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dailyaudiobiblechronological · 2 years ago

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12/14/2022 DAB Chronological Transcription (sorry guys, I had the wrong date)

Acts 27-28

Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible Chronological, I'm China. Today is the 14th day of December, welcome. So great to be here with you today. It is crazy that we are two weeks into this month already. Whew, here we are. We are more than halfway to Christmas. That is insane. Like a week and a half laugh I think is Christmas. So ready or not, it's coming. I've gotten all my Christmas shopping done. Hallelujah. Just need to wrap it and then we're good to go. And I'm like, truly ready. But I have had a good amount of self control to not put together Reagan's Christmas and just give it to her. So I've put like everything in our spare bedroom and I just set the stuff in there and then just close the door so that I don't have to look about it, look at it, or think about it. And I'm not tempted to try to give it to her, but we're in the home stretch. But I'm very much so just enjoying doing family fun things and doing fun things to get into the Christmas spirit and just do fun things as a family. And so I don't know if you have family traditions that you like to do or new things that you are starting up, but I hope that you are having a joyful week as you're in the week of joy for Advent. And that also whatever it is that the holidays bring up, I know that it's not always joyful and happy and exciting. I know that there can be a lot of stress or a lot of dread or a lot of anxiety or, you know, just all different things. And I don't have like a ton to say about that other than you're not alone. I promise you. I can guarantee you you are not alone. And you don't have to feel any specific way just because it's holidays. It's okay to not be okay. That's something that I've had to really give myself permission on, is like someone asks if you're okay. You don't have to say yes. You don't have to tell them why. You know, that's not my favorite either. But you don't have to try to make yourself be anything. You can just be. And I promise you the Lord's not disappointed or upset by that. So with that, let's jump into the Word today. And I'm praying the joy of the Lord is really revealed and that your eyes are open to it and that you do have something that brings you joy today and throughout this week and this Christmas season. Today we are continuing the Book of Acts with chapters 27 through 28, continuing on in the English Standard Version for this week.

Commentary

So this concludes the Book of Acts, and it ends with Paul sailing for Rome and a storm happening and Paul being ship wrecked. They're ending up on this island of Malta and being shown unusual kindness. I thought that was really funny. And the part of Scripture that really made me kind of chuckle was that a snake comes out and, like, attacks Paul's hand, which that, like, makes my skin crawl thinking about that. And people are like, oh, this guy for sure a murderer. Like, okay. How many times does that happen where if someone's a murderer, like, a snake just comes out of the fire, or a snake attacks someone, and you're just like, yeah, they're probably a murderer. Like, how often does that happen? And then they're expecting him to swell up or to fall dead, and it doesn't happen. They're observing him, and they're like, Must be a God. That quick change of thought, it was just really funny to me. But anyways, so then Paul, he arrives at Rome after being on a boat for a very long time and also not eating for 14 days before they ate bread. I was like, wow. I cannot relate to that by any means. But so Paul, he arives in Rome, and he appeals himself, and he says, Listen, I have nothing against our people, the customs of our fathers delivered as a prisoner from Jerusalem into the hands of the Romans. When they examined me, they wished to set me at liberty because there was no reason for the death penalty in my case. And so he's saying, for this reason, I've asked to come and see and speak before you, since it's because of the hope of Israel that I'm in these chains, that I'm in prison. And the response to him is, we've received no letters from Judea about you, and none of the brothers coming here have reported or spoken to evil about you, but we desire to hear from you and what your views are for this regard to this sect, we know that everyone, everywhere, it is spoken against. And so there's a day appointed for him to come and to speak. And some were convinced, like, as the scripture says, some were convinced by what he said so, others disbelieved. That sounds about right. For whenever you bring people together and you ask them to come to a decision, some are going to agree, some are going to disbelieve. And disagreeing among themselves, they departed from Paul and made one after Paul had made one statement. Holy Spirit was right in saying to your fathers through Isaiah the Prophet, go to these people and say, you will indeed hear, but never understand, and you will indeed see, but never perceived. For this people's heart has grown dull and with their ears they can barely hear, and their eyes they have closed, lest they should see with their eyes and hear with their ears, understand with their heart and turn, I would heal them. And this is probably not the best thing to say once people are in a disagreement about you. But also he is saying, therefore, would it be known to you that this salvation of God has been sent to the Gentiles? They will listen. And so then it, it ends with saying, paul lived there for two whole years at his own expense and welcomed all who came to him, claiming the kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ with all boldness and without hindrance. And I love reading this part of the Scripture because it truly feels like what's going to happen next? What's going to happen next is he going to get taken out. But truly the Lord is faithful in what he has said over Paul's life and how he has used him. And kind of what we had talked about yesterday, of being used by God, like being delivered, being rescued, and then going back into the same kind of feel, the same space, and the Lord being with us and caring us and delivering us. And so we see that faithfulness and that endurance in today's reading as well.

Prayer

So God, I thank you for today's scripture. I thank you for Paul and his life and his dedication to you. And I thank you that he wasn't afraid of man, that he truly had fear of God, and that that motivated him and carried him everywhere he went, and that he shared with boldness and assurance in who you were and who you are. And God, I pray that that would stir something in us, that we would desire to seek your kingdom first and that your kingdom would come on earth as it is in heaven. And I thank you for people like Paul, who are willing to follow you no matter what. God, I pray that that would encourage our hearts and motivate our hearts to do the same. I thank you for your word, amen.

Announcements

Dailyaudiobible.com is our website. That is the place of connection. You can see what is happening here in the community, get connected and stay connected. You can also go to facebook.com/dailyaudiobiblechronological and that's also another great place for connection. You can put some faces to the names and better connect through there as well. I know that's always a great place for people to connect and to have further conversations or to ask for. Yeah. So be sure to check that out if that's your thing. But that is all for today. I'm China, I love you and I will be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer Line

Hey guys, this is Leslie from Kentucky and I wanted to pray for Tanya Compressing, her husband who separated her ex husband I think lost a child, a 28 year old daughter. So I'm going to go ahead and pray for him. That blessed. Telling his husband helped him to cope, see it through his time of grief with losing his daughter. God help him to get through this terrible time and anyone who also so Chris has suffered breath, especially for the past year, helping to get through. But only you can really men broken hearts and help us get through time to loss. And this girl was a believer, helped them to help that she was nothing with you and she was never praying.

Hello DABC, this is Ashley from Texas. I just want you guys to know that some of the people that I am praying for right now are Lou and Trudy who have dementia and cancer. I'm praying for Dnt who are estranged from their parents and believed to be in some kind of cult. I am praying for I think her name was Jolie or Julie. She has MS. That one really spoke to me. Lynn, who has or might have bladder cancer and so many other DABbers. I also ask you guys for your prayers because I have been on maternity leave unpaid and God has made a way for my savings to be stretched. Now they are at their end and I don't get a full check until mid January. And so some bills this month and some rent next month are looking real shaky. But I believe God. So let's pray right now. God, in the name of Jesus, right now. I pray for the people I spoke to you about in the mighty name of Jesus. Lord, I pray that you move in these people's lives, save right now first and foremost and then heal in the mighty name of Jesus. Devil, I come against you in the name of Jesus and I rebuke you saying any plan you have for these people's lives, I rebuke you and I send you back to hell and I release God's love and God's mighty salvation and healing on every person I mentioned. In Jesus name I pray. Amen.

Dear Papa, alaska mom needs a neurology consult for her husband. Time is of the essence because they're down in Oregon only for another week and a half. By the time this plays, it will be less than that. Please provide this consult as quickly as possible and then please make whatever's wrong with her husband treatable. He had a fall. Please lord, please make this happen. You can make a way where there seems to be no way and where there's nothing happening. We appreciate this, Lord. Thank you for your outrageous faithfulness. We love you so much alaska mom, this is your friend Adrian in Maryland. We're sending you all of our love.

Hey, DABC. This is Christie from Ohio. Apologies if this is getting sent twice. I have a prayer request for my friend Chen. She's a Chinese international student, and basically she's finishing up her semester. And by January 1, she has to know whether she's going to stay in the States or go back to China. And she's finishing her degree. So it's either go back to China and try to look for a job or take additional classes and something else so that she can continue a student visa here, because she'd have to have a job immediately lined up, and that hasn't worked out yet. So she's trying to figure out those two decisions. So prayers for her with that. And also, even more importantly, she's not a believer. She's been going to my church, and she's seeking, which is really good, but prayers that she could trust the Lord as her savior. And some of us have talked to her, and she's just said that she's on a path to wanting to learn more and stuff. So prayers that she accepts Jesus. And also prayers for her decision, because it's about two weeks away now that she's or more, that she's got to make a decision. So thanks.

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 4 years ago

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I Don’t Wanna Do This Anymore - Bucky Barnes

Um, idk. All I can say is I love this man.

Warning: Suicidal and depressing thoughts throughout

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't that long since you'd been saved from Hydra.

A task to kill an Avenger didn't pan out to be so simple, especially when said Avenger recognized you, forcing everyone else to refrain from killing you no matter what.

It didn't take a lot of work to get you to remember Steve, he was your best friend once.

Thankfully, Hydra hadn't completely turned your brain to mush and you could quickly control yourself enough to not kill everyone you saw.

Yeah, you were saved.

But ever since, you haven't been doing well, mentally, at least.

You felt homesick, as fucked up as that was. Hydra was your home for years, and now you had to find a new normal, if that was even possible. But living in the Avenger's tower when you were rescued proved to be a bit difficult...

Everyone greeted you with a weary smile, often, obviously aware of your reputation. You found yourself annoyed, not even by the people, but how little your kill count was compared to others. Although, you were a bit more creative with your kills, that was probably it. It was hard to blame them for being scared of you, even you were scared of yourself.

Steve trying to reassure you was no help, even though you knew he meant well. There was nothing in the world that could reassure you, not when you could feel the fear and disapproval boring in the back of your skull when you walked through the halls of the busy tower. Even walking the halls at night, you felt your whole existence cringe at the thought of being someplace you knew you didn't belong.

You almost wished someone had killed you back when you were under Hydra's control. Maybe things would be easier if you had just been killed, then maybe you wouldn't feel how you felt every waking moment.

The only thing keeping you going was knowing that Bucky was alive.

Steve told you about Bucky when he thought you didn't remember anything back then, but you knew, you knew too much. You knew Steve probably wouldn't want to hear about how you remembered hearing his screams when Hydra first started their Winter Soldier experiments, about how he slowly started forgetting who you were. But, so did you.

Everything about being controlled by Hydra was agonizing, but the one thing that pained you to no end, even after regaining your memories? Being forced to forget Bucky, even if it was temporary, even if it was just for a second. That was absolute hell.

Lagos happened, causing the Sokovia Accords.

From your perspective, you weren't even an official Avenger and the government was already trying to control you. You'd been controlled enough, so the thought of signing your rights away wasn't appealing. Then again, you didn't do much anyway. And the one time you tried to help out, people died, even though it wasn't your fault.

So, you signed, immediately feeling like you had betrayed Steve.

Then the UN meeting in Vienna was bombed, and Bucky was being blamed for it. Steve thought he didn't, and frankly, neither did you. But Bucky was taken anyway.

Even with him in custody, you couldn't see him, which was a blessing and a curse.

You didn't know Bucky anymore. The feelings that you had for him back in the 40s seemed to fade away along with your mental state every time Hydra blended your brain. You still felt something for him, that much you did know, but you felt so detached from your emotions that you had no way to know what you were actually feeling anymore.

When Bucky broke out, you recognized all the signs that he was back to the Winter Soldier. He had a dead expression, not even hesitating to beat you down when you were in his way trying to stop him.

You felt guilty for not wanting to see him, even when Steve told you that he was himself again. You stayed in the building with Tony and Nat, listening in to Ross telling them they needed to capture Bucky and Steve. Of course, you had to let Steve know, ultimately choosing the side against Tony.

You might not have known him anymore, the both of you going through too much trauma to be as close as you were back then. But he was still Bucky, one of your best friends. So was Steve.

But during the fight in Germany, you kept your distance from Bucky. It might've seemed like you were afraid of him, afraid of confronting him after he hurt everyone in his path when he tried to escape.

It was sort of true, you were afraid, but not specifically because of him. You weren't afraid of getting hurt. It was a lot of things.

When Zemo used his trigger words, you felt guilty for being thankful it wasn't you he tried to use. You couldn't try to talk to your old friend when you had that thought initially. It was an awful, awful thing to think. But now, you were paying for it.

You were forced to hide out with Steve and the rest of his team that sided with him in Germany, but you never felt more alone.

You had nightmares every night, and they only seemed to get worse.

You were afraid of yourself, afraid that someone like Zemo would find you and say your trigger words, causing you to hurt the people you've come to care about. Meeting and getting to know all these people, you'd rather die than hurt them, especially Steve.

He tried to help you realize that Zemo was locked up, that nobody would be able to find you guys, but you couldn't help but feel scared, constantly looking over your shoulder. Knowing about Wanda's powers, you even went to her to see if she could do something to help you, to no avail.

You always avoided the mirrors in your room. You didn't like looking at yourself, you hated your face, you hated every part of yourself. When you looked in the mirror, all you saw was a disgusting broken creature undeserving of love. All you saw was every innocent person you've killed, your nightmares reminding you constantly of that. You didn't know how much longer you could go on being afraid of yourself.

Steve wanted to help you as much as he wanted to help Bucky, so it wasn't that much of a shock to everyone else that he wanted to send you to Wakanda.

You didn't know much about the place, you always thought it was a third world country, but your ignorance was definitely crushed when Steve told you about how technologically advanced the country actually was.

The first thing you asked was, "Will they be able to fix me?"

So you were shipped off to Wakanda, king T'Challa greeting you with a warm welcome along with his sister. The word "deprogram" came out of Shuri's mouth a lot, but you tried not to let it scare you. You knew this needed to happen.

Following Shuri to her lab that was in a more remote part of Wakanda along with a couple Dora Milaje, you found yourself looking around in search of a certain someone. You knew he was here, somewhere. You didn't know if he was "deprogramed" yet. You didn't even know if he was going to be in the building. You didn't know why you were so anxious to know if he was nearby, you'd most likely run the other way.

Shuri noticed how you twitched and squirmed nervously while getting ready to go through the first procedure, your eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Don't worry. If we can help White Wolf, we can help you."

Your brows seemed to furrow more in confusion. "White Wolf?"

"Oh, sorry. That's how we refer to Sergeant Barnes."

Huh.

"So, what it this treatment suppose to do?"

"It'll remove the response to the words Hydra used to control you."

"That's it?" You frowned slightly.

Shuri sighed, taking a seat next to you. "It's what's safest. I know what you're going through is painful, but if it'll be impossible to take away all of your emotional trauma without taking away everything about you that makes you you. Do you understand?"

Your gaze fell to the tiled floor, tears involuntarily welling up in your eyes. "At least I won't be able to hurt anyone..."

Shuri gave you a weak smile. "That's the plan. Shall we get on with it?"

You took a deep breath, and nodded.

Thankfully, any pain that might've been felt during the procedure didn't happen, as you were put under. A part of you wished you could've been wide awake, the control freak part of you wanting to know what happened, but you trusted Shuri enough to let her do her job.

You felt exhausted, but couldn't help but wonder what exactly the little genius did to you, but she stayed silent and gave you a cheeky smirk when you asked, which only frustrated you.

Shuri soon led you to where you would be stayed to recover. A small hut in an area that had a few more huts that you were able to call your own. It was a secluded place, far away from central Wakanda, the next closest village being only a mile north. So, you weren't going to be entirely alone, Shuri would often visit you to see how you were mentally, and you had to stay and meditate with a couple elders that would be staying in the vicinity.

All that was missing was one person, but Shuri already told you that it would be a couple weeks of daily check ins before you would be allowed to wander around freely, T'Challa's orders. You understood, it was good that he wouldn't take any chances. But you were stuck for now.

Before she left, Shuri gave you a box but you hadn't opened it until later that same night.

You tried not to scoff when you saw what the box held. Self help books? Give me a break...

You felt too broken for any sort of book to help you, no matter how many people would say it would actually be helpful. Perhaps you were too pessimistic, that's all you ever were these days. It had been so long, you couldn’t even remember if you were optimistic in the days before Hydra. It would be a bummer if you were like this all the time.

You thought, maybe, just maybe, if you saw Bucky again, things might be different. And finally, after a couple weeks, T’Challa gave you permission to roam about freely within the area he granted you, which happened to be the same area Bucky was in.

You wracked your brain over and over again if going to see Bucky was a good idea. Your heart wanted to badly to see him, but your brain always gave you excuses to doubt everything. What if Bucky didn’t want to see you? What if he’s afraid of you just like you’re afraid of yourself? The one thing that gave you that push was thinking another what if, what if Bucky missed you too? That what if question was something you had to find out for yourself, even if you didn’t like the answer.

You had to know.

Plus, you knew you had to face him eventually. You didn’t know it at first, but seeing him again in Germany made you feel a rush of emotions for him that you didn’t entirely understand. But now you knew, and you didn’t want to be away from him any longer.

You trekked towards him slowly, still not confident in yourself enough to actually go through with it, you wanted the chance to run away if you felt like you needed to.

You couldn’t help but lightly smile when you saw him. He helping a few little kids gather up hay for what you could only assume was for the rhinos that you saw, purposefully tossing bits and pieces of hay towards them playfully. You knew Bucky was always good with kids, you even imagined what it might be like to be a mother from time to time, but circumstances you found yourself in persuaded you to think it could never happen. But still, it was like a breath of fresh air to see Bucky still had that side to him.

You convinced yourself that you’d confront him another time, when he wasn’t busy. But it was too late for that, Bucky had seen you on the hill leading down to him. He thought about letting you go when you started to turn the other way, but he couldn’t control the sudden urge to call out to you.

“Hey.”

You froze dead in your tracks, slightly biting your lip in hesitation before you turned back to face him. You smiled weakly when you saw his slightly hopeful gaze. He stretched the corner of his mouth into a soft smirk, inviting you to meet him all the way with his eyes.

“Y/N.” He greeted, a bit nervously, when you finally made it down the grassy slope.

“Bucky.” You replied, your nerves coming across very clear in the waver in your voice. He furrowed his brows slightly. “What?”

“You never call me Bucky.”

You shrugged. “Then what should I call you?”

“You used to call me James.”

You nodded with a breathless chuckle. “That was mostly to annoy you.”

“Well, I didn’t really mind when you said it.” He smirked, but it fell when he quickly noticed your covert face of discomfort. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, almost amused at how well Bucky was able to read you like a book after all this time. “No, it’s okay. I’m just not...used to it anymore, I guess.”

Bucky frowned. He knew what you meant. All this time not being able to have a normal conversation, one that wasn’t barking orders or advising on when would be the right time to kill whenever you two were on missions together. He understood your usual banter from before wasn’t something that you could just jump back in to. It took a while, but he eventually learned how you worked, especially when it came to talking to people.

Bucky looked over you subtly, taking in all your nervous ticks that you still had the habit of doing, ones that he always thought were adorable in their own way. He could tell you weren’t the same, both of you changed, but seeing you act in a way that you did even before Hydra, it was refreshing.

“You also used to call me doll dizzy.” Bucky smiled fondly.

You mirrored his smile, remembering how annoyed he’d get. “You were quite a ladies’ man back then. But I don’t think calling you that now would suit the time we’re in.”

“Since when have you ever followed social pressures? You’re the one who wanted to join the army right along little Steve. I was so pissed when you got assigned to our mission.”

“Ah, you were just mad that I could beat you in a fight.”

“Could you now? I have no memory of that ever happening.”

“Well, I’ve always said you have selective memory.”

“Don’t recall that either.”

“Like I said.”

Bucky smiles, chuckling. “I do remember I could beat you at an arm wrestle.”

“No way that ever happened.”

“Now who has the selective memory?” He teased. You chuckled, looking down to the ground as you placed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re also wrong about me being a ladies’ man.” He said, making your raise your brow. “You were the only dame I had eyes for.”

You felt like the blood in your body went straight to your cheeks, you could probably slap an egg on your face and it would cook from how hot your face felt. Damn him, he was always good at making your blush, that was always something you missed, but you hated how scared it made you now. “Bucky...I-” You sighed, not knowing how to respond, if you should respond at all. You didn’t know how to do this, you didn’t know how he could just go back to the way things were, you didn’t know how you could keep up with him.

“I’m sorry, I keep doing that.” He huffed. “I don’t know how to talk to you anymore either, if that makes you feel any better.” He laughed sadly.

“I’ve thought about this, for a long time.” You started softly. “I knew it would be hard. I don’t...I don’t even know how to live anymore, much less have a playful banter with someone. It’s like I have two separate lives, both fighting for control and I-” Your voice wavered, stopping your spiel as you tried to fight off tears.

“Y/N...” Bucky moved closer to you, cautiously, the last thing he wanted to do was spook you.

“I don’t know how to do this...I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” You admitted tearfully.

You let Bucky envelop you in a warm hug, even with one arm he made you feel safe. “You’ll get through this. We both will. With Shuri’s help, we don’t have to hurt people anymore.” He whispered, pulling you closer. “We’ll get through this together.”

“I’ve missed you so much. I don’t want to leave you, Bucky.” You cried into his shirt, holding him close.

“You won’t have to, ever again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ha, I’m sad 🤙🏻

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #this is too many tags

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

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You are my sunshine (Finn x GN reader)

What is this? This is 7/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is from @phoenixhalliwell and is Finn with “You think something is wrong but I simply have a huge crush on you and turn to jelly whenever you’re around.” Emma, thanks so much, and I hope that you like this! <3 I don’t write Finn often so I dearly hope I did him justice!

Author’s note: Finn! He’s precious. He deserves everything! Hope you enjoy this- there’s a little bit of angst but it’s followed by fluff. Everything ends well <3

Word count: 3k. You had all better be proud of me for writing something less than 5k :P

Warnings: lil bit of angst (reader thinks Finn is mad at them). Trapped in a cockpit but no danger / not claustrophobic or anything. Slight reader insecurity. It’s pretty light tbh :o)

You watch Finn leave with a sharp pang of pain. His excuses are becoming more and more elaborate, and it’s wearing thin.

“Sorry, I have to go and deal with a porg infestation on the Falcon.”

“I can’t hang around, Leia’s fuming mad at Poe - he made some crude Outer Rim innuendo during the briefing and she is pissed.”

“I can’t play sabacc anyway because... because I got dust in my eyes on the mission and everything is blurry.”

“I have to run and...” and then he, in fact, ran away from you.

Alright, the first two were feasible, but that last one, especially? Pretty kriffing flimsy.

It was beginning to sting a little. Alright, a lot. You and Finn usually hung out, whenever he was around on base. You always had, ever since Finn had taken control of his fate and been welcomed by the Resistance.

Since then, you had become his first real friend, and when everything was scary and new to him, you had held his hand. Literally- Finn was always reaching for you. For comfort. For reassurance. To demonstrate his fondness of you. Just because.

Of course, he’d settled into the Resistance like he’d always been a part of it, and had quickly formed a range of new friendships, including with Poe and Rey - all the cool kids on base. Of course he had. The man is likeable, courageous, and he has sunshine in his heart - despite being raised in the shadows. The strength of his light is so powerful that it blinds you sometimes. So, he’d made other friends, but you had always been his first, and his best.

At least, until now.

Recently, Finn’s touches and warm hugs and light had begun to retreat from your sky. You miss his bright brown eyes and his beaming smile desperately. You miss your movie nights and long chats. You miss laughing until your sides hurt. You miss the way he can turn anything into an adventure. The way he really listens when you talk, and his good, brave, generous heart.

