No one knew why the Morbot was acting the way it did. Not under the commands of Morocco it was saving people like it did the first time they saw it, well better than the first time. It was starting to be genuinely helpful. It seemed to be learning from the Bots how to do its job more effectively.
What they really hadn’t expected was for the Morbot to fly up and catch Blades when his tail rotor got hit during a rescue. This made Blades reconsider categorizing the Morbot under ‘evil’ and ‘potentially dangerous’. Dani noticed this shift in perspective first hand as the usually timid copterbot stopped being so jumpy around the machine. It was a little odd given Blades vowed to never trust the doctor or his creations again after the whole got ‘botnapped and memories wiped’ episode. He had gone as far as creating the cybertronain equivalent of a vaccine to make such none of the Bots would ever be effected by the space dust again.
It was also a shock to Dani seeing Blades be the one to fix the damaged Morbot after it tried to help during Vigil’s return. While Blades was doing repairs he found some interesting lines of code in the Morbot. A personality chip it was making by itself, like a poor ai. Sorting behaviors it deemed fitting for its existence like helping people. Blades decides to keep note of this just incase.
As the months went on it became more noticeable in the mannerisms of the Morbot, it freaked the rescue bots out a bit. A machine that was almost lifelike, except lacking an important part. A spark.
This would change after the final confrontation with the Morocco virus. The Morbot took on the Morbot v2. While losing the fight to virus infected robot the Morbot had bought time for Bots to get to the firehouse in time to still chase down the Morbot v2 and save Cody. Blades took the seemingly damaged beyond repair Morbot to Faxian and tried his best to fix it. It took years due to his attention always being needed elsewhere on rescues, training recruits, and being a medic. But on one trip to Cybertron he brought a part of the Morbot with him to hopefully make out of Cybertronain tech. He was surprised to find that inside of the new part was a spark. Had Primus deemed the Morbot worthy of being a living thing?
Better the Devil You Know Than the Devil You Don't
What if the Emperor of Mankind had sacrificed Terra's Old Guard—the perpetuals and other beings in all cultural myths that held back the chaos demiurge like an immune system? He wanted the old gods dead and forgotten, their godhead and scions with them. Science and logic reign.
We are talking about beings that have terrified humanity since the dawn of time and were humanity's natural immune system in the warp. All the wickedness, malicious evil was strictly local to our little cradle of life and kept the Gods of Chaos OUT. Emps destroyed them all, sealing their fates. That was the deal he had made with Chaos. Get rid of "gods" - gain power and... warp souls.
So, with the Olde Guard gone, the gates lay open for Chaos and Emperor, playing the role of Trickster, had what he wanted (and a little more) and slammed the gates closed. Chaos never forgets.
The perpetuals lost their godheads. Some, like Odyn, found their ways to other planets to play shadows of their former selves. They will never forget.
And now you have the Emperor on the Golden Throne, stretched too thin over the ages, being the only being holding Chaos back.
That's like being on a dialysis machine for the rest of your life.
So this is just a drabble that I had on my drafts for years! I finally got inspired to write again and decided to post it. This has not been edited or beta read! I need a beta reader so if you know someone let me know! Also maybe I'll turn this into a longer story more than likely because we need more friendship stories and more of these two in general, but who knows! Oh and apologies for any errors!
Anyway this is a JeanXSasha. This is mostly a friendship story but if you blink there's a possibility of a romantic undertone. Anyway, I'm rambling, I'll stop and let you read.
Thank you to anyone who reads this!
The brunette pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips as she watched her roommate/best friend stagger through the front door. He barely could keep his balance and almost tripped over his own feet before walking inside and letting the door slam shut.
She watched in silence as he gave a jump from the noise and muttered, 'what the fuck' and hold the wall for support. A few moments of silence he finally looked up and brown eyes met amber ones.
"Hhhey! Connie! What are you doing up this late?" he managed to slur.
"Do I look like Connie, Jean?" she asked as she rolled her eyes.
"Oh Sasha, my bad."
"How much have you had to drink?"
Jean blinked. "Hmm…I think 4 drinks." he answered, holding up 8 fingers.
Walking over to him she placed his arms over her shoulder to help support him. "Let's walk to the couch and try to sober up a little bit. Or just while I go find your PJs for you."
"You smell pretty." he slurred as he walked towards the living room.
"Shut up."
