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forsinnersandsaintsalike · 13 days ago

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How they might respond to the popular ‘boots’ poem from Tik Tok

Captain John Price

As the rhythmic, almost hypnotic lines of "Boots" play, Price sits back in his chair, the cigar in his hand smoldering.

His eyes narrow, deep in thought, as the repetitive beat of the poem pulls him into memories of endless patrols and grueling marches.

"Marchin'... marchin'... marchin'..."

When the poem ends, he's silent for a moment before speaking. "Kipling knew what he was talkin' about, didn't he? That endless slog... it's somethin' only a soldier would understand. The monotony. The weight."

He takes a long drag of his cigar and glances at you. "Thanks for sharin' that, love. Strange as it sounds, it's comforting. Makes you feel like you're not the only one who's been through it."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost leans against the wall, arms crossed, as you play the recording of

"Boots." His face is unreadable beneath the mask, but his eyes flicker as the relentless cadence of the poem fills the room.

"Don't-don't-don't-don't-look at what's in front of you..."

When it's over, he lets out a soft huff.

"Kipling captured it perfectly. That feeling... when your body's numb, your mind's blank, and all you can do is keep moving. It's eerie how real it feels, even now."

He shifts his weight, glancing at you.

"Not exactly bedtime reading, but... it hits home. Thanks for that."

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Soap listens intently, his head tilted as the relentless rhythm of the poem unfolds. By the time it's finished, he's drumming his fingers on the table, caught up in the relentless beat.

"Marchin'... marchin'... aye, it's bloody brilliant," he says with a small, bittersweet smile. "Kipling knew the life-boots on the ground, head down, keep goin' no matter what. It's a hard truth, but there's somethin' poetic about it, eh?"

He pauses, then grins at you. "You've got good taste, lass. Next time, we'll pair it with a wee dram of whisky— make it a proper soldier's night."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

As you play "Boots," Gaz leans forward, elbows on his knees, his brow furrowed. The relentless rhythm and repetition seem to strike a chord with him, pulling him into a reflective silence.

When the poem ends, he exhales deeply. "It's... heavy. That rhythm-it's like being back there, y'know? Just putting one foot in front of the other, over and over, hoping it's leading somewhere."

He looks up at you with a small smile.

"Kipling nailed it, though. Makes you appreciate the quiet moments even more. Thanks for sharing that-it's powerful."

Phillip Graves

Graves listens with an intense expression, his jaw tightening as the rhythmic lines of "Boots" play out. By the time it ends, he's leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Damn," he mutters. "That's... accurate. Too accurate. The repetition, the monotony-it gets under your skin after a while. And Kipling? Man knew his stuff."

He gives you a nod, his expression softening. "Thanks for that, darlin'. It's a reminder of where we've been—and why we do what we do. Even if it's not pretty."

König

König listens quietly, his towering frame still, his gaze fixed on the floor as the steady cadence of "Boots" fills the room. The relentless repetition seems to resonate with him on a deep level.

When it ends, he takes a deep breath and looks at you. "It is... haunting," he says softly, his Austrian accent giving the words a weight of their own. "The endless march, the monotony-it reminds me of how the mind... shuts down sometimes. Just to survive."

He offers you a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you for sharing that.

Kipling understood soldiers, even across time. It's... comforting, in a strange way."

You play back that one part:

Try-try-try—try—to think o' something different —

Oh—my-God-keep—me from goin' lunatic!

(Boots-boots-boots-boots—

movin' up an' down again!)

There's no discharge in the war!

“What did you think of this part specifically?”

Price leans forward, rubbing his beard as he replays the words in his head.

"That part... it gets to you, doesn't it?

Tryin' to think of anything but the grind, but it's no good. War doesn't let you switch off-it keeps you trapped, even in your own mind."

He sighs, lighting a cigar. "The line 'keep me from goin' lunatic' —yeah, I've been there. Sometimes it feels like the only way to keep sane is to stop thinkin' altogether." He looks at you, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "It's raw, but it's real. Makes you respect what we've been through-and what we survived."

Ghost stares at the floor for a long moment, his fingers twitching slightly.

''Oh—my-God—keep—me from goin' lunatic!" He repeats the line slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's the desperation in it that gets me. When you're so far gone, you're just beggin' for your mind to hold on."

