrible timing because everything like the stress, tension, and whatever were all piling up, but I still should've seen the signs. Maybe if I did..."

The interviewer leans forward slightly behind the camera, excited to hear what he is about to admit. But Reo simply shook his head.

"Nevermind."

"Dude. You need to lay off the alcohol."

"Shut up Chigiri." He doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's drunk, all Mikage Reo knows is that he's miserable and that's more than enough of a reason to get black-out drunk.

"The big spender habits still retain while drunk then." Kunigami picks up a bottle from the floor, obviously expensive and with a name he won't even try to pronounce.

"When Nagi told us it was bad, we didn't think it was this bad," Isagi says, glancing around the room which was uncharacteristically messy for someone like Reo. Papers everywhere, bed unmade, closet incredible chaotic.

"Fuck." Isagi's head snaps to his drunken friend who is now trying to stand up. Eventually, he had to be carried by Kunigami to his unmade bed. They're in peace and quiet for the first few moments Reo lays down.

There’s a sniffle, and the group could only look at him in sympathy. "I miss her so much."

#2. What do you miss the most about your relationship?

▶ PLAYING: Y/N L/N

"The moments where we could just be. No CEO Mikage, no actress L/n. Just us."

▶ PLAYING: MIKAGE REO

"The times when we could just breathe. No pressuring business deals, expectations, fans. To me, being with her was my rest."

It's windy, evident from the way your boyfriend was getting annoyed by how his hair kept getting in his face. The breeze is supple and refreshing, accompanied by the quiet splashing of the waves. You can't help but laugh at his frustrations.

"Come here, would you?" He follows, sitting next to you on the lounge chair by the pool. With gentle strokes, you put his hair up, using the extra hair tie you always bring for situations like these. Once you're finished, Reo doesn't hesitate to lay on top of you.

"I love you, you know that?"

"Really? Or are you just saying that because I always have an extra hair tie on hand?"

He scoffs, amused, before carrying you by your thighs. "Reo! Put me down!" You're hitting him the whole time while he laughs and walks toward the pool. Contrary to what you thought, he doesn't throw you in. He carries you as he descends into the deeper ends.

The water level is at his waist while his arms are still wrapped around yours. Embracing him by the neck, you catch whiffs of his signature cologne. "You're annoying, you know that?" All you get is a hum in reply.

His hold tightens as he lifts you up higher, making you have to look down at him. You get a good look at him. Eyebags from days of bad sleep, a sort of tension on his shoulders, and a hint of tiredness in his eyes. "I'm guessing the band is as demanding as always?"

"Not really, throw them enough funds for a concert venue and they shut up." You share a laugh.

You don't think you look any better than his tired state but still, one thing that you can pinpoint is that Mikage Reo looked content.

Eyes half-lidded, it's only a matter of time before the sweet taste of his lips envelops yours. He groans once, and then another. A hand of his lands on your back, not letting you pull away.

Both of you are breathing hard, a satisfied grin on his face and an amused one on yours. "Mikage Reo, you are one needy man."

"Only for you."

By the following week, articles and pictures of you and Reo on the private island were released, leaving netizens in shambles from the loving display. It doesn't stop you from posting a story of your boyfriend tangled in the blankets with you shirtless.

Your PR team won't mind, right?

#3. What bad habit about the other did you dislike?

▶ PLAYING: Y/N L/N

"Reo was an all-rounder in multiple things. Soccer and business for example. That carried onto love languages. Quality time, acts of service, giving and receiving gifts, physical touch, words of affirmation, he could do it all. But he was always heavy on gift giving."

"Reo is, and most likely always will be, a giver at heart. I mean, he literally sponsors his friend's band for the purpose that he wants to be of help."

"So how does it become his bad habit?"

"Whenever we got into an argument, there would always be flowers delivered to my hotel, jewelry atop the nightstand, or a beautiful date to make up for it. But that was it."

"There was no talking about what happened, what was said, or anything about the argument. I think to him, after making up for it in the form of a gift or outing, that was it."

"What about it in particular did you dislike?"

"It got us into more problems because of miscommunication. Most times, there was no communication at all and it put us in a tough spot more than once."

Ruffling comes from the other side of the bed, a telltale sign that Reo is coming to lie next to you. Your right hand is up in the air, the trinkets on your newly done nails catching the light from the lamp beside you.

His body heat makes itself known, with the absence of a shirt, as he embraces you with a peck on your jaw. Reo's purple hair tickles the crevice of your neck as he buries his head. His voice is muffled when he asks, "You like it?"