##################
"Okay I managed to find you sweats and a shirt in that pigsty of a bedroom…." Sasha said as she walked out of Jean's room and into the living room. Looking up she noticed that he was no longer there. 'Maybe he's in the bathroom.' Walking to the bathroom she noticed the door open and light off. 'Let me check the kitchen.'
Turning the light on nothing has been moved or touched. It's exactly how she'd left it before heading to sleep that night.
With a sigh she thought maybe he went to the guest room by accident. Heading back in the direction of her bedroom she noticed the door was wide open and from her view she noticed he must have tripped or staggered and ended up laying down on the edge of her bed.
Gently she shook his shoulder to try to wake him up.
"Hey... go get changed…"
"I don't want to.. " was the whiny reply.
"Listen, go get changed and then go to sleep."
"I'm too comfortable."
A sigh escaped her lips as the debate on what to do played over in her head. Deciding not to argue or fight she walked over to him and took his sneakers off before struggling to roll him right side up. After several minutes she climbed in on the other side of the bed and placed herself comfortably under the covers.
"Thank you Con..Sasha."
"Shut up." with an eye roll she turned onto her side. " Good night. You're going to be a wreck in the morning."
You had been doing so well, despite everything piling up around you, you had stayed strong. The past few days had been hell, between barely sleeping, your boss riding your ass about things that weren't supposed to be your problem, and about 10,000 other things. Somehow, despite that, you had been able to keep your head above water. Maybe it's because you had convinced yourself everything was fine, that you were fine, but those two little words were what finally broke you.
Namjoon wasn't fantastic at reading people's emotions, so when you suddenly went from slightly annoyed to visibly drained and crying, he was a little shocked to say the least. His arms pulled you in close without a word, letting you bury your face in his (really nice) chest and let it all out.
"He misses you," Yennefer says after a few minutes of silence.
Jaskier shrugs, even though his heart surges, and looks into her purple eyes. He still doesn't know what Geralt saw in them, what's so special about them to make the Witcher lose his mind. But well, love makes people stupid.
He knows that much from experience.
"So what?" asks Jaskier, trying for indifference. He's not far off. "Is he here? Is he ready to apologize?"
He makes a show of looking around even though he knows that Geralt isn't here. He hasn't seen the Witcher for 3 years and well, that speaks for itself.
"So what?" he asks again. "So fucking what, Yennefer? Everyone is fucking scared, everyone has to do things that scare him. He's not special."
That makes the witch pause. "He's a brick wall when it comes to emotions, we know that, but he cares. He misses you, really. He's been moping around for years, even Ciri has enough."
The mention of Ciri makes Jaskier smile. His little lion cub, growing up. He wishes he could be there, but alas not all things are meant to be.
"I still don't see why you're here. You tracked me, I know you did, and I have no idea why."
Jaskier's tired. He's tried of the game between him and Geralt, a game the Witcher doesn't know they're playing. He's tired of always trying to help Geralt, get closer to him, be his friend, he's tired of always fucking fighting the White Wolf. Jaskier is just tired.
"He's obviously not here, I'm apparently not important enough to follow. I don't know what you want from me."
"Give him a chance," she asks quietly. Jaskier snorts again, ale flying out his nose.
"A chance to what? What the fuck, Yen. He hasn’t spoken to me for 3 years and the last thing he saw to me was wishing for destiny to take him off his hands. What fucking chance?"
He's not screaming but he's too loud for where they are, so Jaskier takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
"You know he doesn't know how to express himself, but he's sorry. He's guilty and sorry and frankly, pathetic in his moping," the witch scoffs.
"And yet you're the one here," Jaskier sighs, making her fall silent. "I don't know what to tell you, Yen. Geralt and I met 25 years ago. That's more than half of my life, that's more than some people get to live. He spent all of that time denying we're even friends, insulting me and never apologizing. Yes, maybe he showed that he cared but fuck, Yen, I need words sometimes. I need some fucking effort put into actually communicating with me. I can't read minds and I'm not you. I don't want to fuck him, then get angry at him and throw him out after 3 days. That's not what I want."
"And what do you want?" she asks, and well, isn't that a good question?
"I don't know," Jaskier says tiredly. "But I'm so tired of chasing Geralt around, both literally and emotionally. You say that he cares, that he misses me but he's not here. He's not here, apologizing as he should. Scared of not, I deserve that."
"He doesn't know how," Yennefer says, louder again. Jaskier wonders what made her so defensive of Geralt.