He shifts uncomfortably, his gaze distant. "That line... it hits too close to home. And 'there's no discharge in the war'? Feels like a life sentence, doesn't it? Like even if you make it out, part of you never really leaves."

Soap's usual cheerfulness is tempered as he leans back, crossing his arms.

'Try-to think o' somethin' different!

Aye, l've been there. You want to escape, even just in your head, but the war doesn't let you. It follows you— boots and all."

He gives you a small, sad smile. "The whole 'movin' up an' down again' part?

That's the rhythm you can't escape.

Even when you're not marchin', it's like it's still happenin' inside you. Kipling got it spot-on, didn't he?"

Gaz exhales slowly, his brow furrowed as he considers the lines.

"Keep me from goin' lunatic! That's heavy. It's like... when you're out there, your brain tries to protect you by shutting down, but sometimes even that isn't enough."

He shakes his head. "And 'there's no discharge in the war'? That's the real kicker. It's saying there's no escape, no relief-just the same grind, over and over." He glances at you. "It's brutal, but it's honest. Makes you wonder how Kipling knew it so well."

Graves nods slowly, his jaw tightening as he repeats the lines under his breath.

''Keep me from goin' lunatic! That's the part, right there. It's like Kipling captured what it feels like to hit your breaking point but still have to keep moving. No time to process. No time to feel. Just... keep marchin'."

He lets out a dry chuckle. "And that last line-'there's no discharge in the war! Damn right there isn't. Even when you think you're out, the memories, the habits-they stick with you. Forever."

König listens to the lines again, his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

'''Try-to think o' something different.'

It's like your mind is screaming for an escape, but there's no way out. And

'keep me from goin' lunatic'-I've felt that. When the march seems endless, and you think... if I take one more step, I'll break."

He pauses, his voice softening.

''There's no discharge in the war.' That's the hardest part. Even when the war is over, it stays with you. In your head. In your body. Kipling... he understood the weight soldiers carry."

"I think it's very comforting in a way, I've never been in war not like you but I can only describe what he's feeling as...drowning. I know how it feels to drown. Drown in your own head, drown in your own emotions I know what it feels like to want to run from something that kills you but you just can't get your legs to move. I know what it feels like to feel like you're crazy or you're losing your mind. I feel sorry for you..." The room falls into a heavy silence after your words, each of them processing the depth of what you just shared.

Price's eyes soften, his cigar forgotten in the ashtray as he listens intently.

When you finish, he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

"You've got a way with words, love," he says, his voice low and steady.

"You're right-it does feel like drowning. Like there's no way up for air, no way out."

He reaches out, placing a hand over yours. "But you're stronger than you think. I can see that in you. And for what it's worth, you're not alone in it anymore. Not with me here."

Ghost doesn't speak right away, his posture rigid, his eyes staring into a far-off place. Your words seem to cut through his armor, and when he finally looks at you, his gaze is intense.

"You don't need to feel sorry for me," he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "But... I get it. That feeling.

Being trapped in your own head. It's a different kind of war, but it's just as bloody."

He shifts closer, his gloved hand brushing against yours. "You're not crazy. And you're not alone. Don't ever forget that."

Soap listens with an unusual seriousness, his usual playful demeanor replaced by quiet reflection.

When you finish, he exhales deeply, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Drownin'... aye, that's a good way to put it," he murmurs. "You're not wrong -it's like sinkin' deeper and deeper, and no one sees it happenin'."

He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft smile.

"But you're still here, yeah? Still fightin'. That says a hell of a lot about you. You're tougher than you give yourself credit for."

Gaz's expression is pained as he absorbs your words, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. When you finish, he shakes his head slightly, his voice thick with emotion.

"I'm sorry you've felt like that," he says softly. "You shouldn't have to carry that weight, not on your own."

He hesitates before leaning closer, his hand covering yours. "You might feel like you're drowning, but you're not alone anymore. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll figure it out together, yeah?"

Graves leans back in his chair, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer than usual.

"Damn," he mutters, shaking his head.

"I knew you were strong, but hearing that? Makes me respect you even more."

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're right—it is like drowning. But listen to me. You don't have to fight it alone anymore. I've got you, darlin'. Always."

König's brows knit together as he listens, his large frame unusually still.