He gets a satisfied hum, but his head lifts and he knows almost immediately that something is off. His hand brushes your hair, "You okay, love?" You finally look at him, extending your arms out.

He doesn't hesitate to dive into your arms. Your breaths sync and his toned back slowly rises up and down. Reo's just about to fall asleep when you ask oh so quietly, "When are we going to talk about it?"

He blinks. Once, twice, before he lifts himself up, an arm on each side of you. The glint in his eyes is playful and it matches perfectly with the grin on his face. "If you wanted another shopping spree love, you could just ask. Or do you wanna come with me to the band's concert hm?"

"Reo. I'm not joking."

Your stern tone doesn't put him off in the slightest. "Neither am I." He goes back to leaving small kisses on your neck and collarbone, knowing exactly what he's doing. "It's done and it happened right? I'll make it up to you a thousand times more if I have to."

#3. What bad habit about the other did you dislike?

▶ PLAYING: MIKAGE REO

"Y/n has always been independent. Even when we were kids, she would throw fits whenever she was told to stay put because she wanted to do things herself."

"She's always been used to doing things herself, even admitting that she's not used to someone taking care of and doting on her so much. She can push you away at times."

"When something would go wrong at work, or there was a personal problem, she tends to isolate herself. Once it's fixed or she copes with it, it's back to how it was."

"What about it in particular did you dislike?"

"I just thought that after knowing each other our whole lives, she would've let me in."

"Y/n let me in. Please?"

It's been a few hours since you've locked yourself in the guest bedroom. Your take-out order is left sitting cold at the kitchen counter, your bag and keys tidied up next to it by Reo himself.

Something must've gone wrong at filming. No, something most definitely did go wrong. He just called you over lunch and you were perfectly fine back then.

"If you're not going to open this door for me, at least open it to have dinner?"

No response again.

What Reo doesn't realize is that you were sitting on the floor, back to the door, listening to his every word. But you can't bring yourself to open it. An hour passes.

On the other side of the door, he's in a similar position, talking about whatever now just to fill the silence. "—and Rin and Sae got into another scuffle apparently. You know, we're gonna celebrate Nagi reaching 20 million, at that one place that has good risotto."

Not a word, again. He sighs, and the scuffling of his feet reaches your ears. "Goodnight, Y/n."

He leaves you alone for the rest of the night.

###EXTRA EPISODE: THE LOOSE LIPS OF NAGI SEISHIRO

[agentelevatormusic]

Introductions

Vera was wide awake by the time the first rays of morning flickered through the blinds. Her body was taught, stiff as a board, and pressed against the edge of the mattress so tightly that she might have fallen off if not for the knuckle-white grip of her fists against the sheets. Her memories of the dream were hazy and splintered.

Her mind felt off. Like a snow globe that a child had picked up and shaken. But she could hardly acknowledge the bigger picture until she could move again.

She stared up at the ceiling and tried to breathe. It was Tom. That much was clear. She could remember his warm eyes. His inviting smile. Maybe he’d been telling her something? Vera could not remember. Everything fragmented and split from there. Something about a walk in the forest. Footprints. Dread. Hidden marvels. 

The face of it tore at her and she curled into a ball. Eyes shut. None of Tom’s treasures had been enough to protect Vera from its presence. Nothing had been able to stop it from haunting her since the night it first arrived. It wasn’t just the dreams of Tom that it padded through, either. Circling her. Watching her. Laughing at her, if such a thing could laugh. 

There, she sighed. She had remembered enough of it to breathe easier. To know what she was up against. The dreams had been chasing her for so long that Vera worked them out like a knot and forced them out of her way. There was no alternative. 

Vera rolled out of bed and lay on the floor. Closing out the creature and the nightmares and, instead, softly humming a piece of Brahms and letting the notes form on their bars in her head.

Strange, then, to find herself riding along with Captain Kato. The Hungarian Dances still lingering in her fog-addled mind. Pieces were out of place. Information out of position. Vera smiled, nodded, and focused her full attention on putting herself back together. 

She highly suspected that they had tampered with her the night before. There was nothing to be done about it. There was no point in being angry at the Foundation. She gestured excitedly at a beautiful rock formation to keep up appearances with poor Captain Kato. This was not his fault. He deserved more from her than the occasional polite laugh. She would make it up to him if given the chance. 

“Next time we meet, let’s hope I’ve had a better night’s sleep, Captain,” Vera said, smiling apologetically. “Be safe out there.” 