"I spent over 20 years trying to teach him, Yen. I can't spend another 20 years trying to make him emote. I'm not his parent, I'm not responsible for his emotions and skills. It's not fair to expect me to teach him everything and always excuse his shit communication skills just because he's a Witcher. People can grow and change after trauma, they can become better. But Geralt is too scared of talking and I'm too tired of always trying to make him. It always ends up with me hurting."
Yennefer hums before draining her wine glass in one move. Jaskier stays quiet, emotionally exhausted, heart aching again. Geralt always makes his heart ache.
"You love him," she finally says, some pity in her voice.
"Yeah," Jaskier sighs, thinking back to all the good and the bad with Geralt. He's too old to settle for what they had before. He finally values himself enough to see he deserves more. "See, the thing is, sometimes love isn't enough."
With that, he bows to her and leaves, aware of her eyes glued to his back. That night, he dreams of Geralt's small smile and gentle hands, and of sharp words and sharper eyes. He wakes up feeling freer than ever and his breathing is slow. There's a smile on his face.
[A little note: hey I wrote a thing. I’m really vibing with this book, so here’s a little snippet to show that I still write. Kind of nsfw? ].
[Word Count: 1115 words].
His kisses are hot and demanding as he peppers his lips alongside her collarbone, one of the most sensitive spots across her skin. His touch is smooth and languid – never hurried and clumsy, as if he knows exactly which places will give him the most response. The responses he’s always looking for anyway. Sometimes all it takes is a kiss, or a well-placed lacey remark to get her cheeks to turn red and send her pulse racing. All it takes is a stray touch down her midsection – pausing only when he reaches where she wants him to touch the most.
Maybe he does know all the spots, all the places that drives her crazy. Especially considering this isn’t the first time they’ve agreed to meeting in secret.
Pressed up against a marble wall from one of the faculty buildings that offered shade as their only protection, Ryan can almost pretend they were two normal students at Vancross and not rivals destined to destroy each other.
After all, it’s much easier to forget all their political history with his lips teasing her skin. It’s much easier to pretend Blaine Hayes represents everything she’s supposed to hate about Ardona. But hating each other is exhausting and every time they’ve acknowledged the budding tension, it’s only just enough to take the edge off. Just enough until the next time they see each other and start all over again.
Her body shudders as the tip of his teeth grazes her neck. God, the things he could do with that mouth is absolutely criminal. She can already think of a dozen ways to put it to good use when they’re alone like this. Resting her head against the wall, she closes her eyes as he leaves a hot blaze of kisses against her skin. He moves an inch to go lower, and lower.
She moans.
It’s a deep sound starting from the back f her throat that almost startles her as her eyes fly back open.
“Getting a bit loud, are we?” His voice is husky and not at all as unaffected as he likes to think he is.
She’s starting to see the signs; flushed cheeks, his body tensing just before he shudders whenever she blows across the tips of his ears– down to steamy look in his eyes. These are the signs that almost threatens to consume her from the outside in.
“Don’t worry Rutherland. If you get too loud, I can always cover that pretty little mouth of yours again.” Blaine’s eyes darken but behind his teasing and the fire inside his eyes, there’s a challenge.
A challenge Ryan is more than willing to prove she can win.
Stifling another moan as his lips slide higher, Ryan surges forward and plunges her fingers through his hair. She pulls, hard.
A tiny moan escapes, much to her delight.
Blaine tries to catch it in his throat, to deny her the satisfaction but it’s too late. She’s already heard it. His words can deny her all he wants, but the body – it’s the body that never lies, even when they dress up pretty words to convince people otherwise, the body is the only truth they’re allowed to tell each other. And right now underneath all pretenses, her body is telling her is to take advantage of this momentary distraction before someone catches them.
“Two can play that game, Blaine.” The words are said in a heated whisper, just a rush of words that she can barely string together. She tilts his chin up and kisses him. Fireworks dances behind her closed eyelids as she deepens the kiss, delighted in hearing another moan from him. She wraps her legs around his waist, trusting him to catch as her tongue darts inside his waiting mouth.
And he does catch her, without missing a beat. His arms become her anchor while their tongues fight the way they always do for dominance. They recede and come back together over and over again, coming to boil until it’s almost too much. Almost too damned good. Aching for him, Ryan starts grinding her hips against him.
Both their breaths come out short, then into little gasps.
“I thought,” another kiss, “we were supposed to be keeping –” another one ghosts near the edge of his lips as he moans, “- quiet.”