This distance? It is more than a natural drift - it is more an intentional break. Intentional on his side, at least. Most definitely not on yours.

You don’t know why. You don’t know what you’ve done wrong…

…But you are determined to find out.

And, if Finn won’t talk to you off his own back, you’ll simply have to concoct some flimsy excuse of your own.

***

That’s exactly what you do, yourself and Finn now sealed together, alone, in the cockpit of some old cargo ship.

“You’ve trapped us in here?!” the man exclaims, voice loud and ringing with a rising panic.

“No,” you sigh, defeatedly. You don’t want to panic him - you just want to talk to him; without him running away. “You’re not trapped. Obviously, I’d never actually...” you trail off as you watch Finn urgently button-bashing on the control panel by the door, clearly pretty desperate to leave. “I just thought…” you explain, raising your voice a little to be heard over his rising and increasingly vocal frustration. “It was supposed to be a chance for us to talk.”

Finn turns towards you, all this energy coiling in his body, practically bouncing on his toes in his rush to get out of there. He looks as though the prospect of talking to you fills him with dread.

Your face drops. You should have realised this was a bad idea.

“We talked this morning,” Finn defends, weakly. Yeah, for all of two seconds. “Can’t you open this thing?” he pleads, throwing his thumb towards the door.

Fine. Whatever. If he’s that desperate to flee from you, so be it. Maybe you need to accept the fact that things aren’t the same between you anymore. Maybe never will be. Your heart aches in your chest.

Your shoulders slumping, you push the Jedi-in-training and all-round Resistance hero aside, punching the unlock code into the panel.

It beeps angrily in response.

A furrow in your brow, you try again.

“Oh, kriff.”

“What is it?” Finn asks from over your shoulder.

This is fine, actually. You have a back-up. Except, you pat your belt for your communicator, remembering at the same time exactly where you left it in the hangar.

“Okay,” you turn around to face him, your face locked in an apologetic grimace, hands raised in surrender. “So, we may actually be trapped now, but I would like to emphasise this was very much not The Plan.”

Finn purses his full, brown lips together, in entirely transparent irritation, an ire brewing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” you say defensively, though you note that your friend, Finn, would have found this funny -made the best of it- and the Finn is front of you now is someone else entirely.

“Being stuck here with you is the last thing I need right now,” Finn says into his hands, the words muffled, and yet their meaning perfectly -and painfully- clear.

Oh. Okay. That’s how it is?

You take a step back from him, wrapping your arms around yourself and rotating quickly away to face the transparisteel window. His harshness feels so alien to you, and bitter tears sting in your eyes, which you don’t want him to see.

“Kriff. That’s not what I meant. It came out wrong,” Finn says softly from behind you, and you finally hear the familiar kindness infusing his voice. The kindness you’ve been so desperate to enjoy again these past weeks. “What I meant was... was...”

Your back to him still, you raise your arm in the air. “Save it, Big Deal. You don’t want to talk to me? Let’s not talk,” you bite, your voice low and taut.

You’ve given Finn the benefit of the doubt for long enough now. Maybe this was a problem you shouldn’t try to fix. He obviously likes things precisely as they are.

Finn, for his part, hovers beside you, clearly apologetic, but you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you focus all of your energies on popping open the console, pulling out the wire guts, and looking for a way to open this damn door.

He may have been running away from you, but now you’re the one who wants nothing more than to get out of there.

You had wanted to talk, but all of a sudden you don’t want to hear it. You can’t take one more flimsy excuse without breaking.

***

You’d tried everything. Banging on the door, waving out of the viewports. Trying to find a hatch to escape out of. There was nothing left to do but wait for your data patch to run. You’d linked-up some wires and an old data-pad to the controls, and it was simply a matter of time before your program loaded, overriding the door panel and thus letting you out of there.

Unfortunately, the small matter of time is proving problematic. It has already been about an hour, and the screen indicates your program is only about 75 per cent through -blasted old tech- and you’re not sure how much longer you can endure this fraught, awkward silence.

Save for your escape attempts, you and Finn still haven’t spoken, and, eventually admitting defeat, you have each sunk to the floor on opposite sides of the cockpit, your knees drawn-up to your chest and backs pressed against the walls of the cool metal chamber. Now, the increasingly cool metal chamber, as the afternoon draws on and the suns begin to sink below the horizon.

You sigh.

“Why are you avoiding me, Finn?” you finally ask, firmly, bringing your eyes to meet his. “And, I beg you. No more kriffing excuses.”

Finn’s knees are drawn-up too, and his elbows resting on top of them, fingers weaving and fiddling together somewhere in the middle as your question finds him.

He purses his lips together once more, his bright, expressive eyes brimming with trepidation, his hand coming up to self-consciously brush against the tip of his rounded nose.

Eventually, his head drops down, until you’re only looking at the top of it. He’s growing out his tightly-coiled, black hair on the top, sides closely cropped, and you idly note that the length suits him. There’s nothing else to note, as he still isn’t saying anything.

Still, when you take a step back from your anger and your boredom, you recognise all the signs of him being anxious, now that he can no longer run away from your questions.

“It’s not what you think,” he sighs, and you shake your head in continued frustration and look sharply away, up and out of the viewport.

And, in the continued absence of an answer from him, your insecurities begin to fill in the blanks. “You know, Big Deal, you don’t have to hang around me just because I’m the first person you met.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Finn’s head snap up to look at you, distress shining in his eyes. You ignore it. “If you’ve decided this friendship isn’t what you need anymore, I can take it. I just wish you’d stop bullshitting me. I deserve better than that.”

Then, you try to suppress it, but you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep warm. You’ve felt chilly for a while now, but you have desperately been trying to conceal the fact.

Without missing a beat, Finn slips his -Poe’s- jacket off from his shoulders, shuffling closer to you, without rising from the floor. As he shrugs it off, he reveals nothing but a white, ribbed vest underneath, tight over his toned figure, and tucked into his belt at his waist. The vest sits in contrast with the deep brown of his skin, the bulge of his cultivated muscles evident in his strong, densely-packed shoulders and arms.

This? This is precisely what you’ve been trying to avoid. You feel warmer already.

Regardless, he moves to your side, kneeling next to you, and he pauses when he gets there. Hesitates. He lifts his finger, running it ever so slowly over the textured goosepimples on your forearm. “You’re cold,” he states, his voice so deep and rich, and his touch and his proximity sending a shiver through you in an entirely different way. You’d like to argue, you really would, but he weakens you, his sudden warmth melting you quickly after his long absence, and you let him guide you forward enough that he can drape his jacket around your shoulders. It is still warm from his body heat. It smells like him.

You wanted silence, but this is the kind that you don’t like; tense, albeit in a different way.

“Thank you,” you say thinly, expecting Finn to pull immediately away again. But he doesn’t.

Instead, his eyes go a little wide and afraid, even as he sets his jaw determinedly. He reaches his hand out, ghosting it slowly down the length of your arm, until he has scooped one of your hands up and flattened it in-between his own broad, warm palms.

Holding your hand.

You’ve missed that so much.

You watch Finn in gentle puzzlement, as his pink tongue nervously swipes out over his bottom-lip. And, with your eyes gently encouraging him to go on, he finally blurts it out. He finally says what he’s been keeping from you.

“I have a huge crush on you. I turn to kriffing jelly whenever you’re around me.”

Your hand suddenly becomes clammy, held in-between his. Your heart quickens.

Wait, what?

“I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” he says, his eyes soft like distant starlight. “It’s just, I panic. I know I like to pretend I’m all smooth...” he chuckles self-consciously, that laugh sounding from deep in his chest, and oh boy, you’ve missed that sound too. You’ve missed that gorgeous pearly smile, which blooms tentatively on his face.

“Smooth?! You do a terrible job of that, Finn, no-one’s buying it,” you tease, but it’s fond, your free hand settling on top of his, and your eyes crinkling with reciprocal joy as his beautiful broad smile widens, his face full of sparkle and light.

“Oh? Okay. That’s how it is?” he laughs.

You’ve missed this. Have missed him.

That’s it? That’s all it is? He has a crush?

After a few moments, the two of you apparently basking in relief -on your part that you haven’t done anything wrong, and on his, that his confession is finally through- his smile naturally falls from his lips; however, it lingers in his eyes, that gentle starlight back again.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. I just… kept messing everything up around you. I didn’t want you to think I was the biggest dumbass on base.”

“Oh, Finn, honey-” you grin, and he completes the sentence with you, nodding, and a big chuckle falling out of him. “Poe is the biggest dumbass on base.”

Isn’t that the truth?

You simply look at each other for a moment, all this starlight swirling in the space between you.

“Come here,” you say softly, finally, unable to resist, and you shuffle on to your knees so you can lean forward and give him the biggest hug, your arms folding around his sturdy, muscled form. It feels so good to close this distance, especially after so long. Especially as no-one on base gives better hugs than Finn, you are reminded, as he holds you.

“Are we... cool?” he asks apprehensively, into your shoulder as he squeezes you tightly, and you pull back from him, your hands still resting on his shoulders and his weaving under, settled around your waist.

“We’ll always be cool, Finn. It’s going to take more than that.”

“Yeah?” he smiles happily. “Good, because I missed you so kriffing much. I have so much to tell you.”

“And I want to hear it, but first,” your mouth tips up into a smirk. “Can I kiss you now?”

Finn’s eyes widen in shock and he makes a bunch of noises – broken, flustered syllables and consonants, his eyelashes fluttering in disbelief. He’s sunk into his relief so readily, that he must have forgotten entirely to entertain the idea you might like him back.

Your hands trail all the way down his toned arms, until you slowly fold his hands into yours, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Play it cool, Finn,” you tease, giving him a quick wink.

He schools himself, and even as you notice a hard swallow bob down his throat, and he lets out a long, slow exhale of breath through the circle of his lips, he makes use of his classic bravado. At least, for long enough to get some coherent strings of words out.

“Yes please. Y-yeah. Kiss me. You... should do that.”

Too many words.

So, you inch forward, and you press a fleeting, light, chaste kiss to his impossibly soft lips. Just enough to shut him up, before dipping your head back, giving him time to respond.

He looks at you sweetly, in shock for a moment, but, before you know it, his lips are chasing yours with a whole new confidence, and his mouth twitches-up in a smile as he meets you again. This time, the kiss is not fleeting. This time, it is drawn-out; a slow, sensual, gradually deepening thing. He hums against your mouth, the sound low and reverberating through you, and, as the kiss grows, his broad hands slowly and safely lower you down against the cockpit floor, arranging his jacket under you so that your skin needn’t touch the cold metal - only his warmth.

When you break for air, he settles himself over you, strong arms holding him up, his eyes shining with disbelief and adoration. He looks at you in a way that says – yes, you may have been his first friend, but that, maybe, you could be his first love as well.

As he gazes down at you, your hands wind up around the back of his head, skimming lovingly over his textured, raven hair, and readying to pull him back down to you, eager to drink more of him in. To feel more of his skin against yours. However; you are cruelly interrupted by a harsh sequence of beeps, indicating that the door is finally unlocked. Finn briefly twists his head over his shoulder, confirming with a look.

“Power’s back on- we can get out of here now,” you say breathily from under him.

“Nah,” he says, with a subtle smirk and a shake of his head, apparently not wanting to move anywhere that would shift his warm body from on top of yours. “I think we should stay here a little longer, how about you?”

“Fine by me, Finn,” you agree quickly, beaming back at him, like the moon reflecting sunlight, basking in his warm glow.

His eyes narrow for a moment, searching yours, and he rolls you both on to your sides, your thigh coming to land over him, and his warm hand begins to stroke you there, as his sweet, languid kisses continue to find you in succession, his breaths coming more quickly, his need unravelling. “Is this okay?” he asks, pausing momentarily to skim his thumb over your cheek and down under your chin. “How are you feeling?”

While Finn seems relatively calm and sure right now, you are suddenly feeling like jelly. “Shaking. Nervous,” you admit, your words trembling out of you.

He nods a little, like he could tell. Maybe he could feel you tremble against him, or maybe it’s deeper than that. Maybe it’s the Force. You certainly feel like something deep and powerful is eddying between you.

“It’s okay,” Finn promises softly, his voice breath, and planting a small kiss to the tip of your nose. “If you want to keep going, I’ll be here to hold you.”

Your eyes shine with happy tears, and this time, when you drag him enthusiastically to your lips, your legs wrapping more tightly around him, you know that you need not be nervous at all. It has always felt right whenever he reached for you, ever since the beginning; and now is no exception. It is so much more than him holding you physically – you feel safe in his arms in every way you could.

You had missed him so deeply, not only because you have a huge crush on him right back, but also because he is your friend. And while he may not have been your first? He is certainly your best.

Finn is your sunshine, and you are endlessly pleased to have him back; to see him shining.

#finn star wars #finn x reader #john boyega #finn (star wars) x reader #star wars imagine

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fadedflame · 3 years ago

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The Deep Dark Blue Epilogue

Detroit: Become Human Prompt Challenge from @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Summery: Lieutenant Hank Anderson had been a naval officer for years. It was his life, his passion, everything he cared about now. And yet, all it took was one look from the tiny Mer child to make him willing to risk it all.

Epilogue

Words-1216

Chapter Summery: Finding a new normal.

< Previous Chapter

Ao3 or read below

"You know," Jeffery mused to Hank. "When I let you keep Connor, I didn't think you were gonna start collecting them."

Hank leaned on the ship's railing, a smirk turning the corners of his mouth. “Can’t expect me to break up the set,” he quipped. “Besides, it’s your own damn fault. You didn’t even try to fight me on this one.”

“As if you would’ve listened,” he grumbled. “I swear, you pick up stray kids like they’re orphaned ducklings.”

He did sort of have a point, Hank would give him that. Sort of. “To be fair, I really don’t think Nines counts.”

“How the hell do you figure that?” The almost insulted tone of the Captain’s voice made him laugh.

“Easy,” he responded with a shrug. “Nines isn’t too sure about humans yet. He doesn’t see me as his dad.”

Jeffery just rolled his eyes. “I don’t care, Hank. He’s your kid and he’s still your responsibility.”

“Alright, fine you win,” He pushed himself from the railing. He really should go check on his boys anyway. Connor was out of danger, but his slow recovery was keeping him confined below deck. Nines was diligent about keeping an eye on him. “I already convinced the kid to start wearing pants, what more do you want from me?”

Jeffery’s expression did not give enough credit to what that ordeal had entailed. “I expect you to keep him in line. If I recall, he bit Gavin just yesterday.”

Ha, yeah he did. That was something he wished he’d been filming. “Ok, yeah. But in Nines’s defense, Gavin was asking for it. Literally. He said ‘bite me’.”

“It’s not a joke, Hank,” Jeffery scolded. “Keep him under control, or he has to go."

It was an empty threat, there was no way he would actually make him send Nines away, but he couldn't really blame him for being frustrated. The boys may look nearly identical but that just made their difference in personality that much more striking. Connor continued to be his sweet and polite self. Nines, on the other hand, was borderline feral.

Sure as hell didn't stop him from loving them both.

"Yeah, yeah," Hank agreed dismissively. "Don't worry, I won't let him slip his leash or anything."

As if talking about him had summoned him, Nines chose that moment to poke his head up from below deck. He scanned each passing human warily, like he expected to need to defend himself at any moment.

The crew, thank god, were kind to him. They gave him space, thought he suspected some of them just didn’t want to get bit, and spoke to him pleasantly. A few, like Tina and Chris, went out of their way to make him feel welcome, though he was not entirely receptive to it.

But he was making progress. And damn if Hank wasn’t proud of him.

He knew Nines was looking for him, but didn’t appear to be in a rush, so it couldn’t be an emergency. He had seen the boy when there was something to actively worry about and it was downright panic inducing. So, while he was calm, he would let Nines come to him leisurely.

Still, he could tell the second he caught sight of him. His eyes locked on with a predatory focus that would unnerve him if he didn’t find it oddly endearing.

“Hello, Nines,” Jeffery greeted him as he approached.

Hank could almost see his thought process as he processed the sentiment directed at him, then dismissed it as unimportant. “Connor needs you,” he said simply, ever straight to the point.

For Jeffery’s sake, Hank tried not to find his clear annoyance at being ignored too funny. “Well,” he said to his Captain. “You heard the kid. Gotta go take care of Connor.”

“As if you weren’t already going to do that,” he waved him off dismissively. “Go on, get the hell out of here.”

Hank grinded to himself as he followed Nines below deck. He did have to be grateful to Jeffery, the man really let him get away with a hell of a lot. He took advantage of them being friends more than he probably should. But he also knew from experience that if it were an actual problem, the Captain would talk to him about it.

Nines pushed the cabin door open silently, revealing a slightly disgruntled, but coherent and healing, Connor. He was sitting on his cot, propped up by multiple pillows. The sight of his son alive and on the mend always warmed Hank’s heart.

“Nines,” Connor complained. “I told you not to get dad.”

Heaven forbid anyone expect the force of nature that was Nines to do as he was told. He ignored Connor’s protest and climbed up onto the cot next to his brother and wrapped himself around him like a protective curtain. Connor, ever the cuddler, leaned into the embrace.

“What’s going on, kiddo?” Hank prompted. Nines had to have thought he was needed for something if he had come to retrieve him. “How are you feeling?”

"I'm doing ok, just bored," Connor admitted with an exasperated sigh.

Nines tucked Connor's head under his chin. "Fix it," he demanded.

"Alright, let's get something straight," Hank scolded, grabbing his tablet off of the desk. "You may not listen to orders, but you sure as hell don't get to issue them. You understand?"

He got a low, threatening hiss in response.

“Nines!” Connor said aghast. “Don’t hiss at Dad!”

Hank laughed lightly. Connor sincerely didn't seem to mind how unhinged his brother could be, unless it affected the other crew members. He scooted himself onto the cot to join his boys. It strained judgmentally under the added weight, but he knew it would hold a hell of a lot more.

“Ah, that’s just how you show affection, right Nines?” he teased. He settled himself so his arm reached around the both of them and made a Connor sandwich.

Nines made an annoyed grunt, but didn’t protest to either the statement or the hug.

Connor settled himself happily between the two of them, but winced slightly as he moved, probably pulling on his still healing wounds. Hank did his best not to fuss. He knew there was nothing he could do to ease Connor’s pain, nor did the kid want him to worry, but he wanted nothing more than to make everything better.

“You ok?” he still asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, finally getting comfortable. “Just sore. I’m ok.”

Nines wrapped his arm around him, drawing himself impossibly closer, apparently sharing Hank’s sentiment of wanting to help in any way possible. Hank pulled the blanket around the three of them effectively turning them into a tightly packed burrito.

“Alright, now the important part,” Hank sighed contently, pulling up the tablet. “What are we all gonna watch?”

The boys debated on it briefly, both of them perking up with the idea of watching a movie and eager to have their choices considered. It was nice, seeing them act like… well, boys. His boys. Yeah, maybe Nines didn’t quite see him as his father, maybe he never would. But he was sure as hell Connor’s brother, and that made the three of them a weird little family.

Hank wouldn’t have it any other way.

#dbh hank #hank anderson #jeffrey fowler #dbh connor #dbh nines #detroit become human #dbhthedeepdarkblue #dbh fanfic

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bigballofstress · 4 years ago

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To Share an Armchair (Tom Holland x Actress!Reader)

Description: You and Tom appear on Conan to promote your new movie together, Spider-Man: Homecoming. Little do you know, Tom has a bit more planned than your usual run-of-the-mill interview.

Prequel to The Interview

I took a deep, nervous breath, my hands wringing together as I looked out into the absolutely packed audience.

“You’ll be fine,” a warm, comforting presence appeared behind me. I turned quickly to see my best friend, Tom, smiling down at me. “They love you, and you love them.”

I smiled a bit. He always seemed to know just what to say to make me feel better.

Tom and I had been working together since the filming of Captain America: Civil War, where I’d played another of Tony’s young recruits. Now, with the new Spider-Man movie coming out, we were sent to advertise the release. So, there we stood, on the set of Conan, ready give yet another interview. Except, this time, we’d be promoting the movie by ourselves. “I’m just not very used to going out there without an older cast member or producer or something,” I sighed.

“Just be your usual funny, witty, charming self, and I promise you that everything will turn out well,” Tom reassured me.

I nodded firmly in an effort to strengthen my resolve. “Thanks, Tom.”

“Anytime, sweetcheeks,” he grinned. I rolled my eyes playfully at the cheesy nickname that he had taken to calling me ever since our second week of filming, claiming that my ‘cheeks were too sweet to be called anything else.’

“And now, please welcome Tom Holland and (Y/N) (L/N) to the stage!” Conan shouted. Tom walked out, and I quickly followed. The lights were practically blinding, and my ears were ringing from the very, very loud cheers. I shook off my fears and muscled my way past the almost overwhelming scene to grin and wave with both hands to the audience before moving to take my seat.

The only armchair available was already occupied by a certain web slinger. I pouted and crossed my arms. “I was going to sit there!”

“Well, I’m already here. Sorry, sweetcheeks,” Tom smirked up at me, settling further into the very comfortable looking chair.

I frowned. “Aw, c’mon, Tommy! Pleeeease?” I tilted my chin down and sent him my best puppy dogs.

Tom shook his head. “Hey, you can sit anywhere you want, but I’m not moving.”

My lips immediately quirked upwards. “Ok!” I quickly responded before plopping myself down sideways across Tom’s lap with my legs hanging over the other armrest. His hands reflexively went to my waist in an effort to stabilize me. Tom stared at me in shock, and I just grinned back triumphantly.

I turned to look at Conan, who was watching the whole ordeal go down with an amused smile. “Hi, Conan,” I grinned.

The tall man chuckled. “Hi, (Y/N).”

I had to flip my head upside down to look at Andy, as the armrest that my back was leaning against was the one facing him. “Nothing personal, I just really wanted the chair.”

Andy scoffed in fake hurt. “Yeah, sure. Just pretend you’re not repulsed by me.”

“Well, I am a pretty good actress,” I shrugged, pretending to think it over.

Conan barked out a laugh, and I grinned, straightening back up and settling further into Tom’s lap. “So I guess (ship name) is real?” Conan chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows.

My face went bright red, and I scoffed. “Yeah, just about as real as Candy,” I bit back in an attempt to misdirect from my extreme embarrassment.

Conan laughed his big belly laugh again. “No, (Y/N)’s just unbelievably stubborn is all,” Tom added with a slight shake of his head.

“I’ve heard a few rumors, though, about the two of you,” Conan continued. “A lot of people are talking about a recent incident involving gymnastics?”

I groaned and hid my face in Tom’s chest. “Yeah, she was just so graceful,” Tom chuckled.

I hit his arm with a pout. “Oh, shut up. It really hurt, ok?”

Tom grinned and turned to Conan. “You see, we’ve had a wager going on for quite a while over who was the better actor. So, when we got off set early one day, we decided to prove it once and for all. We each invented a character for the other to play. I was supposed to be a foul-tempered, incredibly avid fan of some sort of predatory bird--”

“The eagles, Tom,” I rolled my eyes. “You were playing a fan of the Philadelphia Eagles. Anyways, Tommy here had decided to make me a world class gymnast. You know, because I’m so experienced.”

“Whoever was revealed to be lying about their identity first would lose the bet,” Tom continued. “And he or she would have to do one thing the other asked, no matter what it was.”

“It didn’t go very well,” I sighed, cringing slightly at the memory. “And I still maintain that I won, by the way!”

Tom shook his head. “Not a chance, sweetcheeks. You see, we were talking to a wonderful young lady on the street when I noticed (Y/N) getting a bit excited. Turns out, she’d noticed a Philadelphia sticker on the woman’s bag. So she started raving about how much I loved the Eagles and all of the Philadelphia teams. Naturally, I began talking of her supposed experience in gymnastics. The woman was rather impressed and asked if she could see her do a flip.”

