#slow burn might become a full fic on my main if given enough attention

[imaginekpopidols]

[A night in October] Dino fell in love in ways he could never bear to explain or tell. He falls hard and fast and unbelievably with you. He can't bear to tell you his feelings, though. In desperation, he makes up the idea that someone else must love you and digs you, so he can't have you. Because to him, you're his whole world, his god, which must mean someone else loves you as he does. When he sees you at a frat party, he doesn’t attempt to go over to you first. Because that would be making a move on his part, and he can’t show his interest this soon. But when you come over to him, his whole world lights up, and you are all he can see. All he knows is you. He no longer remembers his name, where his home is or, anything. He knows he’s got it bad for you when he misses everything about you. From your smile to your laugh, even when you are standing right in front of him. How desperately he wants to be the one who tucks you in at night, to how much he wants to make out with you in public. When you leave to find your friends, he can no longer recall the conversation the two of you exchanged. Yet your image burns the back of his eyes, “Yeah, they sooo dig you, Dino, you should confess!” Mingyu drunkenly exclaims and pushes into him, and he rolls his eyes, “Yeah, whatever, Mingyu.” When they come around, he never tries, he never bothers, but he loves them so.

[Inspired by Dino’s mullet lip ring look and No Rome’s When She Comes Around].

[greyias]

FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 1

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something's rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won't rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic's top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Spoilers: Forged Alliances. SWTOR Lost Suns and Annihilation. Some things in the Vanilla storyline, including the Revan flashpoints. Author’s Notes: Out of necessity, parts of this story will contain scenes from the game itself. Whenever possible I’ve tried to rewrite them so that they hopefully remain fresh and interesting, while still retaining the essence of the scene itself (so hopefully it doesn’t feel like you’re reading a transcript). This one is also going to be a bit slow to start, but it’s going to be a long one.

Crossposted to AO3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

When the Supreme Commander of Republic Forces called — it was generally a good idea to answer. Even if he just so happened to be your father.

However, this was official business, so Theron Shan decided to ignore that fact as he strode into the large office located in one of the corners of the Senate towers. The receptionist had waved him through without any fuss this time around.

Perhaps she had gotten used to him at this point — she hadn’t even glared at him this time. He supposed that was progress. It was nothing he had done, of course, just a bit of guilt-by-association. She and Marcus Trant, the Director of Republic’s Strategic Information Services had gotten quite chummy a little while back, but alas, she was not to become the third women to hold the title of “Mrs. Trant”. Easy come, easy go as the saying went.

Come to think of it, maybe the lack of glares this time around had more to do with the fact that Trant hadn’t accompanied Theron. It was a mystery for another time, though, as his gaze fell on the figure seated behind the desk in the center of the room. 

Jace Malcom was an extraordinarily tall man, he towered over Theron by at least a foot or so, and between the height, his deep gravelly voice, and the gruesome scars crisscrossing his face, the man could come off a little imposing. Theron wasn’t easily intimidated though, and he had a… unique situation with Jace. — considering the fact that the man was his father. Biologically at least, or… whatever.

It was complicated.

Theron hadn’t even known who Jace was, outside of his military record that was, until they’d met during the mission to take out the Ascendant Spear. Their first real meeting as father and son hadn’t exactly gone well, it was awkward, Theron had just wanted to leave, and most of their interactions outside of a professional setting had just been a bit like that. On the job, they were good. Despite popular opinion, Theron could take orders (when they made sense),  and off the clock they… well, they were trying to settle into something resembling familiarity. The “father-son bonding sessions” were thankfully few and far between. Theron liked Jace well enough, and they certainly got along better than he and his mother, but it wasn’t exactly like they were going to go out and throw the gravball around any time soon.

However, this meeting request had come through official channels, so thankfully that probably meant things would be less awkward and weird. At least he hoped.

Theron cleared his throat, pulling the older man’s attention away from the datapad he was reviewing. Seeing his visitor, some of the deep lines on Jace’s face smoothed into a smile. “Ah, Theron, you’re early.”

“Traffic wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.” He folded his arms in an effort to look casual. “Trant had a Senate briefing, so you get me instead.”