But he’s nearly twice as loud by the time her fingers drift down the small distance between them, lingering by his belt buckle. She hesitates, letting her fingers instead tease his throbbing member through his slacks.
She needs him.
No, what she needs is air.
Ryan sucks in a breath when their lips finally break away; her eyes watching him just as much as his were watching hers’. Can he hear how loud her heart is? How much it’s hammering away like a jackhammer; knowing one of them has to crack first. One of them always has to crack first.
Chest heaving, her muscles are nearly as tense as his – straining to get closer, wanting nothing more than to be closer until there isn’t a shred of clothing left.
What are you doing to me Blaine? Or better yet, what are we doing to each other?
The thought is unwelcomed and like a bucket of ice water, it immediately sours the mood and drenches her in doubt. Her mother would kill if she saw them like this, wrapped around each other like a pair of lovers getting ready for their next tryst.
Hands shaking slightly, Ryan slides them back up to his chest, where she taps once before he reluctantly lets go.
“Guess we’ll call this one a tie then. At least until next time.” Blaine muses. The amusement not quite reaching his eyes as he steps back and adjusts his sweater.
Ryan smoothens the top of her braids, tucking them back behind her ears before fixing her skirt. “There is no next time. This was a mistake. Just another stupid mistake that could cost me everything.”
And she can’t afford to keep making them so long as she’s the First Daughter. So, she tries to convince him as much as she’s trying to convince herself that this has to be the absolutely last time they meet back here.
Unfortunately, even as she says it, she’s annoyed by how breathless she sounds. She’s annoyed that her heart skips a beat with another heated stare from him. All it takes is a damn look from Blaine Hayes to make Ryan want to forget everything.
“Sure, there won’t be.” He says easily enough, turning on his heels to go. He stops for a moment to shoot her a wink over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow Rutherland.”
Will pauses in the hallway, hearing Spencer's voice coming from JJ's hospital room. He sounds broken, and Will fights the urge to go to him. He has never quite known how to relate to Spencer, though he has known the man for years. All his instincts seem to be wrong; he's a hugger, for one thing, and he knows Spencer doesn't like being touched by most people.
But he can give him the courtesy of space. He turns to walk away...and hears something that freezes him in his tracks.
He's felt something was off for months. JJ has seemed unhappy, and Spencer has barely been around. Now he understands why.
Will retreats. He takes a moment.
He thinks of JJ. Of their life together, their boys, who JJ is and has always been: fiercely independent, a little skittish of commitment, never the conventional girl you'd expect when you look at her. Of how much she's adjusted to fit him into her life.
He thinks of Spencer. Spencer doing magic tricks for the boys. Spencer having JJ's back in the field. Spencer grinning at their wedding. Spencer holding Henry on the day he was born. Spencer, his boys' hero and his wife's best friend. His friend.
He braces himself for jealousy, for anger...and is surprised when it doesn't come.
He makes up his mind, right there in the hospital hall. Makes an adjustment. It's simple, really. He loves JJ. JJ loves him. JJ also loves Spencer. Spencer loves her. And Will...well. Will has a big heart. He doesn't have everything figured out, but. He has the important things down.
If JJ makes it through this, he will make sure she gets everything she wants.
-
He waits until JJ is home and well on the mend, partly to see if the shock of almost losing her will wear off and change his mind. If this idea of his will seem like madness on a normal day.
It doesn't.
So on one of those normal days, he sits down on the edge of the bed and takes her hand.
"Jennifer Jareau," he says. "Did you know I would do anything to make you happy? Give you anything you want? Anything at all."
The smile she gives him is brilliant, loving, but confused.
"Yes...but I already have everything I want right here."
He looks for the lie in her eyes. There is none, but he knows what he heard. She told Spencer she loved him, not the other way around.
So he swallows the awkwardness and the voice screaming at him to drop it, and forges ahead.
"What about...Spencer."
Her smile goes a little fragile, a little shaky. Her eyes fill with tears. He has his arms around her before they can fall.
"Hey, no no no. No need for tears now."
"Will," her voice cracks. "I'm so--"
"Shhhh. Don't ever be sorry for feeling things or wanting things. Or loving people." He draws back, but keeps his hands on her shoulders, looks into her eyes.
"No, I need you to know," she says. "I never, never--"
"No, I know. I know you didn't." He takes her face into his hands.
"You were gonna just go without, weren't you? Because of me."