“Meanwhile, I can’t do any sort of gymnastics to save my life,” I scoffed. “So instead of flipping, I asked Tom what sport the Eagles play.” The audience laughed a bit. “He couldn’t respond, and voila! I win!”

“Not quite,” Tom chuckled. “That woman didn’t say a word until you tried to do a flip and landed directly on your bum. She caught you first, pointing out that you weren’t a gymnast. Only afterwards did she say I had no idea where Philadelphia even was.”

I frowned. “Yeah, but she knew you were faking it first.”

“Those weren’t the rules, sweetcheeks,” Tom grinned. I rolled my eyes.

I’d barely taken notice of the loud laughter until Conan spoke up again between chuckles. “Here’s a clip from the new Spider-Man: Homecoming in theaters July 7, check it out!”

While the clip played, Tom grinned and poked me in the side. “You know, I still get to ask you that favor.”

“Fine, I concede. What do you want, Holland?” I rolled my eyes again.

“You’ll see in just a moment,” he answered, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I snorted softly in an attempt not to laugh over the preview being played. “What the heck was that?”

“I was being mysterious!” He defended.

“You looked like you’d lost all control over your facial muscles,” I smirked.

Tom frowned, but before he could reply, the lights came back on. So instead, he turned to look at our host. “Conan, before we go, can I ask a favor?”

Conan nodded. Tom gently picked me up while he stood, placing me back in the seat. He walked towards the edge of the stage. I leaned over to Andy. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?” I stage whispered.

“Yeah, but I’m not telling you. You didn’t want to sit next to me,” Andy responded with a humph, crossing his arms. I laughed at his antics.

Tom had returned by that point. In his arms was the most adorable little creature I’d ever seen in my entire life. “This is Firestar,” he said, holding up the absolutely precious chocolate lab puppy. “She’s incredibly stubborn, so I thought you two might get along.”

“Tom, I can’t believe you!” I squealed, accepting the puppy without hesitation. She immediately started trying to lick my face.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to call in that favor you owe me.” I glanced up at him suspiciously. Tom just smiled. “Go with me to the premier? As my date?” Tom stood before me nervously, his cheeks bright red, while he anticipated my answer.

My eyes widened, and my breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t believe he’d actually just asked me out. Of course I had fantasized about this, but I never actually thought it would happen.

“Say yes!” I random shout from somewhere in the crowd startled me out of my trance.

My face broke out into a huge grin, and I nodded quickly. “Of course I’ll go with you, you big dummy!” I said, hiding my immense excitement behind the small joke.

Tom’s nervousness melted into happiness, and he rushed forward to hug me, taking care not to crush the puppy between us.

“Tom Holland and (Y/N) (L/N), everybody!” Conan shouted above the cheers. “Now officially (ship name)!” The cheers and screams got even louder, and I laughed, almost having to cover my ears. We were both soon ushered off the stage to make way for whoever was next to appear on the show.

When we finally had a minute to breath, I turned to Tom. “I can’t believe you got me a puppy,” I laughed. My smiled was still plastered to my face, and I had a feeling it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“Everyone gets flowers,” Tom shrugged. I laughed and shook my head. “So there is one other thing I need to know before we can go on a date.”

My brow furrowed slightly, and my smile wavered. “What is it?” I asked warily.

“What color is your dress? I have to know what I’m matching my tie to.”

I pursed my lips in pretend anger, despite the smile that still managed to peak through. “You jerk, you really had my scared!” I hit his arm.

“Ow!” Tom complained. He grabbed my hand as it was gearing up to hit him again and pulled me into another hug, still softly chuckling my hair. I grinned and cradled my new puppy to my chest, who’d already fallen asleep after all the excitement. I was going to go on a date with Tom Holland. Maybe I’ll even get to be his girlfriend!

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland reader insert #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #avengers cast x reader #avengers cast #avengers cast reader insert #avengers cast imagine #avengers cast x you #avengers cast x y/n

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dokoni-mo · 5 years ago

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Far Away, Together || Darth Vader x Reader (Chapter 2)

(A/N: Hello hello again! Welcome back to my fic!! This is chapter 2 of this series, and the first chapter can be found ||here|| if you want a refresher/need to catch up! Thank you all who decided to give my previous chapter some love. I hope that y’all enjoy this one just as much as the last :) )

WARNINGS: cursing, some bullying, otherwise none

Key: (F/N) = first name, (L/N) = last name

Word Count: ~3700

Edit: Link to Chapter Three: [x]

You only saw him with passing glances for the next few days.

He would come to your department, walk around like he owned the place (which, to be fair, he did), peering over the shoulders of other mechanics or officers that interested him or he found to have useful info. You would know he would walk in when you heard the woosh of the doors opening, followed by his heavy, mechanical footsteps alongside his breath. If you preened your ears hard enough, you could sometimes make out his voice above the sound of clanking metal, sparks flying, and the murmur of other worker’s voices.

He hadn’t come by personally to you within those days. When he came in, you would always pause your work, push your goggles up your forehead, and look over at him. Most of the time, he would either carry on walking, or pretend not to see you (you assumed, at least). When this happened, you would let out a small sigh then resume your work. You didn't know whether those sighs were out of relief, or out of disappointment.

When he did meet your gaze, however, it would often cause him to pause for a brief moment or walk a touch slower. When the dark pools of his mask would meet yours, your nerves would send a brief, painless shock through your veins as a way to say, “Hey, (F/N)! Get your head out of your ass and acknowledge Darth Vader.”

As a returning message, you would either flash him a small smile, give a small salute, shrug subtly, or give a small thumbs up. If you were really feeling adventurous, you would even do a combination of two or three of those. These little gestures would get you a little gesture in return, oftentimes a nod.

You had only made a modicum of progress to the overall repair of the TIE Advanced over those days. The only thing that you had fully completed was the welding of some obvious pieces of metal that needed it. You were now working on rewiring the main computer of the craft, a challenge that you had found very tricky the further you delved into the task.

Even as you gave all your focus to repairing Lord Vader’s TIE, you would still notice the small changes around you. The other mechanics would watch you as you worked, sometimes even mingling in little groups and whisper about you like you were back in secondary school. This, you could deal with. Let them gossip like some stuck-up teenagers, who gives a shit? However, in extreme cases, you would break from your work to retrieve a new tool from your bench, only to find it missing.

With this, you would sigh defeatedly. After your two-second self-pity party, you would lug over to the stations of the other mechanics, asking them if they had seen your tool.

They would always say no.

Today was one of those extreme cases. However, it was more extreme today.

Were you proud of yourself today? Yes, you were a little bit, for a change. Today you had finally gotten the computer to turn on for, get this, a whopping five seconds! This was a major improvement over the zero seconds that it turned on when you first received the craft. Seeing as though you had only looked at the wiring only immediately inside the control station of the craft, you realized that you would have to go in deeper into the TIE to completely fix the computer. This would require a special wrench that you had.

Stepping out of the inside of the craft, you headed to your workbench to retrieve the tool. You sighed.

How unexpected. It was gone. Why did you even bother trying, again?

You took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose with one hand and placing the other one firmly on your hip. You had already awoken that day with a headache, and you sure as hell didn’t need another one.

After collecting your thoughts and composing yourself, you took a look around at the stations of your peers. One of them surely had to be using your wrench. And sure enough, someone was. Of course, they had not asked permission, But you quickly decided on not causing a huge scene. Do your job, don’t get in the way, (F/N).

Clenching one of your fists, you made your way over to the station of the wrench-thief. You knew this mechanic decently well; well enough to know his last name. Mechanic Cage. He was only slightly taller than you, skinny, and had a douche-bag voice. Pompous asshole.

Cage was kneeling by the side of a broken-down speederbike when you walked up to him, his right side facing towards you. When you were within conversation distance between the two of you, you stopped and placed your hand on your hip, letting the other dangle to your side. Your go-to confident-yet-casual battle stance.

“Cage,” you spoke out, looking down at your fellow mechanic, “Have you seen my wrench? The one we use for computer repairs?”

The skinny mechanic only gave you a side-glance of acknowledgement and a smirk as he listened to you talk.

“No,” he responded, his voice soaking with sarcasm and amusement, “Haven’t seen it at all, (L/N).”

This was a blatant lie. You knew this because he was using the damn thing right in front of you, twisting the tool away right in front of your face. This son of a bitch you thought to yourself. He was toying with you. You relished in your annoyance only for a brief moment. You had work to do.

“Cage,” you said shortly, “You’re using my wrench right now.”

“Oh, am I?” the little shit responded.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Yes, you are. Can I please have it back? It’s important.”

Cage stood up at this, holding the wrench tightly in his fist. He looked down at you, a smear of venom in his eyes. You challenged him right back, looking straight back up at him with an expression that could only be described as please for the love of God shut up and give me my shit back.

“Why should I, (L/N)?” he asked, his shoulders tense, “You have plenty of wrenches at your station already.”

“Yes, I do, but I need that one, Cage. I can’t go farther in my work without it.”

“Oh, my, I am so sorry!” Cage cried sarcastically. The feigned sweetness in his voice made its way to the back of your throat, making you frown. “My apologies for assuming that the great mechanic (L/N) could make do without it.”

What? Did this kid mistake death-sticks for his breakfast ration?

“I have no idea what you’re talking-” you had tried to say, only to be cut off by Cage’s finger poking your shoulder hard enough to make it fall backwards.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, (L/N). Don’t think just because you were assigned to Lord Vader’s ship you’re suddenly better than all of us. We all see how you walk around now like you’re hot shit. We all got jobs here fair and square, just like you did. Our officers are insane to give you that job anyway, newbie. It should’ve been one of us who have been here for years, not some little girl who played with the teddy-bears on Endor.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. Talk about someone who woke up on the other side of the bed that morning. Sure, you knew that Cage was a lowkey douche, but damn. You wanted to shove his shoulder right back. You wanted to cause a scene. It wasn’t your fault that the officers decided to give you Lord Vader’s TIE. Even you thought that it had been a mistake. Who was Cage to remind you of this?

You tamped your anger down deep inside you. Letting yourself let it out would only cause trouble. Do your job, don’t get in the way.

“Look, Cage, can I please just have my wrench? Just give it back and I’ll leave you alone, alright? We never have to speak again.” You pleaded with him, letting your tired voice slip out of your throat. Why did you feel like crying?

“Running away, eh?” Cage spat back, flexing his lip in disgust, “Whatever. Sorry to knock you off your high-horse, Princess.”

With that, Cage threw your wrench to the ground. You watched it as it bounced a few times, then spun and skidded across the floor a few more feet. Why did you feel like crying even harder?

Biting your lower lip, you mumbled out a quiet, hasty thank you before turning and walking over to your wrench. Keeping your chin lowered, you allowed your eyes to wander. Peering at the other mechanics, you noticed that they were lumped into one of three groups. Group one: those who paid no mind to what just happened. Group two: those who saw and looked at you, but offered no sympathy. Group three: those who saw and were now whispering or giggling quietly with the others. How great.

Now standing over the wrench you had gone on this epic quest for, you let out a sigh as you knelt down and picked it up. You remained in your crouching position for a moment, turning the tool over in your soft hands over and over, staring as the metal reflected the blinding lights of the hangar.

You contemplated breaking down and crying right there, but you weren’t sure why. Yes, people who you thought you could at least be friendly with were being mean to you, but since when did you care? You didn’t know these people’s first names, nor where they were from or even the color of their eyes. Why do you suddenly care about how they treated you? How they saw you?

Your rhetorical questions were answered with another question, of which surprised you when it shot through your brain.

Why weren’t they more like Lord Vader?

You considered that maybe you had been the one to mistake your breakfast rations for death-sticks that morning, not Cage. What did you just think? Lord Vader was notorious for being cold-hearted, mean, and unforgiving. A perfect example of the might of the Empire.

Yet, when he had met you that night…

You closed your eyes and frowned. No. You were wrong. You were just not thinking straight because of your headache.

You finally rose from your kneeling position, your knees cracking in excitement to return to a more comfortable position. As you rose, you let your eyes wander again. This time, they fell upon one of the windows that lined your workplace. Immediately, your cheeks turned pink.

Speak of the goddamned devil.

There he was, standing in the window, watching. His frame nearly encapsulated the whole thing, reminding you of his size once more. The face of his mask was pointed in on the hangar, seemingly looking right at you. His cape was draped over his shoulders, allowing him to assume his all-too-famous silhouette.

After a brief pause of your movements, you realized that you must look like an idiot standing in the middle of the hangar staring at the sith lord. Thinking of something quick, you decided that a combination of a small, half-hearted smile and a diminutive wave. He gave you no gesture back.

Letting your smile drop, you carried the wrench back to your station. As you walked back into the TIE Advanced, you glanced over to see if Lord Vader was still in the window. He wasn’t. Gone, without a trace.

As you resumed your work, you couldn’t help but wonder if Lord Vader had seen your encounter with Cage.

~~~

You decided to stay up and work again that night.

As soon as the last officer had left the hangar, you couldn’t help your giddy smile show as you threw off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor below you. You hated that thing. Always got in the way of your work.

You had made some good progress since your scuffle with Cage earlier. You had gotten the computer to turn on for about three minutes now! Wow, this will totally keep Darth Vader from dying instantly in the middle of space.

Although it was a small amount of time, you thought that it might be just enough for you to run a diagnostic.

When you fiddled with the wires again and heard the computer come online, you quickly tapped a few buttons to tell it to run a diagnostic. When you got a beep of confirmation, you smiled and whispered a quiet YES! as a celebration. Oh boy, tonight was an extra-ration night for sure.

Seeing as there was nothing you could do in the meantime, you allowed yourself a brief moment of rest while the ship searched for any internal problems. You stepped over to the circular opening that Lord Vader had cut into the ship and sat down, your legs dangling over the edge of the circle. Letting out a content sigh, you relaxed your shoulders and closed your eyes, letting your head roll back for a brief moment of relaxation.

As you let yourself relax, you also had let your mind wonder, a brief moment of meditation so-to-speak.

I wonder what this damn computer is gonna spew back at me. I hope nothing too bad, this ship is already in bad shape as it is. What should I do tomorrow? What was with Cage today? Did I take one of his rations by accident? Lord Vader hasn’t come by yet. Maybe I should apologize to Cage. I miss Endor. Will Lord Vader come by tonight? I wonder what mom and dad would say about Cage if they were here. Did I weld that together? Am I doing a good job? Did Lord Vader see…

Lord Vader.

Your moment, of course, was quickly interrupted. The sound of the door to the hangar opening, mechanical footsteps, and all too familiar breathing filled your ears, acting as one of the rudest alarm clocks you had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

You were frozen for a moment. You didn’t know how to conduct yourself. Should I jump down? Should I pretend to work? Should I pretend I didn’t hear him? Should I just stay still? Should I-

“Miss (L/N).”

Your gaze shot up, your eyes widening a tad as you looked upon the sith. Sitting atop of his TIE allowed you to be at more his height, but you still felt small by comparison. His hands were wrapped around his belt, his shoulders gently rising and falling in sync with his mechanical breath as he stood, looking unquestionably right at you.

You had to gulp before you could choke out anything.

“My Lord!” You decided to say, pushing yourself up to raise from your seated position. You quickly stopped, however, as he raised his hand to you.

“You may skip the formalities for tonight, Miss (L/N).” He rumbled out, allowing his hand to meet his belt once again. “You know why I am here.”

“Yes… Yes, of course.” you responded. You cleared your throat before speaking again.

“Since our last meeting, my Lord, I have made good progress. I have welded together any bits of metal that were in obvious need of repair, as well as replace some of the plates that I could do easily. I have also gotten the central computer to come back online for a short while. I’m running a diagnostic of the ship as we speak.”

“Good.” He said, “I commend your efforts, (F/N) (L/N).”

The small sentence of praise from him sent a shiver up your spine. A compliment? A real compliment that you could tell was real and not back-handed or sarcastic? Unbelievable. Want it even more unbelievable, (F/N)? It came from Darth Vader. Should you go to the medical bay in the morning?

“Thank you, my Lord.” You decided to say, your voice small and quiet and your gaze faltering.

You were relieved when you heard the ding of the computer go off behind you. You were relieved that the diagnostic was actually able to finish, but even more relieved that you had something to busy yourself with that wasn’t having a championship staring match with Lord Vader. You mumbled out a quiet pardon before turning, retrieving your datapad to read the report the computer relayed back to you.

He let you poke at the blue light for a moment before speaking again. “Anything of note you wish to add with your findings?”

“I… I won’t know what the problems really are until the morning, my Lord.” you responded, weary to look up from the blue rectangle before you.

He said nothing in response. It made you want to scream. How he would stand before you, watch you, speak to you made your body react with shivers, an increased heartbeat, and muddled thoughts. It was as if he had consumed your entire being, making you think of nothing but him and his ship.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t like it, deep down.

It was an awkward while of you proding in your datapad and him steadily breathing before either one of you spoke again. It was him who broke the silence. He was the braver one, after all.

“Tell me, Miss (F/N). Do you enjoy your job here?”

Literally everything about that you didn’t expect.

He wanted to know about you? Why? Was this some sort of test? Mandatory survey? And Miss (F/N)? First name only? This had to be some sort of dream. You hadn’t been referred to as first name only in so long, it sounded so foregin to you.

You looked back up to the sith lord. His stance had not changed one bit.

“It’s…” You said slowly. You had to take a moment to think about the continuation of your sentence.

You really had to think about how you would respond.

You could play it safe. Say that you absolutely love it, (F/N). Yes, my Lord, I love my job AND the empire! We are legion!!

As quickly as that thought came, it left. That would be a lie. You didn’t love this job at all.

You thought deeper. You thought about the few acquaintances you had. You thought about the rations they gave you just to keep you alive and working. You thought about the uniform you hated and how hideous it made you feel at night. You thought about how you loved to fix things. You thought about the interactions you had with Cage. You thought about Endor. You thought about your parents. You thought about life before the Empire. You thought about home…

“It’s… acceptable.” You said eventually, resting your gaze on Lord Vader’s mask again. Your eyes were soft as you looked at him. They said everything that you had meant by those two words. He recognized that look of dealing with what you have, and missing what you had long ago. He would never admit this out loud, but deep, deep down in the bones he had left, he felt a twinge of an old feeling he had, long, long ago.

“I... understand.” Darth Vader said flatly, his deep voice rattling your frame.

You didn’t know why, but you couldn’t help but smile at the dark lord’s response.

For some odd reason, you did truly believe that he understood.

~~~

Probably the second rudest alarm clock you had ever had to experience came the next morning.

The sound of a firm, hard, jolting knock woke you out of your sleep, making you gasp. When the knock came again, you hastily rubbed your eyes with one hand and shoved the blanket that adorned your cot off your body with the other.

“C-Coming!” You called out sleepily, your voice thick and heavy with sleep.

Breathing deep, you made your way over to the door of your quarters, slapping the button on the side of the doorframe to open the sheet of metal separating you from the outside.

“Miss (L/N).” a familiar voice said, forcing you to un-squint your eyes and look up at it’s source. You quickly assumed an attention stance as your brain processed who the voice belonged to. It was the officer from a few days ago, the one who had given you the assignment for Lord Vader’s TIE. He looked just the same as before, datapad in his hand and everything.

“Y-Yes sir! How can I help you?” You asked, trying to force the sleep out of your voice.

“Well, Miss (L/N), now that I have your attention,” the officer said, “I have come here to give you your promotion.”

“Pro...motion?” you echoed. Were you still asleep?

“Yes, promotion, Miss (L/N). Your new position, effective immediately. You will no longer be working in your respective hangar. We have moved your assignment and tools into your new workspace for you to start there this morning.”

“I’m… My apologies, sir, but I’m not sure I understand…Could you tell me exactly what my new position is? This may be some sort of mistake and-”

“There is no mistake here, Miss (L/N),” the officer interjected, folding his hands behind his back, “You are repositioned, effective immediately. You now seem to be Lord Vader’s personal mechanic.”

Fucking what?

“Do not look so shocked, Miss (L/N),” the officer continued, a hint of amusement in his voice, “It is only natural that you receive this position. Lord Vader has expressed his interest in you personally, saying he will accept no one else for the role. Your new station will be Lord Vader’s private hangar just past the area of his quarters. You are to begin work there every morning from now on. You will be one of the few people allowed in and out of that area, so do be careful of keeping your privileges in line. You should be happy, Miss (L/N), you have proven to be a valuable asset to the Empire.”

TAGS: @spaghetti-666 , @soullesstaco , @arsonistvoyager , @robin-obsessed , @glitter-rian

#darth vader #darth vader x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #fanfiction

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 5 years ago

Text

Anxiety | [Fem!Reader x Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Inspired by a post by @bluegalaxygirl

Notes: This is brought to you by my social anxiety and my thirst for Obi-Wan Kenobi, yaaayy. Also, I have literally no clue how to write feelings.

Fandom: Star Wars

Warnings: Angst, Anxiety, Self-Doubt, Self-Conciousness, slight OOC, Fluff

Summary: Y/N has only recently become Obi-Wan’s padawan and she is struggling with her social anxiety and her relationship with her master, so she has a panic attack. Luckily, Obi-Wan himself comes for the rescue.

Word Count: 3868

________

She knew that her master would most likely disown her if he found out what she was doing right now. Obviously. Because emotions were prohibited. But she couldn’t control it. Not at all.

Y/N had always been alone. She didn’t join the order when she was an infant. She had lived for 13 years on her own on a small planet in the outer rim. She didn’t even know the name of the ice planet. The life in the tundras had been lonely but she felt comfortable. With the help of the force, she was able to survive just fine. Then the Jedi came.

Master Yoda brought her to Coruscant, introduced her to the council and decided that she should start to learn with the other younglings.

The first mistake he made.

Y/N had never met any children, nor any group that consisted of more than 6 people. Having companions was new territory and being exposed to a huge amount of people for the first had caused her to lash out with the force. By accident, she not only hurt some younglings but also herself. The scars on her arms and left cheek would always remind her of that moment.

That’s when the wise Jedi grandmaster decided to teach her the basics himself. Alone. To help ease her agitation. It was a good idea. Y/N did approve after all. She studied the Jedi, learned the lightsaber forms, meditated. She was a good student, and Master Yoda was proud of her. But then the Clone Wars started and he had no time for teaching her anymore.

So he made his second mistake.

He decided that it was time for her to become someone’s padawan. “Why can’t you be my master?”, she had asked him, her voice void of any emotion but not because she learned to properly follow the code. She had just learned how to hide them. His answer left her intestines churning and she was ready to shut herself in her room. But the Jedi obviously didn’t let her.

“Your new master, this is.”

And that’s how she got introduced to Obi-Wan Kenobi. A formidable Jedi with great patience and a humorous character. A kind soul.

From whom she was hiding right now.

Y/N had been his padawan for two months but she didn’t progress far. Her training went well, that was not the problem. Since they were alone when they meditated or trained. No, the problem was her social anxiety.

Meeting the clone troopers for the first time caused the panic attack she was having right now. They were supposed to have a meeting for an upcoming mission but Y/N ditched them. Not intentionally she’d like to say but that would be a lie.

She had already stood in front of the meeting room’s door but she couldn’t enter. Her legs felt like jelly. The padawan tried to calm herself but it was no use.

Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears and she had trouble breathing. Her hands were clammy and she felt uncomfortable because she had broken out in a cold sweat. Footsteps were coming closer and she heard the voice of her Master from inside the room. A shaky breath escaped her lips and she whispered “I’m sorry” before she bolted.