“That’s all right, I was hoping you’d be here for this. We can loop the director in later.”

“Your message was a bit vague,” he said, “just that you had some intel you wanted to discuss?”

Jace nodded. “One of my men came to me with something he picked up in the field — regarding Korriban. And a way we might be able to strike back.”

Theron’s eyebrows shot up. “Hitting Korriban? You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” The elder man looked at him grimly. “This all started on Korriban, it would be fitting for us to start the death knell for the Empire there.”

Korriban had been one of Jace’s first stations, and where he had met the future Grand Master of the Jedi Order, Satele Shan — who just so happened to be Theron’s mother. Theron shifted the weight of his feet, a habit he’d unfortunately picked up in these conversations when the subject of his mother came up, even indirectly as it was now. He hated having a tell, even something so minor and with someone like Jace who while sharp, probably hadn’t picked up on it.

A change of subject from ancient history back to the present was probably in order — and a lot more comfortable. So Theron addressed the deeper issue at hand. “SIS has been trying to get a mole on Korriban for years, and everyone we’ve tried to embed there winds up dead. That place is a death trap.”

“I’m not asking anyone to go undercover,” Jace assured him. “I’m thinking more smash and grab. But before that, I want you to look over this intel and let me know if you think it’s viable.”

“Me?”

“You were the one who cracked how to take out the Ascendant Spear — if anyone can do the same with Korriban, it’s you.”

It was a high compliment, and genuinely based on his skillset, rather than a form of nepotism. After their success against the Ascendent Spear, Theron had been tapped as a resource more and more for Malcom’s office. It had kept him out of the field more than he liked, but the tangible results of his work on the overall war was satisfying in its own way.

“That seems simple enough,” Theron said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Any reason for all of the cloak and dagger?”

“Considering the target I don’t want to take any chances. I want someone I can trust taking point on this.”

Theron couldn’t quite decipher the look on Jace’s face, but nodded a thanks all the same. It was… odd having someone be so complimentary and open about that kind of thing. Trant’s usual way of expressing gratitude was a cutting sarcastic remark. Which he was fine with — it was familiar. Easy. But the mark of a good spy was adapting to the situation at hand.

Even if that meant a little bit of inadvertent father-son bonding.

Jace handed over a small data chip. The fact that he wasn’t trusting any of this on any network channel spoke volumes about the need for discretion.

“I’ll look this over and get you an answer as soon as possible.”

That seemed to satisfy Jace, but as Theron made his way out of the office and out into the streets, he was unsettled. The reason for that feeling wasn’t readily apparent, but hopefully once he had a chance to dig into the data he’d figure it out. He tended to trust his gut on these things, but a chance to strike as rich of a target as this was too good to pass up on a mere bad feeling alone.

The more he dug into the intel that Jace had given him, the more Theron had to admit that the Supreme Commander was right. A strike on Korriban not only seemed viable, but had the potential to yield invaluable information that could finally lead to an end to the war.

A Jedi named Jensyn had come away from an encounter with an apprentice to a member from the Dark Council, revealing that they had databanks in their main chambers with some of the inner-most secrets to the Empire. A literal goldmine of information that could turn every future battle and operation to the Republic’s favor. It was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up, and so Theron kept digging. Every intelligence report surrounding the encounter checked out, and just because he liked being paranoid, Theron looked into the Jedi too. The man had served aboard the Telos in its campaign in the Albarrio and Relgim sectors, and had an exemplary service record. The closest thing he found to a red flag was the copious amount tea Jensyn liked to consume.  

As far as Theron could tell, the intel seemed clean.

That just left the minor problem of storming Siths’ the inner-keep. Just getting on the ground would have been an issue, except that apparently a SpecOps commander named Rian Darok had found a gap in the patrols on Korriban. It wasn’t a large one, and they’d never be able to launch a full-scale assault… but a strike team could make it through and perform an extraction.

