#sleeper agent button for me

[steampunk-llama]

Autism screening is so funny I'll be doing a test and get sidetracked bc the symbols look super similar to the Minecraft enchantment table language, which is in of itself just key smashes of the Standard Galactic Alphabet from the game Commander Keen (1991)

And then my assessor just smiles and scribbles something for a Long Time

[zigzweig]

Sweet Returns

summary: after two years of patrick calling her late at night to come over and fuck, reader decides to end the cycle. it just so happens to be the night patrick planned on confessing that he’d maybe caught feelings.

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing, angst, fluff, reconciliation, mentions of alcohol

no matter how bad or selfish or borderline rude he was- patrick zweig would call, you would come. literally.

you shook your head at him in the parking lot of the motel he was staying at while he was on tour. you were in college. he was in your area and he called, and you went. you shook your head and you stood your ground and you knew you’d come, but you didn’t come. you wouldn’t. this was it.

“came all this way for what, then?” he asked, arms gesturing to you. 2am on a sunday. your arms were folded over your chest, red zip up slipping down your shoulder. the end-of-summer air was the perfect temperature. warm, but with hints of a cool wind that tousled your hair a little. “you drive over here at 2am just to stand there and say you can’t and that i’m not good? for you? for what?”

his words sometimes stung like this, but this feeling- you felt it in your fingers like loaded springs in a pressed coil. you felt it shoot sharply against the very tip of your fingers and toes. live wires. electric pain.

he was loud for a motel at 2am. you hated it. you hated that you even showed up. your friends shouted at you to stop letting him dictate the place you lay your head when he’s in town. shaking you, telling you to stop seeing him if you feel like shit the afternoon of the next day. you tried to stay away, you did, you wanted to. but something about the whirlwind, like a riptide, pulling you back out. this early. this late. like a sleeper agent, you were put in action. like an on/off button on a toy. and you hated it. so you showed up. and he was greeting you, and you pulled away. which led to this mess, this confusion.

you did not want to be pulled under again just for an afternoon of shame. you swore sometimes returning home, you accidentally held your shoes in your hand minutes after getting back to your dorm. the shame lingered, festered. your girlfriends usually had to bribe you out of the disgusting stupor.

“i can’t, patrick, i’m sorry,” you said, anxious enough to shake just slightly. “i’m going home.”

“you drove thirty minutes to come here, say hi, and say sorry?”

“guess so,” you bit your lip. he looked at you with disbelief. this was unlike you. usually he had you horizontal by now. you guessed that he didn’t like your non-compliance attitude. it was new, fresh, probably scared him. you imagined he was hungry right now, upset about not having what he wanted. what he ordered.

“why are you still here then?” he asked. it was bitter, his tone. “you said it, go.” one of his hand shoved into his jean pocket, he gestured toward your car with the other one. “fuck, didn’t want to see you anyway. go.”

“you mean fuck me?” you scoffed, almost baffled at his choice of word. it was so simple, the word ‘see’ instead of ‘fuck’, but at this point. it was too far gone to be unnoticed. “didn’t want to fuck me anyway? god, what will you do when your number one piece of ass walks out on you? you’ve got the second piece of ass on speed dial, you don’t need me here, patrick. you want me. i don’t want that anymore.”

his raised eyebrows fell and his darkened, but not in a way that scared you at all. more like clouded over, like breaking a spell. you stood your ground, despite watching his body lose it’s tense.

you shook your head again, taking a step back. “goodnight.” he had nothing to say, he just stared at you. you imagined you’d upset him, and that he was only upset with you. not himself. would be just like him. so you took another step back and turned, walking back over to your car. you’d have to get gas on the way home. your heart raced, but this was it, this was over.

you unlocked the door, opened it, got in, and you reached to close the door, but it was stopped by his hand on the corner. his figure startled you just a bit, and you wondered if he had seen it, afraid you looked stupid or something. you also wondered if he’d hurt his hand catching the door like that. and then you wondered why he did it, before he spoke.

“there’s no ‘second piece of ass,’ first up.” he said. you couldn’t see his face. only heard him, voice firm. “it’s only you and you’re not just a ‘piece of ass’, or a toy. i don’t know where you got that idea.” he said.

you turned your legs out of the drivers seat and stood up. he stepped back to let you out and you looked at him expectantly. he stopped your door from closing, it better be fucking good. your anxiety was turning into adrenaline. recycling.

he kept talking, “yeah, i did want to fuck you. i always do when you’re around. can’t help myself. and speaking of no second ‘pieces of ass,’ i don’t have a single other girl in rotation, though i know you believe differently.” he said it like they were supposed to be offensive words, but they were genuine, hidden by sharp tone. shielded. “it’s only you. when i’m away i’m passing time waiting to come back around. i call you, we fuck, you leave. it’s all i get.”

“all you get?” you snapped. “like i’m supposed to do more?” you advanced a step on him, but he didn’t move. “i come over when you ask, i ride you until you come, you’ve insulted me, you’ve made me feel like i’m not good enough for you since we met. and i could have anyone else, but you keep me in your pocket to call and fuck and go back on tour, leaving me to feel used and stupid. and you want more from me? what do you want? a fuckbuddy, a friend? i feel like you want a toy.”

“what i want,” his words overlapped with your last ones. “fuck- i don’t have anyone else. it’s always you, i always come back here. i don’t have to, i could be closer to stanford with art, i could be back home constantly. but my winnings go to motels here, hotels here. when i say see you, i mean see you, i don’t just mean fuck you. what do you want me to tell you?”

“what does that even mean?” you gestured wildly. “what do you want me to tell you? i don’t know, patrick. i’m trying to say goodbye to you, i don’t want you around, i don’t want to see you. don’t come around here if you don’t want to.”

he looked far left, shaking his head, taking a sharp breath in. “what do you want me to say? because i’m sure you’re being obtuse on fucking purpose. i want to see you. i dont want to see anyone else. i dont want to fuck anyone else either, but they go together. you think i don’t know i’m an asshole? you’ve told me again and again.”

“you are!” you ensured. he shut his eyes tight and pressed his tongue to the side of his cheek. your body pulsed, electric pain now a current running through every vain. you felt it in every appendage. your stomach muscles were tight, and you were sure you weren’t breathing enough.

but he looked down at you, breaking the small silence, continuing, “an asshole. so yeah, i figure i should leave you alone for your own good, but then when i’m out of here and back on tour, i can’t get you out of my head and as soon as i’m done, i end up back here, calling you. and you come. and then you’re gone.”

“patri-“

“i don’t deserve more than that, i know you’re not staying. and you probably should go, but i don’t know. i don’t even know why i stopped your door. just go if you’re gonna fucking go.”

another beat passed. you looked at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “what are you saying?”

“i don’t fucking know.” he looked at his feet, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek again. his hand met the back of his neck. “delete my number and i’ll delete yours. i’ll do it in the morning. just fuck off.”

your eyes burned, your emotions piling on top of each other, all pressing on your chest. you watched his foot turn to face you. you grabbed the door of the car and braced a little against the anxious ball of weight that was suddenly returning. circumstances began to shift underneath your feet, dizzying you just a little. and you were unfortunately sober. you blinked hard, shaking your head.

“yeah, whatever.” patrick replied to your own thoughts, reading your mind. he must have, there wasn’t another explanation. “i’ll do what you want, though. genuinely.”

you could feel he meant it. it wasn’t an empty promise. you knew he knew you were wondering if it was, and he wanted you to know it wasn’t. he was giving you up as well. when you met him, you thought he was cute, and you were drunk. sometimes you wondered if you had met him sober and didn’t take him home that night, that maybe he’d take you seriously. but that thought had been given up two weeks in, two years ago. it was weird to feel like it never really left as you slowly began to wonder if he meant what you never thought he could mean.

“okay,” you agreed, swallowing hard. he raised his head from his feet. you would give him up, he would give you up. the soft september breeze blew his curls just slightly. his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them. you always liked his eyelashes, you didn’t think that they’d be even prettier when wet. you could see it in the motel light, the light bounced off of it. it was so weird. “you’re upset.”

“go.”

“patrick.”

“you’re not supposed to give a fuck. i’m begging you not to give a fuck.”

“say what you mean,” you ordered him, wits end. edge of your seat. “fuck, say it!”

“i don’t know what you want me to say!”

“am i just a body to you?”

“no, fuck off.”

“tell me.”

“tell you what?”

you looked him in the eyes, “are you telling me you… fuck, i can’t-“ you couldn’t even say it, you felt so stupid. “fuck, patrick!” both of you couldn’t say it. but it was so familiar, the feeling. the nervousness, the tingling in your limbs, the flip of your stomach. resurfacing, curious, naive.

both of you getting more riled up by the second, you looked anywhere else. you heard him breathe out hard, exasperated. “i don’t think i should say anything.”

“so why?”

he shook his head, “you deserve better.”

“than you?”

“yeah.”

the silence stung your ears. the hair on your arms stood up straight. the air was suddenly hot and thick. and you held onto the door a little tighter.

“patrick, do you want me?”

he pressed his fingers to the side of his chin, turning his body away from you. you watched his hand slide down to the back of his neck. you knew him, he wasn’t dumb, he knew he had to say nothing. if he said something, you might stay. and it was best that you didn’t. the fight wasn’t worth having. “just go.” he replied, not even turning around. he couldn’t look at you.

your heart pulled, a sinking feeling filling your chest. why? this wasn’t attachment, this wasn’t manipulation, this was him. for the first time. him. “okay.” you said. but you stood there, just a moment longer. and he did turn after a moment, eyes locking on yours. you couldn’t really read him. but you didn’t need to. you just wanted to say goodbye properly.

so your hands fell on his shoulders, squeezing gently as they trailed over, up his neck, and to the back of his head as you kissed him slowly, deeply, passionately. there was no lust in this kiss, no urgency, no bed in sight. his hands, the most gentle they’d been without having to fuck first, slipped around your waist. he kissed you back just as softly. there was no hunger. just the chirp of crickets and the whisper of the nearby highway. and you kissed him, pressed against the side of your car. he kissed you the same. you head swam.

this was him. his desire was only to kiss you, his hands travelling up to your jaw as yours trailed down his chest. it was deep, slow, every moment felt. he was the best kisser, it felt a shame to stop kissing. so your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. he smelled like cigarettes and his subtle cologne. it seemed like the most familiar thing in the world. you sighed between kisses.

you wanted this. and you wondered how real it was. how badly did he want you to stay? the truth was, he wanted you to be free from his cycle. he knew he wasn’t supposed to have you. he thought this would have gone differently, planning out an entirely different way to tell you this. but he couldn’t say it anyway. it- the words- hung in the air as you kissed, embraced, and said goodbye all in one. it was bittersweet. and a little bit sad.

because the kiss eventually ended. and you stayed against him. he didn’t want you to know how upsetting it was to wrap his arms around you for the first and hopefully last time in this context. his lips pressed against the top of your head as you stayed that way just a moment longer. and even that moment ended.

you looked at him again. “goodnight, patrick.”

“goodnight, y/n.” he replied. “just fuck off.” but he didn’t mean it. and you drove away. that was it. that was your goodbye. and he didn’t come around again. he kept on tour and started going back home instead of toward you. you kept going to school, graduated. your friends were proud you quit the cycle, but you didn’t tell them about any of what patrick meant. it wasn’t romance, it wasn’t going to be.

you missed him sometimes. and four years passed as you missed him occasionally. friends came and went. you dated two guys since then, terrible in bed and horrible in general. you missed him after having to fake your last orgasm with the guy you were seeing. you had a job now, an apartment, a solid group of friends. things were good.

you were grocery shopping when you ran into him again. a cheap little shop that had the best chip selection and most essential items. you thought maybe it was someone else, but it was him, in a sweater and jeans, holding a stack of ramen bricks. and your heart skipped a beat, like you were four years younger and he still gave you butterflies. and you were about to move, to start to think of what to do, when he turned around and looked up to see you. he turned his head away, then back at you, doing his own double-take.

his eyes, just a little wide locked onto yours. so you smiled, a little smug at his reaction. you walked over with a slight sway. he continued to look bewildered. he looked four years older. and he thought you looked gorgeous. “hi.” you said, keeping that smile.

“hey.” he responded, blinking once. “how are you?”

“i’m okay,” you replied. “how are you?”

“i’m fine.” he swallowed again, as if nervous. “are you stopping by or are you local?”

“local, why? are you local?” you asked.

“yeah, i live a block away.” he said. “just moved.”

you stared at each other for a second more, analyzing features, thinking back… and you nodded, holding your carton of raspberries. “are you free tonight?” you smiled.

“uh- yeah, think so,” he replied. still shocked.

“would you maybe want to get a drink?”

“i would, yeah,”

you nodded again, rocking on your heels, “perfect. see you then.” your heart was beating a mile a minute. it was him, he was here, he lived here… and you’d just asked him to get a drink. but you weren’t nervous. just… excited. something in you knew more. he was different, he had changed, he carried himself differently. and you were trusting it. the past was the past. and there was a reason you ran into each other.

when you got home, you texted him. and it was a leap of faith to hope he had the same number. you relied on it. because even after all the time had passed, you never actually blocked his number. you couldn’t.

and the address to the bar delivered immediately, meaning… he hadn’t deleted yours either. all these years. you grinned a little as you read his response.

‘its a date’.

cocky. presumptuous. horrible. terrifying. exciting.

a/n: omg first fic on this account. thought maybe this was a fun place to start off. also, i might consider a second part to this fic.let me know if you want IN on the taglist. requests open!

[oliversrarebooks]

corporate retreat part 1 / 4

I went into a fugue state and wrote nine thousand words about an overworked corporate drone being brainwashed for their own good.

Masterlist > Next

tw: brainwashing, conditioning, dehumanization, drugging, humiliation, hypnosis, restraints,  corporate culture, weight insecurity mentioned, a little kinky

"Welcome to the Brainwashing Department! You must be today's test subject. We're happy to have you!"

Quinn stared in disbelief at the receptionist's guileless and strangely familiar smile. "You're awfully cheerful about this, aren't you?"

"Well, I love my job," he said without the slightest trace of malevolence. "As I'm sure you know, the Brainwashing Department is critically important to the organization. Without us, we wouldn't have sleeper agents, puppet politicians, memory erasure... and it's interesting work, too. No two subjects are the same." He glanced at Quinn's badge and then at their face. "Say, I recognize you. You're from IT, aren't you? You're the one who always unlocks my laptop when I forget my password!"

Oh, shit, that's where they remembered this guy. Quinn wasn't sure what they found more mortifying: the fact that they'd been recognized, or the idea of letting a guy who obviously didn't know how to work a laptop be in charge of human minds. Maybe he'd been a test subject, and it affected his brain... although considering what Quinn had signed up for, that wasn't at all comforting.

"Yeah, I'm from IT," said Quinn. "Can we get started? I'd prefer to get this over with."

The receptionist laughed. "You seem like you could use a vacation. Good thing you're here. No better vacation than a vacation from your thoughts, right?" He pushed a button on his phone. "Dr. Moon, your test subject has arrived."

Quinn played with their phone and tried not to look like an anxious wreck as they waited for the doctor. This was such an awful idea, but they didn't have much of a choice. 

