#rae talks to herself

[raeflora]

thinking of the alchemy and taylor using the word blokes to show that joe and matty were the ones on the bench and she has travis now. her use of a british slang word in a song full of american football imagery is so clever bc it's telling us that she's over the british men, they're not relevant to her life anymore so they're benched which brings it back to football. also the heroin/e line shows travis joking about her previous relationship with matty as she says several times that he chose drugs over her, while travis is choosing her and making her the heroine of their love story and reassuring her that he knows what her fears are going into it, and that he's not like that at all

#taylor swift #the tortured poets department #ttpd #ts ttpd #the alchemy #taylorswift #tswiftlyrics #taylor swift lyrics #tswift #tswizzle #tayvis #rae talks to herself #don't wanna start anything just sharing my take on it ✌🏻

[kagejima]

surprising no one, true form sukuna has been heavy on my mind...

#move over ushijima. grow four arms and be a monster then we'll talk #BDJSJFNSNMXMEKSNNS obvs they're tied #<- she lied to herself #🎤: rae is in the vocal booth

[theteaisaddictive]

you send one thematically-relevant song about loneliness and love and suddenly you get yet another vague au idea based on your characters

#roses and lavender #it just sort of sprung into my mind but -- ella's on the way to the ball #the horses get lost #they wind up at this castle which very clearly does NOT have a ball on but like. what else is she supposed to do. it's cold and dark and #she can see candlelight through the windows #the entire castle is FLABBERGASTED to see what appears to be an honest-to-god storybook princess walk through the door #of course the beast gets down there asap but as soon as he sees her he decides to keep lukring in the shadows #she's beautiful and bright and shining and he is -- not. #for her part ella is a nervous wreck #this was not what she signed up for when she stepped into that pumpkin carriage #she stays for dinner because let's be honest she's starving at this point #they talk a little over dinner. as one does. #there's a hunger in both of them for human contact and despite the awkwardness of the situation they end up talking for a long long time #they lose track of time #and suddenly ella's doing her reverse magical girl transformation #and then they're stood in this drawing room just very awkwardly looking at each other #the beast who's been lurking in the shadows all night afraid to sully this beautiful creature by even standing too close to her #and the servant girl playing make-believe who's suddenly found herself in the worst version of the emperor's new clothes #in the distance they hear cogsworth shouting 'why the FUCK did the FOOTMAN just turn into a HORSE?!?!?' #eta the song in question was the loneliest time by carly rae jepsen ft. rufus wrainwright

[consulaaris]

hi zori !! how do you like to spend your time relaxing ??

[oc interview questions]

.

A light in Zori’s eyes sparks, one that wasn’t there before. 

“I don’t have much time for it lately, but I’ve always loved playing the violin.” Her nimble fingers twitch as if haunted by phantom notes. “Sometimes when I was traveling, it’d just be me sitting in front of the fire, playing until the night grew old.” 

“Besides that, I suppose I spend a lot of time on my tea.” Zori makes a little face, lips pursing. “I have a collection, with a proper set and teas from the places I’d traveled, but I… haven’t used it much, recently. I’ve not had the chance to return to Mor Dhona to collect it; there’s been more pressing matters.” 

She shrugs, clearly deflecting her own disappointment.

“In any case, a good hot drink has been a necessity while in Ishgard.” 

#ask #rae writes #oc: zori aviriq #this is her keeping herself back from ranting about tea LOL #if you get her really started...... #she's a lil pretentious about it but like in a funny way. she's so earnest abt it #esp for someone who doesn't talk much #ty sam!!! :') <333

[slutabed]

barbie spoilers?? maybe?? but idk why one of the things i loved most about the movie that i’m not seeing anyone else talk about (because maybe it’s a hard thing to bring up, or “bad” to talk about, or whatever, but) is that sharon rooney features so prominently as one of the main Barbies in Barbieland. i know sharon rooney from her role as rae earl in “my mad fat diary” where it was the first time i was seeing myself and my struggles with binge eating disorder and depression and fatness being portrayed on tv, and while maybe it wasn’t a super mainstream show (idk how popular it was in the uk), it was a show that was seeing me. 

and now sharon rooney is playing a barbie in THE barbie movie, and she is not “plus size barbie” or “body neutrality barbie” or like any of mattel’s recent attempts to make barbie have a normal body despite the original doll’s unrealistic proportions. she’s just a barbie!!!! she’s as much of a barbie as any of the other barbies!!!! idk why that’s giving me such a thrill especially to see her in the movie and i can’t really articulate what it is (that a person without margot robbie’s body shape/size is perfectly, evenly on par with her in a movie of this caliber -- not the main character or star, obviously, but is equally considered as beautiful and perfect as stereotypical barbie and all the other barbies just by being herself) -- but i loved loved loved loved loved it and i’m so happy that it was just a *thing* without needing to be quantified. 

#barbie #barbie movie #barbie spoilers #barbie movie spoilers #sharon rooney #idk like #obvi there's something to be said about the whole cellulite thing like how it was brought up that women are expected to be thin but not too #but not too thin #but that this wasn't mentioned but like #idk #idk idk this isn't really coherent i just like #i just love sharon rooney and im so happy she was a barbie that was just as barbie as all the other barbies :) #i loved this movie so much and this was just one thing i've been excited for since they dropped the barbie ads #and like...she was barbie :) i want to cry about it i love it

[showtoonzfan]

So I wanted to avoid talking about the Alastor Voodoo discourse, (I kinda already did on twitter) but after seeing this thread I couldn’t help but want to give my two cents on it. Putting aside the fact that Rae is a problematic bootlicker regarding Viv and was someone who took part in dismissing her victims/transphobia, I wanted to say that their idea of Alastor being white passing when he was alive COULD work. I spoke with someone who is more educated on this subject than I am, and it actually could be good representation and educate people on the challenges POC had to face due to their history of being slaves and segregated. I actually wouldn’t mind the idea that he came off as more white passing, had to force himself to speak in a different accent for the show business, and that’s the reason he was able to get a job as a radio host in the first place, since he’s mixed.

HOWEVER, it’s upsetting that this thread was created just to excuse and defend Viv’s shitty character designing and silence people who have an issue with it, especially people of color themselves. I’m mixed race as well so it’s ridiculous that Al looks the way he does for a black man, there is no reason for his demon design to not have his ethnic features, it’s as simple as that, stop telling people they shouldn’t be upset about it, the time period has nothing to do with him looking white.

Rae also seems to have a similar issue with the fanbase where they’re inserting her personal headcanons/interpretation of Alastor into the canon show. I have NO idea what they’re going on about in the second tweet because all we know about Alastor is that he has a “moral code” and possibly only goes after bad people, but we don’t know the in depth details yet or anything on how he was murdering while being a radio host, Rae’s just adding stuff that isn’t there to fit their headcanon/idea. They need to realize they’re not a writer of the show, Viv is and we haven’t seen her ideas for Alastor yet, so using a fan theory/interpretation of what you THINK he could be like just to dismiss people’s issues with him is ridiculous. This goes for the entire fanbase as well.

I don’t know why everyone is trying to excuse the fact that he doesn’t look black and defend his voodoo practices. It has nothing to do with the character, it’s the creator that’s the issue. She was the one who decided to make him mix creole, she’s the one who decided to make him practice voodoo and yet she refuses to commit to her decisions, refusing to educate herself on how to fucking draw black people and listen to POC voices on how bad using REAL voodoo symbols are. Now that I think about it, why does Alastor need to be involved in Voodoo at all. Why couldn’t he just be a serial killer radio host. Him practicing voodoo doesn’t add anything to his character, at least yet. With Dr. Facilier it kinda made sense because his voodoo is what turned Naveen into a frog, he made deals with demons to give him these powers and that’s exactly what got him killed in the end. Alastor meanwhile is a deal maker and I guess that’s what made him powerful??? It’s kinda hard to say with Viv’s shitty vague world building, but you could have easily made him a powerful overlord without that.

The point is, these issues with Alastor are on HER, not on the people complaining about it and if these people were fucking normal regarding criticism and feedback, we wouldn’t be in this mess.

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #hazbin hotel critical #helluva critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin hotel #Hazbin hotel Alastor #Alastor

[leaderofthepack22]

I have some things to say about claire nakti

I know she is your favourite nakshatra girlie, I like the information she puts out as well (I do not like her as a person), as it is original STATISTICAL research (rare in astrology) and extremely affirming to the reality i went through as a 14 year old girl encountering Ketu MahaDasha, having Jyeshtha Moon (I have jyeshtha ketu conjunct jyeshtha moon). She talked about Ketu, and Mula Lunar mansion in a way that i could confirm the stuff she says has a solid backing of truth in it.

Now,

I am extremely concerned for women who take her misogynistic and patriarchal teachings to heart, worship her, create a cult around her, and think letting yourself “go” and submitting yourself to a man will liberate you (no it will not). She clearly has said that women are the inferior gender. You cannot debate me on that.

Then, claire nakti is baby-like extremely feminine (annoying high pitched voice) & extremely mysterious w/ the way she jots information together. She definitely is moon dominant as she looks like adison rae (hasta sun & shravana moon) after her nose job 😂🫵🏻 who is moon dominant. Since she is into traditional gender roles, & is extremely "traditionally" feminine, that clearly adds up to her "female path course" & how she suggests hasta as a key nakshatra in the female path according to "HER"

And, the VERY nature of Moon, the feminine planet she relegates herself, & all other women to, being like a conduit for a force bigger than you (she makes it very clear in her shravana video), channeling information FROM them rather than being the originator of light, you essentially reflecting and channeling a worthy ascended master's light;

This doesn't help with the fact that she came outta NOWHERE with that EAGLE symbolism in the jyeshtha shorts, because I have seen no Vedic scripture ever mention eagle for the Scorpio rashi (or a "3rd symbol" of jyeshtha, like she mentioned)

And she has admitted that she has a "guru", AND she made a video about “sleeping with your guru”.

Combined with her misogynistic portrayals of women, her being equally ’feminine’, her admitting she has a guru, her making a video on having sex with gurus which is VERY odd to me. Her looking like Addison rae, a moon dominant woman, her saying that "copying" someone else's light is le bad UNLESS.... you're a ""woman"" because you're ""lunar"" so it's OK. Her looking like another hasta moon singer Grace Kinstler and a YouTuber called Elizabeth filips with hasta moon, this just affirms to me claire being moon dominant, and simply reflecting and communicating another MAN's teachings. Why don't we let claire nakti's misogyny backfire on her????????? Why are we not questioning her extremely unhinged slut behaviour online and her saying that women are yin so therefore can't originate something with so much fucking confidence. Why don't we boldly say she fucked some guru and is now acting like she did all the research by herself and how is SHE the sole instigator OF HER EXTREMELY pioneering work as a Vedic astrologer with so much original content, as this ditzy blonde who came out of absolutely nowhere.

She lied about the fact that she isn't the only person behind her research, she clearly admitted she met her guru few decades ago and she started compiling physiognomy data with him(???)

I will never worship claire nakti. I hate the "nakshatra bad bitches" that orbit her. I am extremely suspicious and strict with claire nakti and her content and i most CERTAINLY separate ""HER"" from the information she channels. She is nothing to me.

Get your fucking shit together and question claire nakti a bit harder. Certainly don't worship her. Anyone with more than 2 braincells can sense she is not the originator of the information she puts out, and is a patriarchal princess dickwhipped out of her mind by her """guru""". Don't let yourself go and embrace ditziness and thinking it will make you this “Yoni Shakti divine feminine tantra goddess consort bhairavi sacred prostitute🤪🤪🤪✨✨”

She also claims to have been this once in a generation talent but couldn't rectify the ayanamsha mistake in Lahiri. The fact that she thinks lahiri ayanamsha is OK (the default ayanamsha indians chose in a hurry so they can go on celebrating their festivals in 1900 and is actually in need of SEVERE updating) and has used wrong people who don't even have the nakshatra she has talked about in her video concerning a particular nakshatra, was the nail in the coffin for me, confirming claire nakti is moon dominant, has a guru she is parroting etc. Being a STEM person, keeping Astrophysics in mind, i have delved into Indian Ephemeris vs Swiss Ephemeris, the whole ayanamsha discourse and I can easily tell lahiri and the vimshottari dashas from lahiri are 3 years off and ALL the antar-dashas are EXTREMELY off, (this will make 90% of the people in Vedic community look like absolute fools and this should induce a BOILING rage in you, how easily people have the audacity to open their mouth and spread wrong information that will NOT stand the test of time.) Lahiri ayanamsha is astronomically incorrect. The fact that Ernst Wilhelm also felt this exact way was affirming to my own discoveries, just like claire nakti affirming the inhaling and uprooting nature of ketu to me as a young teenager.

No YouTube guru is going to save you (certainly not a "woman", i mean, claire nakti said it) There are many things to rectify, perfect and question.