The Level 0 Clearance keycard was a nice touch, but not nearly so nice as the promise of another photo shoot. Vera did an inventory of her belongings as she wandered up to the second floor. Had she brought an outfit that captured the “essence” of an employee ID card? It seemed unlikely. 

Glass walls. Blinds closed. 

“Morning,” Vera answered, walking right over. She accepted the apparent Commander’s handshake carefully, but not because she didn't want to shake his hand. The increasingly popular idea of the firm handshake had given her trouble over the years. It wasn’t a problem with other surgeons, who understood the importance and the value of their hands, but it had been an issue with Foundation soldiers with something to prove in the past. After one incident early in her career, Vera had taken to avoiding unfamiliar hi-fives as well. 

She shot the Commander a toothy grin, hoping that would push past the awkwardness of her cautious handshake, and felt some of the brightness finally returning to her eyes after the early morning’s difficulty. 

Then, with a polite wave at Steve, she chose a seat second from the end of the row. She hung her ancient green jacket over the back of the first chair and sat in silence. Her thoughts dipped between her odds of escape, a firm zero percent, and Guin.

Guin who arrived almost last of all and did not come to sit next to her. Barely looked at her. Vera gave him a tired smile. Her eyes filled with hurt. Then she nodded simply with something akin to understanding and turned her gaze back to the window. Back to thoughts of impossible escape and sorting out her head.

Vera rose when she felt enough of the room had spoken that they would still have the energy to listen, but they would also have heard enough to respect that she actually had something to say. She wasn’t tall, but she had a presence that had served her well addressing teams over the years. Standing in the front, it was easier to face the group as well as to provide her enough time to think of something to draw the brightness back into her eyes. Zebras!

“Good morning. I’m Dr. Vera Nair. Elevator Music. Or Dr. Elevator Music, if we’re feeling formal,” she said amiably, the corner of her lips curling upwards at the man with the fish. “You can call me what feels comfortable. I’ll be your primary healthcare provider this year on and off the field. I know it won’t make a difference to some of you,” Vera added, stealing a tiny smile at Guin, “but it does help some people to know that I received Board Certification in Internal Medicine from Harvard Med and in Trauma Surgery from Johns Hopkins.” It wasn’t at all a boast. If anything, Vera looked a little red when she said it. Tom had shown her the research years before, though. It was a best practice. Patients tended to do better when they believed in the qualifications of their doctors. 

Still, Vera felt relieved to move past it. “I’ll be meeting with you all for physical exams at some point in the next few days, but I think right now that it’s more important that I tell you first,” she nodded slowly as she built up to it. “I won’t make any promises I can’t keep.” Vera gazed slowly across the room. At first glance, she was looking straight into their eyes. Each of them seeing the face of an experienced doctor. Sad and gentle and knowing. The keen observer might note that Vera was looking respectfully through them, instead, at a line of those she’d lost.

“I will use every tool in my arsenal to keep each of you alive,” she said, continuing with confidence. “Follow my directions.” Her eyes brightened. “Don’t lie to me.” The toothy grin took over again. “Cover me when I’m working on one of your teammates.” Her curly hair practically sparked with excitement. “And for the love of all that is holy, if you must get shot, don’t get shot in the head.” Vera stopped and squinted. “Easy to forget that you’re not all doctors. My last surgical team would have been falling out of their chairs.” She shrugged. “I’m here for you. Everything is going to be alright.”

She began to walk back to her seat, before realizing that she needed to say more about herself. “Okay, let’s see.” She tilted her head back and forth. “About me. I’ll give you three truths and no lies. One, I have been scuba diving in Baltimore Harbor. No, I would not recommend it. Two, I once won ten thousand dollars playing a sport which I hate only to have all of it stolen on the same day. Three, I do haircuts. For a price,” she added, teasing. “Unless the Foundation has a barber hidden in one of the containment cells.”

Momentarily satisfied, Vera stopped short to finish with one last thing. “My office is always open. Page me if you need me. I don’t care if it’s stupid. Outside of that? I’ll be swimming or doing yoga or reading somewhere quiet. If you can find me, maybe I’ll show you a coin trick.” 

With that, Vera sat down and put her hand in her pocket to play with her 1978 half dollar. Her head was finally clearing up. 

[dragonroilz]

The Lifesurger: Genetic Anomaly

**Given my track record, I'd like to state that there are no further plans for this concept.**

this concept was made because i hate how there's not a true support character in this game which i understand why thats the case. if youre in singleplayer theres no point for it. the medimarker and feedback loop passive gives a reason to want to pick up allies and heal people. maybe this game will never fit a true support archetype but as a permanent support class mf in games like OW, TF2, and LOL it scratches an itch in my brain lmao

Feedback Loop - Passive

Healing yourself(via items) or others will make your attacks stronger. Decays over time. Amount charged is proportional to healing done.