When you finish, he exhales deeply, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't know you felt that way," he says, his accent heavy with emotion.

"But I understand. That feeling... it's suffocating."

He gently takes your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"You're not crazy, and you're not alone. I will always be here for you, no matter what."

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ginxyy · 3 months ago

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Melodies of our heart

My soulmate Jihoon

There’s something utterly entrancing about the way the sun filters through the tall windows of Jihoon’s studio, casting delicate rays upon the myriad of instruments strewn about, each waiting patiently for their moment to sing. It was here, amongst the gentle chaos of keyboards and guitars, that my heart first acknowledged the fluttering, teasing touches of love. Jihoon is not just a composer; he is the very melody that has woven its way into the fabric of my soul.

This day felt particularly magical, as if the universe conspired to create an atmosphere thick with possibility. I had slipped into the studio, my sanctuary, a place where creativity danced in the air, and warmth radiated from the man I adored. Jihoon was hunched over his keyboard, the faintest pout on his lips as he concentrated, his fingers gliding over the keys with an elegance that took my breath away.

“Don’t you ever tire of being this brilliant?” I teased, leaning against the wall, my arms folded, just drinking him in. He looked up, and the corners of his mouth turned upward, illuminating the room in a way that sunlight alone could not.

“Not as long as you’re here to inspire me,” he replied, his voice a low, soothing melody that wrapped around me like a well-worn blanket. In that moment, I realized how deeply he had etched himself into the canvas of my life, and a blush crept across my cheeks.

With an exaggerated sigh, I moved closer, sitting on the plush, oversized rug that dotted the floor. “Is that a compliment or a way to distract me from your never-ending lyricism?” I teased again, though my heart raced at his words. Jihoon had a surprising way of loading every interaction with flirtation and sincerity.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the room like a gentle breeze through trees. “Why not both? You know, inspiration often strikes when you least expect it.” I could see the spark in his beautiful eyes, a twinkling mischief that made my stomach flutter.

As he shifted back to his work, I watched him, enthralled by the grace of his movements the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered a chord change, or how he would occasionally spin his hair with a distracted hand, habitually curling and uncurling the silky strands. I loved every moment in this sanctuary of sound, but I loved just being near him even more.

The days blurred into a sweet cascade of memories. I often sat across from Jihoon at the grand piano while he effortlessly shaped the notes that floated between us like dandelion seeds in the wind. Each session felt both intense and intimate as we dove deeper into the creative process. There was a rhythm to our collaboration, an unsung harmony that tethered us together on a level that felt profound yet wonderfully innocent.

One evening, wrapped in the cozy embrace of dim fairy lights flickering above us, Jihoon paused mid-composition and turned toward me. “I’ve been working on something,” he said, the excitement palpable in his tone. My heart raced. I had heard countless pieces he crafted, each one a glimpse into his brilliant mind, but this time felt different.

“What is it?” I could hardly contain my curiosity.

“It��s a song,” he murmured, his gaze intense, holding mine like a secret shared between two lovers. “And… it’s about you.” His words hung in the air, swirling around us, igniting something deeper within my heart.

“Me?” I gasped, my breath caught somewhere between astonishment and a delightful thrill. “Forget that I can’t sing this is incredible, Jihoon! You’re going to make me cry,” I said, my voice trembling slightly at his confession.

He scoffed, waving me off playfully. “You have a beautiful voice. You just haven’t discovered it yet.” He reached for my hand gently, intertwining our fingers. The warmth of his touch ignited a spark between us, and the room felt charged with an unseen force.

“Will you play it for me?” I asked, leaning closer, my heart drumming an anxious melody of hope as I implored him with my eyes. The camera in my mind clicked, freezing that moment in time as he took a deep breath, exuding a charm that made the air around us shimmer.

Seating himself back at the piano, Jihoon’s fingers danced across the keys, and I was submerged in the music a symphony of notes that felt like poetry woven into sound. There it was, the rhythm of our shared moments the laughter, the unspoken words, the stolen glances that hinted at something profound.

As he played, I closed my eyes and allowed the music to envelop me. His voice was soft, melodic, as he sang the lyrics a confession that fluttered like butterflies in my chest, unveiling the depth of his feelings. Each word resonated as if he poured every ounce of his soul into the song, crafting a heartfelt testimony of how he had fallen in love.