Good luck.

#vedic astrology #claire nakti #astrology #jyotish #important #nakshatras

[toasttt11]

introducing julianna

Julianaa Rae Hughes was born six minutes before her twin brother Jack Hughes. Julianna and Jack have always been extremely close and Jack hated sharing but it wasn’t ever a problem if it was with his twin but he hated sharing his twin with anyone else.

Julianna and Jack have always just had an unspoken connection being twins and sometimes they are so different that people wonder in they are really twins. Jack may be the younger one but he is the most protective of his sister and Julianna can be just as protective of her twin.

Julianna was old enough to understand and remember Luke being born and she was obsessed immediately, she was the one always begging to hold him and Luke would cry if he saw his big sister and he wasn’t in her arms.

Quinn has always had a favorite sibling and it was Julianna, she was just his sweet baby sister who he adores. She was also can be quite similar to Quinn so it’s nice for both of them.

Julianna has always been more of a private and reserved person especially growing up around the media always surrounding her family but around her family and friends she can be a ball of sunshine.

Julianna has always looked identical to her mother even their hair color has always been the same and Jack and Julianna are identical twins so they both look just like their mother but Jack has their father’s hair color.

Every since Julianna could crawl she was trying to climb onto anything and when she started walking she would try to jump off of anything, Her grandmother suggested to Ellen and Jim to take her to a young kid tumbling class and Julianna absolutely fell in love with it and from then anyone could tell Julianna was made to be a gymnast.

Julianna made her debut in the 2016 Olympics having barely just turned 15, She won three gold olympic medals and three silver olympic medals.

Julianna graduated high school in 2019 and decided to take a gap year to focused solely on her upcoming olympic season and to have some free time for herself to explore.

Julianna joined the University of Michigan in 2020 having committed to the school in her freshman year of high school.

Luke was so happy when he got into Umich as well realizing he would get to be there with his big sister. They got to go to school together for two years and Luke loved being able to see his sister almost every day. Luke loved that his sister could come to almost all of his home games and he could go to almost all of her home competitions.

Julianna met her best friend Emma Mcarte in 2017, When Emma joined US National Team and they two became fast best friends and Emma had also committed to the University of Michigan and the two decided to be roommates.

Luca saw Julianna for the first time at his first home game at Yost and he literally tripped over his own feet seeing someone so beautiful. After the game when he came out of the locker room he saw her hugging Luke and when he was introduced he realized this was the big sister Luke was always talking about and Luca knew he was screwed.

Julianna was around the boys hockey team quite a bit with Luke and all the boys love having her around especially the younger players who started seeing her as their second mother.

#juliannahughesau #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #luca fantilli x oc #luca fantilli #adam fantilli #rutger mcgroarty x oc #rutger mcgroarty #gavin brindley #seamus casey #umich hockey #michigan hockey #dylan duke #tyler duke #jack hughes x oc #nico hischier x oc #trevor zegras #cole caufield #luke hughes x oc #new jersey devils #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x oc #nhl x oc #nhl blurbs #nhl au #ethan edwards #mark estapa #mackie samoskevich #matty beniers

[monzamash]

the good, the bad and what could’ve been — lando norris (part three)

summary – nine years. an age gap that you didn’t know would cause so much heartache. you tell yourself that it’s fine, he tells you that he could give you the world but this was a cautionary tale of what could’ve been if you just let love win. pairing – lando norris x you (female reader) chapter warning – 18+ (smut, language, age gap/older woman) word count – 8k a/n – the third and final part! thank you all for being so patient x inspired by charlie puth's song called boy. masterlist

part one | part two | part three

Previously...

For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. And maybe you didn’t need all the wisdom and baggage that came with someone older, someone who had already lived a life. In contrast, Lando was exciting and living life to the fullest, travelling the world, seeing it all and not burdened by responsibility.

But that’s what made him the dangerous choice. All these insecurities and fears swirled around in your head as you fell asleep in his warm embrace, limbs tangled together like a web, tender between your thighs and an ache in your heart.

You were falling in love with Lando; that much was true but what would the cost be of handing your heart over to someone who had the world at his feet, everything still to experience?

Winter had come and gone and spring was blossoming in all it’s glory, bringing with it new opportunity. Little by little, leaves sprouted on the branches, chirping birds returned to their homes and the scent of fresh flowers filled the busy streets of London – life resuming to normal after a long, brutal winter. The New Year proved to be quite fruitful, with you landing a freelancing job and loving it. It was time to recalibrate your goals and aspirations, reconsider where you saw yourself in five years.

The closing of one chapter gave you permission to want more, to expect more than the mundane and experience what the world had to offer. You’d settled for less for far too long but now you were finally stepping up and advocating for yourself – to yourself.

“You seem so happy.”

Rae couldn’t help herself. She’d kept tight-lipped until now, sensing the shift in your mood weeks ago and loving how much you’d been smiling lately. And she knew why. A certain curly haired man had shown you what happiness looked like, what it felt like and most importantly, how it could mend a broken spirit. You were stumbling through life, chasing unattainable goals and it made you miserable. You were free-spirited, a lone wolf – and Lando allowed you to explore that, to be spontaneous.

“I am,” You simply replied and took a sip of the coffee she’d made you, watching your eyes glimmer in the morning light. There was a sparkle ever present when you talked about him or thought about him – a spark ignited deep within. Burning.

“And how does Lando feel about being the reason you’re so happy?” Rae asked with a sly, knowing smile as she clasped her hands under her chin, waiting for you to spill all the tea she’d missed out on over the last couple of week.

“Don’t know, to be honest. I assume he knows he’s the reason – and hopefully I’m part of the reason why he’s racing so well. We talk nearly every day…” You confessed, cheeks every so lightly blushing underneath the thin layer of foundation.

Rae nodded and flicked through her phone, “He’s going very well apparently. Mark gives me an update every weekend – kinda strange to think that he’s on the other side of the world right now.” She glanced up with furrowed brows, face-palming her forehead, “As if you need to be reminded of that. I'm sorry.”

You shrugged, “It’s totally fine. I actually… No, I shouldn’t say it.” You hesitated, knowing that if you said the words out loud, they would suddenly become real and you didn’t want to put those thoughts and feelings out into the universe – not yet.

“Well you have to now,” Rae chuckled, her full attention all yours.

“I thought that maybe he would’ve asked me to come along to a race – his home one at least but it hasn’t come up… and I’ve been pathetically hinting at it – it’s really lame so forget I said anything,” You quickly muttered, fumbling over your words and feeling your heart start to race.

“That’s like, the opposite of lame. You should ask him.”

“No fucking way. God, even just thinking about asking him makes me want to throw up,” You laughed, almost choking on your words as if it was the last thing on earth you would ever do, “No, if he wants me there, he’ll ask.”

Rae nodded and went back to the coffee in her hands, “Your call but I think he’d appreciate you being forward. I can hear how much you mean to him when you’re on the phone… don’t take what you have for granted.”

“Sage advice, Sensai.”

You promised to think about it. But things were perfect with Lando and the last thing you wanted to do was over step boundaries when everything had been smooth sailing. You strongly believed that if he wanted you there, he would ask and you were sticking with it. It wasn’t the end of the world if he didn’t either, and maybe he was worried that the whole spectacle would scare you away. The endless rotation of thoughts tumbled around in your head until you finally fell asleep, curled up in his bed, waiting for him to come home.

The sound of his soft voice a few hours later woke you from your nap, “What are you doing here? Where’s your Mum?” You heard him ask your puppy who was skating around his feet, scratching the floorboards and no doubt nearly weeing herself with excitement.

The faint squeak of the bedroom door made your heart flip in your chest, watching him step through with a small smile. His eyes were dark and those wild curls you loved fell flat over his forehead – physically shattered from a whole day of travel, flight cancelations delaying his return home but he exhaled when he spotted you propped up in his bed, relieved that you were still here after weeks away. A weight had been taken off his weary shoulders when he saw your face.

“Welcome home,” You whispered as he dropped his luggage at the door and unclipped the backpack on his shoulders, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

Lando jumped up onto the bed like a shot and summoned the last remaining ounces of energy he had, crawling over your duvet-covered body. You had thought about surprising him with something cute, like a new two-piece lingerie set because that’s what you’d always done for men. Dolled yourself up until you were unrecognisable, servicing them and not wearing what you wanted. But Lando worshiped the ground you walked on, made you feel sexier than you’d ever felt before. Oversized t-shirts and track pants were his love language. Comfort was important to him and there was nothing he loved more than seeing you relaxed. Cosy and content.

“Missed you more.” You sighed as Lando grasped the duvet and ripped it back, along with the sheets; a smirk teasing on his lips, “Doubt that very much.”

The unruly curls were even more frazzled close up, the bags under his eyes darker than the last time you’d seen him. His cheeks were hollowed, bone structure more prominent and small blemishes had surfaced on his soft skin, reminding him that even in the chaos of a double header, he still needed to follow a skincare routine. His sullen features made your heart sink as he hovered above you; his cheeky expression the only thing keeping you from asking if he was okay, if he was struggling. There was glimmer in his eyes that settled your fears, a bright spark igniting behind the bloodshot whites giving you silent reassurance that being here with you was the lifeline that he needed right now.

“I thought about this every day… about you, about us. Feel like a muppet for being away from a creature as beautiful as you for so long,” Lando chuckled through his confession – reflecting on how ridiculous the last few weeks had been, how stupid he was for not calling more. 

“A really cute muppet though,” You teased, making him giggle and lose balance, fatigued arms giving out and causing him to land on top of you with a loud huff. You took his entire body weight with a sigh, arms wrapped around his torso; head nestled into the crook of his neck. Lando did the same – lips dancing over the shell of your ear, whispering how beautiful you looked, how desperately he craved the feeling of you tangled up with him but his voice was strained, depleted.

Lando managed to lift himself up and save you from the crush, propped up on his elbow, eyes trained on the side of you face in the dimly lit bedroom. The only light source coming from the laptop to your left, white light blasting up the dark walls as you laid peacefully, fingertips brushing over the exposed skin on your shoulder.

“Did Max let you in? I didn’t see him downstairs,” Lando asked, curious to know how you managed to surprise him like this, welcoming him home with open arms.

“He gave me his key – he’s gone up to Bristol for some racing thing, he said. And Chompy and I couldn’t wait to see you so he offered. I hope that’s okay…”

You felt awkward all of a sudden, like you’d overstepped one of those invisible boundaries that were in place, about to explode on a grenade. But Lando’s rolling eyes softened you, a smile erupting on his face as he leaned in and captured your lips, “More than okay. Wish you were here all the time.”

He didn’t mean for that to sound the way it did. Moving in together wasn’t on the agenda but he appreciated you being there tonight, a familiar face to ground him again after weeks spent flying around the world, Austria being the last stop.

“How long are you back for this time?”

The question was laced in faux curiosity – you knew how long you had him in London, down to the hour if you were being totally honest. The innocent question made Lando think, mind flicking through the days like a diary in the palms of his hands, “A bit over a week, I reckon. Silverstone’s this weekend – home race,” He replied animatedly, eyes wide and shining bright.

“Exciting,” You whispered as Lando stretched his back, hand squeezing your hip.

“I’ve got you a pass for the weekend but realised I hadn’t actually asked if you were free… You are, right?” His question quelled all of your fears of him thinking you weren’t interested in his life, not willing to take that next step with him.

You nodded, simply, wordless while you turned onto your side. Lando smiled and closed his eyes as your hands trawled through his uncontrollable hair, curls tangling around your fingers while you pulled him closer and pressed another sweet kiss to his lips, “I’ll be shitting myself the whole time but that’ll be out weighed by seeing you in your race suit, I guess.”

Lando huffed out a soft chuckle, eyes cracking open ever so slightly – playfully narrowed, “I do look really sexy in the kit.” You hummed in agreement, nodding while closing the gap again, lips softly touching before his hand snaked up and held your jaw gently, holding you in place.

The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the night, wrapped up in each other; slowly drifting off to sleep. Having Lando home brought you more joy than you thought it would, a comfort that caught you by surprise. You were an independent woman, self-reliant but he gave you something that you didn’t even know you needed – companionship. A sounding board to all your shit, someone who listened without judgement, unfiltered opinions on anything and everything.

And unbeknownst to you, Lando had made it his mission to be that person for you. He was quickly learning all your whims, the good and the bad and appreciating how you saw the world so differently to him – so wise. This was, after all, his first serious relationship and he was in uncharted waters, with an older woman.

But once you’d gotten to know more about each other than what was underneath your clothes, the age gap was merely a factoid in your story. You were everything he could’ve conjured up in a dream journal – smart, sexy, funny, down to earth and into him. Well-travelled, cultured, successful; you were everything and still, after three months, couldn’t believe that he was the one you were falling in love with; that you were his.