---

"You used to be my favorite minion. I hate to see your potential go down the drain, and I'd really, really hate to have to put you on a performance improvement plan," their boss had said. "You know, just because we're in the business of underground supervillainy doesn't mean we don't value our employees' mental health. You should take a vacation, recharge yourself."

"I'm out of PTO," said Quinn.

Their boss leaned over her desk with a frightening look in her eye. "Have you happened to see the fliers the Brainwashing Department has been posting?"

Oh, they didn't like where this was headed. "The ones looking for compliant test subjects? The ones promising a $5000 bonus and a month of PTO?"

"Exactly! Doesn't that solve your problem?"

"The month of PTO is just the month you spend as their brainwashed test subject."

"Details," she said with a handwave. "You get PTO and a chance to relax --"

"-- by being drugged and hypnotized out of my skull --"

"--and you'll come back refreshed and ready to work."

"Presumably because you'll get them to brainwash me to be a better employee."

"See, everyone wins!" she said. "I highly recommend that you volunteer."

And that was that. Quinn certainly didn't have the clout to argue, especially when they were at risk of being at the bottom of the stack ranking. You didn't want to get stack ranked in this organization. It usually involved poison in your cafeteria rations.

---

"Quinn? You're a volunteer for brainwashing testing, right?"

Quinn looked up to see a middle-aged woman wearing the aquamarine jumpsuit of the higher-status employees, along with a lab coat and a pair of enormous round glasses. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she had a strangely warm smile given her profession. 

"I'm Quinn, and yeah."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Dr. Moon," she said, holding out her hand for a shake, and her hands felt warm as well. "Thank you for volunteering. It's critically important that we have adequate testing subjects for refining our process, before we have to use the techniques on important targets. So many employees are frightened of our department, even though our work is really quite pleasant. You don't have anything to worry about, though. I promise that your mind is good hands here."

"Good to know," they said. "Hopefully I can give you some good data." It really wasn't the competency of the Brainwashing Department that worried them -- they'd seen their results firsthand. If anything, they were perhaps a little too competent.

"I'm sure your data will be invaluable. Now, if you could follow me..." She turned and swiped her keycard at the double doors next to the reception desk, ushering Quinn inside.

They stood in a short, sterile, and blindingly white hallway with several doors on each side and another large set of double glass doors at the end. "Those doors lead to the primary brainwashing floor," Dr. Moon said, gesturing to the end of the hallway. "But first, I'm going to have you go into one of our prep rooms." 

She slid her keycard on one of the side doors, which opened up to a small room with some lockers, a shower, and a bench. "Put your uniform and any personal effects -- except your glasses and anything medically necessary -- in the locker. Then, take a shower using the provided soap and dress in the clothes you find in the locker. Make sure you clip your identification tag to the gown, so we don't lose you."

"Wouldn't want that to happen."

"When you're done, just press the button and I'll be back to guide you to the next phase," she said. "Take your time. We're in no hurry."

Quinn shut the door behind them. They stripped off their sneakers, a pair of socks adorned with little green alien heads, and the gray jumpsuit that marked their middling status in the organization. The hot water felt great as they stepped into the shower, and the soap was pleasantly scented with lavender. It would've been relaxing if the shower hadn't given them a chance to be alone with their own thoughts.

Were they really going through with this? They could've told their boss no, but that would've just ended badly. The terms of the test subject agreement guaranteed that the process would be reversed at the end, but it wasn't like they trusted that. They knew what the Brainwashing Department was capable of. They could wipe any memories they didn't want them to have, they could implant suggestions of being more loyal and eager to work, they could humiliate them in so many ways, they could simply leave them brainwashed permanently... 

Quinn sighed. This was absolutely going to suck, but there was no use worrying. It wasn't like they were going to turn back now.

The provided outfit was a soft blue cotton hospital gown and padded socks. They were quite comfortable, but made Quinn feel entirely too exposed and vulnerable without their familiar jumpsuit. The badge they clipped to the gown had their name, picture, subject number, and a series of codes designating the brainwashing procedures they were going to undergo. Quinn didn't know enough about the department's work to know what the codes meant.

They pressed the button.

A few minutes later, Dr. Moon entered the room. "I hope you had a nice shower. Let's get you into the other room to do a few necessary checks."

The next room was a bit like a doctor's office. "I'll need you to stand on that scale, please," said Quinn.

"Is that really necessary?" They fucking hated this part of the doctor's visit.

"It's not for judgement or shaming, really! We just need accurate weight to make sure the medication dosage is correct. It's for your own safety. You don't even need to look."

Somehow, even the idea of being weighed for brainwashing drugs was preferable to being shamed again. They didn't look as they stood on the scale, and Dr. Moon made no comment.

"Now, if you'll sit on the table for a minute, please," she said. "Let me just check your breathing... your eyes and ears..."

Quinn sat as still as they could as Dr. Moon pressed a stethoscope to their chest and shined a light in their eyes, but they couldn't keep their knee from bouncing.

"Any vision or hearing problems, other than your need for glasses?"

"No."

"Any disabilities we should be aware of? Here in the Brainwashing Department, we pride ourselves on our commitment to diversity. We'll adjust our procedures to accommodate any disability, mental or physical, to ensure that everyone can safely and easily fall under our control."

"Uh. Not that I know of." Quinn most certainly was not going to spill their mental health difficulties to this woman. She'd probably have access to all of Quinn's secrets soon enough... ugh, they'd rather not think about that.

"All right, then. If you're ready, I can lead you to the brainwashing floor and we can get started on your procedure."

"I'm not sure I can be any more ready than I am right now, so..."

"I know it must seem nerve-wracking, but trust me, once we get started you won't be worried at all."

"That doesn't especially ease my worries."

They followed Dr. Moon through the double doors and into the main brainwashing floor. Here, thirty of the organization's brainwashing devices were arranged in neat rows, big plush reclining chairs with restraints and screens and medical tools. They were all currently occupied by people of all ages and types undergoing procedures. Most of the people were half-asleep and watching hypnotic screens, mouthing words under their breath, hooked up to gas tanks and IV lines containing the drug cocktails that made them docile and malleable. Some were being induced, surrounded by staff monitoring their vitals as they went under. Others had a staff member drilling commands into their minds. One woman at the back was thrashing and fighting as the department staff wrangled her into restraints and into a mask.

Quinn had long been desensitized to the brainwashing floor. After all, when you worked for an organization like this one, morals flew out the window with your first paycheck. The work they did was necessary to keep the organization going, and honestly less messy and more humane than some of the other departments. Quinn had had to come here plenty of times to help troubleshoot problems with the machines, and had swiftly learned to tune out the droning hypnotic inductions and sounds of quiet struggle.

But it certainly hit differently now that Quinn knew they were destined for one of the devices. They couldn't help but imagine themselves in a chair, watching a hypnotic screen with a dazed smile and glassy eyes. The idea made their skin crawl with the fear they'd been shoving aside until now. They hated the idea of not being in control, and especially the idea of other people seeing them helpless and vulnerable. But that fate was now inevitable. They weren't kidding themselves about their ability to resist. Dr. Moon would probably turn them into a drooling, tranced-out mess by lunchtime.

At least they'd get some good sleep for a change. Chemically-induced sleep with a side of mind warping, sure, but sleep nonetheless.

Masterlist > Next

[suzukiblu]

I saw project sidekick on the list for wip wednesday and went for the ask button so fast I tripped despite literally only moving my mouse an inch?? No clue how I managed that. I just love them so much, they're brother's but they don't even know they're brothers yet!!! Please someone tell these boys they're gonna be okay and they're not as alone and unwanted as they think they are 🥺🙏♥️♥️♥️

“They could do something about that too,” he says dismissively, jerking a hand towards it. “Plastic surgery, some kind of spell, whatever. Laser off a few of the scars, add some different ones. Make me forget how to fight. Make me forget–make me forget how to fly.” 

Wally wants to say the League wouldn’t do any of those things, but he can’t say they wouldn’t, because Kaldur’s right and they could still be sleeper agents on top of that and also–and also, Batman’s paranoid and meticulous and doesn’t leave loose ends, and Dick Grayson has a not insignificantly public face.

[thespiritssaidso]

some people do it by the book (but i prefer to go by feel)

Summary: Shawn and Lassiter are undercover at a high-end resort where all visitors get their own private cabin. All the two need to do now is settle in — and chop up some wood to make a fire, of course. 

Notes: okay, so I’m basing this place off of the Big Cedar Lodge (I went there one year with my family on a road trip). I’m not sure if there’s a resort like it in California, but oh well. Currently as I’m writing this, it is 3 in the afternoon and the internet at my job is crappy and won’t let me look at maps without taking forever and a half to load it up. And if anyone knows me then they know that my patience is extremely limited (part of the reason why I’m only good at writing one shots lmao) and I don’t really feel like taking longer than necessary to make sure the made-up place I am writing for the made-up people to stay at actually exists. 

TL;DR this place exists in Branson, Missouri, but I’m too lazy to make sure a place like it also exists in California. 

Anyways, enjoy!! I know we all love a good Shassie at a cabin au.

Flufftober day 8: Chopping and Piling Wood

—————

Lassiter grunted as he swung his ax into the block of wood, chopping it neatly in two. He leaned over and tossed the half still sitting on the block and tossed it onto a small pile that was slowly building up. After throwing the other half onto the pile right after the first, he reached up and wiped a line of sweat beading on his forehead. 

Currently, he and Shawn were undercover as a married couple to investigate a few disappearances that were happening at the Great Pine Lodge. 

The place was as fancy as a cabin in the woods could get. Full plumbing, air conditioning for when it got hot, heaters for when it got cold, a large king size plush mattress complete with expensive feeling sheets and covers. And that was just the cabin. 

About a stone’s throw from where they were staying was a large beautiful lake, with water so clear Lassiter could almost see the bottom. 

The other cabins people were staying at were a decent distance from their own, close enough to see but not close enough to hear the inhabitants if they were inside. 

A paved road — not a gravel road — sat in front of the cabins, shuttle buses on speed dial on the rotary phone sitting on the bedside table inside, so that visitors wouldn’t have to waste their own cars’ gas to go to the dining hall, or the gift shop, or even the arcade (yes, this place had an arcade). 

Lassiter had always dreamed of going here one day. It was the perfect vacation spot for him and Shawn; fine dining, a beautiful view, activities the both of them would enjoy. 

But now was not the time for dreaming of a perfect vacation (although hopefully there’d be some time left for them to do so). Now was time for investigation. Or more aptly, chopping firewood, in Lassiter’s case. 

Before chopping another log, Lassiter stopped to reroll his sleeves that were slowly unraveling themselves. At the moment, all he was wearing was the button up he normally had on under his jacket, the pants to match said jacket, and his work shoes. He probably should’ve put a little more thought into his wardrobe. 

Too late. He’d committed and now he had to stick with it. Lassiter was just glad that Shawn was still unpacking inside. He was always self-conscious about his arms, how much of a stick he looked when he wasn’t wearing something loose — like his suit jacket. 

He looked at his biceps with disdain. It wasn’t like he was weak and couldn’t lift anything. His muscles just never showed unless he flexed them, hiding like some kind of sleeper agent, or whatever they were calling it nowadays. 

Whatever. So long as no one was here to see him make an idiot of himself trying to chop wood. Lassiter was eventually able to cut them into halves once he figured out a comfortable rhythm, but the start was just godawful. His first swing into the first log didn’t have enough weight behind it and was at an awkward angle, so it had bounced away from the wood and left only a small dent. His second swing was too strong and split right between the log and lodged itself into the chopping block. 

But he was better now, after cutting for what felt like hours, though realistically it had probably been thirty minutes. 

After placing another log down, Lassiter prepared to swing the ax once more when-

“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Lassiter nearly jumped out of his skin. There, leaning against the door was none other than his boyfriend. From what he could see, it looked like Shawn made himself a mug of something warm, judging by the faint steam emanating from it. Tea? Coffee? Hot cocoa? Probably the latter, knowing his boyfriend’s taste for sweet things. 

Lassiter felt the tips of his ears warm, and he knew they’d gone red. “How long were you standing there for?” 

“Ah, time is irrelevant-”

“Shawn.” 

“At least ten minutes.”

Ten minutes. Ten minutes of just watching him swing an ax at wood. Lassiter had no clue what he looked like when he was cutting wood, but he was probably ridiculous. Shawn had probably seen every mistake he’d made. 

Lassiter turned back around, doing his best to ignore the way Shawn was staring at him and lifted the ax once more. He swung with precision and split the log neatly. “Don’t lie, Shawn.” He said, referring to what Shawn had said that startled him. “You know I hate it-”

“What? No no no! Carly, I’m being serious! Look, this is my serious face.”

He didn’t look, not wanting to see his boyfriend who was most likely holding back laughter. He didn’t say anything either, simply returning to the task at hand. Although now he knew he had an audience, which somehow made swinging an ax ten times harder than it was originally. 

There was quiet, uncharacteristic for Shawn. Only the crunching of dead leaves and the swish of grass told Lassiter that he was walking over to him. 

“Back up. I don’t want to accidentally hit you with the-”

“Carlton, look at me. Lemme see those baby blues.” 

At the use of his name, Lassiter turned his head to Shawn. The lack of a nickname and his tone told the detective that he really was being serious. 

And he was right. Lassiter couldn’t remember the last time the otherwise childish man looked this serious about something. He said nothing as he looked into Shawn’s eyes, grass green grounding him. He dropped the ax, a dull thud breaking the quiet. 

“I love all of you, Carly. Doesn’t matter how much you hate it, I look and see you. I don’t see flaws, I see the sexiest body a man could ask for.”

Lassiter couldn’t help the grin, or the tiny laugh that bubbled out at the last thing Shawn said. “Alright, if you say so.” 

“I do say so, and my word is law. You should know this by now, Carlytown.” Shawn stated matter-of-factly. 

This time, Lassiter let out a snort at his boyfriend’s statement. “Is that right?”

“It is.” 

“Mhm. By the way, did you finish unpacking our stuff?” If his calculations were correct, Shawn had taken all of twenty minutes. And from past experience Lassiter knew that it took him at least an hour to get everything perfectly situated for the both of them. 

“We can do that later, I know you have a specific way you like to have your toothbrush set up. Right now there’s a suspect somewhere that’s begging to get caught.” 

“I’m not sure any criminal actually wants to get caught.”

“Really? Because I’m sensing they’re at the arcade right now, writing a secret message in morse code at the game where you have to shoot down those rubber ducks.” 

“Are they, or do you just want to go play games?” 

“That’s neither here nor there. Point is, I’ve already called a shuttle to pick us up and take us to the main building. They should be here in about… five minutes?” 

Lassiter stared at him incredulously. “Five- five minutes? And you’re only telling me this now because why?” That just barely left him with enough time to get out of his sweaty button up and into something clean. It was just the arcade, but he’d prefer to go out without smelling weird in public. 

“Well, I would have told you earlier, but I just couldn’t stop watching you chop that wood. Seriously, Carly, you have no idea how hot you looked swinging that ax.”

“I- alright, fine. Could’ve used more warning time, but it’s fine. Where’d you put my clothes?” 

“In the dresser on the left of the bed, everything’s in the top drawer.”