Theron filled a large mug to the brim with caf, settled into the most comfortable chair he could find at SIS Headquarters, and got to work mining everything they had on Korriban. He had to cobble the data together from a variety of sources to even get a close picture if it could be done. They had old schematics of the ground layout, but due to the age he had to cross-reference it with a report from an escaped acolyte to confirm the probable obstacles facing a strike team on their route from the landing zone into the Academy. This, coupled with bits and pieces of security information scraped from the almost-defunct Imperial intelligence, yielded an access point for someone on the ground that could allow a talented slicer to insert an exploit. It was technically doable, but the resistance the ground team would face stacked the deck against the op’s favor.

“Viable but a logistical nightmare” was how he summarized it to Jace and Marcus the next morning, gratefully accepting the giant mug of caf the Supreme Commander had ready for him the moment he walked in the door.

“Pay up,” Marcus said, and Jace grudgingly handed over a credit chip.

Theron narrowed his eyes at the both of them suspiciously over the rim of his mug. “And what was that for?”

“Just how quickly you’d go for caffeine,” Marcus said casually.

Theron fixed his boss with a glare before taking a very long drag of the zippy brew. Apparently being Supreme Commander came with some perks, because if the spy wasn’t mistaken, this was the more expensive Alsakan Mountain roast. The director just shook his head and turned to the datapad with all the findings, letting out a low whistle at the potential yield if the operation was successful. As both of the older men perused the data, Theron barely suppressed a yawn. The all-nighter had come at the tail end of an op, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was probably needing at least a few hours of sleep.

“You could have taken two days to look at all this,” Jace said lightly, “but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Intel can go stale quick.” Theron shrugged off the paternal concern easily.

“All the reason to act quickly,” Jace said, “if Trant can spare you for a little bit.”

“Please, take him. Much less of a headache for me.”

“I’m really feeling the love here,” the agent muttered.

“You’d feel more if you turned your expense reports on time.”

“You have to get a thrill somehow since you’re not out in the field anymore,” Theron shot back easily. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Marcus pointed the question at Jace, who just shook his head.

“Well, I’m happy for the loan, Marcus,” he said, turning the subject back to the matter at hand. “I can see how logistics can get sticky, but I think I’ve got someone who can help with that. Colonel Darok has a knack for this kind of thing.”

Having spotted the hole in the patrol route, Theron had to admit the man had a keen eye. 

“You’d need a small army just to get through that many Sith. No way to get that many troops in,” Theron pointed out. “I don’t even see how even a master tactician is going to navigate that. ”

“What about a small strike team?” Marcus asked.

“Might work, but they’d need to have hides of durasteel.”

Jace looked thoughtful for a moment, before he headed over to his desk and pulled up a few dossiers on a datapad. He paged through a few, before handing it over to Theron. “Have you ever heard of the Coruscant Aegis?”

“Never met them personally,” Theron paused to take another sip from his mug before continuing, “but one of them provided cover fire on an extraction for me once.”

Marcus snorted, apparently remembering the incident in question. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“I needed to make a hasty exit, and the lady was kind enough to clear a path. At least I think it was a lady—there was a lot of blaster fire. Pretty sure she called me insane.”

“That sounds about right.” Marcus heaved the heavy sigh of the wearied soul.

“I suppose I owe whoever it was some thanks,” Theron said. “Probably wouldn’t have made it out without the assist. Some nice flying and shooting.”

“They’re good at what they do,” Jace agreed, “the best actually.”

“Are any of them lightsaber-proof?” Theron asked sarcastically.

“They haven’t let one stop any of them so far.”

Theron juggled the mug and datapad, skimming through the personnel files as he continued to sip from the sweet caffeinated nectar. He tried to school his expression as he skimmed through the major highlights of each name, but the laundry list of heroic deeds associated with each individual was quite impressive. A notorious smuggler who had taken down the Voidwolf. The commander of Havoc Squad. Even a member of the Jedi High Council. It was the last one that made Theron stop and frown.

“Is this last one even real?” he asked.

Jace nodded solemnly. “She is.”

“It says she killed the Sith Emperor.”

That got Marcus’s attention, who leaned over Theron’s shoulder to read the dossier. Not liking the crowding, he handed the datapad over to his boss, and proceeded to prop his hip on Jace’s desk, still nursing the mug of caf.