The morning of race day was utter madness. Lando was running late, as per usual, rushing around his apartment trying to find his sunglasses until you picked them up from his kitchen counter with a smile. Thank you, he whispered, pressing a hurried kiss to your cheek before hiking up his backpack and pulling you towards the front door. You’d kept your outfit simple and boringly beige, not wanting to stand out too much in the paddock. The white knitted dress that came down to mid-thigh, black tights, combat boots and a taupe Burberry trenchcoat did the job at staying low-key, blending into the background noise and avoiding the chaos.

Max had promised to metaphorically hold your hand the entire day, making sure you weren’t separated from the small Quadrant crew that had also been invited along to the British Grand Prix. You didn’t know much about them, nor did you realise how renowned they were but everywhere they went, they were bombarded with people asking for selfies and autographs.

“It’s getting fucking stupid now. We’ve gotta go!” Ria, who you’d met barely five minutes ago, yelled at Max who was pointing towards the paddock entrance with a panicked look on his face. “You go first babes,” She smiled, more of less pushing you towards the turnstile with your pass around your neck, finally making it through the gates.

You wondered how they ever got used to that – the constant attention. And if it was this bad for them, you couldn’t imagine how intense it was for Lando. Truth be told, you’d never actually gone out on an official date together, always opting for post-mates and spending quality time alone at home – away from prying eyes and ill-mannered people who had no sense of personal space. But would it be like this everywhere you went with him? Were you prepared to have your whole life on display for the world to see? You had no clue.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Max exhaled, grasping your shoulder with sympathetic eyes. He was more shocked than you were about the whole situation and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how stunned he was, readjusting his Quadrant cap.

“Didn’t realise you were so famous, Maxy boy. Kind of impressed,” You teased back, earning a chuckle from Ria who had walked up beside you, arm linked with yours, “Don’t stroke his ego too much.”

“Good point.”

There were celebrities filing through the crowd in droves and the pit lane was absolutely loaded with people trying to get a glimpse of the teams. McLaren were the epitome of formula one in the United Kingdom, you’d been told and that was backed up ten-fold when you peeked into the garage, searching for their star drivers. Lando had spoken about Daniel fondly and admired the way he was able to put his head down and tune out the bullshit. You told him to let some of that resilience rub off on him, knowing that the external noise is never as bad as what’s going on inside his head. But you could only control one of the two.

You could almost see those internal thoughts swirling above Lando’s tilted head when you spotted him in the back of the garage – intently analysing jumbled numbers on a screen and biting his fingernails. He looked almost angelic standing amongst the madness in the white skin-tight fireproofs, suit folded down and hanging around his jutted hips. His thumb was basically in his mouth, teeth violently chomping away at the skin as he processed whatever it was the man beside him was saying, eyebrows rising when he mentioned something of interest.

“Don’t be offended if he doesn’t come over and say hello – he’s usually in the zone by now and blocks everyone out.” Max explained, managing your expectations and you appreciated the heads up. You didn’t know what to expect from the day but having a reassuring voice giving you the low down helped more than he knew.

“Oh, of course. It’s awesome to see it all in person – so much crazier than on TV,” You replied with wide eyes and an understanding smile.

Max nodded and continued to meet people while you stood beside him and the Quadrant team, taking in the scenes. The main difference between being at the track on race day and watching it on TV were the television crews. Everywhere you looked there were several people swinging around a cameraman, trying not to run into people or disrupt other stations broadcasts. You chuckled at a couple of the pit crew dancing in the background of a shot, knowing that their weekend had been a lot longer than anyone else’s here.

You were so preoccupied watching them fooling around that you hadn’t felt someone sneaking up behind you, hand gently gripping your waist; the whispered ‘hi’ in your ear assuring you that it was Lando. His hand retreated before you spun around, the other holding a water bottle up to his mouth.

“Hi you,” You replied sweetly, instinctively reaching out to nudge his hip but deciding mid air to keep your hands to yourself. Lando noticed and chuckled as he took a gulp of water, eyes scanning your face.

“You’re a little bit sunburnt, baby.” He stated with a smirk, taking in your flushed cheeks and feeling his heart flip at how happy you looked. “Are you having fun?”

“Lots of fun. And I’m being very well looked after – thank you by the way,” You replied quietly, Lando taking a step forward so he could hear you over all the commotion. He scanned the small group of his closest friends and internally jumped for joy that they had stuck to their word and kept an eye out for you.

“Better fucking be. I’m paying them the big bucks,” Lando winked and pulled up the rope that was separating the two of you, “Want a tour?”

Naturally your eyebrows rose with excitement and you nodded, quickly whipping your head around to see where Max had gone and thankfully catching Ria’s attention. You pointed towards Lando who was already dragging you away and she held her hand up to her ear, gesturing for you to call her when you needed to meet up with them again. You figured there was enough time for this tour before Lando needed to be under lock and key and you hoped you weren’t being a distraction as you sheepishly followed him through the garage.

“I’m just gonna grab my gloves from my room and walk her back to the paddock,” Lando whispered to Jon, who had been one of the sweetest people you’d met so far. No worries mate, he replied with a smile before returning to his phone.

Once you were out of sight of the crowd and cameras, Lando held out his hand for you to take, clasping it firmly as he tugged you through the narrow hallways and behind the motorhomes set up side by side. He was strategic in his route, giggling when he spotted all the media looking around to bundle up drivers and team bosses for a quick comment before the race, “We’re so sneaky.”

You stayed close to him as he weaved you around once last corner and up a couple of steps, whipping the door closed as quickly as it was opened. The room was snug - only a few metres wide each way, a small daybed tucked against the wall and a desk beside you. Lando had video called you a couple of times from here, giving you the grand tour of his tiny drivers room but it was surreal to see his sanctuary in person.

“Wow, I knew it was small but you can barely swing a cat in here.” Your comment made Lando chuckle as he tidied the bed that he’d clearly been napping in before leaving to find you.

“But it’s cute and I like this a lot…” You pointed to the Polaroid stuck to the large mirror hanging above his desk – the photo was of the two of you on New Years Eve, tipsy and falling in love, “Softie.”

“How dare you call me a softie,” Lando scoffed, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling your back to his chest, trailing soft kisses up the side of your neck. “’Cause you’ve made me like this, you know.”

The rational little voice in your head was telling you to put ice on whatever Lando had on his mind, his hands doing all the talking as they skimmed over your stomach, heading north towards the two things he loved the most. You stopped their course and tutted, turning in his embrace and pining his hands to his chest, “Don’t get yourself all worked up before the race. We don’t have enough time.”

“Oh, there’s always time for this.” Lando wrestled out of your grip, way too easily you’ll admit and resumed his hold on your waist, seizing your lips in a deep kiss.

It took your breath away momentarily but you quickly snapped back to reality and slung your arms over his shoulders, bringing him closer again. He was warm to the touch, the skin on the nape of his neck sizzling under your fingertips, curls tangled from the humidity. Lando wasn’t fucking around when his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, splitting your lips and deepening the kiss even more. There wasn’t much you loved more than kissing him, wrestling each other for dominance through soft moans. The rush of blood between your thighs indicated that this was all a little bit too steamy for a pre-race catch up and you reluctantly pulled away, lips ghosting over his as you both caught your breath.

“You were right – I’m really fucking hard now,” Lando winked and brushed his fingers through his messy curls with a smirk. You rolled your eyes and shoved his chest, putting as much distance as you could between you in the tight confines.

“Zero self-control,” You playfully scolded and readjusted your trench as Lando stepped forward and straightened your collar, “But I can’t really talk because you look insanely sexy in this…” You tugged on the race suit hanging on his hips, wishing you could peel it off his body – right here, right now.

“Oh, really?” He taunted, “How sexy?”

“Like, bend me over this desk and fuck me sexy,” You stated bluntly and Lando threw his head back with a groan before rushing you with another kiss.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how desperate he was, hands friskily roaming your backside before he pulled himself away and grasped your face between his hands, “How I can simultaneously love you and hate you baffles me.”

Lando’s eyes were sincere, soft and mesmerized. You bit down on your lip, hiding the smile tugging on the corners of your mouth while you thought of a response worthy of his words. Of course you felt the same way but there was always something stopping you from saying it back. I love you too being the response Lando was looking for, pleading for. He’d said it so many times without hesitation, receiving a kiss or some kind of diversion every single time.

And it was killing him.

“I am a woman of many mysteries, my dear.”

Like a dagger to the heart.

“That is very true.” Lando averted his eyes from yours and brushed himself off, pulling the race suit over his shoulders and zipping it up. He was smiling and you breathed a sigh of relief, reassured that you hadn’t upset him before the race. At least that’s what you thought. Lando’s mind however, was racing – so many fears eating him up inside but he needed to focus on the challenge ahead.

And that’s what he did for the next three hours. Raced the wheels off that papaya car like his life depended on it, his sole focus was getting it over the checkered flag and having a respectable race after weeks of struggling to secure points. 

“That’s P4, Lando – great race, mate.”

Lando cheering into his radio and thanking his team had you beaming with pride. He’d been doing it tough these past few races so finishing in the top five at his home race was exactly the kind of confidence boost he needed. It was a long season after all and he needed keep his spirits up – something that you were more than happy to help with.

“You were an absolute killer out there!” You enthused as your arms wrapped around Lando’s waist, pulling him into a hug with a contented smile. He immediately nuzzled into your neck and sighed, squeezing your shoulders in his embrace before pulling back with a grin. “You were amazing.”

“Time to celebrate, yeah?” Lando asked, glancing over at Max who was nodding with an equally large smile before leading everyone towards the parking lot.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

After rushing back to your apartment and changing into something nightclub appropriate, Max texted Lando the address for the place you would all be going to. A few of the other drivers had been invited, George Russell being the only one you’d been introduced to and all of Lando’s high school mates who had come along to the race. You knew from the second you stepped into the claustrophobic club that you’d be looking for a familiar face to latch onto, fully aware that your safety blanket would be pulled in every possible direction – and that’s exactly what happened.

You found yourself sitting alone in a small booth at the back of the club, watching Lando laughing along with his friends, smile lines more present now than you’d ever seen. The condensation on your glass had seeped down onto the table, a perfect excuse to distract you from the sickly pit forming in your stomach as you watched girl after girl attempt to make their move. It was a weird feeling – far from jealously. Guilt. A sense of shame rippled through your body as you watched him politely excuse himself and search the dance floor for you. I’m just going to the bathroom, you’d told him nearly twenty minutes ago. A little white lie to slip away but now, here you were, hiding from the man who loved you. Guilt-ridden.

“Can I sit?” You heard a loud voice ask, startling you out of your thoughts and into his chocolate brown eyes that were glistening under the dim lighting. Carlos Sainz.

“Of course. Congratulations on your win… you must be buzzing,” You leaned forward with praise, hoping he heard you over the loud music blasting through the speakers above.

He smiled in acknowledgement before taking a sip of his cocktail, “Ay, yes. Very happy but what makes me happier is to see little Lando so happy – he speaks of you a lot, you know? Doesn’t shut up sometimes…” Carlos trailed off with a knowing smirk, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. He was tipsy.

“I’m sure he’ll hate you telling me that.” You returned the smile and grasped your glass for stability. There was something about what Carlos had said that made you nervous, pressured somehow when all he was doing was teasing his friend.

“I don’t get to make fun too much with him – so serious all the time but no,” Carlos mumbled, trying to keep track of his sentence, “Very happy he has found you.”

A couple of beats passed before you opened your mouth to speak but as you did, you felt a hand snake across your shoulder, sending a jolt down your spine before you turned to see who the hand belonged to. “Sneaking off with Sainz already? I thought you’d at least wait a couple of hours before leaving me for him.”

Lando was teasing and you knew that but Carlos in his drunken state waved his hands around like a madman, assuring his younger friend that he would do no such thing, to which Lando just snickered and brushed him off. She is beautiful though, Carlos loudly whispered, Lando's eyes catching yours as the Spaniard launched himself into his arms. It was comical and sweet the way the two of them stood there, silently hugging before Lando managed to escape his friends grip, slipping away as if nothing had happened and immediately meeting your eyes again.

“Wanna get out of here?” He mouthed; memories flashing back to the first time those words were muttered between the two of you – sparking this whole whirlwind romance. Of course you nodded, needing some fresh air and a new perspective, hoping the cloud of doubts swirling around in your subconscious for most of the night, and month, would just disappear.

The two of you hadn’t even made it through your front door before Lando’s hands were roaming your skin, fingertips leaving chills as they explored your body. You hadn’t had much to drink; a cocktail and a glass of bubbly in hospitality hours ago and Lando was the same – leaving the drinking to his mates like most of his nights out on the town. He wanted to have a clear mind for when he found himself alone with you, completely focused on the task at hand and soaking in every little detail so he could take that with him next weekend when he couldn’t roll over and have you whenever he felt like it. He hated leaving you like that – deprived of his touch.