—————

Notes: yeah yeah yeah, the name of the place they’re staying at is just a rip from the place I based it off of. Sue me. 

oh and the title is a lyric in C'mon Girl by Red Hot Chili Peppers, i couldn't come up with an actual title by myself, sorry

ao3 link

[letoscrawls]

Hello and Welcome to swtor :]

To save you some googling:

Originally the combat styles of each class were mirrored by the factions so it was warrior/knight, inquisitor/consular, agent/smuggler, bounty hunter/trooper. IIRC it's now been merged so you're only limited by the type of weapon the class can weild.

Starter planets wise, there are two for each faction, though the story for each class differs even if it's on the same planet.

Classss that share planets:

Knight/Consular

Smuggler/Trooper

Warrior/Inquisitor

Agent/Bounty Hunter

To tweak the graphics:

Settings > Preferences > Graphics

This depends on personal preferences but I always liked running the game in window mode as it likes to Load Every Single Time I switched windows.

General Stuff:

ESC button to leave the conversation (helpful for trying other dialogue options!)

Missions can often be reset if you get stuck or want to try something different.

HUD can be customised in the menu options. You can also expand your bottom bar by toggling the little menu on the right side of it.

Pressing both mouse is the same as pressing W (one handed gaming has its perks)

sorry for the long message lol the mention of swtor activated my memories of it like a sleeper agent. If you're on Star Forge and ever want some goodies shout into the void to summon me! :D

Oh my god you're the best thank you so much!!!! i'll keep this anon like my most prized possession now

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 29. You make me feel like dancing

Previous chapter

Masterlist

This is a little treat xx

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: Sweet Pietro, flirty flirty bants, Pietro and Nadia being Pietro and Nadia, PTSD, Nadia be remembering

The cool surface beneath my palms allowed me to remain present in this moment, that and the sound of Anna guiding me.

“Alright, now turn around and walk toward me.”

I took a deep breath, pushing off the wall and ignoring my aching muscles as I walked feeling the smooth floorboard beneath my feet, creaks echoing through the room on certain steps.

It was February, that, I knew, things had been getting better recently. I’d been more conscious than previous and even able to force myself out of bed. The memories would sometimes come over me like a tidal wave, rendering me powerless to their fervor, though most of the time I could surface on the other side of them mostly unscathed. Dr. Norris had been monitoring me closely, alternating now between showing me the ballerinas and images that he expected might trigger a response. I had learned that his expertise was dismantling the conditioning done to sleeper agents, hence, why Ross had selected him for me.

He wasn’t cruel like I’d expected and most of the time he seemed almost displeased at the toll remembering had on me.

I took the stairs slowly, reveling in the sunshine that warmed my skin and the cool breeze tousling my hair. The doctor was seated at the small table before me, skimming the pages of his notebook. When he noticed my presence, he gestured to me to take the seat before him. “How are you feeling, Nadia?”

I shrugged slightly. “Better than before.”

He nodded, making a note of something. “You’re making good progress. From what I can tell it seems your memories are becoming clearer, more linear as well.” Norris tapped his pen against the paper, glancing over at me. “I’d like to try and delve deeper into the memories you see most often, flesh out more details. The plan I’ve drawn up is to categorize each memory to a room, then perhaps recognizing the room with trigger more associated recollections.” I nodded, glancing down at my hands. “How do you feel about that?”

“Does it matter?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Well, this will work a lot better if you’re a willing participant.”

“Sure. Categorizing my past into rooms, why not.”

“You appear tense.”

I swallowed heavily, taking a deep breath to settle myself. “Just going a little stir-crazy. Your plan makes sense, I want to try it.”

Dr Norris nodded slowly, placing a small device onto the table between us. When he pressed the button on the side music began playing from it, a tune very familiar to me. I closed my eyes as it filled my ears.

“I want you to focus on the sound of the music, and let your mind go back to the memory.” I did as he said, recalling the room, the record player, the dancing. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t recognize this place.”

The faint sound of a pen scribbling on paper filled my ears. “What does the room look like?”

With a heavy exhale I let the music wash over me fully, focusing on the memories that flooded my mind, holding onto them tightly. “It’s dark.”

“What is making it dark? Are the lights out? Curtains drawn?”

“No…” I hesitated. “I don’t know, it’s nighttime I think.”

‘You’ve got a cute way of talking

You got the better of me

Just snap your fingers and I’m walking…

Like a dog hangin’ on a leash’

I pushed two large wooden doors open to enter a room that was warm, dimly lit, and most notably, silent. The record player sat in the corner beside a stack of old vinyls that were kept in perfect condition. I ran my fingers across the plastic pockets, skimming the labels to find one I wanted to listen to.

Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, the doors, I sat the discarded records beside myself carefully, sitting cross-legged on the dark grey rug. I hummed as I continued to search, not quite sure if I knew what I was looking for or not. Yet I paused the moment I reached the last album in the stack, bright blue with clouds on it and a man jumping. I felt a giddiness in my chest that suggested perhaps I had known this album was there all along. Moving to kneel beside the record player I ever so carefully slipped the vinyl onto the deck and maneuvered the needle to where I wanted it; Side A, track 2.

The hum of music filled the room, a bouncy and vibrant song, one that I knew. I swayed as I moved to my feet, tapping my feet to the beat that echoed into the room. When I turned around, I spotted the yellow glow of flames, a fireplace. The warmth pressed into my skin, the main source of light in the room. I smiled as I danced, but it all changed when the crashing came, a culmination of sounds, the shattering of glass the most prevalent.

I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t, it was as if I was no longer holding onto the memory, but it was holding onto me.

The music was drowned out by voices, all fighting for dominance in my psyche.

“I’m going now!”

“You’re a child.”

Then the door was thrown open and light blinded me, but this time I fought to see. I paid attention as I ran, I saw photo-lined walls and décor scattered around the rooms. When the hands grabbed me, I kicked and threw my body around to slip from their hold, my foot caught the glass vase of carnations and roses. I managed to get away only to trip on something that I’d knocked down in my fervor.

I never saw their faces but there were two men.

Anna looked tired when I saw her, dark circles pressed into the flesh beneath her eyes. Though for the first time in weeks, I saw more than just exhaustion and remorse, now there was something like hope reflected in them.

Dr Norris told me that the hard part was over, that we’d made it past the block that was in my mind and now it would be much easier to sort through my memories, not completely frictionless but less taxing overall.

“Try to picture the men in your mind.”

“I didn’t see them.”

The music was still echoing through my mind. “You must have seen something, hair color? Scars?”

I’d fought like hell. Even though they were bigger than me, even though I was a child I used every fiber of strength in my body to resist. I reached behind myself to push at the man who attempted to pin me to the hardwood floor, presumably to better his grip and restrain my wriggling limbs. I hit and pushed at any part of him I could reach but it was futile as he wrenched my arm down to hold it at my side. Everything was blurry and my face was against the floor. I never saw anything notable about the man behind me, but then the second one approached, it was his boots I saw first, black and scuffed but clean, nonetheless. They were professionals, never giving me the chance to catch a glimpse of their faces, though in their rushed movements, they missed something, I could see it clearly now the tattoo on his forearm as he shoved a black bag over my head. Within moments a sharp stinging sensation pricked my neck and everything slow and groggy.

My mind was whirring as the tattoo flashed in my mind, distinct, thick black lines. A mark I’d seen before, more than once. The skull and tentacles. The mark of Hydra.

I decided against mentioning that to Norris.

I’d be able to bear it; remembering. Most importantly, I’d be able to function without losing it. This was the basis of the contract I’d signed had Ross’ name on it, though I was certain it had taken a copious amount of convincing. It detailed the conditions of my return to the compound. Dr Norris would sign off on my reinstatement with the expectation that, upon my return, I do not lead any assignments nor participate solo until it was agreed by both Ross and Norris that I was fit, after an evaluation that I suspected would be grueling. Dr Norris would also be continuing his work with me to fix my mind back at the compound. There would be an extensive amount of supervision from Steve to ensure I was both following these rules and not reverting.

I re-read the paper again and again, almost unconvinced that this was really happening, the thought of being so close to freedom, or a semblance of it, was almost unimaginable.

The documents were given to me on the first day of March, 2 weeks later I was staring at the doors that I’d snuck out of 3 months ago. Anna stood a few paces behind me talking to someone on the phone. Norris was finalizing his reports for Ross, he’d arrive at the compound 2 days from now. I was sure Anna had already told the others that I was coming back, the same way I was sure they were attempting to give me some space to breathe. My hands were unsteady, I realized as I reached for the door handle.

“What are you nervous about?” Anna asked, shoving her phone into her pocket and coming to stand beside me.

I shrugged, swallowing over the lump in my throat. “I-It’s just weird, I guess. Being back here.”

She nodded slowly. “It would be, but you should feel proud of yourself, you did what you had to do, you got through it and you’re doing much better.”

“Am I?” She was silenced by my question. I turned my head to look at her then. I thought of the days, weeks when I was barely conscious, barely even there. The suffocating heat, the sweat that clung to me like a second skin, the phantom pains that were only just beginning to fade. “I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment, shoulders sagging slightly. “You won’t.” She spoke with conviction. “I know it was awful, but you came out the other side of it, you always do. You won’t have to do that again, no matter what. We’ll figure it out.” I stared at her, unmoving and completely silent at her words. “Nadia.” She urged me.

I nodded then, looking back toward the door. She stepped behind me, pulling the hair back off my shoulders before placing her hands there and ever so gently nudging me toward the door. “Oh, for fucks sake.” I pulled the door open and forced myself to walk over the threshold in one fluid motion.

“That’s my girl.” I heard Anna murmur, encouragingly. She parted from me returning to typing on her phone. The shattering of glass filled my ears as I stepped into the kitchen. Natasha looked between the broken glass and me, panic evident in her gaze. A combination of shock at seeing me back and on some level concern that the noise might trigger me into an episode. I clenched my hands into fists at my side, part of me felt sickened by the thought, the other part was just as worried that my mind would betray me again. My body stiffened, every muscle strung tightly as I looked at the puddle of water on the floor, when the moment passed and nothing happened, I let my eyes move up to hers, before noting Steve, Sam and Wanda all looking at me from their seats at the table. I let my fists loosen and exhaled a shaky breath.

“That was exactly the warm welcome I was hoping for.” A teasing lilt was evident in my voice. When the corners of Nat’s lips curved upward the tension in my shoulders eased slightly.

“Nads.” She breathed, relieved. She walked toward me but stopped short clasping her hands together as if to control herself. There was a strange moment of silence before she spoke. “Can I hug you?”

I bit back a smile, pretending to think about it. “If you must.” The words were barely out of my mouth before she was yanking me into her arms. Embracing me tightly. I let her hold onto me for dear life, even wrapping my arms around her in response. When she pulled away, I saw the others smiling up at me. I rolled my eyes at them all. “Don’t think that means it’s a free-for-all all now.”

Steve stood, a gentle smile on his lips. “It’s good to have you back, Nads.”

I nodded, looking at my feet momentarily. “It’s good to be back, Cap.”

“Thank god, Pietro was seriously driving me up the wall.” Sam groaned walking by me with a teasing grin, but I could see his sincerity beneath the taunts. Anna gave me a knowing look then.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll find someone to put up with you one day, Samuel.” A familiar voice spoke from behind me. The rest of the tension in my shoulders fizzled out as the voice washed over me. I waited a few beats before turning back to look at him, as if steadying myself for the feeling of getting to be with him again, while fully conscious this time. The look on his face almost knocked me over, just as I’d suspected it would. It was tender, almost a smile but there were so many other emotions present in his expression at the same time. He had on a baggy dark green T-shirt with light grey sweatpants and his hair was a little messy, I thought maybe he’d been in the training room. “You look… better.”

Wanda’s snicker echoed behind me. “How romantic.”

Pietro sent a glacial look to his twin sister, groaning in pure frustration, the last thing I heard before I was enveloped in a blur of silver and green. When the world slowed down Pietro was shutting the door of his bedroom and turning to face me. “I feel better.” I finally answered.

“Really?” He sounded so genuinely relieved at my words that I almost didn’t have the heart to tell him that there was more to it than that. However, not talking had never worked out very well for me before so I tried something new.

I shrugged slightly. “Mostly, better.” His eyes seemed to glitter as he watched me, nodding gently as I spoke. “It’s hard… I’m really tired and the things I’m remembering…” I swallowed heavily for what felt like the millionth time. Sitting down on the edge of his bed. “It changes so many things for me and that is really terrifying.”

He moved to stand before me, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear and tilting my face up to look at him. “Thank you for telling me.”

I nodded, staying where I was and just gazing up at him for a long while. There was nothing more I wanted than to just stay here in this moment. It had been over 2 months of round the clock torment and complete powerlessness and I was utterly drained. For the first time in my life, I was willing to admit that I just wanted to be reassured by someone else that everything was going to be okay. I wanted to be reassured by him but by some stroke of luck, I didn’t need to ask him to do anything. He just knew. Today seemed to be a day of acting uncharacteristically I thought as I stood before him and threw my arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. His arms wrapped around me instantly, as if it was a thoughtless act to him, I realized then that I envied his ability to give affection so freely. I took a deep breath and held onto him tighter, feeling the stinging begin to form in my eyes. If I were a different person, and if I were more like him maybe I would be able to say back to him what he had told me when he came to see me in January. Those words I was barely conscious to hear, that I couldn’t be certain he’d really said.

But I was me, so I didn’t. Instead, I let the embrace linger. I stayed like that because this, now, is what I could give him.

“I just want you to be okay.” He murmured against the flesh of my neck.

“I will be.”

Sleeping at the compound, in my bed with Pietro’s deep, calm breathing beside me was the most at ease I had been in months. When I slept that night, it was a restorative sleep, one that allowed me to actually begin to work away the weary exhaustion that had made its home within me.

…

It was a week before they let me begin training again and I was itching to use my muscles. I had attempted to contain my excitement, but I’d just about raced Natasha to the training room. Exhilaration shot through my veins as I stretched on the mat. I sat down with one leg extended outward and the other folded in toward my body, turning to crack my back before reaching for my pointed foot and bending my upper body over the limb. I repeated this on both sides before moving to extend both legs in a wide ‘v’ shape and laying my elbows on the floor to fold my body over.

“I’m just not sure how good of an idea it is to go full throttle into training after such a long break.”

I shook my head. “That break is exactly why I need to train again, Natasha.”

“These last few months couldn’t have been easy on you, Nads. Maybe we should take a beat.”

“They weren’t easy. It was two and a half months of barely being conscious, barely being alive. I was confined to the walls of a tiny little cabin in the middle of the forest and not allowed to do anything other than remember.” Her eyes softened as she regarded me. “I am going to lose my mind if I have to be idle for much longer.”

Natasha let out a dramatic exhale that had a smile breaking out across my face because I knew I’d convinced her. I adjusted my ponytail waiting for her to say the magic words. “You are such a pain in the ass, seriously.” She groaned, tossing the roll of hand wrap at me whilst she stretched.

I snorted, wrapping my hands in record time before hopping back and forth between my feet, shaking my jittery anticipation out. “You’re going soft.” I taunted bringing my fists up in a defensive motion.