“You asked for a small army,” Jace pointed out. “Any of them would be able to perform the extraction.”

“I’d say in that case we should get them all,” Theron said, “but they’re probably pretty scattered.”

Their window of opportunity to strike for this was going to close fast, though, so time was of the essence. It was probably also best to keep the number of those aware of the operation on the lower side too. Even if they were going to take on the entire Sith Academy, and maybe even the Dark Council.

Jace nodded. “You probably can get one in all likelihood.”

“Me, huh?”

“Colonel Darok will be in charge of the operation,” Jace clarified, “but I want the SIS involved on this. This is too big of a target to not bring in our best.”

Theron caught the backhanded compliment, but instead of responding verbally, he just nodded. “I can do some recruiting if you want. You have a preference?”

“Surprise me.”

 Jace flashed him a brief knowing grin, and Theron checked the urge to roll his eyes. He was fairly certain Marcus wasn’t aware of the familial connection, so showing disrespect to the man who was technically his boss’s boss probably wouldn’t help things in the long run. Knowing the way his luck tended to run, Theron would probably need to appeal to the director’s better nature in the next month for some reason or another. Theron didn’t intentionally cause diplomatic and inter-departmental incidents, they just tended to… happen. Sometimes. And by sometimes he meant like clockwork. 

“I’m going to need a little time to dig into the files if that’s the case,” he said instead of rising to the teasing.

“That’s fine.” If Jace was disappointed in Theron’s utter professionalism, it didn’t show, and the moment of levity slipped away. "It will take me some time to get Darok caught up and for us to put a battle plan together.”

Theron nodded and pocketed the datapad from Marcus. “Exactly how much time are we talking about?”

“Enough that you can sleep on it,” Jace tried to keep his tone light, but Theron still caught a hint of paternal concern threading underneath.

“Sleep?” Marcus snorted derisively. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I sleep when I’m bored,” Theron shot back.

“Good. Then you’ll be out before you even get through the first dossier.”

“Are you kidding? This is better than a holo-drama.” The spy tapped his pocket where he had stowed the datapad. 

Jace just shook his head, amused, and the discussion turned to other matters of intelligence. Theron let himself out once he finished his mug of caf, the weight of the datapad in his pocket a reminder of the upcoming mission. Despite the caffeine, he could feel fatigue pulling at him. Either the long hours were getting to him, or the unsettled feeling from the previous day was still eating at him. Maybe after he was able to study the personnel files some more, he could take a moment to review his notes and pinpoint what was bothering him. And then he could get some sleep.

Next Chapter

[darnedchild]

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Summer 2017 - Day 2

On FFdotNet and Ao3 

Also, I haven’t had a beta look it over because I like to live dangerously.  Mostly, though, because I literally finished it about two minutes ago and I really wanted to post it so I could go to dinner.  SO - My first Khanolly-ish sort of fic thing.

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Summer 2017 - Day 2 - Not On The Side Of Angels (Fanworks focusing on Dark!Molly)

Descent Into Darkness

John Harrison was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and she was going to make sure he died a slow and painful death.

The bombing of Section 31 had rocked Starfleet.  The massacre at Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco had ripped through the command ranks, leaving the fleet vulnerable without many of their senior and most experienced officers.

Both were acts of terrorism that hit far too close to home for many.

Molly was one of them.  She had been scheduled for duty at the London building the day of the bombing.  If there hadn’t been an unexpected delay with the public transport system out of her suburb, she would have been buried under tons of rubble just like many of her friends.

The knowledge of just how close she’d come to death had nearly knocked her to her knees.

And then the revelation that the devastation had been caused by John Harrison had finished the job.

The section supervisor Doctor Anderson hadn’t wanted Harrison in his labs; as Harrison wasn’t a doctor or biologist, there was no reason to allow him access to any of their projects.  But word had come down from high (the rumours even whispered that the order had come from the office of Admiral Marcus himself) and there had been no choice.  Eventually, even Anderson had agreed that Harrison had offered a few insights on some of the experiments, including ones that focused on some unique tissue and blood samples they had been given to analyse; samples, they were told, that had been acquired from an unmarked, derelict spacecraft found in deep space.