“I don’t need foreplay,” You moaned into his mouth, breathless and needy as you straddled his lap – slowly grinding down and working you both into a whining mess. Lando had managed to lure you to the bedroom, mumbling something along the lines of your dog watching us fuck is a mood killer and you couldn't contest that. He loved taking you on the couch, hearing your screams echoing off the concrete walls downstairs but not tonight.

“That turned on for me, huh? Barely even touched you,” Lando teased while you lined him up, eyes never leaving his as you slid down and took every inch of him with ease. You nodded in response and leaned back, fingernails digging deep into his tensed thighs as you rocked back and forth, setting the pace and finding that angle that had you aching with pleasure.

“That’s feeling un-fucking-believable for me, baby. Holy shit…” Lando gasped, fingertips deeply entrenched in the skin on your hips, rolling them back and forward between his rough palms.

Eyes closed and bottom lip securely clenched between your front teeth suppressed the amount of pleasure you were feeling as he stretched you out, meeting your thrusts with a growl as you rode him. Lando struggled with relinquishing control, always wanting to be the one giving it to you on a silver platter, either missionary or hitting it from behind. And you loved that but you felt greedy for always being the lazy one, and after a long weekend, the least you could do was take some of the load off the gorgeous man whimpering below you. Begging you to come with him.

“I’ve been so pent up today, seeing you in that fucking dress and having you grinding up on me in the club. I nearly exploded in my fucking pants and right now, you feel so tight – so warm and I can’t hold on when you move like that… Jesus Christ,” Lando muttered and groaned, throwing his head back into your soft linen pillows, chuckling at how good you felt wrapped around his throbbing cock, clenching every time you bottomed out.

Lando lifted his head from the pillows he was buried in and licked the pad of his thumb before brushing it over your swollen clit and setting the bundle of nerves alight. He needed you to be where he was; desperately chasing your high and he could tell you weren’t quite there yet until he heard it – the tell tale sign that you were feeling as good as he was. It was a low moan, unlike any other sound he had ever heard before and it had him grinning like a Cheshire cat when it slipped past your beautifully parted lips. Angelically flushed face scrunched up in concentration as you chased your ecstasy and blocked out all of the thoughts rushing through your head. All you could think about now was your body bursting into flames.

Your name was falling from Lando’s lips as he squeezed his eyes shut, mouth falling agape while he watched you start to unravel above him. His gaze was hindered by lust, vision blurry as grasped your hands that were pressed down on his perspiring chest, heart beating wildly under the taut skin. You could feel it thrumming against your palms, matching your pulse as you let the knot in the pit of your stomach detonate, pussy fluttering as your high hit with ferocity. Give it to me, you chanted over and over until you felt him filling you up, spilling out and giving you every drop you were desperately begging for. 

"Fucking take it, baby. Take it all," Lando growled as you slowed your movements, sensitivity now making every stroke more and more unbearable – so much so that he had to still your hips while he composed himself, eyes closed and tongue licking his chapped lips.

You leaned down and kissed them, still warming his cock but knowing you needed to get up – the pain in your thighs urging you to stretch before you started cramping from straddling his lap for so long. There was something different in the way Lando looked at you as you got up from the bed. It was hard to decipher; several shades of emotions spread across his face, ones that he couldn’t quite express in the way he wanted. And one’s you maybe didn’t want to hear.

“What’s that look?”

Curiosity got the better of you.

But deep down there was a part of you that knew that look anywhere – the look of complete adoration. You’d seen it so many times before, most recently with your friend Rae and her husband; both of them being wholly and utterly in love with each other, til death do they part. There was no doubt in your mind that they were soul mates, destined to be together for the rest of their lives, living a full life in each other’s company. What they had was a happily ever after kind of love.

Lando propped his back up against your bedhead and smiled to himself as you slipped under the sheets beside him, “I was just thinking about how fucking perfect you are and that I’ve never felt like this before. Ever.”

But his face dropped when you looked away from him, avoiding his eye contact. “You know, you do that every time I say something like that.”

You sighed and reluctantly captured his gaze again, “Do what?”

“Look away from me, like you don’t want to admit to your feelings. Because I know you have them – I feel them every time you kiss me, every time you touch me and it’s different with you… You’re special to me. I think you might actually be–”

Without even thinking, your fingertips flew to Lando’s lips and stopped him mid sentence. You didn’t know what came over you – maybe panic, trying your best to mitigate the damages that you knew were inevitably going to come. It pained you to do it and it hurt even more when Lando’s dark blue eyes widened, as if a crushing weight had just come down and pummelled his spirit.

“Don’t say it.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Lando chuckled against your fingertips and through the pain, reaching up and tracing his thumb across your jawline with a strained smile, “Please let me finish.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” His voice was stronger, stare narrowed in faux confusion. He knew what was coming, he wasn’t entirely oblivious, but he had to play dumb; act like what you were about to say was the most ludicrous thing he’d ever heard and convince you that whatever had you worried, he could fix.

But you weren’t stupid. You knew that he had sensed your wavering, the diversions every time he proclaimed how much he cared about you, the little gestures of affection that left you awkwardly speechless. It wasn’t because you couldn’t express your feelings, hell, you were a grown ass woman and it wasn’t because you didn’t love him because deep down there was a part of you that did. And maybe in some alternate universe where you weren’t in your thirties and he wasn’t a young, hotshot driver, you could’ve waited for everything to fall into place. But that wasn’t your situation. It was complicated – too much so.

“You know why…”

He wasn’t expecting the tables to be turned back on him so quickly. But the realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks; of course you knew. Of course you could see right through him, like a ghost – you’d done that since the second he laid eyes on you, read him like an open book even when he thought he was being slick, as if you hadn’t experienced all of this before. He hated that you were two steps ahead with him always on the back foot and playing catch up. He should’ve known better than to call your bluff, putting on a brave face when all he wanted to do was rewind and follow your lead. Take it slow. Easy does it. Don’t scare her off.

But he loved you; Lando couldn’t hide that. You were different. You were special. You were everything he could’ve asked for and now he could feel you slipping away.

“Don’t do this to me.” He whispered; head titled and voice meek, unsteady. The façade had finally fallen, all cards laid out on the table for all to see. You couldn’t look at him after those words left his mouth, chills surging down your spine. The room was dark, lit only by the hallway light seeping through the open door but you could see him clear as day; shattering into tiny pieces and simultaneously trying to pick them up as they fell to the floor.

“You can’t do this – not now. We’re just starting to get into a rhythm. You said you wanted this and I thought it was going well, like, you are enjoying this, right? What’s changed?” He was desperate now, clutching at every straw in the pack, searching for answers while you sat silently, mustering up the energy to tell him the cold hard truth.

You sighed and grasped his hand, shaking as you interlaced your fingers. It was selfish to want him close while you broke his heart but you were hurting too; gut-wrenched and guilt ridden that you’d allowed it to go on for this long. Four months of pure bliss masked your reality, blinders shielding you from the truth.

“I guess tonight I realised how much you have left to experience and I can’t hold you back from all of that… You should’ve been dancing with those girls tonight, living it up while you still can, you know?”

“Frankly, I don’t.” Lando scoffed, shaking his head fervently, “Who do you think I am? Fuckin’... Joey Essex or something? I’m not a player. I’m not some guy who fucks around for the sake of it. If that’s who you think I am, then fuck me. You don’t know me at all, baby.” His voice was venomous with a hint of amusement and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

Because he was right.

“Okay so maybe you’re not Joey Essex,” You rolled your eyes, “But you’re young! And hot and rich and famous and… There’s so much more out there for you than settling for this. For me.”

“But I want you.”

“You don’t know what you want.”

“I know that I’m in love with you.”

“You don’t know what love is.”

The longer the back and forth went on, the more nauseous you were becoming – whiplashed by words. You didn’t want to fight with him but he was adamant to fight for you, to convince you to forget about it for tonight. But your accusation that he didn’t know what love meant cut deep, slicing through his heart and belittling everything he’d done for you, how he felt about you. Undermining what you have together.

“Don’t treat me like a child. You don’t treat me like that when I’m making you scream my name or when you’re begging me to fuck you. So why are you doing it now?!” His voice was raised, teetering on the edge of a full-blown screaming match.

“Because I’ve been lying to myself! Telling myself that this was okay, that maybe we could make it work because you were so sweet, so charming. And I love what we’ve done together; you’ve made me feel alive again. But I’ve taken enough from you – you deserve more. And I deserve more – someone who isn’t away seven months out of the year; someone to start a family with and I can’t do that with you.”

A single tear silently rolled down your cheek and you hadn’t even realised that Lando was frozen in place, watching his world crumbling in around him. He wished he had the right words, prayed to a higher power to give him the words that would ease your mind and forget about the future until you realised you couldn’t live without him. But he wasn’t that lucky, not today, not ever – he just had to hold his ground and fight.

“I know that you’ve been in more relationships than me and I know that you’ve been fucked over more times than you deserve. One is too many since you are the single most beautiful person I have ever met.” Lando’s voice was low and faltering as he spoke, tears now prickling the corners of his eyes.

“But I want those things with you, maybe not right now but I see a future with you – I really fucking do. And I’ve tried to be that guy for you every single day since the moment we met but you haven’t let me. I want to be the guy you call in the middle of the night when you can't sleep – someone you can rely on. I’ll be the man you need me to be, I swear. Give me a chance to show you.”

Silence filled the dark room, distant sirens outside your window took some of the edge off but the tension was thick – suffocating as you threw the duvet off your legs, suddenly feeling like your chest was on fire, flushed red. You blinked a couple of times before burying your head in your hands, raking fingers through your tangled hair. There were no more tears, just unfiltered emotion running rampant in your mind, weighing up everything that had been said – figuring out where that left you. But like in the weeks leading up to this moment, you found yourself back at the same place every time. Broken.

And nothing could change the way you feel.

“Your future is my present, Lando. And I hate this – I don’t want this to be the end but I don’t have time and you have so much living left to do. I know that you can’t see that now but I promise you that I’m right. I promise you that you will forget about me and find someone worthy of your love, someone who can wait for you to be ready for all the things you want out of life – someone to share the journey with because I’ve missed all of that and if I could turn the clock back and start again with you, I would do it in a heartbeat because you are so much more than I could’ve ever asked for. But life is cruel and I can’t take those years away from you, I can't.”

There was an eerily long pause before Lando spoke, time really feeling like the burden it had always been.

“You’re right – I don’t understand.”

You wanted to shake him, make him believe your words more than anything but you remembered what you would’ve thought at twenty-three. Wide eyed and naïve, hearing the person you loved telling you that your feelings weren’t real and you hated to think that he would resent you for all of this; but of course he would. Why wouldn’t he?

“But it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” Not yet, you thought.

“I know it doesn’t,” You barely whispered as Lando stood up to pull on his boxer briefs from the floor, feeling vulnerable and exposed, physically and emotionally.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked, solemn and quiet. Eyes hooded with fatigue as he gazed down at you in bed, arms limp at his sides while he waited for your answer; bated breath rushing through his lungs, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

You shook your head and gently patted the spot he’d left beside you. It was barely warm as your fingertips brushed over the white sheet, a subtle reminder of what it would feel like without him there, out of your life. Maybe it was immoral to tempt him back into your bed and it was definitely wrong to let him kiss you, to touch you, to make love to you until the sun came up. But the way he stared into your soul as he rested his weary head on your pillow, eyes pleading with you for one last memory together, you couldn’t refuse him that. You couldn’t deny him the closure he needed, if that was even something you could give.

One of the several alarms on your phone jolted you awake, the jingle making your stomach flip as you reached over and silenced it with a huff. Your head was thumping, eyes sealed shut with sleep, mind numbed and an ache between your thighs that reminded you of the events that transpired last night. You could be easily forgiven for the pang of regret coursing through your body as you remembered the words that were said in the heat of the moment. For pushing away the only good thing in your life at present.

A cold shiver travelling down your spine sent you on a mission to find that good thing, your hand reaching for the warm body you’d become so accustomed to feeling beside you.

But when you turned over, he wasn’t there – his side was cold, wrinkled. Empty.

You sat up in disbelief, eyes searching the room for any signs of life besides you. Lando? You called out and wrapped yourself up in a robe, thinking that maybe he was downstairs making a cup of tea or watching TV. For some reason, you hadn’t even considered the obvious as you walked around your apartment, looking in the kitchen and the courtyard, phone in your hand.

Maybe the harsh reality was too hard to stomach, too hard to comprehend. In hindsight it didn't seem that unbelievable, that for Lando, waking up next to you knowing it would probably be the last time he ever saw you was a painful memory he would rather not have locked away in his subconscious for the rest of his life.