She sparred with me, as agreed. However, her jabs were weak, and she barely fended off any of my attacks. It was evident that she was coddling me, and it was driving me mad. I pulled back from her, dragging a hand over my face with a frustrated exhale. Steve’s voice calling out to her cut me off before I had the chance to question her. I rolled my eyes as she shrugged at me with feigned innocence.

I tilted my head back, rolling my neck on my shoulders.

“You know I’m a little offended.” Pietro’s voice had my eyes popping open again, I felt warmth radiate from him as he moved behind me.

I sent him a glance over my shoulder, a little smile playing at my lips. “Pray tell?”

He circled me, coming to stand only a few paces from me. “You didn’t ask me to train with you. I thought you were supposed to be my sparring partner.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, lips curving up at his words, and feigned look of hurt. My hands fell to my hips, his eyes following the movement. “No, because you would’ve gone too easy on me.”

“You’ve been out of action for over 2 months, there’s no reason to rush back into training.”

I rolled my eyes heavily at that. “Jesus, what, did you and Natasha rehearse that?”

Pietro flashed me an amused grin. “We didn’t need to because it’s the truth.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t ask you to spar with me.”

In an instant he was directly before me, so close his chest would likely graze mine if I inhaled deeply enough. “I still would have sparred with you, Prinţesă.” He caressed my cheek with an affection so intense it had my cheeks heating slightly. “I just would have been gentle.”

“Pietro, will you please spar with me?” I spoke with a teasing tone, though, there was sincerity beneath my words that I knew he heard.

“I’d love nothing more, Nadia.”

His chest brushed mine as he moved to stand behind me causing a little smile to spread across my lips. I turned to face him, swiftly jabbing with my left hand but he dodged it smoothly, blocking the next hit just as easily. He attempted to circle me, but I stepped out of it, elbowing him in the back as I went. He groaned but a little smirk played at his lips.

“Are you going to do something or just keep standing around?”

Amusement seemed his only reaction to my playful quip. “What would you like me to do?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Surprise me.”

Within an instant he had me, dropping down and grabbing around the backs of my thighs before pivoting to throw off my balance and take me down to the mat. I awaited the impact but all that came was the gentle cradling of arms lowering me to the ground. Pietro half-heartedly pinned me down, smiling sweetly above me when I opened my eyes. “Stop being so gentle, fight me properly.”

“But I much prefer doing other things with you.” His eyes danced across my face as he spoke, mapping an invisible path between my eyes and then each freckle. I shoved him slightly with my hand that he’d barely been restraining.

“You are so annoying.”

His smile only widened at my harsh words. “Did you like my move?”

As hard as I tried, I could not fully fight the smile fighting to make a home on my lips. I hummed. “I didn’t teach you that.”

“You didn’t.” He bumped his nose with mine. “You wanted me to surprise you, so...” His lips descended onto mine, but the moment was short-lived before I turned my face away causing him to kiss the flesh of my cheek instead. He raised an eyebrow at me.

“I’ll kiss you when you spar properly.”

The way his lips curved at my words was nothing if not utterly tempting.

“You’re very cruel.” He pressed another kiss to my cheek before moving down to my jaw. I held my breath in order to focus my mind which was quickly descending into the haze of his cologne and the feeling on his lips on me.

“Not cruel, just a quid pro quo,” I responded amusement no doubt shining in my gaze. He huffed at me as I turned my face from him again when he attempted to steal another kiss.

“Fine. I’ll spar you with you properly… If, and only if, you promise to take a break when you need it and not force yourself to keep going.”

I nodded up at him, struck by the startling beauty of his face from this position. It was peculiar and a little silly to me that even after seeing it so many times I’d still be so taken aback by his bright blue gaze and heavy, dark eyelashes. I could always throw our deal out the window and just kiss him, but then again, I was far too competitive for that and anyway he’d already agreed.

I hummed, moving swiftly to lock my leg around his hip and throw him off of me. Pietro laughed breathily and he returned to his feet at lightning speed. It was a relief to my body to be moving again, using the muscle memory I’d spent my life perfecting. The warmth of my limbs as I ducked and weaved was a strange comfort to me and it had the added benefit of allowing me to clear my head completely for the first time in months. Pietro was still being extra gentle but at least he was actually giving me a little more to work with now.

I swept Pietro’s leg from beneath him, pulling him to the ground and pinning him with a light-hearted laugh. The smile that spread over my lips had my cheeks pinching from its fervor. We both breathed heavily as we momentarily rested. Pietro watched me intently, a soft smile tugging at his expression, eyes just a little brighter than normal. He leaned up on his elbows and I let him, moving back slightly to straddle lower on his waist. I planted my hand on the mat beneath us, now only a breath away from him. His eyes danced between my own and my lips. I leaned down a little further, before diverting and moving to whisper in his ear. “Break time is over.” With that, I moved from him swiftly. He dropped down to lay flat on his back, groaning dramatically.

“This is some bullshit.” I turned to him with a hand on my hip, eyebrow raised. “He didn’t back down, lifting himself to sit upright and face me. “I held up my end of the deal.”

I snorted. “Barely.”

He rolled his eyes at my words, putting his hands behind his to lean back a little with an exceptionally glum look. “I don’t want you to overexert yourself, is that so wrong of me?” I crossed my arms over my chest, biting back a smile at his theatrics over being denied one kiss. “Is this really what I get for being a caring boyfriend?”

I laughed heartily, shaking my head in disbelief. “You are such a drama queen.” I grabbed ahold of his hand, helping him up. When he was on his feet, I placed both of my hands over his cheeks, tugging him downwards to plant a kiss on his lips. He made a slight sound of surprise, but I felt him smiling against me.

“You are so soft for me.” He mumbled when I pulled away. It was my turn to huff, shoving him away before gesturing for him to get back into a defensive position. I turned away from him momentarily to tug the hooded sweatshirt from my body as I felt sweat a thin layer of sweat begin to form over my flesh. When I met his eyes again his eyebrows were knitted together, and he’d crossed his arms over his chest.

“What?” I asked, confusion evident in my tone.

“Are you being serious?” He nodded toward the dark blue sports bra that covered my chest. I looked between his and my top, still baffled by what he’d gotten his back up about. “You are not really acting like that’s a coincidence.”

I let out a quiet laugh, narrowing my eyes at him. “Pietro, I have no idea what the hell you are talking about?”

“This is very distracting!” He gestured at my body, before throwing his hands up.

Silence sat heavy in the air for a long few moments, it was me who broke it when I burst out into a fit of laughter. Complete shock was running through my body at the realization of what he was referring to. The man before me did not look amused in the slightest. “You are being completely ridiculous.” I managed through my laughter.

He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Okay, Nadia.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s spar.” He took a step toward me, pausing for a moment to grab the back of his shirt and yank it over his head, tossing it aside. I snorted at his antics. “What? It’s hot.” His tone nearly sent me into another fit of laughter, but I swallowed it down, moving to circle him for a second. I jabbed at him, but he dodged effectively. His swift movements on the mat nearly tripped me but even in this new state of hyper-awareness that he was demonstrating, I still had the skill advantage, having had much longer to hone my abilities. I ducked beneath his arm when it shot toward me slipping beneath and attempting to strike from behind but in a blur of silver, he’d caught my wrist and moved to face me. I yanked backwards to free myself, but he tightened his grasp, twirling my arm over my head and pulling back in one exceedingly fast maneuver, my back colliding with his chest. I could feel his breath hitting my ear, making my heart thud harder against my chest.

“What have I told you about relying on your enhancement.” I breathed out, words far harder to spit out than I’d expected. His bare skin was warm against mine.

“Not relying, just utilizing.” His words were a murmur in my ear, tone low, challenging.

I felt the corner of my lip curve upward at his snark. His nose grazed the skin of my neck, lips following shortly after. It wasn’t a kiss; he just wanted me to know he was there. He thought he was winning and maybe he was, my eyes fluttered for just a second but then who would I be if I allowed him to win so easily? I let my body lean back into his, letting him think he was melting me. One of his hands still held mine behind my back, the other moved to squeeze my hip slightly. I leaned my head back onto his shoulder, meeting his eyes, nose bumping his. In his belief that he was in control, he loosened his grip on me, chasing my lips just slightly. With practiced precision I side-stepped and yanked my hand from his grip, ducking his attempt to grab me once more and instead grabbing ahold of his upper body and pulling him backward to trip him over my leg. When he looked at me with disbelief I only smiled. “I thought I taught you better than that.” I rolled my shoulders, watching his puff on his back.

When his eyes met mine and they had a softness to them that was almost indescribable I felt something deep within my chest that was unfamiliar and a little concerning. He held his hand toward me, pouting like a wounded animal and there was no part of me that wanted to leave him there and that was the moment I officially realized that I had absolutely gone soft for him. Shit.

I extended my arm to him to help him up, however, the second he’d locked on I noticed that familiar glint in his eye, but he was yanking me down to the floor with him before I had time to properly register it. He caught me in his arms easily, grinning cheekily in the face of my feigned glare.

[nieded]

Hi! Not an ask, more like a confession. I just really felt compelled to tell you that #RainbowRoad is the absolute best fan-created work i’ve ever engaged with, and i’ve been a fan of many things! You are an amazing storyteller.

I also felt compelled to reach out because my friends & family are perplexed. I am perplexed. Primarily because:

1. I started watching DTS. Excellent. Normal for me to try on a new Netflix show….mostly. But is it really? Sports? Me?

2. I casually check out streaming options for the real deal, because you know, i’m curious, and oh! Would you look at that…it’s almost the end of fall break….

3. I subscribe and what’s this….I am absorbing F1. Like i’ve been starved for a sport to enjoy my whole life. Replays. Free practice. Fuckin Tech Talk.

4. Suddenly, I’ve watched 3 seasons of DTS and a disturbing amount of F1 content and it’s COTA Sunday and i’m on the couch, surrounded by snacks, insisting that we have to watch the WHOLE qualifying session not just the highlights because we need to get a feel for everyone’s headspace going into the race.

5. Post-COTA; We have decided Sainz is our driver to watch. I’m also really intrigued by McLaren rn someone pls help. We’re shouting as we watch live as Ferrari pulls a 1-2 and wow. When’s the next race?

6. Mexico City. MEXICO CITY. Sainz has been our man now for 10 days and forever. I suppose i’ll have to dedicate myself to Williams next season but I feel conflicted about that and WHY do I have an OPINION on that already. Who am I? Also can I watch the whole race again just tuned into Russel’s radio? Did he really ask mid-race for tea on Verstappen’s timeout? You don’t have to answer either of those questions i’m probably going look that up as soon as I finish writing you this manic soliloquy.

I’m not saying that you’re to blame for this complex crisis of identity happening over here, i’m really not. I just….I know the difference by now when i’m transfixed by something that’ll surely pass and…well…when I find something that compels me to sit tight & take hold.

On second thought, yeah. From one internet stranger to another, this is your fault.

And i’m enjoying every second of it. ♥️🏎️♥️

P.S. If there is going to be another #rainbowroad story I will be more excited about that than I am about GO3. This summer has been hard and engaging with your work has made it so much less so. Thank you ♥️🏎️♥️

hello! thank you sooooo much. i'm excited that you've gotten so into f1.

couple of things:

1 - i love carlos. he is my favorite himbo. he is so dumb sometimes. all that boy knows how to do is drive but damn does he drive well! i have felt for a long time that he's a sleeper agent. he just goes under the radar. you should look up the circumstances of his first few podiums. some of his biggest achievements have been afterthoughts, sidelined by other drama in f1. for example, when he did all those crazy overtakes during the sprint race and ended up in p2, nobody was talking about it at all! drove me nuts. it is such a sainz thing to be winning races and still losing his seat at ferrari.

2 - williams is worth being a fan of. they are one of the most historic teams and are wccs! i know that's strange to think if you're coming into the sport now, but there are many, many reasons to love williams. the other cool thing about the team is their principal, james vowles, was part of brawn gp. since you're diving into dts, i highly recommend watching brawn gp on amazon prime. you will also develop a love for jensen button.

also, i'm sorry your summer has been hard, and i am glad i could shine some light for you. my summer also was rough, and i still feel like i am recovering. i do have a story in the pipeline. it's still very much in its early development so i don't know if i will write it, but it does exist in my head!

[hoffstrap-yuri]

For Sickness and in Health (Insurance)

ao3 // masterlist

*SUMMARY: Agent Strahm was by the book when it came to solving cases. Being honest about his marital status was a different story entirely.

*RATING: +18 for Explicit Mature Content

*CONTENT/TAGS: M/M, Hoffstrahm, Coffinshipping, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Fake Marriage/Dating, Fake Relationship, Eventual Smut, Alternate Universe

*STATUS: Chapter 2/2 COMPLETE

Author's Note: First Chapter of this fic can be found here! I'm back with the smut I promised in the tags! This is a bit longer but I felt the events of this happen in one go so I broke up the chapters the way I did to keep the flow of the story in tact. As always please enjoy my little crack and let me know if you'd be down for a sequel. I do have a tenative idea if anyone's interested u.u

The rest of the night was mostly uneventful. Strahm ordered in something for the both of them from Olive Garden. They ate mostly in silence, with the sound of rerun episode of General Hospital playing on the TV. Something about Sonny’s brother or son… not that Hoffman could keep up with all the characters on the show, but Strahm seemed mildly intrigued. Either he was a big soap opera fan or he was just looking for mindless entertainment to fill the void. It didn’t matter much either way for Hoffman. He laid down on the bed before making a sarcastic comment,

“You couldn’t spring for two beds, cheapskate?”

“This was the only room they had on short notice.”

“Then you should’ve found a different hotel.”

“Oh and what, find some dump over in Rosslyn on the other side of the Potomac? Fat chance.”

“Sounds like you have a nit to pick with Virginia, Agent.”

“So what if I do?” Strahm brushed off whatever it was that seemed to be on his shoulder and lied in bed next to Mark. There was a noticeable gap between the two of them as Strahm sat up to turn the TV off. He rolled over onto his side and faced Hoffman, before realizing it was a mistake and turning onto his other side just as fast. Mark turned over so his back was facing Strahm’s before purposefully inching his body closer to the man but not enough that Strahm could protest it. While Hoffman continued to toss and turn, he listened to the man’s snores. How Strahm managed to fall asleep so quickly was beyond the detective but it was comforting in its own strange way. Hoffman flipped back over so that his face was in line with the back of Strahm’s neck. He prayed the other man was a heavy sleeper as he slung an arm over Strahm’s body and held him against his chest. When the agent didn’t seem to react to the intrusion, Hoffman wrapped his other arm underneath Strahm’s neck and let his hand rest on Strahm’s chest.

“Good night, Hubby.” He whispered in Strahm’s ear before shutting his eyes and finally allowing himself to fall asleep. The intrusive noise of an alarm clock woke Hoffman up, practically jolting out of bed. He looked bitterly over at the agent next to him who rolled over to face the man. Strahm took a second to process another person being in bed with him, and then another to process that Hoffman was leaning over him with frankly gorgeous messy bed-head hair. Rather than say anything, Strahm pushed the other man away from his space, and sprinted to the bathroom. He came back out a few seconds later and grabbed his toiletries and his clothes for that day before promptly locking himself back into the bathroom. Hoffman felt around the bedside table on Strahm’s side for the TV remote so he had some kind of noise as he was in the process of waking up. After about five minutes of Strahm in the bathroom, Hoffman called out to him,

“You’d better hurry up, I still have to do my makeup.”