At first Molly had enjoyed Harrison’s visits.  He’d walk into the lab full of barely suppressed energy, listen to the other scientists as they discussed their current experiments, and then rattle off suggestions.  It didn’t hurt that he was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, and watching him walk amongst the work stations was a treat.  He’d even stopped by her station a few times that first month, before moving on without a word.  She suspected he had found her experiments to be inconsequential; which they might have been on their own, if they hadn’t tied into the larger project she’d been assigned.

The top secret one that no one without a very specific clearance, not even Harrison, was allowed access to.  Nearly an entire year of Molly’s blood, sweat, and tears.

Those inconsequential projects had been stepping stones for something far bigger.

While the others worked to identify applications and uses for the samples, Molly worked on finding a bio-agent that would bring the mysterious lifeform to its knees should Starfleet ever encounter another one. Her orders were to create something that would weaken the alien, and slow or temporarily stop its regenerative abilities, so that the creature could be more easily subdued (if necessary). Early testing indicated the alien shared large amounts of DNA with humans, which complicated matters considerably. She would need to create something specifically engineered to stop a powerful creature that was a distant relative of humans in its tracks, without risking the safety of the men and women of Starfleet (and the Federation as a whole).  

Months after he’d begun his visits to the labs, Molly had looked up from her microscope to find Harrison watching her. His pale gaze had seemed to burn into her, as if he could read every emotion or thought that passed through her mind.  She had blushed and blinked, and when her eyes opened again, he’s expression had transformed into a friendly smile that she had reflexively returned.

Soon enough, Harrison began to make a point of coming by her station whenever she was there during one of his rare visits (which wasn’t as often as before now that her main work was being conducted in a secure area).  He’d ask about her project and then her day, her cat, the trip into work that day, what she’d chosen for lunch.  The sort of small talk she would have assumed he abhorred.

Molly had thought, mistakenly it appeared, that they were becoming . . . something, friends at the very least.  

Through months and months of light flirtation, unexpected meetings in the canteen, long conversations about the work going on in the labs, and one single perfect, passionate kiss after he had pulled her into a disused cupboard two day before the bombing . . . through all of that, Molly had never once mentioned or even hinted at her secret project or that she suspected that John Harrison was more than he appeared (if he wasn’t one of the infamous ‘mysterious’ lifeforms, she’d eat Anderson’s prized cactus).

Only an idiot would look back on all that and not put two and two together.  He’d been using her to try to gain information, and once she was no longer useful he had condemned her to the same fate as everyone else at Section 31 without a second thought.

Fair enough, she hadn’t felt more than a brief twinge of guilt when Admiral Marcus himself appeared at her flat and asked if she’d be able to recreate the bio-agent she’d been close to perfecting at Section 31, and—more importantly—if she thought there was any way to make it lethal.

Which is how she currently found herself in the sickbay of the Vengeance, partnered with a man who took orders well enough but clearly had no clue what it was he was helping to synthesize.  

Admiral Marcus had reassured her that her serum was only to be used as a last-ditch effort if all other attempts to apprehend and subdue Harrison failed.

She looked up from the terminal she’d been working at when the ship’s computer warned that the warp core had shut down and it had switched to the sickbay to auxiliary power.  All non-life support systems would be temporarily shut down.  

That was unexpected.  

Molly saw her companion pull a phaser out of a drawer that should have only held medical supplies, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.  He set the phaser to the side, but she noticed he kept at least half his attention trained on the door from that moment on.

Molly started when her terminal screen flickered as the ship’s full power was restored.  In the list of executable medical programs was one that shared the same name as her cat, ‘Toby’.  She was positive the program hadn’t been there before the power down.  She cast a furtive look toward her Richards (who was, apparently, more comfortable holding a phaser than he had been running a centrifuge) and accessed the program.

A password request popped up.

She frowned.

The program was probably nothing, an inside joke left by the ship’s programmers.

Then again, hadn’t it been well known that John Harrison had been heavily involved in the design and programming of the Vengeance?  If there was the smallest chance that the program wasn’t a joke, that it had been rigged to appear only if certain ship systems had been rebooted . . .