And once reality hit, you stopped in your tracks. Stood still in your cold, lonely apartment once again. Tears streamed down your face when you came to grips with your own self-inflicted pain. Lando was gone. You knew it was for the best, better for both of you and in time that would become clearer; easier to bear. But what killed you the most was that there was no way of knowing if he was happier now than he was with you because you never heard from him again. Not a knock on your door, not even a drunken text. And you deserved that. You had no right to his life from that day on.

But all of the late nights, the stories, the deep, dark secrets and the whispered sweet nothings you had shared together haunted you for years, even after you married the love of your life.

Forever left wondering, what could’ve been?

a/n - i promise that i'll do happier lando fics in the near future but i hope you enjoyed this series and thank you again for all the support on it x lots of love! thoughts? feelings? i wanna know all of them! or click here for more of my writing if you liked this x

#lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris one shot #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #monzamashmasterlist #what could've been fic

[secret-gaygent-alex-danvers]

Bro Rae is tryna be vulnerable and talk about how she feels about what happened and Vanessa just brings it back to herself. Like learn how to comfort someone or at least act like u care

#the ultimatum queer love

[i-like-anything-water]

here, have sum crack:

The next time she'll see Rose and Juleka, she'll gift then a basket of treats. Some of said treats will also have some beef cubes rather than bean paste as a form of payback. Because, good God, she shouldn't have listened to them the moment they said:

"It's a story about a reincarnated girl and her bully but it's really nice!"

Marinette blinked at the duo, who were holding up a set of novels. They've decided to have a spontaneous anime marathon after school and because of different reasons, Alya, Mylene and Ivan couldn't join them.

She read the title of the novels, 'I favor the Villainess' in pink lettering.

The two girlfriends insisted on watching the anime which was apparently complete and there hadn't been an akuma attack yet so she let herself get dragged into it. The story was interesting, very very interesting.

And Claire seemed very very familiar.

Perhaps she should have stopped Juleka and Rose when it was already past 10 pm and it was a school night. Maybe she could have gotten some bit of sleep before an akuma decided to annoy everyone in Paris by rampaging across the city at bloody 2 AM. Ladybug was irritated, moreso when Chat almost slammed into a building out of sleepiness. Thankfully, the Akuma wasn't much of a nuisance.

The lack of sleep, however, made up for it.

Maybe she should ask Master Fu if there's any way to recruit more Miraculous holders incase of Akumas in ungodly hours. They were still students after all, plus she doubts Hawkmoth doesn't work as well. Maybe she could ask Hawkmoth instead to create a schedule for all the Akumas. Negotiate and stuff.

Anyways, going to school sleep deprived, irritated and having an anime marathon the night before was brewing for disaster. Maybe her Ladybug luck can spare her for today.

"Well if it isn't my favorite person, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Nope. Tough luck.

Marinette groaned, her irritation rising as Chloé's haughty voice reached her ears. Truthfully, the blonde wasn't that annoying anymore ever since she decided to get the help she needed. She's actually been doing pretty well, if her small progress at being a better version of herself was to go by.

However, Marinette was sleep deprived, hangry, and also very much a bisexual disaster.

Chloé Bourgeois, former bully turned hesitant all- wait, bully? Bully, bully, bull- oh. Aha, bingo. Didn't Rae almost made Claire back off because she kept flirting with her?

"What's with that creepy smile on your face, Dupain-Cheng?!"

Marinette smiled, her remaining braincells evaporating as she looked up at the startled blonde, "You're so pretty."

"W-what?!"

Marinette shrugged, completely unaware of everything happening around her, "I mean, if you're going to call me by my full name you can have it. Chloé Dupain-Cheng, it suits you."

Everything was dead silent. Dead ass? A voice eerily similar to Rae Taylor in her head, asked.

Dead ass, Marinette replied.

She doesn't remember much after what happened but she does remember Chloé going red in the face, sputtering something that was too fast that could give Hawkmoth's receding hairline a run for its money and Alya asking her after Chloé practically ran from the conversation if she's finally lost it.

Okay, Alya, rude.

After some explanation from Alya, a two hour breakdown and panic attack, and a three hour talk with Tikki, she was already down in their bakery on a school night to prepare Chloé's favorite treats.

Was she purposely making herself sleep deprived again to actually give the treats? Maybe. Would they talk about it? Hopefully.

Is she excited? Well.

Raise Y/our hands was playing in the background and Rae Taylor seemed to be lifting her spirits. And maybe her chances of being a masochist as well.

#chloe bourgeois #marinette dupain cheng #chloenette #rae taylor #claire francois #i'm in love with the villainess #i favor the villainess #crack #short fic #i wrote this in under ten minutes #mention of juleka and rose #pre relationship? #i guess #have sum crack

[raeflora]

random njbc childhood hobbies headcanons

chuck was enrolled in a bunch of activities bc bart didn't want him around so he can play piano, do fencing, play polo, row, play tennis, play lacrosse, speak multiple languages and play golf. as he got older he would just ditch but he does help teach henry to play piano. despite being in almost every rich kid extracurricular he can't really swim

blair learnt how to ride a horse along with serena, and actually enjoyed it but had to stop eventually bc she was too intense and made the horses nervous (and eleanor was concerned she'd get too horse girly) she named her horse audrey

serena really wanted to take art classes but lily thought she'd get too messy so she just snuck into them when she was meant to be at ballroom dancing lessons. blair had to help hide the paint in her hair and on her clothes

nate loved doing every sport he could except golf, and he drove a golf cart into a sand bunker bc he was bored and it was unattended (chuck took the blame and the captain kinda knew but never said anything)

blair and chuck were paired up in dance classes when they were like 8 and actually enjoyed it bc they were so in-sync but didn't tell each other

serena wanted to join in on the boys' hobbies but obviously couldn't so nate and chuck tried to show her how to fence. blair was very enthusiastic to hold a sword too

#gossip girl #blair waldorf #chuck bass #serena van der woodsen #nate archibald #njbc #non-judging breakfast club #I mentioned this the other day so hope u all enjoy!! #gossip girl headcanons #mine: headcanons #rae talks to herself

[mrscarpenter]

Part 3

𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟎

It was march first, a day before Elvis left germany. Noah had been browsing the stores trying to find something to give to him as a farewell gift, when she stumbled upon a newspaper. Noah never liked newspapers, didn’t really understand what was so interesting about them. Maybe she didn’t like them out of spite for her annoyingly strict father, who read them every morning over a cup of coffee and a plate with french toast for breakfast.

The newspaper was titled as “Elvis Presley, coming home.” And thats when the puzzle clicked into place for Noah, now she knew why he always seemed so familiar like she had seen him before. Elvis wasn’t just a normal guy in the army hoping for fame, he already had it. Noah cursed herself for not realizing sooner, she had listened to his songs countless of times, and he sang to her many times during their visits.

That same night when she met up with Elvis, she confronted him. “Why didn’t you tell me, Elvis?”

“Ah- honey, listen t’ me. Everybody knows who i am, you are the only person who treated me normally, is all.”

Noah sighed and grabbed hold of his hands, “i will always treat you like a normal person Elvis,” she pauses for a moment before lightly hitting him in the shoulder, “but i still would’ve liked to know.”

𝐀 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Banging echoed all throughout the car, as fans tried to catch Elvis’ attention. Noah wore a scarf around her head, she had overslept and had barely any time to sort out her hair. Plus, her mother was convinced that “a true lady looks fashionable and stylish in public, its a classy thing to do.” Noah didn’t believe in any of that crap, but nonetheless did as her mother told. And Noah didn’t exactly want a picture of her messy locks plastered on every newspaper. Its what Elvis warned her about after all, kept telling her that reporters were brutal and would make up all kinds of things about him, and Noah herself aswel now that she’s spotted with him.

The flashes that blitzed through the windows made Noah’s heart race, she wiped a stray tear away even though she knew it couldn’t be seen from the outside. One hand was clutched tightly in Elvis’ as she tried to remain calm, even though her heart was breaking at the thought of having to miss him. It was like he was her lifeline in Germany, he was the only person she interacted with beside her family.

“Oh Elvis, i’m gonna miss you so very much. I wish you didn’t have to go.” There was a tiny crack in her voice as another tear ran down her cheek, “shh, honey. It’ll be okay, you just keep writing to me and ah’ll keep writing back to you.” Elvis paused as the car stopped, they both knew it was time to say a final goodbye, “Now wipe em’ tears away, i don’t wanna see a sad face looking back at me when i wave goodbye.” With that, he gave Noah a kiss on the cheek, and before she could say another word he was out of the car, and her car door was opened.

She stepped out and tried not to flinch at all of the flashes going off in her face, semi-blinded by the flashes, she gets lead through the crowd by a hand that had slipped in hers. Elvis turns to her before he has to let her go, and hands her a ring, it was a ring with his initials on it, kinda like the one Elvis wore, but smaller and more of a delicate design. “Had this made ‘specially for you, honey. Treat it with care.”

“I will Elvis, i’m gonna miss you so much, i don’t want you to leave. Can’t i come with you?” She blurted out the words frantically, but quietly not wanting to make a scene, as Noah knew, Elvis would not like that. “I wish you could, doll, but don’t worry, we’ll talk soon. I’m not gonna forgot about you, my lady.” His words were whispered in the hope that nobody would hear but her, and her words in return were also whispered. “And i won’t forget about you, my man.”

It seemed like forever went by as Elvis turned around one last time on the top of the steps and waved at everyone down below, including his girl, Noah-Rae, who waved back at him, doing her best to keep the fake smile plastered on her face.

That very evening when she got home, she skipped dinner and instead laid down in bed and sobbed into her own pillow. Oh how she would miss him.

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x oc #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x oc #elvis presely smut #50s elvis #60s elvis #70s elvis #elvis fans #elvis history #elvis music #elvis photos #elvis pictures #elvis poetry #elvis the pelvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis the king

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hello~

I recently got the fairy doe fox ring in RSV, and I was wondering how the SVE mages would react to the Farmer suddenly having a ghost fox following them around? Like, they notice it literally phasing through walls as it follows the Farmer around. Plus, I imagine since it comes from a powerful spirit, they'd be extremely interested in what the Farmer's explanation is.

Hello hello, good to see you again! Come in, have a seat while I prepare another batch of headcanons. Aaaaaaaand.... Done! Thank you for the ask. Enjoy 😊💕

Camilla:

Oh, Camilla will definitely start hanging around the Farmer like a sly cat trying to snatch something tasty from the table. If she's interested in something, she'll definitely quench her thirst for curiosity. Especially since Farmer's artifact has a very powerful aura, and the ghost of a fox to top it off. If Farmer tells the truth about how exactly they got this ring, Camilla won't even twitch an eyebrow at the mention of the Cult. Yes, dear, she knows the Cult exists, and even if she doesn't agree with their methods, as long as the mages and members of the Cult remain neutral, it's all fine, Camilla herself even respects Belinda and Rae. If Farmer starts twiddling their nose and won't tell her how they got the ring, then good luck to them. Because Camilla will still get her way and find out where such a powerful artifact came from. Oh, and the fox is really cute. Such a good pet, hee-hee!

Magnus Rasmodius:

Magnus would probably admire the way his unofficial apprentice had accomplished so much on their own and found artifacts, if it weren't for the fact that Farmer is like a toddler with a grenade with such powerful things. And no, don't look at him so harshly, Farmer, he knows what he's talking about. A Fox ring, from which strong forest magic is learnt, plus that they got them from the base of the very Cult, which is as if officially considered forbidden in the magical world (they have an unspoken neutrality, but it does not cancel the fact that members of the Cult of the Lady with the Red Tail are dangerous). And here the Farmer shows up to him looking proud and showing off a ring... Do they want Magnus to have a heart attack, huh? Well, yes, he's very interested in the origin of the ring and the fox spirit, but Magnus puts his own safety and the safety of those around him first. So whether the Farmer tells Magnus where they got the ring or not, the old wizard is going to grab them by the ear either way and take them to the tower to sort it out there.

Jadu:

Due to his young age and boundless curiosity, Jadu would not be as obsessed with safety techniques with such things as his older counterpart, Magnus. Sure, he'd be a little disturbed by the fact that both the ring and the Farmer themself were indirectly connected to the 'Cult', but many respectable adventurers and wizards trust a young adventurer from the Stardew Valley. Especially since there is always risk in their work, and there is a semblance of neutrality with the Cult right now. So the intrigued Jadu will flood the Farmer with a lot of questions, and he himself will tell a lot of interesting things about similar artifacts and how they work. What exactly does this fox spirit do? Can it heal the ring bearer? Become a magical shield? Or summon even more spirit? Interesting! So, if the Farmer doesn't mind, the young mage would very much like to study this wondrous thing.