“I’m just shaving now.” Strahm shot back. Was Mark getting under the other man’s buttons

“I might have as well gone down and gotten breakfast for you the way you’re taking so long in there.”

“Alright, alright.” Strahm stepped out, rubbing aftershave onto his neck, “All yours, princess.”

“Thanks, dear.” Hoffman passed the other man and lightly slapped his ass. Strahm turned back and looked at him with disgust as Hoffman got into the bathroom. He set everything on the counter out so that he didn’t have to think about anything once he was finished showering. Strahm knocked on the door after he stepped out of the shower and asked,

“I’m going to grab coffee, you want anything from downstairs?”

“Coffee and some kind of muffin. Blueberry if they have it.” Hoffman replied, holding the eyeliner pencil in his hand. It couldn’t be that hard to draw a straight line along his eyelid. Hell he’d done it for Angie’s prom makeup. All he needed to do was remember that…

“And if they don’t?”

“Then skip it.” Hoffman scoffed

“Both or just the muffin?”

“Just the muffin,” Hoffman rolled his eyes before cursing under his breath, “Dumbass.”

“I’ll be back in five.”

“Make it ten, stupid.” Hoffman pressed the pencil against his eyelid and tried drawing the line in one foul swoop. It went terribly. The pencil dragged against the skin and looked like Mark’s hand had just decided to give up. He groaned and used the sink water to wipe it off and start again. The dark black kohl when washed away made it look like he hadn’t slept in years. Determined to get it right this time, he went back in and lightly drawing in short strokes. With the lack of practice, there was no way in hell he’d get a winged look done in time, so he moved on to his brows. He slicked them down until they were about as thin as the eyebrow pencil was and tried to make a defined arch with a combo of hairs and pencil. Strahm looked at disgust in the mirror. Strahm must know a blind guy in HR because this makeup was not going to fool anyone with less than a 20/200 eyesight. He took a deep breath and continued working on his face, applying a shade of foundation that was considerably orange with a concealer to match. The concealer seemingly helped to clean up the dark circles his eyeliner had created and the define the shape of the brows better than his handiwork could do alone. Next it was time for blush. It was a bright pink that didn’t seem to fit the foundation all that well, but it was pretty in the tin. Last was the lipstick. Hoffman lined the edges of his lips with a bright red lip liner and filled it in with a mousse lipstick. He blotted it and cleaned off his teeth with his finger tip as the makeup had smeared onto them. He looked repulsive, but he had to throw the wig on still so he begrudgingly put the fake hair on. He still thought he looked off, but at a glance he figured he could probably get away with this after all. Now was the real struggle, the clothes. Mark had bought something a little extra while Strahm was putzing around in the bathroom at the mall the previous day. He sucked in his gut and put on the waist trainer he purchased and a push-up bra that Strahm was more than happy to buy his partner in crime. He gave his chest a little squeeze before stepping into his dress and zipping it as far as his big fingers would let him. He heard the room door open and some shuffling noise before Strahm announced that he was here.

“Can you help me with the dress?” Hoffman asked, unlocking the door so that Strahm could get in with him. Strahm stepped in and looked at Hoffman’s back, his middle and index finger tracing their way along Hoffman’s spine. He pulled his hand back before helping the detective zip up. Hoffman turned around to face him, hooking his arm around Strahm’s waist before purring in a low woman’s voice, “What do you think of your wife, huh?”

“I…” Strahm started before clearing his throat which turned into a coughing fit before he could recover and said, “Got you a muffin.” “You’re the best.” Hoffman took his other hand and pressed it firmly against Strahm’s pecs before sidestepping him to get his breakfast. While Hoffman was peeling the wrapper off the muffin, Strahm stood in the bathroom absolutely stunned for another minute. He was only snapped back to reality when Hoffman’s voice dropped back down to its natural tone, “Come on Agent, your coffee’s getting cold.”

“Yeah.” Strahm shook his head and grabbed the disposable cup before chugging the coffee inside. He threw the cup into the bin and said quietly, “I’m going to go warm up the car. See you in a couple minutes.”

“Whatever you say.” Hoffman twirled the ends of his wig around his pointer finger before rolling his eyes and finishing his drink. Before leaving the room, he grabbed the keys and did a quick touch up on his lipstick that had stained the white of the Styrofoam coffee cup and walked down to where Agent Strahm had parked the car. He walked with a bravado he tried to steal from Angie when she had bought her first pair of heels as a teenager. He saw the way men were looking at his ass in the elevator. He smirked with the quiet satisfaction that apparently he was hot enough to get heads turning as he made long strides through the lobby and to Strahm’s car. He leaned against the driver’s side door as he saw Strahm taking a drag off a cigarette. Strahm dropped the cancer stick onto his lap and quietly cursed before putting it out on the plastic cup holder in the car,

“The hell do you think you’re doing over there?” He looked Hoffman up and down

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I’ve been trying to quit for 10 years.”

“Shame. Hand me one and light it for me.” Hoffman said leaning down into the window. Strahm shoved a cigarette into the other man’s plump lips and lit it quickly. Mark took a drag off his cigarette before letting it rest on the side of his mouth and giving Strahm’s hair a quick scruff. “Thanks babe”. He walked to the other side of the car and sat in the passenger’s seat. Strahm put the car into reverse quickly and started driving to the office. While they waited in traffic, Strahm would flip through the radio stations to see what had changed since he last made a trip down to DC. Mark kept flipping the sun visor down to look at his makeup while the other man shouted obscenities at tourists for not knowing they needed to merge back into traffic sooner rather than now. Mark wrapped his hands around Strahm’s arms as he swore and that seemed to calm the other man down enough where his obscenities would be mere grumbles. “Good boy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Strahm protested

“My darling dearest husband?” Hoffman offered

“You can use the other one.” The agent mumbled as he made the turn to get off the tollway and onto local roads. They pulled into the parking lot and after showing his ID and confirmation of his appointment they were let in. Hoffman wrapped his hands around Strahm’s arms again and whispered into his ear

“Pretend I’m telling you something funny, and look down at the floor.” Strahm did was as he was told, giving a little laugh as he stared down the tiles underfoot. Hoffman repeated, “Good boy.” They took the elevator up to the offices where Strahm unhooked Hoffman and stood on the other side of the space. “Get back here.” Hoffman said between a faked smile, “What if someone gets in with us and sees us apart?”

“I’ll tell them to go fuck themselves. You don’t need to continue this show and dance in here.”

“And how are we supposed to sell the act?”

“We’ll be fine.” Strahm assured Hoffman. When the door opened and they got off, Hoffman’s arm found its way back to resting against Peter’s tailbone. The receptionist checked Peter in and they sat down next to each other before being greeted by another agent and following him to his cubicle space.

“So Mr. and Mrs. Strahm…” He started, “What’s your wife’s first name?”

“It’s…” Hoffman started to answer before Strahm quickly interjected with a cough. Hoffman slipped back into his falsetto and waited for Strahm to answer

“Marka. Her name is Marka.” Strahm replied, “Yeah. Mail order from Russia. Doesn’t understand a whole lot of English.”

“Oh, interesting. I actually just started learning Russian… Um, privet…”

“Sorry, Belarusian. Belarusian mail order bride.” Strahm corrected himself

“Da.” Hoffman responded, batting his eyelashes hard at the agent before them

“Oh that’s a shame. Don’t know any Belarusian. Maybe I’ll trying taking courses someday.”

“Super helpful.” Strahm cracked

“Okay so… your wife Marka Strahm. Do you have her papers?”

“I no have.” Hoffman replied, “but is okay, yeah?”

“Okay.” The guy looked over the two of them. Strahm wasn’t sweating bullets but he was certainly on the edge of his seat. Hoffman crossed his legs in his chair and rested a hand on his husband’s lap, inching closer to his bulge. His bulge? He gave the agent a look for a second, before turning it into a look of confusion.

“I am doing right, yeah?” He asked Strahm

“Yeah, you’re doing fine honey.” Strahm pressed a hand against Hoffman’s stomach, “We’re trying to make sure this one has coverage before the baby.” Mark blinked rapidly as he processed what bullshit Strahm had just said. Was this his plan from the beginning?

“Do you at least have your marriage certificate?” The agent asked Strahm

“Yeah, right here.” Strahm handed over a piece of paper before quickly scribbling in something while the agent wasn’t looking. Hoffman couldn’t keep himself from looking and he saw that Strahm had managed to poorly write ‘Marka Hoffman’ over his previous wife’s name on the certificate. He gave Strahm a look that only could be read as ‘Are you fucking stupid?’ The agent scanned the document and added it to the database before excusing the couple but not before saying,

“Oh and congrats on the baby.”

“Thanks.” Strahm quickly replied and guided his bride down the hallway and back into the elevator

“Well that could’ve gone better.” Hoffman scoffed and looked at Strahm, “The hell were you thinking?”

“It didn’t go as bad as I thought it would.” Strahm shrugged

“Oh you thought I was going to do poorly, huh?” The detective raised his voice, “And what the hell was with you fondling my stomach like that, saying I was pregnant, you stupid idiot. Dumb motherfucker. I bet you like this, huh?”

“What?” Strahm coughed, clearly not expecting this to turn into a confrontation

“That’s right, I was palming your bulge in those stupid pants of yours when you touched me. I bet you love questionable men tuning into fat broads for you with some makeup and dresses, huh?” Hoffman started but could tell he struck a nerve with Strahm. Strahm was cornered and he did the last thing he could think of to save any sense of self preservation he had left. He pressed his lips desperately onto Hoffman’s and moaned into their kiss. He wrapped his arms lazily around the other man and sucked at his bottom lip. “Oh… oh what a slut you are, Peter Strahm.”

“S-Shut up.” Strahm pulled himself away from Hoffman’s lips, but not off of Hoffman’s body. The door opened to a group of young agents waiting to use the elevator. Strahm quickly scuttled off the elevator without much dignity, while Hoffman walked off with confidence. Strahm tried to duck quietly into the bathroom but Hoffman followed him in and kicked open the stall door before Strahm could lock it. Strahm cursed as the door swung back into him and looked at Hoffman with a certain kind of lust. Was it a carnal lust, or blood lust? Either way it didn’t matter to Mark in this moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was all just some big kink for you, huh?” He took Strahm’s chin into her hand and jerked his head around, “That you like men that act like fat broads?”

“Would you really believe me if I told you that?” Strahm growled, placing a hand on the door behind Hoffman and pressing his weight into the heavier man. Despite his anger, his lips made contact with Hoffman’s forehead first and he took in the smell of Hoffman’s wig. He used his free hand to wrap around Hoffman’s waist and pulled the man in even closer. Hoffman was tired of waiting with Strahm. He pulled him in by his tie for a kiss on the lips and wrapped the tie tightly around his hand. Strahm made a quiet coughing noise as he was being depraved of oxygen in all the right ways. Strahm shivered and bit down on Hoffman’s lip. “I need you.”

“How?”

“Want you on me.” Strahm groaned

“You’re a man. Use your fucking words.” Mark was short with him. Enough with the lies, enough of the bullshit. Was that agent they talked to even an HR person or was he just another part of the ruse? He wouldn’t accept anything less than Strahm’s breathless devotion to him in this moment.

“I want you like a rabid bitch, bouncing on my cock.” Strahm said in a husky voice, pained with want. You would’ve thought Hoffman shot him and left the hole opened the way he whined.

“There. Was that so hard to tell me?” Hoffman spit out. Hoffman pulled up his dress and when he stumbled back a little bit Strahm’s arms moved to keep him held flush against his chest. “So strong.”

“Stop teasing and let me fuck you already.” Strahm said, before kissing Hoffman’s neck with every intent on bruising or marking him

“Take my panties off.”

Strahm took his arms away and slid the waist trainer down off Mark’s hips, leaving them at his ankles, “I was wondering how you got those hip dips so… nice.”

“Just shut up. You want to fuck me, then hurry up and fuck me you stupid asshole.”

Strahm slips the lingerie barely holding Hoffman’s boner in down and onto the ground. He stares for a second before he takes a hold of Hoffman’s body and spins it one-hundred eighty degrees so that Mark’s face is up against the cold steel. He takes Hoffman’s hands and holds them over Hoffman’s head, using his feet to spread Hoffman just little bit further apart.

“Will you be a good whore and if I let go of your hands so I can get my pants off, you’ll keep them where they are?” Strahm asked

“Anything for my husband.” Hoffman said with a hit of sarcasm. Strahm pulled his hand away and to his word Hoffman kept his hands over his head. He heard the sound of Strahm’s belt being unbuckled and pants falling to the floor. Without so much as a word, Strahm was thrusting into Hoffman’s ass. “Fuck Pete.”

“Yeah, say that again.” Strahm grunted

“Fucking hell… no one’s ever been able to satisfy you like I have, huh?”

“No.” Strahm replied between thrusts

“Sure you might’ve had fat partners but they could never please you the way that I do, you stupid pervert. I bet no one’s ever felt this good on your cock like this fat broad, huh?”

“No…” Strahm managed to cough out between broken moans

“No what? I’m not the best you’ve ever had, or no one’s ever compared to me?” Hoffman’s foundation was getting smeared all over the door of the stall as Strahm kept chasing his release

“You’re the best… no other…” Strahm made one final loud grunt as the tension that had been pooling in the bottom of his stomach came out in short bursts up Hoffman’s ass. When sense seemingly returned to his head, he took Hoffman by his jawline and kissed his cheek. “You’re taking it so good…” His lips sloppily connected with the one chiseled feature Hoffman had while his hands trailed wildly across Hoffman’s body. He was feeling up the bra that Hoffman’s chest was confined by, rubbing the other man’s stomach and kneading at the tender fat that rested just above his belt line in his normal work clothes.

“Fucking chubby chasing pervert.” Hoffman cursed under his breath while wearing a giant smirk. Strahm even brushed up against the erection that Hoffman had been trying to ignore up until this point. “Don’t touch me if you don’t intend on getting me off here, Agent.”

“Fine, I guess we’ll just have to save it for our hotel room.” Strahm pulled himself out of Hoffman’s hole, making sure to dirty up Mark’s inner thighs with his cum before cleaning himself off with a piece of toilet paper. He pulled his pants up fast and helped the detective look semi-presentable as they would walk out the entrance and back to the car. There was no saving Mark’s makeup, he’d have to walk out of the bathroom with half his dolled up face gone and the other half determined to stay on in spite of the sweat beads dribbling down his forehead. As Hoffman took the first step out of the stall he paused at the sink and held onto the porcelain tightly. He had no idea how much it would fucking hurt to walk after he got fucked. Strahm didn’t seem to notice the pain he was in as his hands squeezed his ass cheeks.