She hid in her room. Not the best place of course, since he would probably search for her here, but there was no other place that calmed her down. Asides from Master Yoda’s side. But the council member was gone on a mission and he would probably also be disappointed if he found out about her panic attack.

Currently, she was leaning against her bathroom door and tried to meditate. But she couldn’t concentrate on her breathing because it felt like she was suffocating. “Don’t worry, Master Obi-Wan will understand”, she would tell herself but that only frightened her more. Because no way in hell would he understand! She had been living in the temple for 2 years but hadn’t met more than 8 people at the same time, not since the accident.

Every time Master Yoda tried to take her to one of the lessons with the younglings, her scars began to hurt. It wasn’t painful since she got used to it but it broke her concentration and seemingly also her spirit. Y/N couldn’t focus with the tingle that went up her arms and the force around her became unstable.

The same was happening now. She could feel it. The air around her felt heavy and made it hard for her to breathe.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

She choked the words and tried to hold back a sob from her throat. She wouldn’t cry, because she couldn’t. It wasn’t allowed. And the code was the only thing that stopped her from falling into misery. So she clenched her teeth and tried to stop whimpering.

But thoughts of her master finding her invaded her head and tears threatened to spill.

He would be disappointed. Y/N didn’t worry about him hating her, no. She wouldn’t mind that. But disappointing him was far worse.

She knew that Master Kenobi disliked the idea of having to train a new padawan shortly after Anakin Skywalker, especially during the times of a War. He never showed it of course. But somehow she could feel it. Maybe it was because she had always lived alone, only with the company of animals, who could show their emotions with the force. But she was able to feel to a greater extent than others apparently.

That’s how she knew. That he would most likely spare her a glance and then abandon her. It made sense. She was not fit for a Jedi after all. They were supposed to be the stars of the republic, the peacekeepers who helped every civilian. But this meant that they would be in the light. But her life wasn’t made for that.

She was always meant to stay in the shadows. Where the darkness was calming, reassuring.

Maybe she should just give up and leave. Going home, to her real home, on the unknown ice planet, seemed like a good idea. It was a welcome one.

Y/N didn’t realize how she spiraled deeper down in self-doubt and self-consciousness. But surprisingly she calmed down a little. The thought of returning to her house, that was actually an old transport ship, relaxed her muscles and she could breathe better again.

But then it hit her. She had no money. And in fact, she didn’t even know the exact location of her home planet. Master Yoda never told her. Maybe be knew that she would waver!

Dread fell over her and she let her head hang low. Maybe he never trusted her at all. And when he had enough he cast her aside and let another person take over the dead weight. How Obi-Wan Kenobi must suffer with her as a padawan.

Shame made her cheeks burn and the tears welled up again. But this time they spilled over. Y/N clenched and unclenched her fights slowly. Her fingernails dug into her palm and the pain distracted her from the salty tears that rushed down her cheeks. The scars on her left one throbbed.

Maybe, just maybe, if she curled up and stayed in that position, she would just fade into the darkness and everyone would forget her.

“Have you seen my padawan?”

Obi-Wan was currently walking back and forth in the meeting room, his hand thoughtlessly on his lightsaber while he worried about Y/N. He knew he didn’t give her enough attention and the guilt ate him alive but like Anakin assured him, he was busy with the war and her shyness wasn’t helping with that.

“Your padawan? You know we’ve never seen her face before”, teased Anakin and Ahsoka gave her master an annoyed look.

*No, but… A girl was standing before the meeting room when I arrived half an hour ago”, she replied and Obi-Wan immediately stood a little straighter.

“Did she have h/c hair? And a scarred left cheek?”

Ahsoka tilted her head and tried to remember. “I didn’t see her face but she had h/c hair, yes. But she walked off in a hurry so maybe it wasn’t her.”

Obi-Wan remembered how the young girl always stormed off after their lessons as if she was running from something. He was sure, the person Ahsoka saw, was his padawan.

Why did she walk away? He knew he told her that the meeting started at 1100. Did she forget something? That didn’t seem likely.

“I know your padawan isn’t here, General Kenobi, but we should start anyway. We cannot leave the senator waiting”, said Captain Rex and he nodded in defeat.

The meeting began and they discussed their strategy but Obi-Wan couldn’t quite focus. He remembered the first time he met Y/N. How her young eyes were strangely dull.

The girl was a little shy according to Yoda but he learned fast, that this comment had been an understatement. When they walked to their first training lesson she said nothing. No word left her lips and the Jedi had wondered if she disliked him.

But when they fought he realized that she was nervous. Her attacks were timid and had almost no force and he began to wonder if it was the right decision to say yes. After all, it was only an offer, Yoda didn’t order him to take Y/N as his padawan. He had to admit that he even doubted the grandmaster’s judgment a little. But the girl proved to him that she was a good student. Technically.

Her skills were sharp when she fought against a training droid, she used form four like Master Yoda which surprised him since it was an offensive style. But he never saw her do it when they fought against each other. He wanted to tell her that she could use Ataru but her apprehension also made him hesitate and he felt like he couldn’t talk freely to her. If he needed to be honest, it was a little uncomfortable.

It was strange that he had problems adapting to her but to be fair, Anakin had been completely different when he was her age. It wasn’t just because she started her training a few years later than him, it was also her character.

From what he had learned in the first month, Y/N liked to stay secluded and isolated herself from others at her age. She got embarrassed easily and he often felt like she was like a scared animal that would run away if he made a wrong move.

And there was something else. Sometimes the force would radiate from her. It was as if a pipe had been opened and all her feelings were flushed out through the force. He couldn’t explain why but he never told the Jedi council about her emotions. Obi-Wan told himself that they weren’t concerning but when he stood there in this meeting room with a bad feeling in his chest, he changed his mind.

“…ood, then let’s conclude this meeti-”

“Thank you, Anakin, I’ll see you later. Goodbye”

With these words, he walked out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he picked up the pace and decided to look for Y/N in her room. It was the only place that seemed to make sense for him. Hopefully, she would be there because if she wasn’t he wouldn’t know where else to look. This realization just showed how much he neglected her and shame and guilt made his heart heavy.

He decided that they needed to talk. It would be hypocritical to spill their emotions when they were supposed to not let themselves be swayed by them but this was about their relationship as student and teacher. He wanted to apologize from deep within his heart. Obi-Wan realized that he had been a bad master for her and he knew that it needed to change.

So he hurried to the south wing, where Y/N’s room was located. He walked up the stairs and as soon as his foot stepped on her floor, he paused.

The force felt weird on this level of the temple. Unease filled his chest and his hand found his lightsaber, since touching it always calmed him down.

His intuition told him the dread that filled the air had something to do with his padawan. He walked down the hallway and stopped before her door. The nameplate next to it was dark, which meant there were no lights on in the room. But he didn’t turn away. He could feel her presence through the force. She was here. And she was hurting.

Worry coursed through his veins and he knocked on the door.

“Y/N? Can we talk?”

He waited a few seconds but there was no response. He knocked again. This time louder.

“Y/N, please. I-”

Obi-Wan stopped and waited, hoping she would answer but the silence remained.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

He didn’t expect a response, so he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get any. With the help of the force, he opened her door and stepped inside the room. Like the nameplate indicated, the lamps were off, but the big window let enough light inside for him to immediately see that she wasn’t here. She wasn’t laying in her bed, or sitting at the table studying, how he often found her when he was coming to pick her up for training. But the shift in the force was stronger than ever, so he knew she was here. The only place that was left, was the bathroom.

And not much to his surprise, its door was closed. He crossed the room and stopped before it. Now that he was standing so close, he was able to hear sniffles. The sound crushed his heart and he regretted listening to his former padawan so much.

Deep down he had known that what he was doing was badly hurting the young girl but he told himself it would be fine. He forgot how fragile and sensitive people were. Maybe the war had made him heartless. The anxiety he could feel through the force shook him to the core. He tried to steel his nerves but the emotions flowed through him and left his body numb.

“Y/N?”, he asked, his voice was soft.

He heard a breath hitch and the sniffles died down. She noticed him, now all she needed to do was talk to him.

Y/N almost died then and there.

He found her. Obviously. But she had hoped with the naive belief that he wouldn’t. She tried to suppress the sobs and quiet down but it felt impossible and honestly, she didn’t want to. There was a brief thought that she should just let it all out and show him how miserable he made her feel.

But the idea vanished as soon as it appeared. It wasn’t his fault. She was the one who was scared of other people, of interacting. It wasn’t normal, she wasn’t. He was just unfortunate enough to get paired with her.

“Leave me alone.”

Y/N only whispered it and it was almost inaudible but she was sure that he had heard her. He would definitely leave now. Leave her behind like her parents did, how master Yoda did, like everyone d-

“Let me in, Y/N. Please.”

Her heart missed a beat. Master Kenobi’s voice was soft and had a pleading undertone. She could sense genuine worry radiating from him through the force. Worry, guilt and also regret.

When she felt all these emotions, she couldn’t stop the sobs anymore. She pushed herself up and crawled away from the door. Maybe he sensed how she moved away, maybe he didn’t, but the door opened with the help of the force and she could see the blurry shape of her master standing in the doorway.

The light from the room shined in and outlined his features as if he was one of the republic’s posters coming alive. He looked like a savior. And the thought of him being that for her filled her heart with something she couldn’t describe.

He approached her and knelt in front of her. She could see his worried eyes through her tears and the warmth that radiated from his presence in the force. It felt familiar and surprisingly it made her feel like she was safe. Maybe she was allowed to cry some more. Maybe he allowed it until she calmed down and then he would just bring her to the counci-

“I won’t leave you alone anymore, Y/N. I’m sorry. I neglected my duties as your master and made you suffer.”

He held out his hand but paused as if he wanted her permission first to touch her. The padawan sniffled.

“I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan saw that as a cue and lightly touched her shoulders. The moment when his fingers touched her robes felt like a storm abruptly stopped. She stared at him with wide eyes. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to apologize but she suddenly threw herself into his arms.

Y/N cried into her master’s beige robes and her hands were shaking while she hugged him but she didn’t care. She sensed it when he touched her. He genuinely wanted to help her, to ease her pain. And for her, who so desperately wanted somebody to understand her and lend her a hand, it meant the world.

The Jedi was stiff at first since it rarely happened that somebody threw themselves into his arms, but when he felt her shaking hands and how wet his robes got from her tears, he raised his hands and returned the hug. His left hand stroked her back while his right pressed her head closer to his chest.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Y/N.”

The moment was intimate but he didn’t mind. If he could calm her down this way, he would gladly continue until she didn’t need him to do it anymore. Her body slowly stopped trembling and the sobs died down. Her voice was raspy when she said:

“I’m sorry that I didn’t attend the meeting.”

A small laugh escaped Obi-Wan’s mouth. He ruffled her hair and smiled slightly.

“Why would you worry about that? I found you having a breakdown in your bathroom, I believe we have other priorities.”

She nodded and looked up at him. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks slightly red from embarrassment. He let go of her and Y/N backed away until she sat leaning against the bathtub. He watched how she fiddled with her fingers, unsure of what to say.

Her Master then noticed that the force around them had calmed down. The anxiety was partly still there but it felt like an echo. Y/N then took a deep breath and said:

“I’m scared.”

He looked at her but he didn’t say anything, worried that she would stop before she even has properly begun to explain.

“I- I’m scared of people. I can’t really explain why but meeting a group is really stressful for me. It’s… uh… It’s like I feel like everybody’s looking at me and judging me and I can’t, can’t handle that well”, she started and avoided eye contact with him.

“I’ve always been alone and suddenly that changed and now everybody’s expecting me to hang out with all those people and there are so many clones and their feelings and emotions are all over the place, and I get all sweaty and I can’t prop-properly breath and it’s just… I don’t know… too much. It’s too much for me. I’m not used to be in the spotlight. I know that sounds arrogant because I know that not everyone is looking at me and watching every move I make but I just can’t stop from feeling like they do. And I’m feeling all this fear and anxiety and I can’t handle them knowing that what I’m doing is against the code and I feel like a failure, I am a failure and it’s… Maybe Master Yoda was wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought me here.”

Y/N knew she was rambling and when she finally stopped to take a breather she looked up and watched her Master’s expression and when she saw his confusion, she regretted telling him.

“This… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, let’s just forge-”

“Do you feel the same with me?”

Master Kenobi’s question made her pause and when she searched his eyes for any disappointment or disdain she couldn’t find any. His words left her wondering. Was she feeling the same with him?

“No…”, it sounded unsure, but she didn’t add anything because she really wasn’t completely sure.

“Let me try to rephrase what you just said, okay?” She only nodded. “Am I correct when I say that you have anxiety when it comes to social interaction?” Again, he received only a nod.

Obi-Wan touched his beard and pondered over what he had just heard. Many things made sense now. Why Y/N was always studying alone, why she ate in her room instead of the cantina and why seemed like she was dying every time he saw her in a room with more than 3 people. But he still didn’t really understand why she had problems with that.

He searched her eyes and when she returned the eye contact he smiled softly and then said:

“I can’t really understand you, but”, he held up his hand when she tried to interrupt him, “I want to understand. And I want to help. I’m sure that the force will guide us both and I believe that, as master and padawan, together we can face your fear and ease it.”

Y/N leaned back, her shoulders relaxed and she let out a breathy laugh. Sneakily she wiped away a tear that threatened to spill again.

“That would be great… Master Kenobi.”

The Jedi’s smile widened and he put up his finger as if he wanted to warn her.

“I would prefer it if you call me Obi-Wan, at least in private.”

The padawan nodded and together they slowly stood up.

“Let’s try”, she added and her voice was quiet but he could hear the determined undertone.

“There is no try, padawan, only-”

“Do or do not, I know that one.”

He raised an eyebrow and then patted her shoulder smiling. It felt a little awkward but then her master interrupted the timid atmosphere:

“You said ‘their emotions are all over the place’. Does that mean you can sense feelings? To what extent?”

Y/N paused. Him speaking about her ability made her feel shy again.

“Uhm… I can tell what a person is feeling without concentrating too much. As long as I want to know, I can sense it clearly.”

Since the light was still not on in the bathroom and he turned away, she couldn’t see his expression but she felt embarrassment radiating from him. Maybe it was because of the moment they had just shared but she suddenly wanted to tease him.

Yet she didn’t. Not wanting to destroy the thin thread of a bond that they formed today.

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kryzobi-wan · 4 years ago

Text

Dancing in the Dark

"What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?"

---

Just a whole lotta touch-starved, lonely Ben Solo feeling a lot of feels when the Force decides to connect him to Rey <3 Completely self-indulgent Reylo angst and fluff. Plus a little slow dancing 🥲

Read on AO3 | Read on FFN

Ben Solo had learned what it meant to be lonely. Growing up surrounded by droids instead of family taught a kid that particular lesson pretty quickly. Still, that aching longing for human connection never quite left him, even after so many years of immersing himself in the cool, unfeeling darkness in hopes that it would drown out that part of himself. He had everything he had ever wanted, he tried to convince himself. Power, control, strength… it should have been enough.

But that flicker of light—of warmth—within him that he never could quite get rid of felt like the piercing, burning bite of a lightsaber wound on his flesh. If the light was supposed to bring comfort and peace, then why did its presence hurt so much?

After his solitary childhood and early adulthood, it shouldn’t have been possible to feel any more lonely than he already did. Then she had come crashing into his life, entangling their respective destinies in a mess of unacceptable feelings and emotions, and leaving Kylo more unbalanced than he had ever been since joining the First Order. Her light had illuminated the truth of every crude approximation of connection Kylo had forged over the years in his chosen place of belonging. Where once the officers of the First Order, the Knights of Ren, even Hux, had provided some semblance of stability and companionship, he now saw them for what they were: hollow, resentful beings who couldn’t care less if he lived or if he died.

For a few brief moments he had thought that Rey might fill the gaping hole this realization left in the very depths of his soul. How naïve that had been. Now she had left him, scorned him, and he was truly on his own, with not even the sickening but constant presence of Snoke to keep him company.

Weeks passed. Hux had finally stopped reprimanding Kylo for his failure on Crait, and in fact hadn’t spoken to him in days, leaving him without even that sense of consistency. In the quiet isolation of his chambers, the weight of his father’s death at his hand finally settled firmly on his shoulders. With Snoke gone, his recollection of that fateful moment came with a different kind of clarity that was most unwelcome. This kind of introspection was dangerous, and he did his best not to entertain it. But he was weak. His thoughts involuntarily drifted to those peaceful moments in his childhood—as rare as they were—where for just one moment he thought his parents might really care, that he wasn’t truly alone. The ache of soured happiness came attached with those memories, now that he had been disillusioned from their lies.

Looking at him now, it was hard to believe that he had once believed in the beauty of the galaxy. Ben—Kylo—remembered a time when the stars seemed brighter, the air more pure and refreshing. When he could feel the bubbling of joy and frivolity in his chest, giving him the sensation of weightlessness as he passed through life ignorant of how truly alone he was.

Oh, how he longed for that beauty.

He had always been drawn to such things. The artful strokes of calligraphy, flowing from the tip of his pen. The feeling of soft, green grass between his fingers, and the touch of cold, crisp water on his toes. The gentle lilt of music playing somewhere in the distance, the tune floating through his bedroom window as he closed his eyes in sleep.

What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?

There was no such thing. Kylo Ren could never be worthy of it. Every beautiful thing he touched met its end sooner or later. He was poison to it, so fundamentally contrary to everything it stood for that it could be corrupted by his mere presence.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Rey had closed their connection. Since that moment on Crait when she looked down on him in his defeat, he had only seen her a handful of times, and only long enough for her to scowl at him and shut him out.

So he was alone. As usual.

Wandering the halls of the new flagship star destroyer, Kylo was acutely aware of this fact. Some days were worse than others, but this was bad as it got. Something inside him was begging for someone—anyone—to see him. To remind him that he wasn’t just some ghostly apparition with no corporeal form.

Not a single passing trooper or officer acknowledged him.

Perhaps it was his own fault. After all, you can’t have both the fear of your subordinates and the good opinion of them. He had chosen what made sense for the leader of an army, and he refused to consider any other option. He was the Supreme Leader of the First Order. He did what he had to do.

As it turns out, it’s lonely to be the one on top of the pyramid.

Kylo passed by a group of stormtroopers, his cape billowing behind him. They seemed to be celebrating something, perhaps one of them had received a promotion or passed a particularly difficult round of training. They patted each other on the back, excitedly chattering in low whispers about whatever it was that spurred this reaction. Despite the armor and helmets, he could see the camaraderie they shared. They were happy.

That was enough to trigger another episode.

They were coming more frequently now. It was different than his bursts of anger and violence, where he could reach some sort of catharsis by tearing apart his immediate surroundings with the slash of his fiery weapon. This kind of attack did quite the opposite, causing him to shut down completely, barely able to move or speak until he could manage to calm himself down to an acceptable level. His breathing quickened and he was forced to grab onto the wall to stabilize himself.

Kylo sucked in a deep breath as he willed the prickling of tears in his eyes to go away. He felt exposed without his mask. His traitorous expressive face betrayed every emotion that he felt, leaving him vulnerable. He couldn’t let his subordinates see this weakness, or he’d be ousted by a mutiny before the end of the day cycle. No, he had to get away before he went catatonic. Stumbling and suddenly dizzy, Kylo made his way toward his chambers. The lights on the walls and ceiling swirled in his vision like the flash of stars through hyperspace, and it was all he could do to remain upright as he burst into his quarters and shut the door behind him. Immediately upon entering, he ripped his cape and the outer layer of his tunic off, feeling suffocated by them. Removing his heavy boots, he focused on the chill of the cold durasteel floors seeping through his dark socks, connecting him to his surroundings.

With a flick of his wrist, he turned out the lights and collapsed onto the nearest chair, resting his head atop his knees, and clasping his hands behind his head as he tried his best to stop trembling. He allowed the quiet darkness to envelop him like a blanket, hiding the tears as they streamed from his eyes.

Whenever this happened, it felt as if the air around him was pressing inwards as it slowly crushed him. He needed something real, something physical to ground him. No matter how tightly he clutched at his own body, how much he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes in an effort to stem the flow of tears, it was not enough. The pain radiated outward from himself. It was as if he were a bomb threatening to explode at any moment, at which point he would cease to exist entirely. He could be floating in the lifeless vacuum of space for all that he felt. There was nothing to hold him together.

Completely and utterly alone.

He was well-practiced by now in self-treating these sudden attacks. It may take several minutes, but eventually he would be able to breathe out one last shuddering breath and still the shaking in his shoulders and knees. The floor stilled beneath him, and he no longer felt like his screams were trapped inside his body, begging to be let out.

All he felt in the wake of an episode like this, was numb.

He stared tiredly at the floor, now propping his head up on his hands as exhaustion flooded his body.

It was frustrating, feeling so out of control of one’s emotions. Despite the fact that his master was now dead and gone, he could still feel the disappointment he would have had in his apprentice. The words Snoke would have said echoed through his mind.

Pathetic. Weak. You are too unstable. The darkness will reject you. Your emotions cause you to fail. Everyone who ever claimed to care about you threw you away like garbage, but you can’t stop needing them.

Perhaps he had been projecting a little when he said those last words to Rey.

As if his thoughts had caused it, he suddenly felt the familiar shift in the Force that signaled the start of a connection. The rumbling sounds of his ship faded into a comfortable silence that was, for once, welcome in the aftermath of his anxiety attack.

He breathed out a sigh of relief before opening his bleary eyes and lifting his head slightly to peer about his room. She was nowhere to be seen.

Just as he was about to stand to go look for her, Rey appeared in his doorway, looking irritated and disappointed as usual as her eyes settled on him. She promptly turned with a huff and disappeared from view as fast as she had come, though the connection remained open.

“Rey, wait,” Ben (because he was always Ben during these connections) called out to her before she could shut him out. He stood abruptly, rushing to stand in the doorway. She stilled, her back to him and apparently awaiting his next words before she decided to leave him anyway or not. “Please don’t go,” he hated how fragile the words sounded as they escaped his lips.

Rey let out a tired breath. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Panic began to rise in Ben’s stomach again as he felt Rey start to force the connection closed. “Stay! Please, just for a few more moments,” he said desperately. He was starting to feel dizzy again. He wanted to pretend just for a little while that he wasn’t alone. Once he regained his stability, she could leave if she wanted. He just needed someone for a few minutes to keep him from falling apart.

As if she could sense this, she turned to face him, setting her jaw firmly as she stared at him with caution behind her eyes. Relief flooded his veins, and before he could stop himself, he reached out with one hand and clutched Rey’s arm, using it to keep himself upright. She didn’t move a muscle, though she stared at him as if she wanted nothing more than to step away from him. He bowed his head, breathing deep, calming breaths in and out.

“Thank you,” he said softly after a moment.

Rey nodded once but said nothing. Her silence had become the usual ever since Crait, and as much as it pained him, he was grateful that this time she at least acknowledged his existence.

Once upon a time, she had told him he wasn’t alone. That had meant everything to him, even if it didn’t mean the same things to her. He just wanted to feel like he did in that moment. When they had touched hands, he felt a flutter of happiness and a spark of hope that he never thought he’d feel again. He saw a flash of beauty, like something had peeled back the dark shroud that obscured his view of the galaxy. For the briefest of moments, he thought he could be happy with her. That neither of them would ever have to be alone for the rest of their days.

Ben’s eyes flashed up to where his gloved hand met her skin, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, a chill running up his spine. He lost himself in the feel of human contact, nearly becoming overwhelmed by the sensation after so long without it. Perhaps the only thing keeping him from completely breaking down was that layer of leather still between them.