Lance:

Lance is even more confident than Jadu, for he already knows perfectly well how to behave in the presence of such powerful things. Of course, a slice of caution should always be there, but the gallant adventurer already knows this type of rings, something similar he has seen before. He is no less curious as Camilla, but unlike the aforementioned witch, will not insist on to know where Farmer got this ring, though he would appreciate the story. Lance believes the Farmer knows how to handle such things (a test with an unfamiliar staff to back up his words) and believes in their good intentions in using the ring. However, he would still advise Farmer to be careful with the Cult members, as their reputation leaves much to be desired. The pink-haired man is also amused by the fact that the fox spirit has taken a keen interest in his person. Very interesting, indeed.

#thanks for the ask! #SVE #stardew valley expanded #sve camilla #sve jadu #sve magnus #sdv wizard #sve lance #SVE headcanon

[taylortruther]

Hi Rae - I have a question for you about I hate it here - I saw this TikTok (actually was sent it… which personal sigh) about the 1830’s line and how it was indicative of white feminism and how because of the line majorly simplifying things that were happening back all using what’s happening with the Arizona abortion ban as an example of why this line is ‘incredibly harmful and problematic’. Which, like of course I don’t want to police anyone who does feel certain things about the line, because not my place but I guess… I feel like people keep taking that line out of context when I think she even shames herself for thinking that way, but they just want to focus on that part of it. I feel very seen by this song and I dont want to appear that I’m being attacked by it. How you would talk about all of it without discrediting the issues people have with this line?

Here’s the video for clearer understanding: https://www.instagram.com/p/C6FqiJZLWV9/

i admit i didn't watch the whole video, but i get the gist. my take on it is the same as yours, personally. i love the song, it's one of my favorites on the album!

i think the point of that line is to note how the past can't be romanticized as simpler, better, etc. because... it wasn't. the past still sucked, and taylor is acknowledging that even in a "palace," she would still be unhappy. it draws a parallel between the past and present: they're not so dissimilar, the same problems exist in different forms.

some people will think it's bad taste - my note from my first listen was "this is annoying." i do think that game has always been more fun for white people! my little friends played it when i was a kid and i'd always be like, "well, i'd love to live in x time period, but i'd have to go back as a white guy..." - PLUS, a lot of people simply do not want to hear this from taylor. which is fine! feel however you want!

but i think we should all just become more comfortable with saying "yeah, i didn't like that," rather than endlessly moralizing it. maybe it's not sophisticated or funny to some people, but i think that line does address the exact thing people are criticizing about it.

#i hate it here

[inyri]

Equivalent Exchange (a SWTOR story): Chapter 41: Good Soldiers Follow Orders

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E (this chapter: M. Trigger warning: graphic violence, depictions of torture, body horror.) Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire/Knights of the Eternal Throne.)

*

Comments are always appreciated! Visit me at:

Archive of Our Own

Fanfiction Dot Net

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Author’s Note: Please note the trigger warnings. I had to step away from this for a little while (all right, more than a little while). Chapters are consecutive, of course, and as I posted the last one and moved to wrapping up this one I found life imitating art in a very, very uncomfortable way. I don’t talk a lot about my work for many reasons. Normally it’s not very exciting. And then there are the days that stay, the reminders that sometimes the world is deeply, viciously cruel in ways that are hard to process. As part of my work I met two men who were subjected to that cruelty, heard their stories, and helped care for them on their paths back home.

The first iterations of this series of scenes were very different from where we ended up. Nine and her team were far nastier at first, which wasn’t really true to her, and then I tried to make it funny which- well, obviously we can see the problem with that approach. So this is where we ended. It’s still an ugly chapter, but here we are.  

This chapter is dedicated to AD, AH, and all victims of torture. 

Good Soldiers Follow Orders

Theron follows her close as a shadow as they make their way from her ship across the base, dodging carefully around the first watch guards on their patrol routes. A month ago it would have been simple but a month ago they’d been sloppy; since then she’d ordered new watchposts set, new floodlights installed, locked down the turbolift platform to the valley below. There were so many other places to land a ship on Odessen, canyons and clearings and deep, dark forest far beyond the view of the towers, and it would have been far too easy for an infiltrator to sneak in.

Or one might simply use your landing bay. Valkorion’s armor gleams as an arc of light cuts across the path. In through the front door. All comers welcomed. Perhaps Arcann should-

The illusion shatters when she steps through it, the sentence left ominously unfinished. 

Second patrol. Third patrol. Through the external door on the heels of a pair of Sana-Rae’s adepts, weaving through the hall and crammed into the back corners of the lift with an absolutely massive Zabrak with a distinct half-ring of glitterstim around one nostril (she makes a mental note- the cantina’s more than necessary but if they’ve got a spice problem that’s another vulnerability they can’t afford), down the hallways into Science Wing and nearly to the lab- outside door’s open, good, but how’s she going to-

Shit.

She’s six steps ahead of herself in contingency plans as usual, mind racing, but that doesn’t matter worth a damn when she fucks up Step One. Stopping so abruptly he almost runs right into her, she grabs Theron by the wrist and pulls him into the darkest corner of an empty meeting room. His head tilts in silent confusion as she reaches toward the stealth generator clipped to his belt. I thought- he starts to sign, one hand raised. 

Switching, she replies, left-handed; pulling it free, she replaces it with hers. Backup has a shorter clock when the main’s off. If it overloads-

Theron nods. Bad. Right. Where should I stand?

Back- her fingers stutter as she considers (Void, she really isn’t thinking, is she? She needs to be. One mistake and the whole thing comes apart)- back left corner. You’ll have a five-count to get through the door before it closes, then don’t move and-

Don’t say anything. I know. He repeats the sign, an added emphasis. I promised. 

She rubs her forehead, trying and failing to settle the ache building between her eyes. I know. Come on. 

***

The inner laboratory door slides closed with a soft hiss, just muffling Theron’s last few footsteps as he settles carefully into the corner, and she lets her stealth field drop. 

“I got your message.” Nine forces the words out, forces strength into her voice as she sets the lock. She cannot falter, not now. “SCORPIO, give me the holo. Let’s get it opened up.”

“Commander.” Doctor Lokin looks up from across the room, setting a handful of instruments and an empty syringe- not all clean, she notes- neatly into place on a polished metal tray. Beside him, her would-be killer slumps forward against the treatment chair’s restraints, an intravenous catheter in his right arm and his lower body wrapped in a surgical dropcloth, head covered by black fabric and bound around the middle with thick strips of spacer’s tape. “We were just beginning.” 

[ sleepy already, cipher? but we’re only just beginning.

when hunter’s slap hits she startles bolt upright in the chair and then wishes she hadn’t, her ribs shifting beneath the straps like so many shattered potsherds as she grinds her teeth to keep from screaming. she’s screamed so much already and she won’t give him the satisfaction of another, won’t-

hunter gestures- toward the woman, she thinks, it’s getting hard to see now with her face so bruised. let’s wake her up, hm? ah, no- something cold and metallic tightening on her right index finger- the other hand, to start. now the left side, still the index finger, tighter and tighter and oh void it hurts it hurts it hurts she’s got to say something or it-

i’m telling you, she gasps, when those reinforcements get here from- and there’s a sharp snap and she can’t help it and she screams-

keep singing, little bird. I do so hate to have to break your pretty wings.]

Her hand throbs.

“I didn’t tell you to start without me.” Her stomach churns even as she curls her fingers into an easy fist, testing their movement; she couldn’t do that for a month after Corellia so it’s only the memory of pain, isn’t it? “And how long has that tape been on? We need his eyes open, not swollen shut. It’s too fucking tight.”

“If you’re referring to this-” Lokin lifts a pair of bloody-gripped forceps with one finger and a long-suffering look- “your knife tipped his saphenous, and I assumed you would prefer he not hemorrhage before you had the chance to work. I’ve only just run the amytal in, nothing more. But,” he squints at the rings of tape, flips a vibroscalpel from the tray into his palm and before she can even begin to move he slices through the binding neatly, once and then again, “you aren’t wrong. SCORPIO restrained him while I was busy with his leg, but I ought to have-”

SCORPIO turns from the console, shoulders lifting in what might have been a shrug. “My primary directive on Odessen remains operational security, Commander. He cannot share what he cannot see.”

“Yes, but-” 

One of the wall-mounted monitors beeps, shrill and insistent, until Lokin prods it with a gloved finger and it lapses into red-flashing silence. “He’s starting to wake. Shall we?”

Void, she hates interrogations. (She used to be good at them once, when she was younger and followed orders better. She used to be good at them because of course, why waste precious time on subtleties when you can simply pry and bend and break and it all comes out in the end either way- maybe in pieces, yes, but that was just another puzzle to solve if one was clever enough, even if it was messier-

Orders were orders. 

She used to be good at them once. Before Corellia.)

“Is Lana coming? She’s covering for me with Sana-Rae, I think, but-”

She turns too quickly as the door opens behind her and as she spins the room tips sideways and then it starts to spin, too; pausing midstep, she grabs at the nearer benchtop to steady herself, her left hand raised as a counterbalance. Lana clears the doorway in two steps, the worry lines across her forehead deepening. 

“I’ve got you,” Lana murmurs. “We’ve just finished, and I had a feeling you might-” she only wrinkles her nose a little as she glances toward the instrument table- “want my help with this.”

When she nods the world shifts unpleasantly anticlockwise. “Yes. Dialing out blind on his holo’s a losing proposition. With any luck he’ll talk, but I’m not counting on it and we haven’t got the time to wear him down.” Pressing her lips together against a wave of nausea, she inhales. Exhales. Inhales. The spinning slows. 

“Physical methods, then?”

She shakes her head- oh, Force, there it goes again- inhale. Exhale. “Just tell me what you see. I’ve been bled on enough today, and if we push too hard-”

“Does it matter? You can’t possibly intend to let him-” at her gesture Lana lowers her voice, just above a whisper- “walk away from this. An attack, here, on you- there have to be consequences.”

“Do I look like a Jedi to you? You know me better than that.” When she says it Lana snorts and rolls her eyes and to be fair she has a point- of course she has a point- but a misstep now could be the last strand of a rope to hang herself by, the final block knocked loose that brings the whole tower crashing down, and she can afford that far less than to give away a shred of undeserved mercy. “You’re a step ahead of me, that’s all. I need the who before I decide the what.”

Lana sighs. “I know. I only- I defer to you, Commander. It’s your decision.”

“Maybe, or maybe it’s Trant’s. But we won’t know until we know, and-” another warning chime from the monitors; another warning look from Lokin. “We’re running out of time. And when we’ve finished I’ve still got to talk to Koth and Senya, and-”

“Already postponed, and that can wait in any case. There’s nothing to discuss that won’t keep for a day. We’ll call them once we’re in transit,” Lana eyes her up and down, “after another round of kolto.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Lana’s hand comes to rest beneath her lifted arm; with the world still half-spinning she’d have missed the subtle pulse of energy if Lana hadn’t flinched when their fingertips meet. “Force help me, you’re not - I’ll take it over, Nine. I’ll… I can do it. You should rest.”

“No.” When she shakes her head the room stays level now, at least. It’s something. “No. This is my mess to sort out. Just lock the door.”

***

Five minutes later all she’s got out of him is a slurred sequence of names, ranks, and serial numbers (lying, Lana says each time from her perch behind the chair, though she knew that long before she said it) and the unwavering gut-punch certainty that the man is an SIS agent. With so little actual information to go on and their databases two years out of date- when Theron left he’d downloaded what he could but slicing back into the mainframe to sync them’s a risk none of them are willing to take right now- trying to find a name for her attacker’s useless, with dozens of dossiers a partial match to the same physical parameters: average height, average build, Underlevels accent, Republic emblems tattooed on biceps and back and another handful laser-faded to barely visible outlines. With half the Republic’s infantry dredged up from the Coruscant undercity’s gangs and prisons and half the SIS (and nearly all of SpecOps) poached from the army, she could have shot into the Dealer’s Den or the Red Rancor on a Primesday night and hit five clones of him in a straight line between the door and the bar.

She studies his face from every angle, waiting for a memory to trigger, and- no, still nothing, barely a nod in the corridor or a passing glance in the mess line. Three weeks on Odessen and the man’s practically a ghost, a traceless alias for a name and a ride hitched on a transport from Port Nowhere. Granted, both she and Theron had been off-planet most of that time, but stars, if this one got in so easily how many more could?

That’s a problem for another day. It has to be. 

But for now SCORPIO runs the serials, just for the sake of thoroughness, and- ah. Those faces she knows: Corellia, six years ago; a Coruscanti gala, bloodstains on a black dress; Dromund Kaas, only a month or two before Zakuul. 

She just hadn’t known their real names, then. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had. 

Orders were orders.