“Agent, you’re losing your cool.” Hoffman teased him

“It’s all I’m good for apparently.” Strahm shot back, making one more desperate attempt to be connected to his detective partner with benefits. He kissed along the hem of Hoffman’s neckline before walking out of the bathroom completely

“Fucking tease.” Hoffman huffed as he washed his hands and followed his fake husband’s lead and met him in the hallway. Some men happened to walk by in that moment, and after giving Strahm a once over look, they continued their conversation they were having previously. Strahm quickly wrapped an arm around Hoffman’s waist and led him out of the building. Hoffman wrapped an arm around Strahm’s neck and crooned for him as they passed the guard they dealt with early that morning to get in. They were over the top in their display of newlywed affection, but they were definitely selling it. Strahm barely made it to the parameter of the car before Hoffman was pushing him into the vehicle. Strahm’s hands found their way back to caressing Hoffman’s ass cheeks as his tongue worked its way into Mark’s mouth.

“Wonder who’s watching us, don’t you Agent?”

“No.” Strahm moaned, wrapping his hands around the back of Hoffman’s neck. “Get in the car.”

“Fine. No need to be so rough, agent.” Hoffman unhooked the other man’s hands, purposefully rolling his ‘r’ along his tongue for longer than was necessary. Strahm unglued himself from the side of the vehicle and shoved himself into the driver’s seat. He backed the sedan up with reckless abandon and sped out of the DMV. He pulled into their hotel parking lot and before he could shut his car off, Hoffman’s hand brushed over Strahm’s hand on the gear shift and locked their fingers. He pulled Strahm’s hand up to his lips and kissed Strahm as he locked eyes with the special agent. His special agent. “Wait.”

“What?” Strahm mumbled. Hoffman fumbled through his purse and pulled out his tube of lipstick before applying a fresh layer, only to use the back of Strahm’s hand to blot it off. It left a clear impression on the detective’s skin and Strahm bucked his hips up a little in response. “I can’t wait any longer. You’re a damn tease.”

“If I’m a tease, then you’re a con man.” Hoffman quickly countered, but acquiesced and got out of the car. He leaned up against the window and flashed their key card, “Hurry it up, hubby.”

“I’m hurrying.” Strahm remarked, wrestling with his seat belt to get out of the car that much quicker. Hoffman was five steps ahead of the agent and purposefully closed the door behind himself in the elevator. Strahm hit the door once before getting looks at from the family who had just stepped off. Strahm made a beeline to the stairs, thanking god they were only on the fourth floor and practically sprinted up the stairs. Nearly out of breath, the agent made it up to the door of their room and felt himself up to find the hotel key, only to realize that Hoffman had the only copy on him. He knocked on the door and Hoffman opened it up. It took him seconds to get to the point where Strahm could slip in, but with his level of arousal Strahm could’ve sworn it took Hoffman hours to open the damn door. When the door closes behind him, he pins Hoffman’s back to the door and they enter another cycle of sloppy, wet kisses between the two men.

“Careful agent, my back goes any further into this door and you’ll tear the damn thing off its hinges.”

“I’d enjoy that.” Strahm growled

“I bet you would, dick.” Hoffman smirked, wiping his smeared lipstick from the side of Strahm’s lips. Strahm glanced to the side as something black appeared in the corner of his eye. Hoffman’s stretched out waist trainer laid on the floor and there was a much more noticeable curve underneath Hoffman’s dress. “Now tell me Agent Strahm, what do you need from me so badly you came running up here all out of breath for?”

“Maybe I was just coming for some post-coitus cuddles.” Strahm replied dryly. Strahm tried to kiss Hoffman’s lips again, but Hoffman turned his head away. Strahm’s lips however did connect with the wooden door

“Just answer me, then we’ll both get what we want.” Hoffman’s fingers walked along the back of Strahm’s neck, smoothing down the raised hairs in his path. Strahm shook his head, trying to overcome the goosebumps that were spreading across his body with anticipation

“I’m going to fuck your tits.” Strahm blurted out

“Dress on or off, you pervert?” Hoffman leaned in and bit down on Strahm’s lower lip

“On.” Strahm pulled Hoffman over to the bed, guiding the detective over by his wrist. He shoved the detective down onto the floor on his knees before him. He ran a hand through the fibers of the wig and pulled on the back slightly, moving the hairline back to reveal Hoffman’s natural brown. Hoffman shot him a look before fixing his wig quickly. “This isn’t going to work…”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Here.” Strahm pulled Hoffman back up onto his feet before shoving him onto their bed. The detective unbuckled his belt and let his pants slide off onto the floor. He carefully positioned himself over Hoffman before sitting on Hoffman’s ribs. The shift in weight was enough to make Mark miss a breath of air and he glared up at his agent. “Just hold your boobs together and take it, princess.”

“So fucking rough to your wife.” Hoffman griped, but held his pecs together and gave Strahm a perfect divot for him to fuck himself with. Strahm shoved himself between Hoffman’s chest and let his eyes roll to the back of his head. With a thrust Strahm was swallowed by pleasure. The fabric of Hoffman’s dress gave him a rough surface to fuck against while his ass kept pressing itself up against the soft fat of Hoffman’s belly. Strahm came almost unceremoniously quick, stopping his thrusts to make sure that his semen filled the divot in Hoffman’s chest where his head connected to the rest of his body. When that crevice was full, the semi-fluid matter spilled down towards Hoffman’s collarbones. When he was spent, Strahm carefully crawled off the man below him and laid on his back on the bed. Some dull thing began to ache along his spine. They sat in silence for a moment before Hoffman sat up and went to the bathroom to clean himself off. Strahm was almost ashamed of his stamina, but remembered he’d already used up more than half of it back in the FBI building. Hoffman came back out, this time without his clothes or his wig and lied in bed next to Strahm. When it didn’t seem like the agent was going to make the first move, Hoffman rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around Strahm. Strahm made a soft grunting noise as the other man’s arms snaked around his back. Hoffman went one step further and kissed Strahm’s cheek before turning Strahm’s face towards his own.

“What?” Strahm gave him a confused look

“Aren’t you going to hold your bride? You couldn’t keep your hands off of me earlier.” Hoffman protested

“My back hurts.” Strahm complained, but scooped an arm around Hoffman’s shoulders. He was nice enough to lift the covers up over their cooling bodies. “Good job.”

“Huh?”

“Good job. With the fake marriage thing.” Strahm’s face turned a soft red

“My pleasure, honey.” Hoffman rested a hand against Strahm’s stomach before pressing his lips onto Strahm’s. Strahm returned the kiss quietly and moved his free hand to rest against Hoffman’s cheek. He thumbed the soft flesh before humming a tune. “You know…”

“What do I know?” Strahm responded

“This was a shit honeymoon.”

“Huh?”

“Hell you don’t even buy me a ring, and the first thing you do is make me sign off on some papers. Really gets the blood going.” Hoffman scoffed, “At the very least, you could take me out for a real dinner.”

“Fine. Tonight?”

“No. I want something when we get back. I’m thinking somewhere in the village?”

“I fucking hate trying to park in the village.” Strahm complained

“Or midtown.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

“I know I am.” Hoffman purred ever so slightly, having more fun with this back and forth cat and mouse game with Strahm than he could have ever expected.

[milogreer]

david, obviously

@angelicaether asked: David for the send me a character ask game ^^

thank you both !! let's talk about our beloved alpha 🫶🏼 ↳ send me a character!

My first impression: REALLY REALLY GOOD. really good. immediately felt on top of the world getting to be a little shithead bc i love to push a tsundere’s buttons. i did get so embarrassed listening to one of them that i had to stop listening for the night LMAO that didn’t have anything to do with david himself but it was related to the jealousy audio

My impression now: a new davey audio is like a one way ticket to sleepy town for me, he is such a comforting presence and his voice is like magic. i love him very much and i don’t know if it’s because he’s courtney’s fave or because i’m a milo girl or what, but he’s like a brother in law to me most of the time. and i have like…. object impermanence with him HAHA like i tend to forget just how much i adore him until he comes back around. i can sit here and be like “teehee he’s my BIL!” but if i were to go listen to a davey audio rn i’d get all melty 😭 he’s like a sleeper agent

A favorite thing: nooobodyyyy does family like david. NOBODY. getting the pack in line when they started bullying milo too much. taking milo to the side after the inversion to make sure he knows that no matter what, he’s still going to be part of the pack. sharing stories of gabe with angel. agreeing to a double wedding with his best friend so they can celebrate being with their unempowered mates in a grand, public display of love. everything he did for darlin. he would move hell itself for anyone in the pack

Least favorite thing: doesn’t like minecraft and his go to smash level is final destination with the smash ball only. where is your WHIMSY!

Favorite line/scene: hmm…. i haven’t listened to davey’s playlist in A While so this is hard. i think i’ve gotta go with the lottery ticket scene in the camping audio 💕 him asking angel to scratch it with him sent me into fuckin orbit with all the emotions i was experiencing. i love when david talks about gabe 🥺 it’s always so sweet

Favorite interaction they have with another: THE DAVID/DARLIN HUG MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME. i was so glad he was there during that run of audios bc god knows darlin needed all the support they could get and the hug was really the icing on the cake. loveee when characters who don’t typically hug or seem the type to hug do finally get a hug 💖

A character that I wish they would interact with more: sweetheart sweetheart sweetheart oh my god please . PLEASE even with the party audios there is not nearly enough inter-pack mingling !!! those two going head to head in the smash tournament was sooo awesome

A headcanon: this kinda goes with my answer above bc i want them to be friends SO BADLY: i love the thought of davey and sweetheart exchanging horror movie recommendations and having in-depth discussions about them !! 

A song: teeth by aviators 😵‍💫💕 if anyone reading this hasn’t heard it then please listen to it rn it makes me feel feral

An unpopular opinion: JUSTICE FOR THE JEALOUSY AUDIO. i haven’t listened to it in a while but i stand by the opinion that angel was acting shady as hell for no reason and i mean maybe he was a little rough around the edges about it but he handled the situation better than i would’ve expected. i’ve seen people call him toxic and say they never would’ve stuck around but like would you have stuck around if you were in his shoes and the person you loved was acting the way angel did? the jealousy audio rly isn’t as bad as people make it out to be imho

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 47: Exenuating Circumstances

A week had passed since Alex had abducted my precious lotus. Things around the facility were feeling heavy. Gale and Jill had been distant from others. Arjuna hadn't returned to Phoenix Corps.

"Albert, please, you must get some rest! You haven't taken a break at all since Tabitha was taken. Even a god can be run ragged." Excella said, injecting my stabilizer into my arm as I stared through piles upon piles of research.

"Enough! I shall rest when I deem it necessary!" I said, turning my head to glare daggers into my moron of an assistant.

"But Albert, I'm only trying to help get your mind off..." She said as I snarled, grabbing her by her twigish neck.

"Off what!?! Do you mean my kidnapped wife? who happens to be around midterm of pregnancy with three of my  children? That the fact stands our only form of contact is in a coma in our medical bay. The worst part is that he was under Alex's control due to her installing a sleeper microchip clearly based on Sergeis technology. The only one we had was stolen three months prior." I growled, noticing her eyes echoing in fear.

"Wesker! He is awake!" Jill said as she walked into my office.

I dropped Excella and faced Jill. Her face was behind her crow mask. She sounded as emotionless as I had when  confronting Excella.

"Show me!" I ordered storming out of mine and Tabitha's lab.

Me and Jill quickly arrived at the medical bay housing agent Nighthawk. Arjuna was in the corner of the room, his fingers interlocked and chin resting on them. Steve stood adjusting the medicine dripping into Nighthawk's veins.

Nighthawk's face was forlorn as he looked away from me. I noticed his eyes were no longer grey and had a spark of life. There was nothing but dread emanating from the agent.

"Tell me nighthawk, what connection do you have to my sister?" I spoke, folding my arms.

My eyes trained on to the sullen man as he finally spoke, "I'll start in the beginning. To start, my name is Alecto, as everyone in this room is aware I was an Umbrella Experiment under project A.C.R.O.H. The woman who raised and birthed me was the project lead. However, unbeknownst to me, she was but a surrogate at Spencer's orders."

"That sounds like something he would do, Continue." I said through gritted teeth.

With a heavy sigh, the agent continued, "I learned of this just after the Christmas party. There was an intruder in the forest surrounding the  lodge. The security chief, Billy, went out to investigate. I took the north and  west portions of the forests while he covered the remaining directions. I ended up on the outside of the airstrip. That was where I saw this freaky B.O.W.  it was mutated weirdly and damn near invisible. If it weren't for my hawk like vision, I probably would have been killed. The thing had a glowing pustule that once I destroyed it, the creature died."

Arjuna just stood up and exited the room. It was clear he was deeply affected by this whole ordeal. I heard a light almost choked back sob, Nighthawk.

"I was snuck up upon by a woman in white. She stabbed my neck with a syringe, and the next thing I knew, I was in an unknown med bay that was different from Phoenix Corps. As soon as I realized I was captured, I tried to escape. The moment I broke free from my bindings, an alarm rang out. The room filled with gas, and I ended up on the ground. The woman in white stepped into the home holding a remote."

(Flash back Nighthawks pov)

"Now now, birdy. I wouldn't try and fly the nest so soon. After all the wounds from your surgery haven't fully healed." The woman said coldly.

I pushed myself up using my wings to enforce my balance, "Screw you! Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"My name is Alex, and your name is Alecto. As much as it is to have my blood working under that so-called Phoenix, you will be my greatest asset to achieving parts of my goal." She  said, clicking a button on the remote sending shockwaves of pain through my spine.

I dropped once more curling up in a ball. Haze was creeping along the edges of my vision. I felt my rage shoving away the haze. Once again, I stood my mentors words echoing through my ears. Lady Tabitha's voice on my mind as well.

"It seems my caged canary has some fight in him. Is this the project A.C.R.O.H programming I designed or your meger training from that weak bitch you call boss." Alex said pressing the button my sight going even more hazy.

"My commander is a hundred times the woman you are. I'd lay my life down for her." I cough as pain surged through my eyes and down my nervous system.

"Then how about your boytoy? Archer is his code name, is it naught?" She laughed, walking over to me pressing her stelleto heel into my neck.

"You leave him out of this! He is hardly involved in anything!" I shouted my wings, opening quickly, shoving her away.

"My lady, are you alright?" An extremely pale individual with white hair barged in.

"Yes, my dear servant. I'm sure my spawn isn't able to harm me. At least not with his beloved boytoys elder sibling under my control. I'm glad I was able to test this new control device on you first." Alex laughed as I felt bile rise in my throat.

"So this is my brothers boyfriend? How tragic. I was hoping for him to find normalcy. However, it seems he has chosen to bind himself to an experiment." He said, staring deep into my eyes.

I bowed my head, trying to hide my gaze. His eyes were a sickening lifeless grey. He was being controlled by this woman. I couldn't stop the haze from taking over my vision anymore. I sighed as thoughts of Arjuna and my commander pulled me out of my silence.

"What are your demands!" I choked out my body growing increasingly numb.

"I'll put it in simple terms that even a bird brain like you could understand. I want your boss, in my possession. Once you have achieved this, I'll not only remove my control over you but your partners brother as well. You both will be free to do as you see fit." Alex said as the fog drowning my eyes  slowly faded, "As an act of good faith, I've lessened the intensity of the sleeper chip."

"What do you intend to do to my commander?" I said, standing up defeat flushed across my face.