“I never knew how beautiful love could be,

Until I saw the world through your eyes, you see.

Like a melody turning, soft and true,

My heart is a song that finds its way to you.”

My heart soared and plummeted, echoing each poignant lyric. Jihoon finished, and silence filled the room, tainted only by the gentle echo of the final chord that lingered, time suspended around us like a fragile promise. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, the world outside faded away.

“It’s beautiful,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper, filled with emotion. “You’ve poured everything into this.”

“Because you are everything to me,” he replied, his words a soft caress, wiping away all doubts and fears. In that heartbeat of silence, I understood I was not merely a muse for his music; I was the song that danced in his heart, the rhythm that urged him forward. My cheeks flushed with warmth, and I didn’t need to think twice before leaning in, pressing my lips softly against his.

We were a symphony beautifully entwined, two souls captured in a moment that would etch itself into the very fabric of our existence. The studio, our sacred haven filled with endless possibilities, bore witness to our love an extraordinary melody composed by fate, played out in soft whispers and tender moments, forever lingering in my heart.

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heytherebuds · 9 months ago

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I hope drake wakes up in a cold sweat knowing that somewhere out there there’s a club screaming along to "tryna strike a chord it's probably A minoooorrrrrr”

#kendrick lamar #drake

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puppyguppy · 1 year ago

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You're trembling.

You flex your ha- no. Not hands. Wrong. Paws.

They ache. They ache in ways you can't comprehend; in ways your brain tries to block out. Your thoughts are fleeting, as is your consciousness -- something about phantom limbs comes and goes. Like the space where your fingers were once digging into the carpet, the digits now shorter, but sharper, tearing at the shag. Gone, wrong, but so, so right.

The way it hurts, it's like your whole entire body needs to teethe.

Bones and muscle grown too fast, synapsis switched. You want to run. You want to scream, and dig, cry, and crunch, you want to roll around and -- you can only do half of that now. And you know that, know this, but your rationality is warring with your newly gained instincts, and losing.

You'd been told to leave.

Not forever or anything, but just for...this. A night or two. Somewhere far, far away. Away from someone, anyone you could hurt; someone, anyone who could see, or hear, or -- like an abandoned building. A deserted beach. The thick of a forest. But, none of those had sounded safe to you. And wouldn't it have been worse, then? For you to freak out? At least, that's what you'd reasoned. Stupidly. Locked yourself away in your apartment, deep in your room, with the rawest, most organic snacks possible, already unwrapped, and a - a bowl of water. You'd grabbed extra bedding for your bed, and laid protective plastic down and fucking puppy pads on one half of your bedroom floor. You'd, at the very least, prepared.

But, everything in there has a scent.

Scents you usually like, yes. But not to this degree, not so overwhelmingly. It burns. Your detergent, the plastic on the floor, the constructive makeup of your whole apartment -- there's chemicals everywhere. There's so little that smells natural, something inside you riots like a rat in a lab. This is your home, where you go to escape and relax, and you're terrified. Unwelcome, in your own den.

You should've listened.

Why the fuck did you think you'd be different?

Or, maybe you'd just hoped --

Your head pounds, a white and then red rhythm, the same as your enlarged, racing heart. You hear things you can and can't describe, the decibels and tones of what you once thought was silence so loud, too loud. At least you'd managed to get through the worst of it on the protected half of the room. But, such a relief is short lived, as are your memories, falling from your head and drifting through your fur like the dirt you wish you were in. You can't remember your name. Or why you even needed one, or wanted one -- thoughts are feelings now. Too big and too strong not to do something with. Something about.

But, what --

You do and don't notice a sound. It starts off so small, but not insignificant; foreign from the rest, and it makes your ears snap and swivel. The feeling makes your stomach churn; old muscle moving in new ways. It's hard to focus on the sound, until it's louder, which means closer. A pattern opposite to the pounding of your bones. A heavy, fast-paced thump thump thump -- though, one thump sounds a bit different. You don't know why, don't know what it is, but automatically, it's dangerous. You feel the urge to protect; not this place, but this body. And you know you will fight.

Fighting is right.

Fighting will feel good.

You're ready. With new teeth and talons; both bared, as your body poises to strike. To leap and sink in, to stretch out and give in. This body is yours. You'd survived, you'd earned it.