“So you’re ten dead men in a trenchcoat, then? And you’re wrong about that last one, by the way. That was probably Cipher Four. I’ve never been to Ord Mantell.” She pushes his commpad away with a scowl. The damned thing’s wiped clean- all the more likely he’d spoken to Trant within the last half-day, then; that was a lesson from Alderaan that only the Director ought to have learned. With enough time they could have recovered it, but they don’t have time. So she turns back to him instead, her thumb and index finger poised on closed eyelids gone puffy from the pressure of the binding. “Last chance to make this easier on yourself. When did you last hear from Marcus Trant?”

“More’n ten. Way more.” His words are less slurred now, the serum finally taking effect, and Lana sits up straighter. “‘nd hells take your easier. You’re gonna kill me anyway, so-” 

Void, why are they always so insistent on dying?

She doubts he can see her, so she just adds a twinge of melodrama to her sigh. “Not necessarily, agent. You tried to murder me. Naturally, I objected-” a little more pressure on his eye, just enough that he starts to shift against the restraining strap- “but if I really wanted you dead I’d have let you use your kill pill instead of wasting perfectly good antitoxin on you. I can be civil if you can.” 

Lana closes her eyes, focused and still.

“To be clear, you’re alive as a means to an end and it’s in your best interest to cooperate. But you and I know how it goes, don’t we?” When she lifts her open hand SCORPIO presses the holotransmitter into her palm. “Good soldiers follow orders. It’s not personal. You were only doing as you’re told.” She leans in closer, knee jostling against his mended leg just a little harder than necessary as the paper drape crinkles, voice lowered in a simulacrum of confidence. “Stars, I remember those days. He sits in his big office and sics you on a target, unclips your leash and you just- well. Ours not to reason why, hm?”

The cuff around his right wrist clinks against the arm of the chair as he makes an obscene gesture. 

Wrong tactic. Well, then.

Her sigh’s loud enough to make him flinch. “And it was all wrong, wasn’t it? All that planning, all that time pacing, writing a five-line message that he never even saw, all for nothing?” His breath stills, his heart rate spikes, and Lokin hooks another syringe to the IV port and slowly pushes the plunger down. “DId you think I wouldn’t see? I’d almost feel sorry for you if it wasn’t so utterly pathetic.”

His head lolls forward against the restraint, a counterpressure against her hand. 

“Oh, no, no.” Shifting, she pushes him back upright with two fingertips in the center of his forehead. “Not yet. Not until-”

“I almost got you.” His mouth contorts- it might have passed for a grin in a darker room, teeth bared, feral-  and something in his voice makes her hair stand on end. She recoils, pulling her hand away from his face even as he pauses. “So fucking close. Just a few more seconds and I’d’ve bled you dry, Cipher, and then I’d-”

(The words barely register; he’s not the first and certainly not the most creative person to threaten her with postmortem indecencies but somehow they always think it’s going to shock her into silence, as though it’s the single most awful thing that could ever happen when she’s lived through far worse horrors and more to the point she wouldn’t even know, she’d be dead).   

“-see enough and you know Shan’d come running- Force, that would’ve been even better, the look on his traitor face even if it was the wrong way round-”

wait. 

WAIT.

no, Trant wouldn’t have- 

When she blinks she sees it all in the span of a millisecond: half a hundred ways it could have gone, half a hundred indignities inflicted, half a hundred times it breaks Theron for just long enough for the blow to fall. Lana must see something else; she makes the smallest little sound, a muffled gasp of disgust covered over by knuckles cracking in clenched-fisted fury and then a snarled Sith curse she doesn’t understand (but Valkorion clearly does- she isn’t wrong, he murmurs) and it brings her back to herself. 

Her comm buzzes; her eyes flick down toward the screen. 

<ask him about belsavis>

Kicking him for breaking comm silence would be counterproductive, she supposes, but what does Belsavis have to do with anything? If Theron knows his name he ought to have just said so, not making her work harder than she already is.

< don’t know him but think I know the unit> <told Marcus it was a bad idea> <don’t think he listened>

That would explain the burned-off tattoos. Stars, has the SIS truly become that desperate? Or was this another Garza project- some experiment likely as not to fail just as Eclipse Squad had, so why waste frontline troops when the Republic had a whole planet full of froth-mouthed maniacs more than happy to keep killing as the cost of their freedom and if things did go bad, well, they were going to die one way or another so what did it matter?   

Then SCORPIO blinks once, head turning toward her comm and then, slower, toward the corner and oh, damn it all-

“Didn’t think the SIS went in for necrophilia,” she says conversationally, covering her mouth over a particularly exaggerated yawn as Lokin barely stifles a snort. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Jedi. I am curious, though- did you pick that up on Belsavis, or was that why they locked you up in the first place?”

His teeth clench. 

“Piracy? Hm, no. Some flavor of war crime, I’m sure- oh, I know. Fragged your CO, I’d bet. You’ve got that sort of look.”

“Onomatophobia. Go fuck yourself.”

(She’d come at it all wrong, hadn’t she? 

She’d thought this wasn’t personal because for her it wasn’t. Okay, fine, with Trant maybe it is, now, but this is no old enemy. She only hurt him to start with because he cut her first and deeper and even Theron doesn’t know his name- and stars know his memory’s brilliant, to judge by his stories he remembers everyone he ever worked with and it was far harder for him when they weren’t all just Minder Ten and Fixer Twelve and Watcher Three. The garotte alone might have been sheer bloody-mindedness in a way she wouldn’t have expected from the SIS, but even the Republic for all its supercilious moralizing had its fair share of sadists; Hunter hadn’t truly been one of them but they’d certainly all thought so at the time and still they’d all turned their heads, every single time, even when she’d screamed until her voice gave out.

Of course her control word was in her Republic file. He wasn’t the only one to try to use it, the first ones in earnest and then, when she’d shredded enough of them into bloody little pieces that they realized it didn’t didn’t hold her any more, as a vicious sort of mockery. That worked a bit, she supposes; maybe it always will. Not well enough to save them, of course.

She’d thought it wasn’t personal, that orders were orders and he’d come after Theron because he had to. But stars, she’d been out of the game for five fucking years and he’s practically got her dossier memorized, errors and all, and he’d called Theron a traitor and the first time she really pushes his buttons he-

Oh, this was very personal.)

“No,” she says, and breathes, trying to untie the panic-knot tightening in her chest, “I don’t think I will.” Snatching up a scalpel from the instrument tray as her voice wavers, she presses its tip, just so, beneath his chin. “You thought you were close? Close only counts in horseshoes and heavy ordnance, puppy, and that and a slip of my hand’ll buy you an unmarked grave. And-” he’s trying not to move, trying not to flinch. A single bead of blood wells up beneath the blade and stars, it’d be so easy, just one little movement and stay calm stay calm stay calm- “you still haven’t answered my question. When did you last hear from Marcus Trant?”

Lana exhales as her gaze comes back into focus, lip curling. Whatever she saw, she didn’t like it. “Today. It was today. But beyond that-”

“It’s good enough.” It was never going to be that easy. “SCORPIO, you don’t still have Belsavis census access, do you?” 

A yellow flash, and then- “I am no longer tethered to Ward 23, and what I retained is long out of date. Proximity would be required.”

“Never mind. We’ll move on to the holo, then. Doctor?”

“Ready.” Lokin nods approvingly as she sets the scalpel down. “Retractor?”

“Retractor, please. Left eye.”

One click. Two clicks. Three.  

The ‘pub squirms, fighting the restraining strap in earnest as he tries to blink against the cold metal instrument. “What are you-” his pupil constricts until she shifts the operating light away- “you gonna take my eyes now, Cipher? Keep ‘em in a jar somewhere, or-”

The holo’s scanner locks on as she holds it level with his forced-open eye. “No, thank you.  I never was much for souvenirs.” 

It chimes cheerfully as it comes to life in her hand; she flips idly through the settings. The user ID’s a string of alphanumeric gibberish, the message system’s not set up and the whole thing’s still on factory default but she’d expected all of that. It’s almost certainly a burner. The call log’s intact, though, with four time-stamped entries. One: incoming but barely five seconds long, likely a functionality test. Not useful. Two: outgoing, eighteen days old. Confirmation of arrival? That’s a Coruscanti subnet, but that could be a handler. Three: outgoing, one day old, to the same address as the second- they’d landed back from Nar Shaddaa by then. 

Four: incoming. Coruscant again, but a different address. One minute and six seconds duration. 

Two and a half hours ago. 

He said he’d call it off, Void damn him. If Trant kept his word and she’s wrong, if she burns the last thin strands of the bridge between Theron and everything he ever believed in to ashes and she’s wrong-

(He did say he would call them. Reflected in the freezer’s glass door, Valkorion tilts his head contemplatively. And tell them what?

He said- 

he said-

[-but those last few breaths last longer if you don’t struggle, don’t they? You’ll figure that out soon enough.]

For the first time she can remember there is something like approval in his smile. So you did hear it, he says. But oh, little Cipher, you didn’t listen.)     

She gestures to Lana and Lokin, pointing with two fingers at each one in turn and then the door with a snap of her wrist that sets it throbbing. “All of you but SCORPIO, clear the room. Now.”

Lana blinks but it’s Lokin who speaks first. “Commander, if I may? If you plan to proceed further, the subject may require additional stabilizing mea-”

“Wait outside until I call for you. That’s an order.”

He’s halfway to the door before Lana starts to move from the benchtop and even then she pauses beside her as she passes, one hand on her shoulder and her mouth lowered level with her ear. “You’re not getting Valkorion involved? I know you’d rather not dial out blind, but I thought I felt-”

“I’m not,” she murmurs in reply. “On either count. But if this goes bad I don’t want you in the room when it does.”  

“All right.” The sheer force of disapproval contained in Lana’s sigh might have leveled buildings; it isn’t all right and they both know it but it’s far too late to argue over it now. “Should I go and find Theron, then? I can think of some excuse to keep him with me until you’ve finished.”

They both startle at the sound of SCORPIO’s voice. “Unnecessary. He is-” her heart stops as the droid’s eyes flicker- “secure.”

“We can’t be certain of that. He still doesn’t know, does he? If there’s a second-”

“I see many things that you do not, Lord Beniko.” Five metallic fingers uncurl ceilingward (not toward the corner; her heart stutters, then resumes). “I am perfectly certain.”

Lips pressed together, nostrils flared, Lana grits her teeth against a retort before she simply continues toward the exit. “Then I will wait,” she says, a sparking halo of electricity coiling around her words as the door slides shut behind her, “until I am needed.” 

And then the room is quiet save the beeping monitors, the ‘pub’s ragged breathing and the sharp rattle of his restraints, and Nine glances sidelong at SCORPIO as she settles herself carefully in the blind spot on his right. “Be nice.”

“Error. Program file: nice not found.” 

She must have iterated again; the sarcasm’s new. Rolling her eyes, she glances down at her comm again. 

< Also, you are welcome.>

She flicks an ironic salute toward the droid and that too makes her wrist ache. More time in the tank, then, on the way to Voss. More time lost that she can’t afford and a favor owed that she probably can’t afford either- stars know SCORPIO’s kept secrets for her well enough through the years but she’s no particular fondness for Theron; the last time he’d cracked a joke about needing a processor update she’d signal-locked his implant to play That Slippery Little Hutt Of Mine on repeat for forty-three minutes straight until half his face was twitching and he’d finally apologized- but hopefully that can be negotiated. Ongoing access to the network, maybe. Lana will fuss and she’ll be right, but if that message had gone through unintercepted they all know what it might have meant. It’s a small enough price.

“If you’re done arguing-” the ‘pub’s slurring again. He’s burning through the serum faster than she’s ever seen- “either get this thing off me or-”

If he keeps that up she may as well not bother with the call. She ought to have known better than to think that he’d say much of anything useful but his ranting’s absolutely tedious; they’re going to need to gag him after all, aren’t they? It wasn’t supposed to be that sort of interrogation, but she also hadn’t particularly expected him to- oh, if he calls her that one more time she might just stab him after all. (Like he’s got any room to criticize- all her old sins could overfill an archive but at least she’s not a stars-damned corpsefucker.) “Shh.” When she tilts her head toward it SCORPIO picks up the spacer’s tape and tears a strip from the roll, pressing it firmly over his mouth until th+e noise quiets into muffled incomprehensibility. “That’s quite enough out of you, I think.“

Hm. That brings to mind a better idea, actually. 

“Do we have enough input for a voiceprint? Something like this?” Tapping a brief message into her commpad, she sends it through to SCORPIO. Only a few lines, but if it truly is Trant on the other end of the connection it should be enough to be certain.

It has to be enough.

She doesn’t look toward the corner. She mustn’t look toward the corner. 

“Way more than enough.” It’s near enough a perfect mimic. SCORPIO folds her arms smugly and the ‘pub goes grey. “Prepared for playback.”

“On my signal, then, but give me a twenty second delay on video.” Her fingers twitch despite themselves, tingling at the tips; she forces her breathing into rhythm. (Lana was right. She isn’t fine. 