Slowly, as if he were not even in control of his own movements, his other hand gingerly brushed against the same arm, inspecting the fresh scar there. His hands were trembling as they traced the contours of her arm, down, down, down to her hand where they stopped, cradling her fingers with the softest touch.

“Ben?” Rey finally spoke, breaking him out of his entranced state. He looked up to her, tears pooling in his eyes once more. His hand instinctively tightened around hers.

“Will you dance with me?”

His words were unexpected. There was something about being there, with her, that made him wish more than ever for the things of beauty in this galaxy. They seemed to have reached a temporary truce, considering the fact that Rey hadn’t ripped her hand away from his yet. He couldn’t help himself.

“What?” Rey asked incredulously. She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Ben began to feel the tug of her hand against his, hesitating but wanting to let go.

“I just—” Ben stepped closer, patting her hand lightly with one of his and bowing his head again to look only at their hands rather than her face. He shook his head in disappointment with himself as it became clear that he didn’t have the words to articulate what he was trying to say.

I need you, he finished in his mind, but Rey seemed to hear it loud and clear. Her eyes softened, though a hint of hesitation remained.

“Okay.”

Ben’s gaze snapped back to hers, his mouth parted slightly in surprise that she had actually said yes. Something like nervousness or excitement fluttered in his stomach, leaving him momentarily breathless.

He nodded, speechless and blurry-eyed, and dropped her hand long enough only to remove his dark gloves, casting them carelessly on the floor. When he stepped into her space again, the corners of his trembling lips teased the smallest hint of a smile, which was reflected in his widened, somehow younger-looking eyes.

Slowly, in his disbelief that this was really happening, Ben scooped up each of her hands in his own, clutching them to his sweater-clad chest. There was no music, but the beating of their hearts seemed to be amplified in the space that stretched between them and their bond. It was the only sound they could hear, aside from the shaky breaths each was breathing in anticipation for this new closeness, this tender moment.

Rey moved one hand to Ben’s shoulder, allowing him to wrap his arm around her. His palm splayed across her back, reveling in the feeling of her textured taupe-colored wrappings on his fingertips. Electricity sparked where their hands met, and he saw it again. A vision of beauty. Togetherness. The rightness of it all.

He pulled her in close, resting his cheek against her silky brown hair and closing his eyes to soak in the peacefulness of the moment as they began to sway. Fresh tears trailed down his cheek, mingling with her hair. She hesitantly leaned her head into his chest and brought her hand up to the hair at the nape of his neck, stroking it comfortingly. It was almost as if she knew exactly what he was feeling, exactly why he had asked her to stay. Could she really see through him that easily? Or was the bond stronger than they thought? If so, what could that mean?

He knew who she was. She was a nobody, right? Then why did she feel like everything to him?

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

They danced, in the calming darkness of the night. Peace washed over Ben Solo, evening his breathing to quiet, content breaths. There were so many things he wanted to say; confessions he needed to get off his chest, apologies, explanations… but nothing could get past the lump in his throat. Instead, he contented himself with looking out the viewport behind Rey, taking in the majesty of the stars beyond. Long ago, he had lost the sense of wonder and awe he used to feel when immersed in the view of open space. The endless black expanse began to feel empty and cold. It reflected his own loneliness back at him.

How had he missed the numerous stars and planets that dotted the sky? They shone brightly, their warmth reminding him that there would always be life, hope, and a future—beyond.

Skywalker… Ben heard an unfamiliar voice, gravelly but laced with amusement. Still looking to the horizon…

The world around them had disappeared. The two swayed and twirled amidst the infinite vastness of space, and Ben felt weightless, like they were floating through the galaxy without a single worry or care. There was no Resistance, no First Order, no Jedi, and no Sith. There was only Rey, and the stars that illuminated her glistening eyes.

That same sense of awe, the hope and contentment of his boyhood innocence, filled his heart with every brush of her hand against his, every time their eyes met, the beating of her heart next to his own…

Rey pulled back a few inches, enough that she could tilt her head back to study his face. The hand he was holding in his dropped before she placed it on his other shoulder, her hands firmly but gently gripping them. If Ben were told that her touch was the one thing keeping him from shattering into a billion pieces, literallyholding him together, he would believe it without question. Her fingers tangled in the loose fabric of his thin sweater, rubbing soft circles over his skin. It was a comfort he was not used to, a balm for the crawling discomfort of starvation from human contact which he had felt for so long.

His eyes fluttered closed and he could scarcely breathe. They continued to sway as Ben moved his free hand up to Rey’s face, experimentally trailing his fingertips over her skin with a touch so light, she might not have even noticed had she not been so in tune with what he was feeling.

When he opened his eyes again, he observed her image through his lashes, unbothered by the sadness or pity she held for him in her eyes. He did not care what thoughts or emotions kept her here, he was just glad that she was.

In his exploration of the contours of her face, his hand brushed against a stray piece of her hair, drawing his intense focus away from her soft skin. He held it lightly between his thumb and forefinger in fascination and wonder, tousling it gently before following the path of her hair to the three buns at the back, which he threaded between his fingers.

Following his lead, Rey cupped a hand over his jaw, setting his nervous system ablaze. It was almost too much to handle. His head dipped forward until his forehead was practically touching hers, all the while they continued to sway. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, mere inches separating their lips from each other’s.

Before the situation could slip any further out of Ben’s control than it already had, Rey pulled back, her body stilling as she stared at him as if in study. His arms felt suddenly empty, but the sharp pain of loneliness from earlier had faded to a dull ache. He no longer felt like he was at risk of imploding, which was a relief to his tormented soul.

Eyes meeting hers, he silently conveyed his gratefulness for what she had done, finding words to be insufficient. He worked his jaw absentmindedly as his gaze flicked over her features, trying to gauge what she might be thinking in that beautiful mind of hers.

Without warning, she rushed forward and enveloped him in her arms, wrapping them around his neck and holding him tightly. The embrace was as short as it was sudden, but it was like heaven coming down to him. He had barely managed to reciprocate the action before she released him and stepped back, seemingly unsure of what to say.

Her voice came back in little more than a whisper, and he thought he saw a tear escape from the corner of her eye. “I understand,” was all she said, her jaw firmly set in that look of determination that Ben was so used to seeing.

And maybe she did.

Of all the people in the universe, Rey would know the heartache of loneliness better than anyone. All those years alone, waiting for the return of those who could never come back… Maybe she needed this as much as he did.

Rey stared intently into his eyes, and it felt like she was able to see directly into his soul. She nodded, perhaps in answer to his line of thinking. Perhaps it was just a gesture to reassure Ben that everything would be okay. Either way, he felt a part of himself melt away under the influence of her light, leaving him with a sense of peace unlike anything he’d ever felt.

With that, she closed her eyes and bowed her head, disappearing without consequence.

Ben breathed out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding, stumbling backwards to his couch to think. The ghost of her touch on his skin remained, and it brought him a lasting comfort.

He should have felt scared, or worried, that his mortal enemy knew his vulnerabilities and sorrows so intimately, but he wasn’t. He had shared with her a moment of beauty and of happiness, and something about it told him it would be a significant turning point in the story of the Jedi Killer and the Last Jedi.

As he drifted off to sleep that night, he could have sworn that he felt her gentle touch on his forehead, brushing through his dark wavy hair in comforting strokes. Tender words of encouragement graced his ears, and whether they were real or imagined, he took them to heart.

He dreamed.

Of the cool, still waters of a lake.

The light of the moon reflecting on its glassy surface.

The velvety blackness of the night sky,

Decorated with the pinpricks of diamonds glittering from above.

And the mountains,

Standing strong and steadfast in the distance,

A friendly shadow on the horizon.

He dreamed.

The woman in his arms,

Illuminating the world around her,

Her light shining like the sun,

Her smile a warm glow that nurtured his soul.

And he danced.

-.-.-

Comments greatly appreciated! I hope you all enjoyed! Much love, Reylos <3

#Reylo #reylo fic #reylo fanfiction #star wars #star wars tlj #post star wars tlj #ben solo #touch starved ben solo #kylo ren #ben solo x rey #ben solo cries a lot #rey #rey nobody #rey from nowhere #rey from jakku #pov ben solo #reylo dancing #my fanfic

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kettlequills · 3 years ago

Text

the burning fire within

Henon's shirt rips while he is cutting wood. He takes it to Tinoryn to be mended.

My entry for TES Fest 21, prompts family and apotheosis. CW: referenced character death, fantastic racism - it’s set in Windhelm, you know the drill. I also wrote this in about an hour at 2am last night so, uh, enjoy. On A03 here.

Henon Virith was angry. Nothing new, that. He hefted the axe over his shoulder and brought it down with a satisfying crack. Two neat halves of firewood fell away to collapse perfectly onto the growing stack either side of the chopping stump. He swung the axe again. Crack. Again. Crack.

He could do this with his eyes closed. Sometimes he did, imagining sneering Windhelm guards under the axe’s blade. Imagined he’d found the insincere bastard that had come swaggering into the Grey Quarter one day, to inform Henon his mother had been ‘found dead’.

“Hunting accident, looks like, no sign of her partner,” the guard had said. Had the temerity to look at Henon softly. Henon remembered the words like they’d been burned into his soul.

“My-” Crack. “-condolences-” Crack. “-lad.” Crack.

Three more logs joined their split fellows. He rolled his neck until it cracked and kicked the piles in just the right spot to have them topple down neatly so it looked like he stacked them. Another log went on the stump.

Henon had anger enough to fuel him for years.

His next chop was powerful enough that his axe stuck into the chopping stump. Helon grunted. Placing one foot on the stump, he grabbed the axe handle and yanked. The burning muscles in his shoulders bunched under his shirt. He tugged, once, twice, then heaved as hard as he could. With a crunching rip, his shirt tore across the shoulders. The axe came loose.

Henon bit down on his knuckled fist and the molten fury that ignited the sleeping fire in his body. Deliberately, he lowered the axe onto the stump. Then he closed his eyes, exhaled slowly through his gritted teeth, tried to remember the breathing exercises the Priestess had taught him last winter to control his anger. Henon inhaled, exhaled.

Once. Twice. Three times.

In his mind’s eye, he pictured the searing rage inside of himself as a bonfire. It would be wild, messy, sparks ripping off the crackling wood like arrows. Heat would roll from it like a wall, and the flames inside would laugh and leap like crackling tongues.

“That sounds like a good fire, Henon,” the priestess’ encouraging voice was gentle in his memory. “It’ll keep lots of people warm. But an unchecked fire will set beds alight at night. How much fire do you think we need right now?”

“Not much,” Henon muttered aloud.

Henon imagined, carefully, lovingly, pressing soft cold soil over the edges of the fire, tightening its circle. He kept going, shovelling handfuls round the edges, shaping the fire he saw until it was bright and strong, but no bigger than a hearth-fire, banked and safe for the night.

One final time, Henon exhaled, then opened his eyes. Calm settled like a blanket onto his stiff shoulders. Without the punishing ache of the anger he’d used to fuel himself, Henon suddenly became aware of just how sore he was, how sweaty, how his arms trembled with fatigue.

He glanced at the sky. The sun was halfway down the sky, hovering almost directly over the Palace of Kings. No wonder. He’d been chopping wood for hours.

Henon cast an eye over the piles of wood. His mind ran quickly over the calculations as he vaulted the ice-slick rail onto the steps of Candlehearth Hall. The sums came easy to him; he didn’t need to look twice.

No Susanna to watch him today, calling laughingly for him to take off his shirt; he’d have to go in and ask for his earnings directly. A shame. Henon liked Susanna. Liked kissing her even more, when she leant down over the railing rosy-cheeked. She was soft, everywhere soft, like bitter anger had never found her. She made quiet animal noises, warm breathy sighs, when he touched her, her breasts, her hips, between them. It was fun, and casual, and she was always happy to see him.

It didn’t take Henon long to collect his wages and stack the fruits of his efforts by the fireplace. Even sour old Nils was grudgingly silent at the amount, though the door closed on a snappish comment when he saw the rip in Henon’s shirt baring his shoulders.

Henon jogged down to the Grey Quarter, letting the surge of annoyance work itself out through the drum of his feet on stone. He’d get his sparking shirt fixed. Nils didn’t need -

Exhaling raggedly, Henon focused on the hearth fire, the little curl of smoke that would lick out the chimney. By the time he had made it to Avalathil Tailoring, he was clearer-headed.

The tailor’s was poky and small, and the old sign’s paint was curling. Below it, a brazier sat, thickly fed with coals and fire-runes. Henon paused by the brazier, looking down at the soft red glow of the runes, and felt a little surge of warmth that had nothing to do with the brazier.

Tinoryn. He always left a little flick, right at the end, like a signature.

Henon went inside.

“Welcome to Avalathil - oh, hi, Henon.” Tinoryn was bright and cheerful as ever. He bounced up from his stool behind the counter with a wide, infectious grin. “How are you? I thought you were working today. Did you finish early? I’ve heard the ships are coming in, they might want more help unloading if you want extra work. We’ve had two sailors already come in with mendings, and one of them mentioned getting a whole new outfit commissioned, if you can believe that!

Apparently they went to Solstheim, you know, that island off the coast, you can see it from the Point when it’s clear out? Anyway, well he liked the look of the clothes they wear, and he wanted something similar that wouldn’t ‘have him freeze to death faster than a skinned horker’.”

Something in him settled at Tinoryn’s chatter. He was always the same, always happy, always with a story to share. Henon found himself smirking as Tinoryn imitated the sailor’s dour tones.

“I’d want to see that,” he said.

Tinoryn’s nose wrinkled. “Eurgh! A skinned horker? That’s gross, Henon. It would be all wet and red in there, like muscles! It would bleed everywhere! Though I suppose they do have to skin them to get the furs off. But definitely not while they’re alive! That would be horrible. We add clothes, not take them away here. Speaking of,” Tinoryn’s smile, somehow, became even brighter, until Henon swore he could see each and every one of his teeth, “Can I do anything for you? Ruvene’s not here, so you just have me.”

“That’s just what I want,” Henon said, and shrugged off his shirt. He had to wrestle with the buttons for a moment, and when he looked up, the highs of Tinoryn’s cheekbones had flooded with pink and his soft lips were parted. He didn’t react when Henon thrust the ripped shirt towards him, his gaze trapped somewhere at Henon’s chest. “Tinoryn?”

Self-consciously, Henon rubbed at his chest. He couldn’t see anything there, apart from maybe a bit of sweat in his chest hair. Tinoryn was much more fastidious than Henon, but it was just sweat. Tinoryn’s attention made him feel odd, prickly-warm, like he wanted to square his shoulders and straighten his back. He’d been shirtless around him plenty before.

Tinoryn blinked, then his eyes refocused on Henon’s face and he was back to beaming. “Yes! Of course, I’ll take that. Just another fix? Hmm, yes, you’ve torn it, right across the shoulders. Nasty! But it won’t take that long and it’s been dead in here today, all of our orders are all done that I can do without Ruvene’s permission, and you know I’ve read everything I brought. I have been so bored I started talking to the mannequin. I’m calling it Dolly. Because it’s a doll? Or a mannequin, I suppose. A doll for clothes. I can do it for you right now! We’ll have to add in a panel here for you if you keep broadening up though.”

“Not now,” Henon interrupted uneasily, “Just - can you fix it? Like it was?”

Tinoryn’s eyes softened. “Yes, just like it was. I know how important this is. It suits you, by the way. It’s the last one, isn’t it? From your father, Azura keep him.”

“Thanks. And yeah.” It sounded a bit strangled, but Henon couldn’t bring himself to care.

It was stupid, probably, but he trusted Tinoryn not to mess it up. Ruvene would have just added the panel to the back, grumbling at Henon for sentimentality. But of the shirts that Henon had inherited from his father, the others were gone, all torn, ripped, mended to oblivion by Tinoryn, or lost over the years. When he wore it, he thought of their shapes, how they were probably the same in the arm, but that his father’s wrists had maybe been thicker, because it was stretched there. Henon didn’t remember much of his father. Henon had not been that old when he’d been found dead on the docks, sitting on one of the crates he was meant to be unloading, frozen to death with a peaceful smile.

“Uh, how much?”

He fumbled awkwardly for his belt pouch, but Tinoryn was already waving him away with a sunny smile.

“Ruvene’s not here,” he said conspiratorially, “No one will know, let me just fetch my needle and thread. Besides, no need to charge for such a simple fix.” He hopped up and rummaged around under the counter, fishing out a small wooden box with a triumphant, “Ha! There you are. I swear it hides… You know I can teach you to do this, if you want.”

Slipping a silver thimble onto his thumb, Tinoryn pulled Henon’s sweaty shirt into his lap. He eyed the rip critically, holding the needle between his lips as he threaded it. Henon watched, impressed by his dexterity.

“I don’t need to know,” said Henon dismissively. “You’ll do it.”

Tinoryn smiled down at Henon’s shirt. “That’s true.”

Henon rounded the counter and dragged Ruvene’s unused stool over with a clattering scrape of groaning wood. He slumped onto it and rested his tired arms on the countertop with a groan. Their knees pushed together under the counter for space, Tinoryn’s bony leg warm against his even through layers of clothes.

“You don’t have to stay, it’ll take me a moment,” Tinoryn added, glancing at him from under his eyelashes as he stitched. They were thick and dark, curly like his hair.

“I’ll wait,” said Henon. He didn’t have many other shirts, and besides, whenever Tinoryn’s bright eyes strayed to Henon’s bare torso, the tips of his ears flushed cherry-red. It made Henon feel powerful in a way he couldn’t describe, like how he felt when Susanna clung to him brokenly when he touched her. Like Henon was the only ship in a storm he had created.

“Alright then,” said Tinoryn, and then he quieted, concentrating on his work.

Henon fiddled with a coin as he waited, a septim from this morning’s earnings. It flew, golden gleaming, around his slate-grey knuckles, spinning over the countertop like he held it on an invisible string. Idly, he played a counting game with himself, one taught over long hours of solitary boredom. One, two, three spins to the right, seven, eight, nine, to the left, one flick up, twelve. Then back around again, adding each number of spins, until he tired of it. Numbers were easy, but soothing, too. They were predictable.

He was beginning to feel tired, sleepy, even. His fatigue was catching up to him. The pressure of Tinoryn’s leg against his was comfortable, the sound of his breathing familiar. The shop was warm and quiet, a little dusty in places, with thick bolts of fabric hanging down from the walls. The mullioned windows were frosted white, dim shapes passing by and setting distant shadows to chase each other across the rolling hillocks of prepared cloth. Dolly the mannequin waited patiently in one corner, crowned by a glorious confection of gull-feathers and snowberries wrapped in stained jade silk, someone’s earnest attempt, Henon thought, at making spring into a hat.

Henon flipped the coin into the air and caught it, a shining disc like the sun held between his thumb and forefinger.

“Wow,” said Tinoryn from beside him. “How did you do that? That’s amazing! You just caught it, so fast!”

Henon glanced over, and Tinoryn’s expression was unreserved and inquisitive, brilliant with pleasure at the trick. “It’s not hard,” he said, uncertain how to name the feeling that Tinoryn’s eagerness aroused in him. “You just, look, like this,” he demonstrated.

“Can I try?” Tinoryn asked, eyes round, and Henon handed the coin over.

Tinoryn made a valiant attempt at throwing the coin, but it hit his hand as it fell, rebounding sharply off his knuckle and disappearing into the darkness below the counter. “Ouch!” exclaimed Tinoryn, “Oh, that is much harder than it looks. You made it seem so easy! Do you want me to find your coin - oh-”

Henon had already slid off the stool into a crouch, scanning the darkness for a glint of gold. He grunted, it was dark, and dusty under the counter, cluttered with boxes and cloth scraps. He spotted one or two needles, but no coin.

“Here, let me help,” Tinoryn said above him, and Henon looked up at the gentle snap of fire crackling into existence.

What he saw then arrested him completely.

It was Tinoryn, just Tinoryn, but… Tinoryn was leaning forward on the stool, his boot planted on the floor to stop him from falling. Henon reached to touch his calf, felt the muscles engaged in supporting his weight through his trousers, and had no words for the nameless surge of feeling that pooled in his gut.

In one hand, Tinoryn held Henon’s shirt, the other, a crackling fire spell, humming with magic and energy. He was smiling, as always, bright and soft, and the flickering firelight shimmered off his dark, curly hair, the hint of wetness on his lip. The ties that held his shirt (soft green, like grass) were loose, leaving space for the shadows of the fire to race over his collarbones, a smooth triangle of soft grey skin of Tinoryn’s skinny chest. Henon felt his mouth flood with saliva, felt the strangest urge to lave his tongue along the arches of Tinoryn’s collarbones, scrape his teeth over the skin until it reddened like the tips of his ears.

Tinoryn’s eyes had always been bright, ever since they were children. It was one marker of being a strong mage, that slight lambent glow, like the magic couldn’t quite be contained within him. But now, they looked like the heart of a fire, or maybe lava, brilliant, burning, changing everything in its path. Like a beginning, like being reforged anew, into something divine, Henon felt blood rise warm on his cheeks, knew Tinoryn could see how it flushed his chest ruddy. He wanted -

“I think I see it,” Tinoryn said happily, breaking the spell. “Down there, see, just under that - yes, you’ve got it, there!”

Henon cleared his throat, feeling bizarrely awkward as he slipped the coin back into his pouch. It was just Tinoryn. He straightened up, stretching his back until his spine popped.

“Thanks,” he said, “for the light.”

“Thank you for the practice!” Tinoryn’s face lit up again. “I finished your shirt, by the way! All done, good as new.”

Henon traced his fingertip over the mend. He could barely see it. Tinoryn had done a great job.

“Thanks,” he said again, and reached out to clasp the back of Tinoryn’s neck, his thumb pressing into his curls. They were soft. Tinoryn’s neck was warm and solid under his palm. “It looks good,” Henon added, not wanting to be churlish, but as he stared down at Tinoryn he was not quite sure if he could even remember what the shirt looked like.

“Oh,” said Tinoryn, and his hands clenched oddly in his lap like he was holding them down, and his face flamed red. His ears were pricked forward though, clearly pleased. “It’s my - pleasure, Henon, really.”

“Say,” said Henon, “you want to get out of here? I reckon we could go and nail some helmets with rocks down in the training yard round this sort of time.”

Clearly tempted, Tinoryn bit his lip. Henon watched his teeth press down on the soft flesh and catch on tiny ragged edges of skin, saw how it made his lips flush pinker, saw the wet dart of his tongue. He tightened his grasp on Tinoryn’s neck, thumb smoothing down his hairline, feeling the tiny feathery hairs there tickle his skin.

“I can’t,” said Tinoryn, sounding truly disappointed. “I have to watch the shop for Ruvene.”

“Alright,” shrugged Henon. He grabbed the edge of the counter and heaved himself up to sit on it, grinning at Tinoryn’s delighted surprise. Now he was here, Henon found that he didn’t particularly want to leave. After all, the tiny tailor’s shop did have something in it that held his interest. “Guess I’ll teach you that coin trick while we wait.”

Tinoryn’s radiant smile in answer was more than enough.

#tinoryn othravel #henon virith #skyrim #tesfest21 #inkwrites #tinoryn/henon #dawn #apotheosis #my fic the burning fire within

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years ago

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Ok so Camille’s an asshole on that we can all agree, but I’m really tired of people in the fandom acting like she’s just your typical annoying ex and she makes poor uwu Alec feel insecure cause fuck that. Camille was 100% abusive and manipulative but I also think she was sexually abusive too I mean seeing what she did to Simon and kissing Magnus without his consent even though he was clearly uncomfortable, consent doesn’t really seem to be an issue for her-

I feel like she definitely manipulated his fear of loneliness and not being good enough, to suit her needs. Like Magnus isn’t in the mood for sex or it’s especially triggering on a certain day, either way he’s not up for it but Camille makes him do it anyway. She threatens to leave or go find someone else who can fulfill her needs or take care of her when Magnus won’t, ‘I mean does he even love her when he won’t do this one simple thing for her?’