Feedback Pulse - Alternative Passive

Healing past a certain threshold creates a burst of healing around you, harming enemies and healing allies. The threshold increases with level.

Stimshot - Primary

A single shot that can be held down to do more damage. The projectile heals and pierces through allies, while dealing damage to enemies. A fully charged shot pierces enemies and heals more damage. While an uncharged shot is a projectile with gravity, the charged shot is hitscan.

DIRECTORY: MARK - Secondary

The Medimarker targets a selected enemy and attacks it. Additionally, all damage done to the target is tripled.

DIRECTORY: BLOCK - Alternative Secondary

The Medimarker targets an ally and shields them. The target is only able to take an amount of damage up to 50% of their max HP in one hit.

DIRECTORY: ESCORT - Utility

Recall the Medimarker and grab onto it to ascend upward. This skill recalls your secondary.

DIRECTORY: MOUNT - Alternative Utility

Recall the Medumarker and ride it. The drone is weighed down by you, but can be controlled for ten seconds. The drone has less gravity and is faster than your sprint speed.

Pulse Accelerator - Special

Empower yourself and surrounding allies, giving a 50% chance to critical hit chance, removing all debuffs(except void kills, cooldown debuffs like rings, etc.), and a slight healing aura to anyone within range of the skill.

THE MEDIMARKER V1.0.0 LOGBOOK ENTRY:

The Lifesurger(Patent pending) is a prototype firearm that is meant for quick healing on the battlefield. The Lifesurger(Patent pending) excels in its ability to both heal organic creatures and repair machines, meaning that cybernetic enhancements can benefit from the effects of the firearm.

The Lifesurger(Patent pending) is also able to hurt enemy combatants by disrupting cardiovascular tissue, genetic material, and electronic signals. Through the help of an accompanying MED-E to identify friendly and hostile entities, the Lifesurger(Patent pending) is slated to be one of the greatest supporting assets on the battlefield.

Side effects may include: Vomiting, nausea, soreness, sudden bruising, death, genetic scrambling of previous users, limb loss, fever symptoms.

-

LIFESURGER LOGBOOK:

[CAM 3]

Patient 4-B is seen through the facility. She is escorted by a damaged MED-E.

4-B: COME ON MED-E. JUST A BIT FURTHER.

Something is pursuing them.

[Connection to this camera has been lost.]

[CAM 4]

Patient 4-B is seen using Dr. A. Kurosawa's keycard to access Restricted Section 2.

[Unauthorized access. Security has been alerted. No response received.]

Patient 4-B is seen entering Restricted Section B.

[Unauthorized access. Security has been alerted. No response. Automatic alert issued to UESC authorities. This is the last alert they receive from this station.]

Something is pursuing them.

[Connection to this camera has been lost.]

[CAM B-1]

Patient 4-B is seen running down the hall. Her IV is disconnected as she trips. The MED-E helps her up. They continue running. 4-B's vital signals are dropping as a result of loss of ?????.

She stops in front of ROOM 1.

Something is pursuing them.

[Connection to this camera has been lost.]

[CAM ROOM 1]

The door opens.

[Admin has been alerted to the breach. No response.]

Patient 4-B pulls the Lifesurger(Patent Pending) off of the wall. She misfires into her chest and falls unconscious.

The MED-E prods her body with stimulants. There is no response.

Something is pressed up against the glass. It's cracking.

[Connection to this camera has been lost.]

[EXT. CAM A]

Dr. A. Kurosawa is seen standing over the corpse of an unidentified creature. Her hands are up as UESC-dispatched enforcers approach her. The Lifesurger(Patent pending) is strapped over her back.

Enforcer: IDENTIFY YOURSELF.

KUROSAWA: I AM DOCTOR KUROSAWA.

Enforcer: DOCTOR KUROSAWA. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?

KUROSAWA: I DON'T KNOW. THERE ARE MORE INSIDE.

Enforcer: GET TO THE SHIP.

Three enforcers enter the facility. Dr. A. Kurosawa moves out of the FOV. The escorting MED-E follows her.

[Post analysis: Patient 4-B did not report to UESC authorities following this encounter. Her current location is unknown.]

Detective's Notes: I don't know how, but she somehow passed the genetic and facial recognition tests. Someone please let Captain ???? know about the background of his alleged "doctor". Although somehow I doubt he'll really care, seeing as how he's got some real screwballs on board.