The entire idea was farfetched; but she still found herself searching her memory for anything that stood out, anything that Harrison might have expected her to remember and make note of.

There was one thing.  They had been talking about Toby, Molly had told a story about when the feline had been a kitten and had managed to get into a bit of trouble. John had mentioned having a pet once. He’d only discussed it briefly, and then his face had clouded and he’d changed the subject as if the memory pained him.

What was its name?

“Redbeard.”

“Pardon, Doctor Hooper?”

Molly jerked and realized she must have spoken out loud.  “Red blood. Cells.  I think I’m going to need another look at the results from the last run on those blood cells.”

Richards nodded.  “Do you need me to set anything up?”

“No, I can manage.  Thanks.”  She waited until he turned back to his station, then typed in ‘Redbeard’.

File after file sprang to life across her screen. Molly skimmed each just enough to get the general idea, then moved on to the next.

There were schematics for torpedo cases and cryotubes. A list of names, ages, and serial numbers.  Page after page of technical information that Molly didn’t recognize.  And a document with her name at the top.

“Molly,

If you’ve found this, it means the delay with the 7:15 train was sufficient to keep you out of harm’s way.  Unfortunately, it also means that you have put yourself back into danger by boarding the Vengeance.  

I need you to do one last thing for me, Molly.  Somewhere in the galaxy, there are seventy-two souls who are sleeping in cryostasis. They are my crew, my family; and they have been taken from me by Admiral Marcus and his men.  Everything I have done, I have done for them, to rescue my family from the hands of those who would use and destroy them.

Regardless of your feelings for me, I ask . . . no, I beg you to help them.  

Do not trust Marcus.  

Do not trust anyone.

Above all else, you must survive, Molly.  My Molly.”

She stared at the screen and tried to process what she’d just read.  Even without a signature, she knew who had written it.  

What the hell had been going on in Section 31?

“Marcus thought something like this might happen.”

Molly turned just in time to catch the butt of the phaser against her cheek.  As she hit the floor, she saw Richards frowning at the terminal screen. “Sickbay to the Bridge.  Khan left a love note for the good doctor.”

Who the hell was Khan?

Marcus’ voice came across the comm.  “Not important.  Is the serum finished?  Does it work?”

“Close enough.”

Richards stepped over her toward the carefully stored vials that contained the serum.  Molly tried to reach out and grasp his ankle as he passed, hoping to pull him off balance, but he jerked free.

“We’ve got visitors.  Khan and that idiot Kirk will be coming straight here, so I need you to bring it to the Bridge.  Marcus out.”

Richards grabbed a hypospray and loaded it with the serum.  “Nothing personal, Doctor.  I wish I could say that the Admiral will be lenient on you, but we both know you aren’t going to make it home.”

“Neither are you.”  

Both Molly and her assailant jerked at the sound of a third voice.  Before Richards had a chance to turn toward the door, he was already down.  

Molly looked up to see John, phaser in hand.  

“Have you read it?”

She nodded, and cautiously stood up.  “Parts of it.”

“And?”  He stood tall and alert, and she thought she saw his fingers shift against the handgrip of the phaser.  

“What do you need . . . Khan?”

Some of the tension seemed to melt away from his face and the hand holding the phaser lowered to his side.  She wondered what he would have done if she hadn’t given him the answer he wanted.

“My crew is on the other ship.  As soon as I’ve dealt with Marcus, they’ll be transferred to the Vengeance.”

Her mind had already begun making lists of what would need to be done to wake Kahn’s crew from their cryosleep.  “I’ll prep the sickbay.”

He darted forward and wrapped his free hand around the back of her head to pull her into a kiss that stole her breath away. Almost immediately, he released her. “Kirk and the engineer will be looking for me.  Secure yourself, things may get a little bumpy.”

And then he was gone.

Molly looked down at Richards’ stunned body, and quickly leaned down to snatch up his dropped phaser.  After a second’s hesitation, she picked up the hypospray and tucked it into the pocket of her tunic.

Khan had told her himself.

Do not trust anyone; and above all else, Molly needed to survive.