"That is not a matter concerning you, but rather between her and myself. You have only but to concern yourself with your task. Follow me. I shall brief you and get you sent off to Phoenix Corps." Alex said as she walked away from me, beckoning for me to follow.

(Current day Wesker P.O.V)

"That's the basis of the interaction when I became her pawn. I put the safety of my partners sibling and my own well-being ahead of my commanders. I managed a place a backdoor in Alex's plan however. Just before I was shot, I tried to hand a special calling card to commander Tabitha. Alex took it, saying she'll destroy it once she had landed." Alecto said, faced buried shamefully in his hands.

"A calling card! What is that supposed to do?" I growled at the idocity of this child.

"Is that any way to treat your beloved wifes subordinates?" A cold threatening voice spoke from behind me.

"Sorry Wesker, I had destroyed one of the calling cards Tabs gave me. We need help tracking her down. Cryo Wolf is the Phoenix Corps. equivalent of agent H.U.N.K." Gale said, walking into the medbay.

Beside him was a tall, well-built man who had dark salt and pepper streaks look to be caused by years of stress and trauma. I was reading in Tabitha's files the days leading up to her abduction.

There was one mention of a wolf. The details were vague, and it was a parodied version of some of Spencer's notes regarding my precious lotus. As I recalled the line, I stared at the man.

"The god and servant of my underworld deserve a three-headed wolf to protect their domain." I heard Spencer's voice play in my head.

"Tell me, are you the three-headed wolf Spencer created to guard my wife and i?" I spoke, lowering my glasses.

"Yes, in Spencer's notes, I am Cerebrus. Manufactured by Dr James Marcus and Oswell Spencer. The dogs were modeled after the training I had received. By nineteen ninety-eight, I was Spencer's private watch dog. Now I am Tabitha's ultimate fuck you card. I show up, and it's scorched earth that point forward. " The man said, walking past Gale and over to nighthawk.

"Hey, teach... I must look like a damn failure in your eyes right now." Nighthawk said, turning his head away from all of us.

"Eyes front and center Alecto. I know I didn't teach you to cower before your failures." Cerebrus barked out his voice radiating authority, "What did I teach you, soldier?"

Nighthawk ground his teeth then faced us, his irises a blaze. His hawk amber eyes filled with a renewed determination. Nighthawk lifted his body up and swiftly exited the bed.

He took a knee in front of both me and Cryo Wolf, "Sir! You taught me that no matter the actions I partake in, there will always be a consequence. Be it positive or negative is dependent on me. I have let my shortcomings over whelm me, and I have fallen to my lowest point. Please allow me this mission to save my lady and to rise up once again."

"Unfortunately Alecto, you know that's not my decision to make. I'm not a controlling member of Phoenix Corps. I believe it falls to our ladies' husband, Dr. Wesker." Cerebrus spoke, looking towards me.

I looked down upon Nighthawk's kneeling figure. Things stood out to me much more clearly than before. His hair was a damn near match to  Alex's almost unnatural blonde, and his facial features were very similar to hers as well. Without a doubt, biologically, he was Alex's.

Bird's being bonded to a motherly figure should have had him loyal to Alex's lacky, that she knocked up for the sake of Umbrellas experiments. However, here my nephew sat bowed at me feet, pledging loyalty to my wife instead. Tabitha's conviction and pride shone through Nighthawk. His conditioning and programming were drilled into him by project A.C.R.O.H. seemed like a far distant blip in his timeline.

"You really care for your aunt, don't you, Alecto?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Yes, sir! Phoenix Corps. is my home, and while I've only met her a few short months ago, I'm willing to lay down my life for her." Alecto said firmly, staring into my eyes.

I felt a dark chuckle escape my chest, Alex, dearest sister, how much of a fool you are. Trying to take the reigns of someone loyal to my wife has been the start of your downfall.

"Raise your head, nephew. I'm going to need the best that Phoenix Corps. has to offer to rescue my dear lotus. Now Alex said she left some way for you to contact her. Is this true?" I asked, unfolding my arms pushing up my sunglasses.

"Unfortunately, she had only contacted me through my Phoenix Corps. coms." Alecto said as he stood up, "and I believe it was destroyed when I fell after being shot."

"But that's not all, hawk." Arjuna said, walking into the room laying a box on the closest table, "This was hidden in your bag. I knew something was off because I packed our bags, and I didn't place this in them."

"Bug... I need to do this. I shall save your family and bring your brother home." Alecto said, walking over to Arjuna.

"I know hawk, but until then, sleep in the barracks... while I know you were being controlled. I need time to sort my emotions." Arjuna said, taking Alectos face into his hand.

"I understand Juna bug. I'll give you the space you need." Nighthawk said, opening the box revealing a black glass phone.

"That will be enough! Cerebrus, if you would please follow me." I said, taking the black phone from my nephew as I left the room. Taking the phone from Nighthawk.

Cerebrus followed me. The winding halls to mine and Tabitha's lab. He was quiet and stoic. His eyes were a freezing blueish grey, his gaze chilling the back of my neck.

Once we arrived at the lab, he spoke, " Once you speak to your sister, I have intel. I just couldn't speak of it with our subordinates."

I sat on my office chair and turned on the phone. I waited a few moments when it started to ring.

"Alex! Where is she?" I said into the receiver as I answered the phone.

"Now now dear brother, we both know that's not how negotiations work." Alex said, laughing slightly, "Especially under these circumstances, don't you agree."

I sigh the weight of the situation, adding a continuous flow of frustration to my sanity. Cerebrus stood on the edge of my desk, a scowl on his face. His jaw tightened when Alex's voice came through. Had he heard what she said?

"What do you want for her return?" I asked, opening my laptop.

"Why Albert is it not obvious? I want in on what you're planning. Uroboros, isn't that what you've been calling it?" She said an air of smugness drifts through the open phone line.

"You were working with Excella, weren't you?" I said through a layer of stoicism.

"Seems your wifes perception has rubbed off on you. But don't blame your poor assistant she has a terribly low resistance to liquor. I must admit Albert forcing natural selections hand is inspired. I simply just want to help you be a backup plan in case anything happens." She said, almost feigning concern.

"So if I send you a copy of my research and a set of vials of Uroboros in its various stages, you'll return her to me." I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Did I say that was all I wanted, dear brother?" Alex said, "That's my condition to allow you to speak with her every week. She already submitted to her conditions for that."

"DO NOT FUCK WITH ME ALEX!" I snarled loudly.

She merely laughed, "Albert, how Spencer would be rolling over in his cell in hell if he saw your display of emotion. I require six weeks with Tabitha. Once my needs are satisfied, I'll send her and your progeny back to you."

"Fine... however, if there is a single hair out of place, I'll find you and rip your heart from your chest." I sighed a raging migraine clouding my mind.

"You were always the more reasonable one of the siblings." Alex said, "I'll have my assistant contact you in regards to obtaining the virus samples, but I believe you have a more pressing concern on your mind. I'll hand her the phone." Alex said as a shuffling noise echoed through the speaker.

"Wesk..." My lotus's voice weakly spoke.

"My lotus, are you alright?" I asked, tensing at how she sounded.

"I'm alive, and so are the kids... in my mind, that's the best I can ask for in this situation." She said, her voice cracking.

"I'm going to find a way to get you back. Just be patient, my love. I won't let you be a prisoner like you were in Russia." I said only to have a breathy chuckle come through.

"She won't hurt me... she needs me... well, at least the Angelis and angelis antibodies I'm producing. Tell me, how's the guard dog?" She asked, her voice perking up slightly.

"How did?" I started to question.

"Like Gale or me would take this sitting down. Certain chain of events, if you know what I mean." She said as she started to cough.

"Why do you sound so sick, my lotus?" I asked at her sudden coughing bout.

"A progenitor virus destabilizing agent... I receive a dose about once every three days, so I can't access my mutations. It also forces my body to produce more antibodies." She said as she caught her breath.

"She's trying to make B.O.Ws with your Angelis virus and keep them stable with your antibodies then. How is she extracting?" I asked a flurry of questions racing through my mind.

"Breast milk... Alex overloaded my body with hormones and vitamins to induce lactation. She is making me breastfeed her chosen vessels for Angelis." She snarled quietly.

"That's enough for now. Now Albert, don't worry. I won't allow any harm to come to them. I'll let her talk to you in a few days once my assistant has confirmation of the transportation of Uroboros." Alex said, ending the phone call.

Red... that is all I saw as I heard Alex's voice, and it was deepened when the line had gone silent. I as gently as I could placed the phone on the desk. Standing up, I slammed my fist into the wood paneling of my office walls. Cracks formed, reaching the ceiling.

"I know where they are." Cerebrus said.

I stopped and turned to him. His ice like eyes pierced through the red I was seeing. He pulled out a USB stick and walked over to me. He extended his hand, burn scars scattered across his skin.

"Take this, and we can start planning her rescue. We are dealing with your sister after all. We need to be strategic about this." He said.

I took the silver USB drive and turned towards my computer. I'm won't fail this time. I will bring what's mine back. Alex should have known better.

Hold on, my precious lotus, I'll have you home soon.

Hey everyone Silfarianhawk here and I hope ya'll are doing amazing. I appreciate each of your reads and your patience between chapters. We are reaching the climax as I've said before and I can confirm there will be a part two to this series and I have plans to continue this series till post re 6. I'm going to take a break for a few days to work on my other project then I'll be back writing for arch angel. My 27th year is about to dawn and I want to celebrate with each of you. As always my name is Silfarianhawk and I'm not so far away.

[thirstyforred]

i was thinking today about the fact that i have played many interesting games this year, and when December comes I'll be very excited to write a post about it, explaining what I found cool about this game, both this year's releases and things that came out in the past but I discovered them only now

and as i was thinking about it, i realized that obviously, I would have to write something about Dragon Age the Veilguard

the game hasn't come out yet, so i can't really say anything, and I didn't have the opportunity to play the demo or anything like that, however, over the past few weeks I have been feeling a little bit apprehensive about this title, and I couldn't figure out why

lately, but especially this year, I have been trying to choose the games I play to provide fun and be the kind of games that are "trying to do something," even if it's something relatively small. Prey 2017 is literally my sleeper agent phase to start me ranting

and so i have been thinking, what new interesting thing in the genre of action RPG does DATV do? so far based on the things said by BioWare and journalists/content creators, it's still just perfecting this Mass Effect/Dragon Age formula, which isn't necessarily bad, I do enjoy it a lot! even changes to the fighting system I wouldn't consider "new thing" bc 1. it was the direction DA series slowly but steadily was going towards, even the change from 3 to 2 autonomous party members in ME style isn't that surprising, 2. some people who played demo have been comparing the playstyle to something like new God of War games, so really had to call it anything new

even the fact that im excited about the dodge button is solely bc I have been playing a lot of Guild Wars 2, and I love it there

i mean i hope DATV will surprise me in some way, and even if not I will likely enjoy the game bc Im a lore head and I'm invested in Thedas as a setting

but just, at this moment, while the game still hasn't come out, if it was December and i were to do top 10 of the games i played this year, Veilguard would end up somewhere low, just on the "introducing new exciting Thing to the games" criterium. that's the vibe I'm getting now

[oliversrarebooks]

Augusnippets Day 8: Found Family

Masterlist

tw: sleeper agent, discussion of sensory deprivation torture

"Could you move any slower?"

"I'm trying to keep up. Being locked away for eight years didn't really help my physical endurance," grumbled Cassandra.

Bri was impatiently pacing around her. "I get that, but seriously, if you were walking any slower, you'd be going backwards."

"There's not really anything I can --" Cassandra jumped out of her skin as her phone rang, then again when she saw who it was.

She shouldn't pick up. She really shouldn't. But he might slip and offer her a clue about his pursuit. She swiped to answer.

"Hello, sunshine."

Cassandra glared at the phone, as though her handler -- former handler -- could see her. "That's not going to work on me over the phone. You know that."

"I do know that. But I bet it's got you on edge anyway," said that infuriatingly smug voice.

Her hand hovered over the disconnect button, wondering why she even picked it up in the first place.

"Listen, Cassie. We both know how this is going to end," he said. "You know you're not going to escape, not for very long. I'm already close to closing in on you. And every day you're away, I'm going to add another day of sensory dep to your punishment."

She only wavered for a second. She'd already been gone for five days. The longest she had ever been in sensory dep was a week, and she'd been a complete wreck for a long time afterwards.

But if she did manage to escape, she'd never have to do that again, and that would make this all worth it. It had to. She punched the disconnect button and fought the urge to fling the whole phone into the path of an oncoming car.

"Did he say sensory dep?" said Bri.

"Oh, you heard that?" said Cassandra. She really hadn't wanted to explain this to Bri, knowing that her unlikely bodyguard would find her pathetic for being so spooked by such a small thing. "It was part of my training, locking me in sensory deprivation for days on end to develop my psychic powers. But I hated it so much they started using it as punishment for me too." She shrugged, hoping her fear wasn't obvious. "It's not a big deal."

But Bri actually looked disturbed. "They locked you in sensory deprivation for days? How the hell did that not drive you out of your mind?"

"I mean… it was part of training, so I had ways to deal with it…"

"That's fucked up," she said, and seemed to mean it.

Before Cassandra could respond, Bri's phone rang. She looked at it, frowning.

"It's your handler."

Cassandra's eyes went wide. How did they know Bri? "Don't pick it up!"

But Bri had already answered. "Hello?"

"Hello, Bri," said her handler's smooth voice. "'Hello, sunshine' is Cassandra's trigger phrase. If you say it to her in person, she'll be under our control again, and come walking straight back to us."

Every muscle in Cassandra's body tensed as she prepared to run. She had nowhere to go, and Bri would easily catch up to her, but she had to try.

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Bri.

"Because I want dear Cassie back home unharmed, as soon as possible, and I'm sure you want that fugitive off your hands," he said. "I'm prepared to wire you fifty grand to your bank account and let you walk free. We really don't care about you at all, but if we catch you with Cassie, we can't promise mercy."

Bri was thinking, and Cassandra's mind flashed through every time she'd been a burden on Bri since she'd escaped. It was over, then. Bri would catch her easily and say her phrase and she'd be helpless. She'd be foolish not to take the deal.

Five days in sensory dep. She could do that.

"You seriously think I'm going to do that?" said Bri. "You think I dragged your little pet through hell and back just to turn her over to you? Fuck that and fuck you."

"Bri, be serious about --" Her handler's voice was cut off as Bri disconnected.

"Can you believe the fucking audacity?" said Bri. "You didn't tell me your handler was an idiot -- hey, what are doing with your face? Don't make that face at me."

"I'm sorry," said Cassandra, laughing and crying at the same time and sounding like a complete disaster. "I didn't think you'd defend me, after everything…"

"I said what I said," said Bri, crossing her arms and trying to look stern. "After everything we've been through, I'm not just going to fucking give up now."

Cassandra wiped at her face. "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."

"Whatever," said Bri, with an exaggerated eye roll. "We'd better get moving. If you don't start walking faster, I'm going to have to fucking carry you like a sack of potatoes."

Masterlist

@augusnippets

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Trick or treat!