JJ shakes her head vigorously.
"No, because I love you," she says. "I didn't want to hurt you."
"I know," Will says, smiling. "And I love you. But...why does it have to be either/or?"
JJ looks confused. Will wants to crawl under a rock; he's going to have to spell it out.
"Well...some people...do. Love more than one person. Some married couples even. They understand and they trust each other and they...make it work..."
He trails off. JJ is looking at him like he's just suggested they give the boys up for adoption and join a doomsday cult. Her mouth is half-open, like she's on the cusp of a laugh...but no sound is coming out of it. She shakes her head slightly, like she can't believe he's even suggesting this.
"Will. I'm not...you don't have to do this. I'm not going anywhere."
He holds her a little tighter, hopes he can make her understand.
"I know you're not. But...I'm not livin' the rest of my life knowing you're missing out on something just because you think I'm too old-fashioned to understand."
She does laugh then, still shaking her head.
"I'm pretty sure monogamy is still in fashion. Will." She takes his face in her hands. "I would never ask this of you."
"You didn't ask," he points out with a smile. "I'm offerin'. S'long as Spencer is okay with it."
JJ's eyes go wide.
"Oh god, Will. Please tell me you didn't mention this to him."
"No," Will assures her. "I wanted to talk to you about it first. See if it's something you might want."
She just gazes at him for a moment, her face a mixture of adoration and utter surprise.
There were many things that Peggy Carter does not expect, but finding a very alive James Barnes is definitely high on that list. What's even more surprising, is how he looks exactly like he did during the war, excluding the metal arm and haunted eyes.
She's a woman that doesn't like to dwell on the impossible, so she just takes him in and listens to his story. She's also very practical, so the moment he tells her about Hydra and starts listing names and assassinations, Peggy just takes notes and makes a plan how to change things.
"Think I can stay and help?" James asks her with a pale imitation of his usual cheeky grin. Considering all he's been through, she's surprised he even remembers how to smile. "There's nothing quite as sweet as quiet revenge."
She doesn't even have to think. "I think you're a SHIELD agent now, Sergeant Barnes," she says firmly. "You answer directly to me and you'll work with me to help and dismantle the web."
He nods and that's it. They really find a way around each other. They're both stubborn and strong, sarcastic and they take no shit, but somehow, it works, even with Barnes' weird sense of humor and affanity for murder. They work like a well-oiled machine, and before she knows it, he's climbing ranks and maganing the army. From the shadows, of course.
During their many late nights, Peggy's surprised to hear James's stories about Steve. The man seems affectionately annoyed with his friend and soon they're both rolling their eyes, remembering some of Steve's more stupid stuns. It's actually fun, and it soothes something in her heart.
They really become friends, and James often visits her and her husband, bakes for them and checks in after oversees missions, so it's not a surprise that after not even 5 years, she makes him the other Director of SHIELD. It's as official as any of government's deep secrets and it suits James, who likes to work from the shadows.
It's all fun and games, until one day James comes to her home, long after she retired, and tells her about Howard's son, Anthony. It's endearing and surprising, just how charmed by the young man he is, how excited for the dates. James's eyes start to get back their light and shine and his smiles turn back into charming, geniue ones. It's really amazing to see.
James deserves it all, and Tony deserves someone who'll love and support him, no matter what. Peggy can see how good they are for each other, how James takes care of the young genius, makes sure Howard doesn't hurt him in any way. It's absolutely adorable and really lovely.
She's happy for them.
"When will you ask him to marry you?" she asks one day in 2005, while they're sitting in her garden drinking whiskey.
James turns a shocking red in the face and shurgs bashfully. "Maybe someday," ha says quietly. "I can't take a rejection, y'know, and we work well together, Peggs."
She rolls her eyes and glares at him. It's nice to know that even after all those years he's still a bit afraid of her. "James, you will ask him and you two will marry before I die. Or I will haunt you for the rest of your days. That's a lot of days, Mr Young."
He winces, but nods. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good."
It only takes him another 7 years and an alien invasion, but when he finally does, Peggy couldn't be less surprised. Those two were always a bit slow on the uptake, but when they did things, it was all in.
Besides, it really is in James's style to propose on a battlefield, with bite exploding in the sky and the whole world looking at them.
Of course, Tony says yes.
Peggy snorts when she sees the dumbfounded look on Steve's face. The man always liked to overlook the obvious and then he surprised when everyone else already knew.