Lana was always right. But she doesn’t have a choice.) 

Inhale. “And prep the package files for transmission on verbal command. No passcode.” Exhale.

A pause, a flash of scarlet. Inhale. “Yes, Commander.”

Exhale. 

Inhale. She smooths her hair back, adjusts her collar carefully under her chin, slaps both cheeks briskly with closed fingers to bring a little color into them and even that little jolt rattles her brain inside her skull. She considers, briefly, the backs of her eyelids. That seems to help. Exhale. 

The far corner remains quiet. 

She lifts the holo in line with the ‘pub’s eye once more as his pupil shimmers finely from side to side; they’d definitely pushed the dose too high but even so it’s far faster than it ought to be, chasing some other vice out of his system, and the camera struggles, beeping and chirping error after error until finally it locks on. 

Inhale. Exhale. 

She meets SCORPIO’s gaze, scrolls back to the end of the call log, and presses redial. 

Inhale.

“Connecting.” The tinny synthetic voice of the SIS operator sets her nerves on edge. “Connecting.” Come on, pick up-

The channel opens with a click and she nods, lets her breath out into the following silence before the voiceprint begins.

“It’s done. Shan and the Cipher. Wrong way ‘round, but-”

“Well-” the video delay goes both ways but she doesn’t need it, she’s heard Marcus Trant’s voice in so many briefings it’s burned into her brain; the last brittle shard of hope she’d clung to shatters and leaves her with nothing left but rage. How dare he- “it’s about fucking time.”

Oh, she is going to end him.

***

Nine’s body language shifts then, her spine rigid where she’d been starting to hunch forward in fatigue, her hands fisted, fingernails digging hard into her palms. Her stance settles, just a little wider, forward on her toes; her chin lifts. He can’t see her face, still angled toward the prisoner. 

“Send the photo confirmation, then execute extraction- and get your video on. Where are you?” Force, he’s going to throw up. Even when Jonas told him, even after hearing Marcus with his own ears he hadn’t wanted to believe it. He’d called it off. It had to be a mistake- or maybe Nine’s paranoia got the better of her (and he knows why and he doesn’t fault her, she can’t help Valkorion in her head and the poison he’s feeding her day after day after day) and this was just another shadow to peer into. Dragged into the light, it would have been nothing at all. A mistake. A mistake. 

She nods to the droid once again. “ Just a few more seconds. Bad connection but I’ve almost got it.” 

He shudders. The copywork’s uncanny and he knows for sure that’s not all readback. If SCORPIO gets it in her head to playact as one of them, starts giving orders in Lana’s voice or Koth’s or his own? He’s no reason to think she would, but whatever loyalty she seems to owe starts and ends with Nine. They’ve got to talk about it, at least.  

Nine angles away from their prisoner, raises the comm chest-high as the little hologram springs up in the hollow of her hand. He can see her better now, her face blank and beautiful and perfectly, utterly cold, and then she smiles and- 

(He has spent far more time than he’d ever admit to, from Rishi to Ziost to Zakuul to tonight, every hit and hurt and shattered bone and her bloody armor left in a pile again and again on the medbay floor, being scared for Nine. 

This might be the first time he’s honestly been scared of her.)

“Hello, Director,” she says. “We’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”

It’s only a little flinch, but it’s there. “Cipher. Still alive, I see.”

“Commander. You lied to me, Marcus. You know what happens now.”

“I think you’ll find that I didn’t.” 

Every syllable of her laughter’s a rifle shot, clear and piercing. “Yes, yes. You said you’d call, and you did.” By his posture he’s caught and he knows it, back straight, shoulders set. “But you know perfectly well that wasn’t our agreement. To go by the way Theron spoke of you I’d have thought you an honorable man, but-”

Marcus lifts one hand, a futile placation as Nine’s mocking smile fades back into hard-eyed silence. “I really am sorry about Theron, for what little it’s worth. He-”

“You’re sorry?” That wasn’t a laugh, not quite, halfway caught in her broken throat. “You’re certainly about to be, but Theron’s fine. This puppy was just as stupid as the last one- worse, actually, since he got himself caught in the bargain.” She turns her body, lets the camera capture the prisoner behind her straining against the chair straps in wide-eyed muffled fury. “He never got anywhere close to Theron.”

“He knows, then?” (He still can’t see Marcus’ face. He isn’t sure whether he wants to.)

She shrugs, noncommittal. “One thing at a time.” Her free hand gestures vaguely toward the instrument tray. “I’ve been a bit busy, I’m afraid, and now I’ve got all these dossiers to send off-”    

“I’d suggest some time in kolto first. You don’t look at all well, Cipher.”

“Commander.” When she blinks her eyes stay closed half a second too long and she sways back and forth and stars, she needs to sit down before she falls over but she’s too stubborn to let anyone see her hurting. He knows her tells now, though- her jaw clenches, her left hand curls and uncurls. “Five years in carbonite couldn’t kill me. You honestly thought a garotte would be enough?”

“No,” Marcus says softly. “Not really. But we make do with what we have, don’t we?”

“I suppose we do. SCORPIO, transmit file Eclipse . Full recipient list.”

One red flash, two green. “Transmission complete.”

(She really did it. Oh, fuck, she really, actually did it. 

He should never have gone home. He should never have gone-  

It isn’t home. Not any more.) 

Marcus sighs. “Where?”

“Everywhere.” Nine looks up abruptly as one of the monitors sounds yet again; she reaches up and simply shuts it off completely and at this angle he can finally see properly, both of their faces in profile. “Every reputable news service in the Core Worlds and about half of the disreputable ones, so you may want to warn your receptionist. I suspect your switchboard’s about to melt.”

“She’ll handle it, and Eclipse Squad was Elin’s mess. I’m afraid I can’t comment. Now, if we’re finished-”

“We are not. Transmit file Legate. Full list. Call it off. Now.”

One red flash, two green, and Marcus winces, his composure finally breaking. “Are you out of your fucking mind? No one came out of that clean, you least of all.”

“I might be.” A knock at the door- no, it’s there, not here, and a comm chiming. “But Legate died in a warehouse collapse on Quesh, poor thing, though with all those warheads going up at once confirming it was quite impossible. Pity.”

A single vein pulses across his forehead. 

“Call it off.”

Another knock. “Do you think Theron will believe that?”

“He doesn’t need to. He knows about the Castellan restraints- he’s known for years.” She glances, for the smallest fraction of a second, toward his corner. “I think he’ll understand if I blur the truth a little.” 

(He nods before he remembers she can’t see him. Of course he understands. He wishes she hadn’t done it, wishes she hadn’t needed to do any of this, but of course he understands.)

The room goes quiet, the stillness broken only by restraint buckles clinking against the chair frame. 

“Do you think he’ll believe this?” 

The angle of her head’s a wordless question. 

“What wouldn’t you do to bring down an enemy? The head of the SIS, no less.” The framing of the projection changes, the bottom edge of a screen coming into view as he stands up slowly from his desk. Marcus’d always lived at the office, one of so many bad habits he’d passed down to him over all the years they’d worked together (the work always comes first, he’d said. It always will. It will take everything you can give to it and then it will take more and you’ll swear and shout and threaten to quit. And then you won’t, because this is what we were made for. And that is how we win). “It’s everything you ever worked toward. So: a foiled assassination attempt in your own base- how terrible.” He clicks his tongue, a mocking little tsk. “You’d have to retaliate, and who would fault you?”

Nine’s eyes narrow. 

“But if it came out that you set it all up- a few intercepted messages, perhaps, shared by an old friend-”

Her lips draw back from her bared teeth. “Stay away from him.”

“I’m finished,” Marcus says. “I know that. But that doesn’t mean you get to win. Once a iiar, always a liar, Cipher Nine. Who do you think he’ll believe- you? Or me?”

No. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t . Not that it would have made a difference, but Marcus couldn’t have known that- Force, he really is going to throw up.

(When Theron joined the SIS he was seventeen years old and every adult he’d known for more than a galactic standard month had abandoned him, sold him out or simply sold him at the first sign he’d outgrown his usefulness. It took nearly a year on Coruscant, nearly a year of steady paychecks and a bed to sleep in every night, before he owned more clothes than he could fit into a go bag; it took almost two before he stopped apologizing for asking for equipment. But Marcus never gave up on him, even when he fucked up (which back then was more often than not), even when he bristled and snapped like a half-wild animal, even when he wanted to give up on himself. If Master Zho had been the nearest thing he’d known to a father- stars knows it wasn’t Jace, especially not now- Marcus had come close too, once.

Once.)

She takes a deep breath. She’s fading fast, now, hands tremulous even as she’s fighting to keep the holo steady. He can’t just sit here and watch this, he can’t, he can’t-    

“Her,” Theron says, letting the stealth field drop as he takes a step forward and she spins, startled, at the sound of his voice. It comes out as a gasp; he doesn’t even know how long he’s been holding his breath. ”Who do I believe? Her. Always.”

Marcus buckles like he’s been gut-shot, bracing himself against his desk. “You- you said you hadn’t told him yet. You said-”

“I think you’ll find that I didn’t.” Nine smiles, absolutely feral and absolutely beautiful, and he steadies her with one hand at the small of her back. “Though as you can see, I really have been busy.”

The last time he saw that look on his face was the day the blockade went up around Coruscant. “Hello, Theron.”

“Hello, Marcus.”

He sits back into his chair, heavy, elbows resting on the desktop. “This office would have been yours, you know. You were ready for it. But you’re on the wrong side of the war.”

“Which war?” Nine says it at the same time he does and then she dips her head, ever so slightly- you first. “We’re here fighting Zakuul. We’re here fighting Arcann,” he continues, “and we’re finally winning. I know you know that. I know Jace knows that, and I know you’re both still fighting the same fucking war against the Empire that you’ve been fighting since before I was born because for you that’s the only thing that matters. But I’m not.”

“You dare-”

“I made my choice,” he says softly.  “Now you make yours. Are you going to drag the whole SIS down with you?”

Marcus rests his head in his hands. For a moment it’s the day after the Ascendant Spear, the day after Ziost, the day after Tython, the weight of a thousand impossible choices and ten thousand lies pressing down on him, and then he looks up and shakes his head. “No.” He sighs. “No, I’m not. What happens now?”

“Resign,” Nine murmurs. “Retire. Disappear before the Senate comes for you, or let them scapegoat you: I don’t care what you do, but you will call this off. You will do it now, and if I ever have reason to doubt you- if anyone from the Republic so much as breathes harm in Theron’s direction- the Ralltiir file goes public.”

Someone’s pounding on his office door, a woman’s voice shouting something incomprehensible as he reaches out of frame, and then a few moments later a series of four tones in a cadence burned into his own memory- send message; subnet selected; confirm?-

Message sent. 

The holotransmitter in Nine’s hand chimes. 

“Done. Now, if there’s nothing else?”

Nine turns once more (and he turns with her, careful) to put their prisoner back into frame. “What do you want me to do with him? I’d put him back on Belsavis if I was you, but-”

Marcus stands up abruptly, even as he makes a face as she says Belsavis, at the unmistakable sound of a single round of blaster fire and the hiss of a door sliding open. “Elin,” he snaps, “not now -”

“Yes, now.” General Garza’s got a blaster pistol in one hand and a commpad in the other when she crosses into camera view. “I just got a fucking call from the fucking- oh.” She cranes her neck toward the projector. “Well, we can fix that problem, at least-”

The call disconnects abruptly.

Nine sags against him, exhausted. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I know I promised-” 

“Commander.” He’d nearly forgotten SCORPIO was still at the console until she speaks, and he’s never heard that tone from her before; he looks sharply up at her and follows her sightline. The prisoner’s sitting bolt-straight, back rigid, eyes wide, and a high-pitched whine like a drill through durasteel shrills warning from somewhere that isn’t his mouth- “Commander, get down!”

All Theron can do is drop where they’re standing, his body a shield over Nine’s, before there’s an awful wet noise and the smell of blood and something else familiar in his nose, hot and metallic and not his and not hers and even though he knows he shouldn’t he looks up again and oh, fuck-

The lab door slides open and Doctor Lokin comes running into the room, Lana just behind with her lightsaber blazing, and they both stop short at the sight of it, at the ‘pub still strapped into the chair with half his head just gone and at him and Nine on the blood-spattered floor.

“What- who-” Lana covers her mouth with her free hand. “What in the Void happened?”

Nine’s shaking so hard she can barely move; he curls her close against him to keep her upright. “Not me,” she whispers. “Not me.”

#inyri writes #equivalent exchange #swtor #swtor fanfiction #imperial agent/theron shan #nine/theron #cipher nine #thank you all for your patience #as i wrote this one fought me for a very long time #so i hope it was worth the wait #and the next chapter is kinder to them i promise