So he just lets her do what she wants, even if he’s having a full blown panic attack Camille doesn’t care or she’ll just leave insulting him saying she can’t deal with this right now and leaving Magnus with no idea when or if she’ll be back. So the next time she asks he hesitates less or initiates it more even when he’s not in the mood so she won’t leave and yeah I have a lot of emotions relating to this. and now I’m thinking about how it’ll affect his future relationships, not even talking about Alec but other people - I have this headcanon where when he got away from Camille and is healing, him ragnor and Catarina live together in ragnors cottage or somewhere away from people for awhile so Magnus can slowly heal and focus on himself and unlearn Camille’s abuse with the help of his family

But despite what this fandom says Magnus has always been a helper and a selfless person to the point of self destruction. He’s unable to prioritise his own health and he wouldn’t be able to slow down and feel the full force of the abuse he experienced cause he feels like he’ll fall apart if he does and ‘no one wants a pathetic crybaby who breaks down when someone moves their hand too fast in his direction it wasn’t even that bad he’s just exaggerating like he always does this is why Camille doesn’t love him back’ (the ‘’ parts were meant to be strikethrough to signify Magnus’ inner thoughts but that doesn’t work on asks)

And he’s scared to get in another relationship cause he doesn’t think he’d be able to speak up for himself if they turned violent or controlling, he’s scared that if they did he’d just let them so he closes himself off from people puts these walls around him and a bright smile on his face that doesn’t let anyone think there’s anything wrong. And theres so much pain going on in the world ‘they have it much worse than him anyway’ and Magnus tries to help the best he can as he always does and he’s always there for people to lean on without any reciprocation and he’s so emotionally and physically tired and he’s not sure how much longer he can take it, almost considers going back to blackfairs bridge ‘really he’d be doing the world a favour’ but theres too many bad memories and he promised his family he would try so he holds on and then he finds Raphael and that obviously doesn’t fix everything but- I was going to continue this but it’s two am in my country and honesty it’s too long already😅 sorry for the rant it’s just a lot of emotions. Im so tired of the ‘Camille’s an annoying ex who keeps getting in the way of my favourite gay ship😠’ metas and needed to let out some feelings before I explode from my hate for Camille

UGH ANON HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE NOT ONLY A GENIUS BUT ALSO MY NEW BEST FRIEND, AN INTELLECTUAL, AND COMPLETELY RIGHT. YOU ARE SO CORRECT!!! idk if uve read my other post that i posted while i was waiting for you but we no longer have the same hat we are SHARING the hat!! i can't believe i got this ask right after i had just made that long ass rant and was in so much need to talk about this like ugh are you my guardian angel. i love you more than anyone else ive ever met

ok ok ok coherent thoughts ok i can do this. first of all THE SALT how does it feel to have vision and coherency. ppl writing camille as just an annoying ex or a bad ex or even as like "oh they both made mistakes and it ended up terrible" drives me UP THE WALL. camille was explicitly abusive, so much so that magnus CANONICALLY WAS UNABLE TO ALLOW PEOPLE TO GET CLOSE TO HIM FOR ALMOST A CENTURY. and she was shown to be abusive, both in the physical sense as you have reminded us so brilliantly and in the sense that her whole "choose me" speech? like she doesn't have to literally say the words "no one but me would ever love you" for that to be exactly what she's saying. she's obviously playing with his insecurities and putting him down while presenting her as his savior, it's CLASSIC ABUSE. she was written as such a perfect to-the-book abuser that it honestly shocks me like they did that really all they ticked all the boxes. the way she immediately launched to talk about alec's mortality too, the way she was obviously trying to make them fight and draw them apart - it wasn't a jealousy thing, it is just that she's abusive and she wants him isolated so she can toy with him and manipulate him

EVEN SALTIER WHEN THEY MAKE IT ABOUT ALEC BEING INSECURE LIKE. especially because canonically he literally watched camille kiss magnus and didn't care, which was sexy of him because i was dreading some jealousy drama or something but instead he was just like. obviously she did it to hurt you. i only care in the sense that she's a fucking bitch. we stan!

as for how she treated him! oof i think the same thing with the same words dioajdsaoij it always circled back to "why can't you do this for me?" in and outside of sex - i mentioned that in a conversation in the comments of my other post but i think that with camille the sexual abuse was really just an extension of the regular abuse, so they bleed together and are not really separable in that sense. at every turn, he had to prove his worth, and she used his fear of loneliness both in the sense that she amplified it and made it seem like the only way to not be lonely was to be with her, and that she gave him just enough for him not to feel desperately lonely so she could string him along. not to mention, they both always go back to how magnus supposedly "owes" her, and yes, it's because of the bridge, of course, but there's also that underlying tone of "because she put up with him and gave him affection when no one else would". even when what she did was nowhere close to real affection. so it's both the bridge and the after. she could have saved him and left, but she stayed. that's why he feels he owes her, and she will absolutely use it

AND UR SO RIGHT ABOUT MAGNUS BEING UNABLE TO PRIORITIZE HIS OWN HEALTH UGH UGH UGH UGH like he has no choice for a while because she left him fucking broken and seeing the way she treats him and the amount of shit he puts up with i can only imagine how far she had to go for him to reach a breaking point and leave her for real. but as soon as he could pretend to have himself together he just threw himself out there. and i believe that he felt guilty for having catarina and ragnor take care of him when he abandoned them because of camille - obviously that's not what happened, she manipulated him into staying away from them, made his life hell whenever he wanted to hang out with them until he no longer had the energy to put up a fight to keep in contact with the people he loves, but it's what he feels that happened, and most likely what camille herself eventually started to tell him happened once they had been pulled away enough. ("you're gonna leave me? and go back to who? your little friends who tried to pit you against me from day one? they're just gonna say 'i told you so', magnus. and why would they take you back when you left them before? when was the last time you even saw them? you chose this, you chose me, and now you're gonna come back to them and expect them to welcome you with open arms? you selfish little prick")

AND RAPHAEL!!! raphael was so important, honestly, we say that magnus didn't let anyone into his heart but obviously raphael was the exception and EXTREMELY important for his healing. it's a complicated relationship because he's sort of a father figure for rapha, and as such, he doesn't allow himself to be completely vulnerable around him, because that's not "his role". but! he was the first person whom magnus let in. and they obviously know each other deeply ("i hate to see you like this" even though magnus looked completely put together to the outside eye) and are plenty affectionate ("sweet boy", the hugs, the way rapha talked about magnus with so much love and awe in his eyes and voice) and trusting (the way raphael went to magnus' loft, not his own damn clan, when he was tortured...). i know this fandom likes to pretend that they pretend to hate each other but NO THEY DON'T they are openly caring and loving with each other fucking fight me on this

anyway, my point is that raphael was the first person he allowed himself to trust, and of course, part of that is simply because raphael was vulnerable and in need and like you said he can't just stay still when he sees someone struggling. but to care for raphael eventually had to mean to open up to him and when he welcomed raphael in, he gained a new member to his family. raphael is his kid. that's no small thing. their bond goes deep and it's extremely important because again, after camille magnus wouldn't allow people to get close to his heart, because he was scared of how they could use that against him. raphael was his first, and the only reason magnus was able to open himself up for romantic love again (which was an extra step, not because romantic love is more important or deeper, but because it's specifically the kind of love that camille used against him, and thus it makes him even more scared) was because he had already been relearning trust and platonic love with rapha

rapha did him good!!! there's a reason he calls him "sweet boy" okay. and rapha cares about him and he NOTICES WHEN HE'S IN A BAD SHAPE EVEN THROUGH ALL OF MAGNUS' WALLS and he specifically didn't want magnus involved with the camille drama even when it had obviously gotten out of hand because he wanted to keep him safe and away from her!!! i want to be shot in the face!!! they love each other so much! fuck!

and also that implies that raphael knows about camille which means he might be the first person who met magnus post-camille and heard the story, which means that he might be (and probably is) the first person who was never involved that magnus opened up about this to. if that ain't some powerful and important shit i don't know what is. because part of abuse is that you can't talk about it - there's this sense of shame and guilt both from staying and from not staying more, especially because magnus canonically still feels like he owes her... aaaaa

this answer is all over the place im sorry but my point is you are correct, camille is a textbook abuser not just a shitty ex, she fucked up his head and made him unable to open up for a long time, and the first person that helped him break those walls was raphael and they LOVE EACH OTHER VERY MUCH AND DEEPLY thank you for your attention

#magnus bane #shadowhunters #sh #meta #magnus bane meta #camille belcourt is an abuser #long post #ask #anonymous #camille's trash party #brotp: i'll do whatever it takes to protect them

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iscream4starscream · 5 years ago

Text

I Think I Saw a Ghost

A Captain Rex x oc/self-insert fic

Summary: Uh.... just a little blurb and quick taste of my OC, Neiza, and her relationship to the 501st.

Just a little disclaimer... I haven’t written anything, let alone something of fiction and a self-insert fic at that, in over a year. So please bear with me here. I tried not to give too much of my oc away from the start, because I hope to write more of her or fill in the spaces in another way. Also, Bleu, the wolf, is the size of a normal earth wolf. You can read this as like in ATLA all the animals are two together, except the earth kings “bear,” or you can read this as not all Lothe wolves are fucking massive. I hope one of those two makes sense to you.

Anyway I was super scared to write this let alone post it here and it was a last minute decision so... be nice :’)

*********

The corridors were filled with life and laughter.

The 501st had another victory under their belts, and it might as well have been an overkill. They were already pushing through the Separatist’s ranks when you arrived, with total control over the battle and success in their sights. You had already completed your private mission, but had overheard the battle on your way back to your ship. You always had strict orders to return to Coruscant after immediate completion of any of your missions, as you often held important and delicate information for the Republic, or risked blowing cover.

But you were known for ignoring orders.

With your trusted companion guiding you, a blue grey wolf named Bleu, you both made a dash towards the sounds of battle, and found yourself behind enemy lines. Blinded by surprise and taking heat from two fronts, the droid forces fell in record time. Of course, coming in unannounced frequently left the clones just as confused, and you were often greeted by men pointing blasters at your face before they recognized their ally. These uneasy greetings were becoming less frequent, however; they were finally starting to remember your name too. Back on Coruscant they invited you to the mess hall, and though you were hesitant, you followed them anyway.

“You know, I thought ghosts weren’t supposed to have a shadow?” Hardcase lightly elbows you in the shoulder, and you reciprocate with a light punch to his back as he skips ahead of you and his brothers. Ghost was the nickname someone had given you, you were uncertain who started it, but it had spread across the entire Republic Army. And the shadow he referred to was your beastly companion Bleu, whom never seemed to leave your side.

Out of mere fate, you seemed to be around the members of the 501st the most, despite your missions being private and solo. You knew almost all of them by their names. Echo, Fives, Jesse, Dogma, and Tup were grouped around you as you all walked to the mess hall.

“Oh, and I thought clones were supposed to be smart!” You call after him, followed by a smirk. Bleu, keeping pace next to you, makes a grunt. There were various conversations and chatter, but Fives, who always left an ear open for you, laughs at your joke and jumps ahead to put Hardcase in a headlock. He began knocking Hardcase’s head with a clenched fist.

“I think she’s right boys, nothing in here but air!” Five’s teases as Hardcase tries to break free and stifle his laughter. There is a smile on everyone’s face as you finally reach the mess hall, already filled with other members of the 501st. Hardcase finally wrestles free from Fives and practically falls onto the bench of the nearest table, followed by Jesse who comes in just as hot, sliding across and nearly knocking Hardcase off the other end. As the rest of the group takes a seat, you find yourself standing awkwardly at the end of the table, and Fives, recognizing your position, scoots over to make room for you. He pats the space next to him.

“Put her here, Ghost!” Fives winks at you, but you don’t move. The chatter at the table had suddenly ceased, and you felt the rest of the men staring at you. Even Bleu glanced up in confusion. Fives, sensing something is wrong, pulls his hand back in regret “Do...wolves sit at tables? We can make space for him too...”

You suddenly realize your silence and lack of motion has left awkward confusion, and you speak abruptly.

“No. It’s.... I’m not hungry anymore. I will catch you guys another time...” And the next moment you turn on your heals, taking your leave at a brisk pace. You can hear Fives behind you, asking his brothers if it was something he said. Bleu is quick to take his pace beside you, touching his nose to the palm of your hand in his way to say “I’m with you, truly.”

You’re not really sure where you’re going until you’ve found it, and you stop in a short, abandoned hallway, an echo of your shaky exhale reverberating down the walls. Bleu whines, knowing there is something on your mind and itching in your throat, and he wants to make it disappear. You run your fingers through the thick fur on top of his head, and chuckle. “Where would I be without you, my one and only?” Bleu wags his tail in response, but still his concerning gaze digs into yours, begging for more.

You sigh, because you don’t want to be alone in this hallway, but you don’t believe you belong anywhere else either. Since you were 12, it had always just been you, and then you found Bleu, and then you were alone together. Even when you found your way to Coruscant, and snuck your way into the schooling system, it was just you and Bleu. Now, fighting for the Republic, you didn’t even belong to a specific legion....

Bleu twitched under your touch, and a low growl rumbled from his lips. You whipped around, hand ready on the pocket staff secured to your hip, only to find a very alarmed, but familiar, face.

“You seem to surprise my men all the time, I only thought it fair to return the favor.”

“Ugh... dammit Rex...” You relax your position, and Bleu glides over to meet the Captain, tail wagging with vigor.

“Hey there big guy.” Fear over the wolf had subsided a long time ago among the members of the 501st, and some of the men even enjoyed and welcomed his company. Rex especially, but it wasn’t just the gentle beast that he admired, it was you, too. He looked to you now with just as much concern as Bleu had moments before.

“Fives told me you left the mess hall in a hurry, and I know you don’t take care of yourself during your missions...”

Your expressions immediately hardened, and you scoffed. “I’m fine, Captain.” You went to walk past him, but not before he placed a firm hand on your shoulder, stopping you. You pushed it away and took a step back. Rex looked at you, wide-eyed and struck by your actions. Bleu looked between the both of you, just as confused. You weren’t getting out of this one, and your act to be coarse just left your audience confused. Your demeanor melted in defeat.

“I’m sorry Rex, I just wanted to be alone right now.” You pleaded with your hazel eyes, but the look on Rex’s face returned to care.

“I know, but that’s kind of the problem. You never cease to aid myself and my men in the battlefield, even by your own accord and without direct orders. But the minute the fighting is over, you run away and hide like... well... a ghost.”

You feel the air getting heavy, and you want nothing more than to just disintegrate and float away, just as he’s describing, like you always do. Rex can see that he’s reaching your limits - both of your limits, and he stumbles quickly through his words.

“Ghost... I mean... Neiza....” he says your real name, and you look at him curiously, as the clones almost never use it. His face gets red, and he scratches his neck and takes a deep breath before looking you in the eyes again.

“Neiza, you belong with us. With the 501st, Fives, Echo, Jesse.... all of them. We don’t want you to be a ghost anymore. We want you, Neiza. Let us get to know you, not just your skills on the battlefield.”

And Rex watches you, waiting for some sort of answer, worried he’s said it all wrong, even after discussing it a million times with his men. When you cover your face with your hands, he immediately regrets every word, and reaches out to you. “Neiza I’m sorry I didn’t...”

Your hand reaches out and stops his without you looking. “Don’t touch me, I’m trying not to cry.”

Rex pulls back. “Oh, this wasn’t the plan, Neiza, I wasn’t supposed to...”

Suddenly behind your hands, you laugh, and as you pull your hands away they reveal a blushed face and a single tear. You punch Rex lightly on the chest, and he stares at you blankly, mouth ajar and unsure of what was happening.

You laugh again, but this time a smile is spread across your face.

“Look, I’m just as clueless about understanding my emotions as the rest of you. But... you have no idea how much all of what you said means to me. Really, Rex.”

And your both blushing like the hallway is on fire, words completely lost in the mended space between you both. It feels like a millennium before you decide to awkwardly outstretch your hand towards him, and he questions it before looking back at you.

“Um.... friends, Captain?”

Rex chuckles and grins, before firmly shaking your hand in return.

“Yes Sir, friends.”

And your hands linger, entwined, just a few seconds longer than they should, before they are both returned respectfully to your sides. Bleu, who had been silently watching from the sidelines, understands the change in the force and barks and taps his feet excitedly.

Rex rolls his shoulders, finally dropping the weight of the conversation behind them. He waves his hand and starts down the hallway, back towards the mess hall. “Why don’t we go eat and share some more good news then?”

You nod, taking step beside him and Bleu beside you. Rex takes a quick glance down at you, and he could swear that you were glowing.

“Now that I think of it, I haven’t eaten in three days.”

Rex looks at you in shock. “What?”

You continue walking, unphased, and Rex shakes off your comment, thinking to himself he will have to address it another time, when you’re ready.

And the only thing that remained transparent that evening was your new sense of belonging.

#swtcw #captain rex x oc #captain rex x reader #captain rex x ghost #captain rex

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Baby Let's Keep It Secret (Jan x Jackie) - Ortega

a/n: i speed-wrote this after being struck with inspiration and a new-found obsession with jankie, so enjoy!! i legit hate it more with every re-read though so i’m submitting before i honestly del-yeet it off the face of the internet. it’s a little piece within the strictly au-verse from one of the background couples’ points of view, and i’m planning to do more of these so keep a lil eye out! i hope u all enjoy anyway, and that u for all the love on chapter 4! it makes me dead happy xxxxxxxx

plot summary: “But now she’s here, on a wet, cold Monday morning, with no texts and no sign of Jackie and a heartbeat that belongs to a hummingbird. Jackie probably regrets everything and Jan has to spend the rest of the competition with her and it’s going to be unbearably awkward.”

***

Jan is the first to arrive at the church hall on Monday morning. It’s freezing, and she pulls her off-shoulder gym sweater over her wrists and fidgets with the sleeves. She both feels the cold and doesn’t. The racing that her pulse is currently doing serves as a heater, and she can’t stop pacing either. She thanks God that the film crew aren’t there this morning, because she doesn’t have very many coherent thoughts, never mind words.

They had won the first episode. Well. “Won” isn’t the right word, but they came top of the leaderboard, and the praise from the judges still rings in Jan’s ears if she thinks about it hard enough:

“The technical elements were all there, and Jan, that choreography was to die for, well done.”

“This partnership is gonna be one to watch, for sure, the chemistry between you two is just incredible!”

“This was a strong first week, keep this up, I can’t wait to see what comes next from you.”

“It was so full of fun and joy, such a cheeky routine and you both created so much tension, good job!”

Although instead of the joy they’d all sparked on Saturday night, instead they now all serve as a reminder as to what happened after that, and Jan feels her face flush hot as the embarrassment hits her all over again, fuck. Why does she have to be such an eager lovesick puppy all the goddamn time? It never ends well. Jan knows that, but she keeps repeating the same behaviour every time she gets a new crush and expects different results.

But Jackie is different. She’s a woman, at least, and that’s new for Jan. Jan’s used to either men- rough, heavy hands, too fast and too slow all at once- or girls- all her high-school experiences that she’s repressed and shoved in the back of a filing cabinet in her mind for future Jan to deal with.

Except they’ve all come bursting out at once like that scene in Bruce Almighty that used to make her laugh so much as a teenager. It was induction day, really, that had caused it all. Jan remembers standing on the opposite side of the room to Jackie Cox and trying not to make it obvious that her gaze was getting drawn to her every five seconds like she was a magnet, the black running leggings and cutout strappy sports bra she had been wearing still sending shivers up Jan’s spine if she thinks about them again. The way her heart had risen to the sky with anticipation and excitement was almost cringeworthy; she had truly felt like a schoolgirl with a crush on a teacher. Okay, Jackie isn’t that much older than her, but Jan knew her, of course she knew her. She is Jackie Cox. You can’t switch on the news without seeing her face, you can’t go on Twitter without seeing people retweet her latest biting bit of government-critical commentary that’s likely going to get her fired one day. Watching her chat with the other girls on that induction day was mesmerising- she was fun and goofy and had a big smile on her face the whole time but she simultaneously exuded a calm and self-assured sense of power that Jan had felt inexplicably intoxicated by.

They’d been paired together and Jan had been so nervous and anxious to impress her and get on well with her but Jackie had just been so relaxed and easy-going and had taken to everything Jan had taught her like a duck to water. When they’d been officially paired on launch night Jan had been so overjoyed that she’d screamed the place down.

And now they’re partners. For the past fortnight they’ve spent every waking moment together, and it’s been both a blessing and a curse. In rehearsals, Jackie is no-nonsense- she wants to learn the dance, and she wants to be taught- but every time they stop for a break Jackie’s goofing around and winding Jan up and pestering her to post this, that and the next thing to Instagram. The woman is limpet-levels of touchy, not that Jan’s complaining. She’s always resting a hand on Jan’s knee when they stop for a break, grabbing her arm as she laughs at something Jan’s said, gently butting her head against Jan’s shoulder when it’s late and they’re both tired but they just have to finish up this last little bit of the routine.

Of course, if Jan notices it with every hour they spend together, then it’s not long until it gets picked up on by others. They’ve gone live on Instagram one day and Jackie’s got her arm around Jan’s shoulders and Jan’s leaning into her. Jan can feel Jackie’s heartbeat and it’s going like a bullet train and Jan wonders if it’s her that’s making Jackie’s heart race as much as it is before dismissing that thought as the delusional ramblings of someone with a too-big crush. They’re answering questions that their fans have sent in and Jan taps on one a little deliberately.

“Jackie, what’s your favourite thing about rehearsing with Jan?” Jan reads, smiling with her tongue trapped between her teeth. She doesn’t dare turn to face Jackie because she can see on screen how close her face is to hers and she doesn’t need that proximity adding to the list of reasons Jackie’s able to mess with her head. Jackie’s looking at her though, and her smirk is so cheeky that it turns Jan’s insides to jelly.

“Uh, nothing, she’s dreadful,” Jackie says, causing Jan to yelp an affronted cry and Jackie to stick her tongue out at her. It’s near the end of their first week of rehearsals and it’s nice that they’re already at the stage that they can joke about in the way that they’re doing.

(Some might call it flirting, but Jan’s loath to get her hopes up so high.)

“No, I think in all seriousness it’s…her smile,” Jackie concludes, and the answer feels like the best kind of gut punch. Jan has to actively control her facial expressions and mold them into something that isn’t just two ginormous heart eyes and a dopey lovesick smile. The smile that Jackie likes the best. Jackie continues, her eyes now cast into her lap as she picks at a bit of fluff on her leggings. “She’s always smiling, she’s always positive. Even if I mess up the routine, she’s still smiling at me and patient with me. And it’s just nice. So…yeah.”

Jan can’t help herself. She turns to face Jackie, deliberately shoots her a dazzling smile. “That’s sweet. Thank you.”

Jackie gives her a little wink that translates to you’re welcome. Jan wants to interpret it as something more, but she can’t hope that much.

That’s when it starts. The first comment scrolls across the screen, then another, then another.

janetmanitoneeeee: omg u guys are too much

strictlyjan2003: something’s going onnnnnnnnn

janstan04: WE ALL SHIP IT

janstan04: JANKIE

Jan tries to ignore them all but they’re relentless and swarming across her screen like locusts, and Jackie points them out before she can do a thing about them.