Another continuation of the Pinocchio fic, the previous one being for @chasm-side here and the first one being for @zeroducks-2 here :3

Tim is tired. His whole body is sore. He's hungry as hell. He's thirsty. He's too damn hot, practically sweating through the kevlar of his suit.

However, the world is safe again, and so he's feeling pretty damn good laying here next to one of the watchtower's external windows, watching the beautiful blue marble that is Earth turning peacefully below.

He hears a loud pair of 'bwa-ha-ha' laughs and turns around to see Booster Gold and Blue Beetle on the other side of the room. Huh. He hasn't talked to Ted Kord in ages, and you know what? He may as well give Booster a shot, right? The straight Fs jock probably won't have any leads worth a damn, but Tim'd have to kick his own ass if it turned out getting answers was that easy all along and he didn't go for it, right?

He drags his weary bones off the ground and goes over to shake Ted's hand.

"I had no idea you were picking the goggles back up!"

Ted gives a tight laugh, "Hah ha! Neither did I! But hey, what else can a guy do when he's suddenly kidnapped by aliens?"

"Yeah, can't say I recommend fighting them in your underwear. Take it you're putting it right back up in the closet once you get home?"

"Ehh, I dunno, I might need to wear it into my cardiologist's office - she's gonna kill me."

Booster shakes his head. "I keep tellin ya, just let her know you got your thirty minutes of cardio in this week and leave it at that!"

"See the thing is I knew a much younger guy who used to try that line on her all the time and for some odd reason it never seemed to stick..."

Tim laughs. "Call me if you need backup against the nurses."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles lightheartedly, "Anyways, you sticking around for the speeches or are you gonna scram?"

"I'm a Bat, there's no getting out of them for me. Gotta stand up on that podium, rain or shine, health or broken tibia. Real quick though, Booster Gold! Need a quick word with you, there's something you just might be able to help me with."

"Hey, throw it at me! There's nothin' the Gold can't handle!" Booster gives him a patented crest toothpaste commercial grin.

"Awesome, it's a history question."

"Oh... goodie..." His smile instantly becomes strained.

"Does the name Inverz Pinocchio mean anything to you?"

"Oh shit, yeah that actually means a lot to me. That's not even history that was slash will be current events almost, uh, shit okay so you know furbies?"

"Incredibly cursed way to start an explanation. Yes, I know furbies."

"Okay, cool, great, this will only get more cursed! So Inverz basically made tons of furbie type stuff except a million times more advanced, we're talking artificial muscle fibers and animal level intelligence. They were super popular pets until the pinocchio scandal got out, cause like it's all the benefits of a cat, except you didn't have to feed them and could store a bunch of music in their brain."

"Oh gods, they were selling sentient androids, weren't they?"

"Oh yeah, and here's the real kicker: they didn't even know they were androids."

"What? Like the buyers thought they were getting real human people?"

"No no no, like, the androids themselves didn't know they weren't human! They were designed as sleeper agents, it was nuts, like they had all this shit in them that was designed to mimic human biology and then bam!" Booster snaps. "The CEO of Inverz pushed a button and suddenly all the energy keeping up that disguise went straight into the weapons systems."

Horror pours down Tim's spine.

"But- no that- there'd have to be some way to tell, right?! Like, it's just not possible to hide that much tech perfectly!"

"Well yeah obviously, once people found out that apparently there were thousands if not millions of people out there who were robots-"

"Millions?!"

"Oh yeah, that's the part where it got bad. Turned out Inverz was trying to build an army and had been planting their sleeper agent androids into the wider population without anyone's knowledge for decades and... uh... hey you're lookin a little pale there...?"

Ted puts an arm around his shoulders and starts steering him away from the crowds and towards a couch. "How about we sit down for the rest of this history lesson."

"Okay..." Tim says distantly.

This can't be happening. He can't be a- He can't be what this implies. He can't. He's been through medical exams - he's been through surgeries! Oh gods, the surgery was from Ra's Al Ghul, there's no way he would have told him anything, and Leslie's always told him that his blood pressure was a little wonky, and gods this can't be happening.

"Soooo, uh, yes there are a few ways to tell." Booster Gold continues awkwardly. "Most of them are pretty invasive? But you totally don't have to worry about those! Nobody's saying you have to crack your- er- somebody's skull open!"

Beetle makes un-subtle 'STOP' gestures with one hand across his neck.

Tim stares into the middle distance, stone faced.

Booster attempts to pivot. "So yeah totally just gonna list some like, little hint things? Little clues? Um. Infertility."

No data points on that one.

"Can't really get a concussion."

He thought he'd been lucky. He assumed that Dick and Jason and Steph and everyone had so many more problems with TBIs simply because Tim got hit in the head less but... but he didn't, did he? Deep down he kinda always knew he was taking as many blows but he still hadn't thought...

"There was also something about a lot of things feeling and looking just a little different? Like they'll be weirdly numb to some things but super sensitive to others and the way they do logic just doesn't quite line up with how humans do it."

Ted says, "Guess that makes sense, what with them having a whole different brain structure. The whole way they process the world is probably just a little bit off from human norms."

He thought he was just a little weird. Though, at the same time, he'd kinda always suspected it might be something more? Sometimes, when he was a teenager, he'd look at what his classmates were doing and feel like an alien. Sometimes he'd have to mimic them without truly understanding in order to keep up.

"That's no guarantee of anything though, plenty of humans are just oddballs."

...Was this why his parents had traveled so much? Why they shoved him in boarding schools and left him alone at home for weeks? Because they purchased him? Because he was a robot and not a real child?

But if they'd cared about him less, if they'd known... then why had his Dad been so frightened for him when he went out as Robin? Why did his mother bother tucking him in at night when he was little?

Why had they given him a birthday at all? Oh gods, that hadn't actually been his fourth birthday! Those were his first memories; that had to have been right after they switched him on for the first time. And- and they got him cake. And gifts. And carried him around and-

And they'd loved him... hadn't they?

Ted studies his face for a minute. Then he pats his shoulder and asks, "Say, Boost, ol' buddy ol' pal, any chance they made a proper diagnostic kit for that whole thing?"

"They did! Totally non invasive and everything, um, we thinking maybe put that down on the wishlist for an early Hanukah gift?"

"Yeeeaaaaahhhhh, that sounds like a good plan. That sound like a good plan to you bud?"

Tim nods.

[zzzallnite]

- The Extraction -

“Room service!” I knock on the door of the suite room. After a few seconds, a man opens the door and let me push the cart in. Inside, the room is lit with warm yellow light and simply decorated with a few pieces of rather unknown painters. The middle-aged guest signs to me to put the cart next to his bed, while he loosens his dress shirt down to the third button and leaves the unfastened necktie hanging on his shoulders. He loudly continues his conversation on the phone in a foreign language out in the balcony, assuming that I don’t understand anything. But in fact I do: he is talking about a delivery of a new biometric scanner to a governmental building in Vienna. I quickly take a glance at the man’s wallet on the coffee table when he’s still busy yelling at the one on the other side of the line with a funny accent outside the balcony. “PATRICK MUELLER. Head of Research and Development. AXIUS GmbH.”

Mr. Mueller hangs up on the phone and gets inside, expecting me to already leave. But I’ve got a surprise for him: I was waiting for him to enter the room and before he notices anything, I quickly put him in a headlock. “Arrrgh...Was...ist...los...? Arrghh...” He tries to pull by arm away from squeezing his carotid artery that pumping oxygen-rich blood to his brain, allowing the man, or any other person for that matter, to stay conscious. But his effort is all in vain as I have been practice this move a thousand times already. He succumbs to the sleeper and goes limp in seconds; before he passes out, the man lets out a faint “hrrrghh” pur like a kitten, which I find rather amusing. But there’s no time, I have other business to deal with. I immediately squirt a potent central depressant disguised in the form of a nasal spray; the drug was created by our genius engineers, who claimed the effect would be instant and the receiver wouldn’t recall anything, which may come in handy as I don’t want him to remember my face nor this encounter. I wait for 10 seconds... 20 seconds... 30 seconds... Mr. Mueller’s mouth slightly opens to take in some fresh oxygen for his brain, which was momentarily cut of just a minute ago, but his thin salt and pepper hair is still resting still on my chest, as he remains soundly asleep. Knowing that the sedative has done its magic, I drag the man by his armpits to his bed and lay him on his back.

“Target’s acquired,” I say to my communicator, “Proceed for next steps.”

“It’s about time!”, my partner answers back while she gives me the instruction of what to do. The cart I brought in earlier was just the cover for our little gadgets for this extraction mission. “Okay, first we need his fingerprints. Lay his right hand on the tablet; it will send the data to our field agent in Munich.”

“Next, I’ll need you to use the scanner on both of his irises at the same time.”

I try to lift both of his eyelids on one hand and hold the hand-held device that resembles a barcode scanner with the other. The man’s body twitches a little as the laser sweep across his eyes; I hold my breath for a second and let out a sigh of relief when I realize that he’s still out for the count.

“Here comes the trickiest part: voice recognition. But don’t worry; we’ve got just the right toy for it!”

“What the hell?”, I mumble to myself while looking at the unbelievably strange-looking device that looks like a shock collar and ball gag.  I could hear my partner giggling while she instructs me on how to use it. The collar acts as a the larynx stimulator, which send an electrical zap to activate the vocal muscles and the gag is a microphone to record to sound coming out of it. All I need to do is to cause his diaphragm to contract so the air in his lungs could come out, by punching it at the right place, which wouldn’t be a problem for me. “What if he wakes up?” I tell my partner, and she reassures me that if the knockout spray works fine then there won’t be an issue, but poor Patrick may have an unexplained stomach pain tomorrow. I open his shirt all the way to his belly button and proceed to gut punch the man; he lets out a faint “hurgh” noise as my fist contacts his solar plexus. I swear I could hear a snort on the other side of the communicator.

“His name has two syllables; you need to do it twice, consecutively.” I follow the direction and gut punch the still unconscious man two more times. Now I can clearly hear multiple people howling next to my ear. “Ok thanks for the effort, but we already has his voice recording from the reception!”, my partner says while trying to contain her laughter.

“What are you doing that for?”, I grind my teeth.

“Well, just because we are on a mission doesn’t mean we can pull a prank on our coworkers at the same time. Besides, the man won’t realize a thing. We already had the necessary data so you can retreat now. Unless, of course, you want to spend some sexy time with Mr. Mueller.”

I have to admit, I am aroused by his whole look right now: silver fox, curly chest hair, disheveled business attire, out cold and vulnerable. But his attitude earlier on the phone just slightly turns me off, and also I can see a ring on his finger – he’s married, although probably very unhappily, I still don’t want to be a home wrecker. I only do one last favor by taking a pic of Mueller’s junk for my girl back at the office, but a limp one doesn’t make any sense. I awkwardly put the shock collar around his penis and scrotum and zap it until his soft puppy turns rock hard.

A solid 7 inches... Maybe Patrick was happily married after all...

I undress the unconscious man, leaving only his brief and dress socks on, and put him in a silk robe, so that he could doze off the drug comfortably until morning, as a thank you for his cooperation. I pull out the cart out of the room, turn off the light and make a smooth escape, for another mission well-done.

[werewolfoverlord12]

Addendum post fall 3

@delta-hexagon @littjara-compleated-sage

@yellingaboutmasseffect

Melira was talking to some of the remaining refugees, former Stolen Phyrexians and Sleeper Agents, when the com device Jazal had given her went off.

"Miss Melira?"

She excused herself and tapped the glowing green button on the front,

"Yes?"

"Hello. My name is Watcher, the computerised overseer of Sanctuary. I have a message from mr. Urabrask. "Emergency'."

"What?" she whispered.

"He fell unconscious moments later; his vitals are high and his body temperature is far above normal ranges. In addition, I've located an Infected Phyrexian individual moving towards Mr.Urabrask's chambers. Would you like me to close off that wing and contact head of security, Alistair?"

"Yes. And keep track of the individual's location and Urabrask's condition, please?" She said, starting to run.

"Of course. Master Jazal has also been made aware and will meet you on route." Watcher said.

Urabrask hung in the air, surrounded by pale golden light above, and oil black storm clouds below. And beneath those waited his Ancestor... Yawgmoth. Or... Something that used to be him anyway.

"... I... I'm barely able to keep my own thoughts steady half the time. I'm attempting to lead a newly evolving people when whatever bravado I had was erased with the Phyrexian. How can you say, my soul is unbreakable when it feels like its always about to shatter?"

The air around him warmed, not in irritation, but almost like someone was embracing him.

"Urabrask," the voice said, "you look before you leap, you think before you speak. You worry about those in your care and those who were like you. Compassion is necessary in great leaders, or they become heartless tyrants." A thunderous roar shook the area, and the voice spoke quickly, "Even when faced with continued set backs, you kept going. You see a future between your people and those of the multiverse. One of peace and advancement. Not one drenched in oil."

Urabrask glanced down, "But what if I can't do this alone?"

"A great leader never does it alone. I sense danger approaching your physical body. You must choose: bow to an ancient nightmare that seeks your enslavement, or be a beacon for your people, guiding them to bright future."

Faces began flashing across Urabrasks inner eye: his friends, Jazal, Melira, Alistair; his people, Ixhel, Armana the angel once known as Atraxa, incompleated partially physicians. Countless more of freed sleeper agents.

The image that knocked him from the decision paralysis was Armana, sleeping beside the quarantine tank where her daughter, Ixhel, slept. Phyrexia would seperate them forever.

Scarlet flames ignited the oil on his skin, and he dove down into the storm, his roar of anger echoing as the flames spread. Down through darkness he dove, feeling skin and scale, flesh and bone morph and expand to encapsulate ever flicker of his fire.

Yawgmoth watched as a massive dragon, wings wider than the storm, scarlet as spilt blood, its yellow eyes glowing emerged. Following its descent, flames consumed the storm and instead of oil, burning rain fell, searing Yawgmoth's pale flesh.

The Phyrexian God cried out, and tried to dive beneath the dark of hot sea.

"You enter my mind and expect me to let you go?" Urabrask shouted.

He breathed out a stream of fire that boiled the sea, setting its surface alight.

Yawgmoth's hand burst through the surface and attempted to knock the dragon from the sky, "You cannot hold me here, wurm!"

The hand, now barely half Urubrak's size, grazed his armored chest, leaving behind glowing marks as the heat inside his body lit oil and flesh on fire.

"I have seen the Praetor's of New Phyrexia, your replacements, laid low. You think ill allow a nightmare from our primordial past steal our future? If I can't kill you here, I will make sure you remember my anger!"

He inhaled, and dress miles worth of air into his lungs before breathing straight down into the dark sea. The force pushed the ichor so far back, the flames scorched the ocean floor. Yawgmoth shrieked in pain as the oil began to glow, a flammable liquid boiled to such high temperatures metal began to melt.

With a wounded cry, Yawgmoth vanished back into wherever the Legacy Weapon had reduced the god to. The black oil receaded with its master and left Urabrask, the massive scarlet dragon, hovering above a sea of crystal clear oil and gleaming gold skies.

"See?" The voice whispered, beside his ear.

"You were right. But I'm not sure how visualizing my soul as a dragon is going to help me when I'm still unconscious." He said.

The voice chuckled, "You'll see. You were looking for something to replace the Glistening Oil, weren't you?"