“What the hell is Jankie? What ship?” she laughs, confused. Jan waves her hand dismissively, gives a snort.

“Oh, God, it’s like…they think we would be good together. Like. As a couple.”

“Oh,” Jackie raises her eyebrows. Jan is blushing slightly as she keeps her eyes trained on the screen. Jackie’s face is surprised, but not unpleasantly so. “So they want to see us bon-”

“Family show, Jaqueline!” Jan laughs, cutting her off before she can reach the end of her sentence. Jackie snorts and the conversation is dropped as they move on to something else.

But Jan wonders how the sentence would’ve ended. Scratch that, she knows how the sentence would’ve ended, and from that day on there’s a change in the atmosphere. Jackie doesn’t look at her the same but that’s not necessarily for the worse. Their routine ramps up a gear- it’s somehow just better. Well, not somehow, there’s a reason. It’s the same reason Jan can feel Jackie’s eyes on her whenever she stretches in rehearsal, whenever she peels a layer of clothing off in a break. It’s the same reason they’ve started openly flirting with each other, and Jackie’s little suppressed smile and raised eyebrows is what Jan imagines cocaine might feel like- she’s not done it, she wouldn’t know. Making Jackie laugh becomes an addiction, spending time with Jackie is an addiction. When Jan gets the tube back from Hounslow and arrives back at her flat all shrouded in darkness she feels as if there’s part of her missing. Which is ridiculous. They’ve only been paired together for a week. Admittedly in that short time there’s been a few tabloid articles about them, the speculation already beginning. Jan would be lying if she said she didn’t like it.

Through it all, they rehearse. They practise and practise until Jan’s muscles ache, because more time rehearsing means more time with Jackie and the more they rehearse means the better they get. It’s a win-win situation. So when they smash their routine on Saturday, really knock it out the park, and get (“Eight!” “Eight!” “Eight!” “Eight!”) 32/40, Jan’s head is spinning. On the floor they were electric and sexy and the sparks were practically flying off them, Jan didn’t imagine it. Jackie doesn’t take her hands off her once it’s done- a protective arm around her waist as they receive their critiques, her hand in Jan’s as they tear up the stairs and give their post-routine interview, both arms around her in a crushing hug after their scores are revealed. An arm around Jan’s shoulders as they weave their way backstage to yet another interview, a hand lazily pressed against her hip. The constant close proximity is making Jan almost lightheaded, and so when they’re finally alone Jan isn’t really thinking straight. That’s why she takes Jackie’s hand and tugs her towards her dressing room, laughing gently at the confusion painting her face.

“Jan, we’ve got to go back to makeup!”

“Just…c’mere!” she giggles, tugging on Jackie’s hand again. Jackie gives her a roll of her eyes and a long-suffering smile, and takes two steps forward to follow Jan into her dressing room. As soon as the door swings shut, Jan can’t control herself any longer and she immediately pulls Jackie in, one hand still tangled in Jackie’s and the other curled around her waist, and Jan is so close she swears she can pinpoint the moment Jackie’s pupils dilate.

“Oh,” Jackie murmurs. It’s nothing, a literal letter of the alphabet, but Jan swears it’s the hottest thing she’s ever heard. Jackie wets her bottom lip with her tongue. “So this is why we’re in your dressing room.”

“Uh-huh,” Jan nods quickly. Her heart gives a concerningly heavy thud as Jackie brings her free hand up to ghost over her neck and tangle in her hair, tousled and wavy for the routine, and Jan thanks Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus that it’s not in some intricate bun. There’s a pause where nothing seems to be happening except the two of them smiling at each other and waiting to kiss. Jan loves it, though, this kind of purgatory they’ve created, so she presses her body against Jackie’s as she drops her voice lower. “You were so good out there, fuck, you were amazing.”

Jackie tries and fails to conceal a smile. She drops her hand out of Jan’s grip and brings it up to rest at her waist. “Did you just bring me in here to compliment me, or are we going to kiss?”

“Fuck, please,” Jan breathes. It only takes that much for Jackie to instantly lean down and close the gap between them. It’s not enough and too much all at once, the tension that’s been building between them finally coming to a head and Jan feels like she’s melting, ice to Jackie’s fire. Her lips are soft and slick with the gloss that makeup applied before they went on stage and Jan is gripped with a sense of longing and wanting that’s so visceral it almost scares her. She pulls her body flush against Jackie’s own and she feels Jackie gasp against her lips. The noise only adds to how embarrassingly needy Jan’s becoming- she’s way too turned on already, shockwaves pulsing through her whole body. It’s a kiss, it’s nothing more than that, and yet it’s better than any sex Jan’s had with a man in her life.

Jackie pulls away. Jan whines, and it elicits a smug smile from the other woman. Jan doesn’t want to know how much of a mess she looks. If it’s half as much as how she feels, it’s going to be too telling. She takes Jackie by the wrist again, pouts as she tries to pull her in. Jackie doesn’t budge.

“Makeup,” she teases. Jan lets out a groan. She cannot go back and interact with other people right now. Her whole world is Jackie.

“Please, just two more minutes,” she begs. For a moment Jan thinks she sees a flash of lust in Jackie’s eyes. She takes the sign of weakness and runs with it, pushing her bottom lip out. “Please?”

“Fuck, Jan,” Jackie laughs, rubs the back of her neck and rolls her head to the ceiling. “You’re so gorgeous and it physically pains me to have to say it but someone’s gonna come bang on this door if we don’t get back soon.”

Jan sighs, doesn’t wipe the pout off her face. Jackie quirks a warning eyebrow at her in return.

“Stop being a brat, c’mon,” she warns her, and Jan would be lying if she said Jackie didn’t just make the whole situation worse.

Or better. Probably better.

They go to makeup and they get their smudges cleaned up and the foundation they’ve sweated off re-applied, and they head back to the studio to watch the final dance of the night, Crystal and Gigi’s. Jan cheers for her friend despite the fact the pair of them are so good at their frighteningly fast Samba that they threaten to topple her and Jackie off the top of the leaderboard. They don’t, but they come close (thirty-one), and as Jan claps she makes a mental note to step up her and Jackie’s choreography tomorrow. The pair of them don’t get another moment alone until they’ve cleaned all their makeup off and got changed back into their comfies ready to head home. Jackie swings by Jan’s dressing room as she’s packing up and Jan involuntarily blushes, remembering the last time they’d both been in this room a mere thirty minutes ago.

“Hey. Crushed it tonight,” Jackie smiles proudly, the praise lighting up both Jan’s face and heart.

“Yeah, we really did that, huh?” she returns her grin, looks to the floor with slight embarrassment. Jackie pauses before she speaks next.

“Well, guess I’ll see you Monday?”

Jan tries not to look disappointed, but really, the single logical brain cell she possesses scolds her, what the hell did she think was going to happen? Her smile becomes fake despite it not physically changing. “Yeah, sure!”

Jackie gives a small laugh. “Sure, Jan!”

Jan has to let out a small snort at that, and she risks meeting her partner’s eyes again. Jackie is hovering at the door.

“I’ll text you,” she smiles decisively, Jan’s hopes instantly being raised as she nods enthusiastically and waves goodnight.

But now she’s here, on a wet, cold Monday morning, with no texts and no sign of Jackie and a heartbeat that belongs to a hummingbird. Jackie probably regrets everything and Jan has to spend the rest of the competition with her and it’s going to be unbearably awkward. All Jan did on Sunday was choreograph their dance, the sexiest tango she could possibly manage, while replaying their kiss in her head and checking her phone obsessively. She feels like an idiot, even more so when Jackie bounces through the door and waves at her with a big grin on her face as if nothing has happened.

“Morning!” she sing-songs as she shrugs her jacket off and chucks her bag down underneath a pile of stacked chairs. Jan blinks at her, taken-aback. “How are you? Good day off?”

“Well, I mean. I was doing choreo, wasn’t exactly a day off,” Jan shrugs. She can’t help but be cold- Jackie is acting as if she’s got short-term memory loss, and it’s killing Jan along with the sweatpants that are slung low on Jackie’s hips and the baggy sweater that’s hiding her thin frame. The shift in tone seems to work and Jackie is looking at her through narrowed eyes, then laughing slightly.

“Shit, yeah, sorry I didn’t text. I honestly was wiped out yesterday, I did a stint on News 24 and then I had like an eight-hour nap in the middle of the day.”

Jan can’t help but quirk a smile at her. “Eight hours? That’s not a nap, that’s a full sleep.”

Jackie shrugs, and her dark eyes soften. Jan is reminded of looking into them on Saturday, her pupils wide and blown, and the memory almost gives her whiplash. “I am sorry, Jan, I can tell you’re mad at me.”

Jan gives a scoff of a laugh, tries to pretend she’s offended. “Mad? I’m not mad at you, God, I’m not…no, I’m chill. It’s fine.”

Jackie raises her eyebrows at her disapprovingly and it makes Jan’s stomach flip over and heat pool low in her stomach. “Yeah, you sound it. Okay, what’re we doing this week?”

Jan swallows before she speaks. “Uh, tango! I thought, y’know, the judges loved our chemistry so much last week so if we play on that it might get us good scores again.”

Jackie’s smile grows on her face and it makes Jan’s heart flutter in anticipation as she takes two steps closer to her. “Mm, good plan. Definitely not seeing an ulterior motive behind that at all.”

Jan is warming up to her but she wants to make Jackie suffer just a little so she flips her golden ponytail over her shoulder and turns away from her, fiddling with her phone and scrolling to the song she’s chosen. To her satisfaction, Jackie follows her over to the speaker near the raised little stage at the other end of the hall, jumps up so that she’s sitting on it and swings her legs. “What’s it to?”

Jan bites back a smile. “React.”

“As in Pussycat Dolls, React?” Jackie grins at her. Jan is fighting to hold back her smirk as Jackie inspects her nails. “That’s kind of ironic.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jan shrugs lightly, making to walk into the centre of the room when Jackie shoots a hand out and takes her by the wrist.

“Hey,” Jackie murmurs, pulling her close. Jan is standing right in front of her and Jackie’s knees are digging into her stomach a little, but she doesn’t mind. “I was thinking about you yesterday. I promise I didn’t forget about Saturday night.”

Jan raises her eyebrows in slight disbelief. She’s about to make some comment about not missing her enough to text her, but Jackie spreads her legs and guides her in between them so that they’re close. The action makes Jan’s eyes flutter shut in a heavy blink as she attempts to gather her thoughts. Jackie squeezes the hand she’s taken.

“You’re really cute,” Jackie says bluntly, and Jan feels the blush hit her face like she’s been slapped.

“You’re really cute,” Jan parrots back at her, her knees almost turning to jelly when Jackie reaches out and tucks a small strand of loose hair behind her ear. There’s a moment where they’re both just gazing into each others’ eyes, and Jan feels as if it’s straight out of a movie scene. Her heart almost hurts with how much she likes Jackie.

Jackie drops her voice low to a whisper, pulls Jan closer. “Can we kiss in a church?”

Jan feels like she’s just been shocked by a defibrillator. “Well. Jesus might be watching.”

“I’m sure he’ll allow it,” Jackie shrugs before tilting her head, sliding her hands onto Jan’s waist, and meeting her lips with her own. Jan melts into her slowly, refrigerated chocolate on a hot day. This kiss is different to the one they shared on Saturday night- they know it’s just them, and they know they have all the time in the world so they kiss as if time doesn’t exist. It’s so early that Jan can taste Jackie’s mint toothpaste, and the realisation makes her heart give a twinge of affection. Jackie does like her, and Saturday wasn’t a mistake, and the blood in her veins races in anticipation because something is happening between them and it’s more exciting than any glitterball trophy.

Jan breaks the kiss this time, the petty side of her still wanting the upper hand, but she doesn’t move her arms from their position looped around Jackie’s neck and resting on her shoulders. She doesn’t even try to conceal the smile that appears on her face as she watches Jackie’s eyes flutter open lazily, the moment so unexpectedly tender that it knocks her for six.

“Is this a thing now?” she finds herself saying before she can stop the words rushing out of her mouth, and she instantly wants to cringe. Too keen, too eager, too enthusiastic. Although the panic rising in her throat dissipates when Jackie tries to stifle a grin and fails.

“Fuck, we’re the worst kind of cliché. Strictly curse got us by week three,” she groans, tilting her head to the cracks in the ceiling. She brings her gaze back to look Jan in the eye, suddenly turning serious. “We’re going to have to keep this quiet, though. Not that I’m ashamed or anything, sorry, that came out wrong. I just don’t want anyone thinking this is some cheap stunt we’re using to get votes because it’s…more than that. To me, anyway.”

The affirmation Jackie’s just given her sends Jan’s hopes rocketing skywards and this time she doesn’t even try to lower them. The smile on her face turns scheming. “I can sneak around if you want, although I don’t know how easy it’s going to be for you to keep your hands off me, Miss Cox…”

Jan laughs as Jackie groans and shoves her away playfully. As much as Jan wants to pin her to the stage and smother her with kisses and maybe a little more (the thought of fucking in a church is too much to entertain at this particular moment), she straightens her posture decisively and grabs her phone.

“Right, we need to rehearse. Because the better we do in this competition, the longer you get to spend every single day with your hands all over me. And that’s just during rehearsals.”

Jan shoots Jackie a wink and Jackie laughs as she saunters across to the middle of the room to warm up.

If Jan’s got anything to do with it, they’re not going to be leaving the competition any time soon.

#rpdr fanfiction #jankie #jan sport #jackie cox #strictly au #lesbian au #baby let's keep it secret #ortega #s12

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hazbincalifornia · 4 years ago

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Amount of writing I’m getting done for OT and my IZ fic: Some.

Amount of writing I’m getting done for self-indulgent bullshit: Somewhat more.

Anyway, wrote out Bella meeting Sir Pentious because I was bit by the muse bug. This is written for the four people who know who they both are, f.

Wordcount: 2075

The second she saw the airship soaring through the red-tinted sky, shooting anything that looked at it funny, Bella knew she had to get inside of it. Let Kit flirt with their host (or, if she was honest, fail to flirt with, man, she didn’t even like flirting and even she knew that he turned into a pile of goopy mush when he was around a guy he thought was cute) and let Vee attempt to kidnap yet another animal to try and smuggle home, she wanted to find out who the heck made a steam-powered airship in the twenty-first century.

Or maybe Hell was actually stuck in the year 1900, who knew? Time probably passed funny in the afterlife, but the fact that nobody had shot them out of the sky yet said that there was something else afoot- the pilot had to have some way of warding off attacks considering rivals probably had, like, grenade launchers, and she wanted to find out how. Style merged with substance, ruling the air with confidence- and she wanted in.

“Hey! Hey you!” She flagged down somebody with four arms and purple fur who looked short enough to be less likely to punt her into orbit- Mom had warned that most people down here were mean as, well, Hell- and pointed up at the ship. “What’s the deal with those?”

“You a newly dead?” The demon raised one of their four eyes, and Bella nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, newly dead. Anyway. Story?”

“They’re made by Sir Pentious, one of the Overlords. He’s some kinda inventor, I’unno. Never blew up anything that mattered to me, so I never cared that much.”

“Sir Pentious…” She rolled the name around in her mouth, plucking the ‘T’ in the middle thoughtfully along with the rubber bands wrapped around her braces. “Got it. Thanks!”

“Er- you’re welcome.” They darted off, but that was fine. Now it was just a matter of actually getting onboard.

____________

She couldn’t find a rocket pack anywhere- lousy Hell lagging behind Earth technologically- but ended up stumbling across the next best thing in a warehouse that had an extra ship that had clearly been in some sort of accident. This one was only partially-reassembled, and there was a lot of burn damage sustained to the aluminum and copper outside, but that just meant that she could see the skeleton without having to slice through a lot of layers, so it was almost better- and a lot easier to crawl in one of the big holes in the front window via a pile of parts in front of it.

The interior was decorated like a mansion, with vivid yellows, reds, and blacks- she could respect the commitment to the aesthetic, especially with torn-open snakesheds and red eyeballs plastered everywhere. It looked like something out of Mom’s old comic book collection, toxic and yet intoxicating, every detail chosen for maximum dramatic potential. It must look even better with all the lights on and more than her phone’s flashlight illuminating bits at a time.

It was the best playground that she could imagine- nothing but her and a massive ship the size of an apartment building. Oddly enough, there wasn’t much dust- maybe it had crashed recently and was being held here for repairs? It was certainly of a similar design to the one that she’d seen from the ground, so she couldn’t imagine that it wasn’t just an iteration or two away.

Her fingers ran over the sleek machinery like it was sacred- some of it looked like it belonged in a museum, but the rest was cutting edge, and the seamless way they blended was like something out of a dream. A genius indeed- if she’d been born a hundred years ago and was suddenly thrust into the modern day, she could only hope that her tech would look this good. There was room for improvement of course, there always was, but it was loads better than most of what she saw digging through the junkyard, and a lot closer to the stuff she made with Grandpa Zim using his irken tech. Impressive for someone who’d clearly been dead for some time, considering he’d made enough of a name for himself that some rando off the street knew it.

“Genius inventor, huh…?” Bella pulled out her screwdriver, starting to work on freeing the control panel. It had a touchscreen and levers, what was that about? She had to know what it looked like underneath- did Hell even use cables and wires or was she going to need to drag Kit in to do his magic business here?

It took some doing- whatever had taken this particular ship down had welded the panel into place and it took a crowbar to pry off, ha, take that Venus for saying she ‘didn’t need to bring it’- but eventually she got into the guts of the thing. Sure enough, it was wiring, spiraled all into itself in a knot- it must have gotten all messed up at some point, maybe that was what caused the crash on top of whatever burnt the outside?

She was about to start taking it apart when she heard a pitter-patter behind her.

“I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it, ya know,” she said, rummaging around in her pocket before pulling it out. “Mom insisted I bring the one that can vaporize people since apparently half of you can’t even die the normal way anyway? Bunch of freaks.” Her finger twitched towards the trigger as the pitter-patter became a shadow as the thing scrambled up towards the same hole she’d come in. “I’m warning you, I’m a great shot. Won’t take two to blow your brains out.”

“Whoever you are, bossman says you gotta go!”

It was an egg. Not like some kind of insult, it was literally an egg, and probably a third of her size. It was also wearing a little hand-tailored suit and top hat. She stared down at it, and it stared up at her.

“Who’s bossman?” Bella asked after a few very long seconds of silence.

“You know… bossman!” It blinked. “He doesn’t like people pokin’ around his cool, cool stuff and you tripped the motion sensor. Hey, is that a ray gun?”

Bella’s finger eased off the trigger. “Yeah, it is. It can probably scramble you.”

“Oooh! Fun! Not as good as boss’s, I’m sure, but-”

“Hey, what say you take me to this boss?” Bella crouched down, knowing this was incredibly stupid but also already entirely committed to it. “Then he can decide what to do with me in person.”

“Hmm… alright, but no funny business!” The egg looked her up and down before turning heel, starting to clamor down the pile of parts. She had to hold back a snort when she saw that it had ‘#69’ written on its back.

Some things never changed no matter where you went.

____________

The egg blabbered on all the way back to the ship, mostly about jazz music oddly enough, but soon enough they were nearing a different ship that had settled behind a building. It was either the one she’d seen before or a duplicate, and she felt a shiver run up her spine as she got close- it looked a lot cooler in one piece and lit up bright yellow. Her phone buzzed, and she discreetly pulled it out as the egg launched into a diatribe on the importance of the saxophone. It was a text from her sister.

dolittle 🐭: bells where ARE you

dolittle 🐭: kits distracting clove so I could grab one of those bugdog things but moms gonna be asking how were doing soon, what should I say

Bella thought for a moment before sending back a reply. ‘im checking out that airship we saw earlier. have weapons. ill be fine. meet you back at the cafe later’

dolittle 🐭: be careful ok? know you can handle it but still

Bella smiled a little at that, sending a thumbs up before tucking her phone back into her pocket as they ascended the bridge.

“And then, then he saysss to me, he sayssss- Ah, there you are! Good, good.” She heard him before she saw him, voice booming as he welcomed his hench-egg back. “And what was poking around the warehouse?”

“This, boss!” The egg tugged at her jeans by the knee around the corner before pushing her forward with surprising force. “They said they wanted to see you!”

“Well well well!”

Bella’s antennae twitched as her eyes widened. The man in front of her was a jet black snake, with fangs, a top hat, a bowtie, and eyes on his face as well as nestled on the open space on his chest and hood. Best she could pin from Venus’s nature lectures he was a cobra of some sort, and there was a smug fang-y grin on his face as he slithered up to her, taking advantage of the height that his tail gave him- he’d probably be seven feet easy to Bella’s mere five foot one.

It took her only a moment to shake off her awe. “So you’re the famous Sir Pentious!”

His grin widened. “Ah! You’ve heard of me, little tresssspassser?”

“Obviously, considering I knew your name, right?”

“Er- yes!” He faltered for just a moment, and she went in for the kill.

“Your work’s fantastic, but you really need a way to keep the gutty stuff in order in case of a hit- that’s probably part of why that other ship went down, y’know? But your sense of design and how you mold your century-old designs with the new stuff- it’s fantastic, I just want to cut it all open and see how it works.”

“What did you do?” His hood flared, and she twirled the gun in her hands.

“I only touched the control panel, and your little egg boy got at me before I messed with anything, but I’d give anything for a couple of days working on the interior of this place- I bet I could make it run faster and with less fuel.”

The eye on his hat rolled itself as he narrowed the eyes on his face. “Who are you to come in and think you know better than I about my own shipssss? I should end you right here for your insolence and your trespassing!”

Bella folded her arms, glancing around. “Hmm… far left column, the one with a yellow eye instead of a red one.”

“What about it?” He folded his arms as well, waggling his head. “Are you-”

“It’s welded weird. Something went wrong with the metal when it was being forged, so you put it in the back so you wouldn’t have to look at it. You didn’t want to waste a perfectly good column because somebody screwed up one little part. And that’s just what I see looking around in, like, five seconds- gah!” The end of his tail had wrapped around behind her while she’d been talking, and struck before she finished her sentence, lifting her up to his eye-level with her arms pinned to her sides.

“Little wrench! How dare you?”

“I’m…” Her legs kicked a little, ribs feeling uncomfortably bendy at the moment as his scales pressed against her chest and back. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

His tongue darted out as he hissed, just barely brushing her nose before sliding back into his mouth.

“What do you really want, missy? I don’t like competition, you know.”

“You to let me breathe, for one,” she wheezed, fingers turning to try tickling what she could reach, and his cheek twitched funny before she dropped bodily to the floor, only managing to roll in time thanks to muscle memory from combat training. Thanks, Grandpas. “I really do just wanna see how all your stuff works. The ways I could improve my own inventions if I just could figure out how to blend different functionalities the way that you do...”

“I am quite impresssssive, aren’t I?” He puffed up his chest a bit. “And you have no intention to-”

Bella drew an X over her chest. “Cross my heart. You’re the bossman.”

He looked her up and down. “Hmm. Get back to me when you have a proper uniform and not those ragssss, and I suppose I could show you around a bit, if- if!- you show me something of yourssss. ”

Bella’s grin slipped into a smirk as she gave a bow. “Bella Donna at your service, then, Sir Penny.”

#iz #shadow writes stuff #hh

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scarpool-gmk · 4 years ago

Text

6 Part 2

Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 6 Part 2 (8/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings: N/A

-Κλαρίς-

Clarisse had to hold in laughing as she saw Annabeth's eyes bulge in fascination as Gibbs used the iris scanner. With a hiss and a clunk!, the doors unlocked. He heaved the door open. "Welcome to MTAC, agents."

"Wow," Annabeth whispered as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"Sweet secret base you guys got going on," Clarisse praised.

"Thanks!" McGee beamed like he was the one getting complimented. "It's decked out with some great technology sensors. It's completely separate in terms of technology, components, and connection from the rest of the building. Best monitors, state-of-the-art firewall, and the-"

"You guys do any movie nights in here?" Clarisse cut in.

"I-well no. I mean, uh, maybe? I wouldn't know anything about that," McGee spluttered.

Clarisse smirked. "I'll take that as a yes."

"McGee," Gibbs said, saving his agent, "Connect us up with the Staff Sergeant's C.O."

McGee hurried to do as he was told, working with a row of tech. Clarisse wouldn't want to get too close to any of those. Could probably get the entire monster population of the East Coast fixated on their position with those many wires. Annie, Prissy, and Goat boy wouldn't appreciate it. Would make one heck of a battle story, though.

Gibbs, Annabeth, and Clarisse stood in front of the huge screen.

"Morning, agents," the commander said when he flashed on the screen.

"Nice to meet you, Commander," Annabeth said.

"I would rather have not, Special Agent Lima, Gibbs. I take it you still haven't found out who took out my mechanic."

"No, Commander," Gibbs said, "And it seems your mechanic was into a case of his own."

"What do you mean?"

"We believe he was following leads that might uncover cartel movement in D.C.," Annabeth explained.

"Can you tell us anything about anything the Staff Sergeant was involved in?" Gibbs asked, "Any ops that he was assigned?"

"No, sir. This is the first I'm hearing of this. He was designated to go on tour; we were called in to head into NAMRU-6."

"Peru?" Gibbs questioned.

"It was going to be smooth sailing," the commander affirmed. "A secret mission…He was one hell of a mechanic, and even then…"

"Commander?" Annabeth pushed.

"He was too smart for his own good. He wasn't going to be a simple Staff Sergeant for long. In fact, I'm surprised he held out for this long. His excellent, strategic mind and fighting skill, especially in close combat, had placed him in the fast lane for promotion. He may have wanted to be a simple mechanic, and I know he declined several offers, but as good as he was, he gained the attention of those who could force him into positions."

Clarisse frowned. Sounds like Michael had been way too noticeable. She didn't even think that the Navy and Marine corps would inspect mechanics that thorough. How did they test his strategy making?

"Sounds like he was a special case," Clarisse said, "Did he get any flak from his crewmates because of it?"

"Not really, ma'am. He wasn't exactly a social person to begin with."

"He never got into any disputes with anyone?" Clarisse asked.

"Only one, but I've learned to keep them apart."

"Reason?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh, they just didn't see eye-to-eye."

Clarisse almost snorted. Translation: he had no clue. What kind of Officer in Charge was this guy?

"Who's the soldier?" Annabeth asked.

"First Lieutenant Adrian Rodriguez."

"He antagonize a lot of people?" Gibbs asked.

"No, sir. He's actually very well-liked. It was very strange that he turned confrontational with Kahale. Same with Sergeant Kahale."

"And you have no idea as to why this was." Gibbs didn't phrase it like a question. At least they were all on the same page.

The C.O. on the big screen shrugged. "Those are two of the sea's finest. Rodriguez is soon to become Major. They don't have so much as an excuse to hang around each other anyway."

This time, Clarisse didn't bother hiding a sound of disbelief.

"Where is he?" Gibbs asked at the same time as Annabeth said, "Tell us about him."

Clarisse stepped back so the two could glare at each other better.

"He's a skilled Marksman," Commander Oblivious replied, "knows a lot about on-the-spot- field medic stuff…sings pretty good, too." Clarisse shared a glance with Annabeth. That sounded familiar. Annabeth would probably say that it was a textbook definition. Nerd.

"But he has not left the ship," the commander continued, "he's been on board the entire time."

"Then call him over," Gibbs said, "Maybe we can help solve what his problem with Michael Kahale was."

"You can't think-"

"The more we know about our victim, the better we can predict his movements and motives," Annabeth consoled.

The commander ceded the point and nodded at some staff who promptly left the room, presumably to find the First Lieutenant. He turned his attention back to the NCIS agents.

Gibbs continued on questioning him. "Did Staff Sergeant Kahale ever mention an Annabeth Chase?"

The man on the screen frowned. "The name rings a bell; give me a sec." He shuffled some papers around. "Oh! Yes, as one of the emergency contacts. Right there under his father. Annabeth Chase, relation as his sister."

Annabeth showed nothing. Instead, asking, "What is the contact information?"

"A phone number with a New York area code."

"Read aloud the number, please."

The commander read out the numbers as Annabeth instructed. Clarisse immediately recognized it as the mainline to the Big House.

"It's a different number than the one he called," Annabeth said.

"McGee," Gibbs called, giving silent instructions.

"Already on it," McGee said, "Number is to a farm, Delphi Strawberry Service. Located in Long Island."

Clarisse mentally cursed and tried not to self-consciously fidget at the glare Gibbs gave Annabeth.

"But he never spoke about his family. Or friends. Or life. Again, not the most social guy."

There was movement in the back, as the staff member came back with a soldier, who promptly stood at attention.

"First Lieutenant Rodriguez, meet NCIS Agents Gibbs, Lima, and…"

"La Rue," Clarisse supplied.

"First Lieutenant," Gibbs greeted.

"Sir!"

"At rest, First Lieutenant," Annabeth said.

Gibbs started the questions as Rodrigues shifted his stance. "What's your relationship with Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale?"

The soldier frowned, confused. "He was a mechanic assigned to this vessel, sir."

"We're told that you were uncharacteristically disruptive around him."

"Yes, but I haven't been in confrontation with him, as per C.O. orders. If he's said-"

"First Lieutenant Rodriguez," The C.O. cut him off, "Sergeant Kahale was shot two nights ago."

"Shot?" Rodriguez said in shock, "But… we're home…"

"We know that you've been on board the entire time," Annabeth said, "We just need to know more about who Michael Kahale was."

"I-I understand, Ma'am."

"What made you dislike the Kahale, First Lieutenant?" Clarisse asked him.

"It's not that I disliked him, ma'am. Kahale was actually a good guy. Introverted, sure. But he was a good soldier, amazing smart, and easy to talk with. But I…" He faltered. "I don't know. For some reason, the friendly conversations always turned into some sort of fight? Like a challenge I couldn't lose to? I guess?"

"Don't sound sure of yourself," Annabeth noted.

"I can't explain it. Every time, it just led to a fight over any stupid, little thing. I honestly don't know why. I don't expect any of you to understand."

Clarisse heard Gibbs sigh tiredly and mumble, "Oh, I understand perfectly."

"Can you give us some examples of what you fought over?" Annabeth asked.

"They were stupid, ma'am. Like over the name of a future vessel. He thought it should be named USS Zeus. I said it to be USS Jupiter. We also fought over his position. Kahale was a good Marine but could've been even better. But he kept at being a non-commission mechanic because he had an issue with the control of our Superior Officers. I know he even declined a promotion to Warrant Officer. He disliked how strict military life was and preferred the more laxed nature of the machinists. He believed that individuality and improvisation held more value in the field than the collective skill of the group and rigid structure. He did not trust others with making decisions for him and disliked giving orders himself. But I know several of my brothers who have similar opinions, and I've never fought them over it."

Annabeth nodded, humming softly and deep in that brain of hers.

"Did he ever mention some sort of mission?" Gibbs asked.

Rodriguez blinked. "No. Nothing ever like that."

"Mexican Cartels? Arms dealing?" Gibbs fished.

"What? No!"

'Freaking Hades,' Clarisse thought, 'I hope this information isn't supposed to be kept low profile.'

"What about mythologies?"

The First Lieutenant stiffened. He was definitely a demigod. Clarisse would have to see if Chiron knew an Adrian Rodriguez.

"What do you mean?" Rodriguez tried playing off.

"Gods, Roman myths, Greek heroes, monsters, that sort of stuff."

"No."

"Then that's all we need from you, for now, First Lieutenant," Gibbs said, taking a glance at Annabeth.

"Catch who did this to my mechanic, Agents," the Commanding Officer said before the connection cut off.

Gibbs didn't waste any time.

"What am I missing here?"

Annabeth lifted an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Some random mechanic gets murdered hours away from his assigned vessel because he was uncovering an entire operation that was way out of his league. His dying words were to some girl whom he listed as an emergency contact with a Long Island number. Suddenly, I've got NCIS agents from a Long Island branch I've never heard of. This case has brought too many outside factors, and I have the feeling my team is out of the loop on specific information that can make this case more manageable."

"We know as much as you do," Clarisse retorted, "And missing information comes with the job. This is a mystery. We investigate and find the answers, complications and all."

Gibbs considered her for a moment before relenting and leading them back out of the heavily secured room. "Fine. I'm going to head to the bar. McGee, get DiNozzo to call the Strawberry Farm. I also want the personal files of First Lieutenant Rodriguez and his C.O. Ziva! Gear up." He looked around at the rest of the agents expectedly.

"Er, trying to squeeze out info of Cartel movement in the area," DiNozzo said, "Not much luck."

"Talked to Abby," Ziva picked up next, "Her professors were able to translate some more of the notes. This Doughnut place is apparently definitely arms dealing with the Reynosa Cartel. Sinaloa involvement is suspected. Middle East connection is pure speculation. Michael also noted that he believed he was found out because he smelled."

DiNozzo made to comment but was silenced by a look from Gibbs.

"I'm still IDing all of Mr. Tarsibo's victims," Grover said.

"And customers," Gibbs added.

"…And customers…"

"No mention of Monster Donut on the web," Percy reported, Annabeth's laptop in hand, "Making sure that if anyone finds it, we'll be the first ones to know."

Gibbs nodded and then headed towards the elevator with Ziva in tow. Clarisse admired the way his silent command to get back to work hung in the air. Except for one problem.

Clarisse was back in the bullpen. She hated it.

-Ζήβα-

Ziva was debriefed about the meeting with the commander on the way to the Drowsy Owl.

"If the Staff Sergeant was being seen by superior officers and the Commanding Officer didn't know anything," Ziva said, "Perhaps our Staff Sergeant was granted a mission."

But why give such an advanced and dangerous mission to a mere mechanic?

"Michael Kahale had been in service for five years," Ziva said, answering her own question. "They had given him training- maybe advanced secret in-training. Kept him officially as a mechanic, using it as a cover."

"But why send him on a case that without providing him resources?" Gibbs asked.

Hm. True. Michael Kahale had lacked money, cover, and backup. The time limit was horrendously short; what he uncovered in such a short amount of time was astonishing. If he hadn't ended up dead, she would have thought that it was a controlled mission.

"You said that First Lieutenant Adrian Rodriguez responded to the mention of mythological connection. Is it possible that whatever mission the Staff Sergeant was on, was not external but internal? An internal audit? But if Rodriguez was his target, he would have responded to the reference of cartel involvement."

"What if the Cartel wasn't initially apart of this operation?" Ziva thought back to her previous line of thought. "What if Rodriguez was involved? As Michael's partner. The First Lieutenant is thought of highly as well."

"Don't get caught up on theories," Gibbs warned.

"Maybe I should just follow my gut," Ziva teased.

"It's always worked for me," Gibbs said.

"What does it say now?" Ziva asked. She looked at him when he did not answer.

"It tells me that the Long Island Agents know something that they aren't sharing."

Ziva frowned but said nothing.

They came up to the store. "See if anyone has seen Tarsibo," Gibbs said.

"Not many people to ask," Ziva grumbled.

Reshaun Sachs was beginning to blindly invite them to choose a place to sit until he looked up from pouring a pint of bitter. "Let me guess," he said, "Navy cops."

Ziva and Gibbs flashed their Identification.

"This about the young Marine or something else?"

"Same one," Gibbs said.

"Didn't realize you had such big teams."

"Neither did I."

Ziva sent Gibbs a look and decided to change the topic, unfolding the blown-up photo of Tarsibo.

"Do you recognize this man?"

"Sorry. No."

"He seems to be a customer of yours," Ziva pushed, "He may have been here during the past week."

The bartender frowned, "If he passed those doors, I would remember. Especially from this week." Ziva nodded. She didn't find him to be lying. There were other ways waste from this place could have gotten to the car rental.

"Do you mind if I talk to your customers?" Ziva asked

Sachs shrugged. "You can, but all of these guys are regulars that just come for their lunch break."

Ziva assumed as much. She left Gibbs to converse with the man.

Sachs was surprised that they had found traces of his business as far away as East Maryland. Like Gibbs, Ziva was getting her own list of negative answers.

She walked around the bar, trying to envision it on a full night with businessmen, college students, and Mrs. Kahale with her entourage. It was an open area, which meant open conversations that could be the center of attention or hidden by those that took that position. The only place that was really hidden was the way to the restrooms, which had its own hidden hallway that led to a back exit. That was where Ziva excused herself to answer her buzzing phone.

"What is it, Tony?"

"Get into any bar fights, yet?" Tony used as a greeting.

"It is still a bit early, but it has happened before."

"Well, don't go too hard on them. People who go this early are there to drown something."

Ziva thought of the three businessmen in the bar hunching over their drinks. He was too right. "As I'm sure you know, Tony."

"I'm not that old," he said.

"You are what? Forty?"

"No!"

"Mmm, but I'm close. How many years am I off?"

"…Two. I'm still young, just have a few years of experience."

Ziva hummed. She didn't tell him that she had more years until she hit thirty.

"Well, I'm sure you didn't call me just for this."

"No, I'm here to update you so you can update Gibbs."

"Why not call him instead?"

"Figured he'd be doing some unofficial interrogation. And I would never break that rule."

"Well, what do you have."

Tony sighed, "Pretty much nothing. Got in connection with the Director of the Strawberry Service, a Mr. Dee. Took forever to get a final answer. 'I have a faint recollection of an Annie Bell.'" Tony droned in imitation, "'Yes, the girl is quite a trouble seeker, although she is one of the brighter ones I have had to deal with. Says a lot about them. However, she left. I don't expect her to be back for a while.' That was fifteen minutes into the conversation. He ends with an 'I grow tired of your pitiable blather.' And just hangs up."

Ziva snickers. "Doesn't sound like a reliable witness."

Ziva could imagine Tony shrugging in the squadroom, "It's what I got."

"Alright. Thanks." Ziva hung up the phone and accidentally stumbled when she bumped into something. Or rather someone "Oh, sorry I-" Ziva stopped as she got a look at who she almost toppled. It was a young man who had just come out of the lavatory. He was of an average built, a bit on the shorter side with a head full of blonde hair. He was in some sort of customer service uniform, a nametag still latched on. But Ziva only gave it an unconscious look over. No, she was more captivated by his eyes. They were a sickly green, and the iris seemed alive, swirling like snakes in a pit. And were those scales on his cheekbones?

"Agent?"

She blinked, and all those features were gone. Snake filled eyes replaced with light hazel ones. No scales either.

"I'm sorry," She told the man who had snapped her out of her stupor. Just what was that? "For bumping into you," she specified.

He smiled at her, "No problem."

She watched him leave her, heading for the back exit. How did he know she was an Agent? Was her badge showing? No… Who was he? She searched her brain for the answers. Wait. She had seen his nametag before getting distracted by his face. (She shivered at the recollection. Was it something she ate?) Then it hit her; the nametag had a cheesy 'Hi, I'm Tommy' in Comic Sans Font. It also had a logo of a one-eyed monster munching on a doughnut.

"Monster Donuts," Ziva breathed out in realization. The back door slammed shut. "Hey!" Ziva shouted, "Wait!" She ran toward the door. Before she exited, she remembered that the store was arms dealing, and anyone connected to it should be handled as armed and dangerous. Pulling out her firearm and quickly collecting herself, she slammed her way out and was met with… no one?

Ziva surveyed the area, circling in a three-sixty. There was no one there. How could he have gone that fast? He was only out of her sight for a few seconds.

Gibbs was not going to be happy with her.

After making sure to uncover any possible hiding places, she went back inside empty-handed.

Gibbs frowned at her as she entered. Ziva trusted him to connect the dots and directed her words at Sachs.

"You didn't say you had someone in your restroom."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Gibbs change his stance, a mixture of weariness and drive to get the truth. However, the bartender seemed utterly confused. "There was? Oh, I had completely forgotten…"

Ziva shared a small look with Gibbs. Sachs seemed muddled all of a sudden. Strange and convincing. Ziva hadn't thought this man to be a good actor.

Ziva described him, more for Gibbs's benefit than Sachs's. "Yes, about this tall, blonde, green eyes, wearing a Monster Donut uniform."

Sachs's face lit up in realization. "Yes! He was one of the guys that the woman hangs out with, the one that the other agents knew, a Mrs. Kahale." His eyebrows scrunched together. "I can't believe I forgot about him coming in…"

Ziva shared another look with Gibbs. Either this man was telling the truth, or he was the best actor Ziva had encountered. Gibbs, although not outwardly changing his calm demeanor, seemed as dubious as she was.

"If he or anyone else from Monster Donuts come in," she said, "Please call us."

"They are connected with this Marko Tarsibo guy? What have they done?"

"A number of things," Ziva said.

The man gave an inquiring stare. Ziva expected that how dangerous they were could affect his business if he let continued to let them be customers at all.

"They are connected to arms dealing, Ziva said. "Also, have a connection to the death of multiple murders, including children."

"They've killed kids?" The statement seemed to call Sachs back from his confounded state. "You said that this guy was a part of this and that he was a car dealer, right?"

The agents nodded.

"The kids, were they middle-school-age? Older girl with Asian features?"

Ziva scrambled for her phone, bringing out the profiles of the most recent child victims. She shoved the phone in the man's face. "Are these them?"

"Yeah, I know them. They had come in, ordered some soda, burgers, and fries. They looked pretty street-savvy, I kept my eye on them to make sure no one slipped them anything or took an order for them. I got something about how they were headed for the Carolinas, I guess they needed a ride. That woman, Mrs. Kahale, spoke with them for a bit. I didn't hear what was said, but if they needed a ride and she knew this dealer, she could've gave them to him."

The NCIS agents didn't give him time to finish as they rushed out the door.

-Περσεύς-

Percy would never get an office job. He thought being a Federal Agent would have been so exciting. Sitting on a desk doing the same thing over and over again was killing him. He kept getting distracted by the happenings outside. (Hey, those windows were huge. Not his fault the outside world was more entertaining.) He couldn't help but feel a bit guilty every time Grover would snap him out of his daydreaming. He was supposed to be helping make official profiles of each victim, so that a) the families could be notified, b) Dr. 'Ducky' could analyze and create a deeper understanding of General Botsaris and his victims, and c) so that Annabeth could report back to Chiron, and they could contact the families of the demigods.

Percy did have to admit that Tony's conversation with Mr. D was quite funny. Although, he was only able to hear one side of the conversation.

'No, not Annie Bell. Annabeth.'

'No, I am not here for strawberries.'

'Yes, wine sounds wonderful, but-'

'So, did she work there or not? What do you mean, who? Annabeth Chase!'

And it just continued. Percy had cracked up as the agent repeatedly smacked his head on his hand while talking to the exasperating god. If only he knew how it felt to deal with Mr. D on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis.

Unfortunately, that was what felt like an hour ago. McGee had sent a file to Tony a while later and was on his way to escape to 'help Abby run prints.'

"I'll be using the system," McGee told Grover and Percy, "Hopefully, it won't slow down too much."

"It shouldn't be a problem." Annabeth walked in, looking a bit disgruntled after her talk with Chiron. "Although we are using the same system, it's coding and routes have changed, meaning it can still use the data and have access to an ever-updating network while not really using the same path and program you'll be using."

Percy would have totally zoned out from that explanation if it wasn't for Grover nudging him to make another profile.

McGee made a face. "You can do that?"

"Not really. It's the computer."

"What are the specs?" McGee leaned in to check Daedalus' laptop's design. "What's the brand? I don't recognize it."

"It's experimental."

"Huh, well I'm going to-"

"Not so fast, probie," Tony called.

Percy looked up. Tony had better not been calling for him. He eased up when it was apparent he was talking to McGee.

"Rodriguez also uses disposable, pre-paid phones," Tony said, "But he makes regular family calls. If we searched his family's phone records, we would find a record of regular calls coming in but from different numbers? Wouldn't that be the case if Michael did the same?"

"But we already checked the Kahale's phone records, Tony," McGee said.

"No. We only checked Patricia Kahale's, and she said she didn't even know Michael even joined the Marines. Daddy, however, had a better relationship."

"And when Percy and I spoke with him," Annabeth said, "He gave me the impression that he knew about Michael joining."

"McGee, pop up the man's phone calls," Tony said.

McGee shared his screen on the plasma. Window screens flashed on and off as McGee used keyboard shortcuts lightning quick, even using long sequences of code that Percy didn't know could be memorized.

"Okay, filtering for numbers that are no longer in service."

"Wow, that's a long list," Percy said. They weren't going to have to go through some sort of procedure on each one, were they?

"He is a lawyer," Grover said, "He must get tons of scam and calls from one-time numbers."

"It doesn't matter," Annabeth said.

"What do you mean it doesn't matter," Percy asked. Was Annabeth okay? How bad was the call with Chiron?

"I mean, I've found what we're looking for." She pointed to a six-minute call starting 12:52 A.M. yesterday morning. That was right before the approximate time of death.

"It's not the same number the Staff Sergeant used," Tony said.

"A spare phone," Clarisse said, "He uses one phone call on a pre-paid, dumps it, and then uses the second to make another call."

A demigod technique. Annabeth and Chiron told him of it when he went outside of camp. The only time it was safe to keep a phone after making a call on it was in or right by camp. Otherwise, it was a traveling beacon for monsters.

"The father made the call," Tony said, "McGee, can you find the location where the burner picked up?"

McGee clicked a couple of times. "Washington, D.C."

"Alright," Tony said. "I'll call Gibbs, and we'll pick him up."

"Sweet, let's go," Percy said.

"Wait, Percy," Grover said with big eyes, effectively killing Percy's hope. "I still need your help with this."

"It's fine. We got this," Tony said, him and McGee rushing toward the elevator.

Percy watched them as they disappeared with a ding. Great, the three people that were the least qualified for desk jobs were the ones left at the desks. At least they had Grover to stop them from accidentally blowing up the place and being labeled as domestic terrorists, yet the way the satyr was inhaling those paper clips didn't bode well.

The phone at Tony's desk started to ring. The four of them stared at it for a second. "Should we get Tony back?" Percy asked.

"Ugh," Clarisse rolled her eyes. What? What did he say? Gods, she was just so annoying. 'And rude,' he added as he watched her get up and answer the cop's phone, but he already knew that.

"Yeah," Clarisse greeted. She was silent for the ten seconds as the caller spoke. Percy wasn't even surprised as the daughter of Ares slammed the phone back down without another word.

"They found Botsaris's car," Clarisse said.

'That at least deserved a 'Thank You,' was Percy's immediate thought.

Annabeth jumped up. "Let's go."

Finally! "Did you get the address?" Percy asked, excited to get out.

"Duh."

Grover looked around as all of them got ready to head out. "Um, should we tell-"

"No!" Clarisse and Annabeth both said, or growled in one case.

Grover held his hands up in surrender. "Okay."

Percy made sure everything he needed was on him and swept the desk clear of a small pile of broken pen clips. When had those gotten there?

"Let's kick some butt!" Clarisse grinned. Percy couldn't agree more.

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#scarpool #fanfic #fanfiction #Godly Marine: Killed #NCIS #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #PJO #Crossover #gen fic #PG/K+#Writing #Complete

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