When the door to your apartment is kicked in, the sound of it shatters through your senses like a bomb. The floor beneath your vibrates -- no, you vibrate, your freshly added vocal chords thrumming in threat. It's a growl, it's a warning, and one ignored as the human gets closer. That's what you smell, first and foremost. Human. Male. When the door in front of you is given the same treatment, the shock of it is enough to send you reeling. In the split second you could've attacked, instead, you buckle, whimpering and then whining as the sound of it, and then the scent of it, is too much. You're too weak, too new, too alone --

"Down."

It's human, but you understand the command, and it shoots through you like an arrow. Like a gun. Like silver, something you know to be bad, to avoid, in the form. It's a second of clarity, of thought instead of feeling, and you obey the command easily, and almost eagerly. You're already halfway down, anyway. "Stay down."

The sudden weight over your shoulders and across your back stuns you, and you snap your eyes open. They shouldn't have been closed so long, you should get up, you need to get up. So you start to squirm, and growl again, but that weight gets heavier, stronger, and wraps around your neck, under your front legs --

"Shh, I've got you."

There's a new sound.

A new vibration.

A rumble not your own.

But, all at ounce, you also recognize it as your own. One of your own.

Wolf.

And then the rest is familiar, too. The voice, the scent, the long streaks of black hair falling into your face. The cooler press of a silicone prosthetic against one of your hind legs. Silicone, not the metal one. That's why it'd sounded different. He'd changed it for this. For you. Because he knew you'd been stupid. Again, you want to run, but now to hide, and as if sensing this, the human atop and around you moves. Your head is more or less slammed down into the floor, front legs on either side, whilst your back legs remain standing, locked, with your ass up and --

There's teeth in your neck.

Dull, human teeth, digging into the shaking muscle close to your shoulder. Too weak to break skin, but strong enough to get the point across, and a slew of new emotions swim through you. Along with some thoughts, and a few memories -- a confusing concoction which slowly creates only one conclusion. This position was...vulnerable. You'd been forced to present. Were being commanded to submit.

This was a mating press.

And the human performing it --

Was doing so as a comfort. A distraction.

Out of love.

There's a language barrier like this, but still you try, as the first wave of safety ripples and soothes down your spine. You roll your tongue around your mouth in a happy whine, and your tail twitches to wag where it's kinked between the two of your. A weird feeling, one full of possibly pleasant tingles. And when your next sound is something still animal, but akin to Shouta, the laugh that flitters across one of your ears is worth the trouble.

"Good pup."

#aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa shouta #gender neutral reader #werewolf aizawa #werewolf reader #transformation #hope ya buckled up for this one bestie

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year ago

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Garden Party: Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Reader

Tagging: @aaronhtchnrs @rosaliedepp @mysoulisasunflower @kabloswrld @xoxabs88xox @crazy4chickennuggets @justreblogginfics @witches-unruly-heart @infinity-mars @pimosworld @beardedbarba @est1887 @creativitybeware @mortal--soul @spookyboogyuniverse @corruptedcoffin @nu1freakshow @@oureternalbond @the-wandering-lunatic @thebaileybugle @proceduralpassion @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @thanossexual @the-wandering-lunatic @thebaileybugle @justreblogginfics @deekaag

Prequel to Come Up for Air

Frankie meets you at a garden party of all things. It’s his sister’s birthday and he’s spent weeks building the bar out of pallets, because he’s ‘handy�� and his morning stringing fairy lights across the top of the fences, along with fake roses to make the place look ‘magical’. It’s not even a big birthday.

Lucia is two years younger than him and has always lived extravagantly, his little sister deserves the world, but he wishes she wouldn’t whine about how his truck brings down the neighbourhood every time he parks it outside her house.

As he stands underneath the strings of light and looks up at the night sky, he realises that she may have been right about the vibe they bring to the garden. There’s an ethereal air to the place, the flowers accentuate the plush greenery making it seem like botanical wonderland.

He doesn’t know anyone here except Lucia and her husband Dave, the TV Exec. He knows fuck all about what Dave actually does, only that he makes an alarming amount of money. Frankie’s only been home a couple of months and honestly, he kinda sucks at making friends. He’s too quiet, Lucia tells him, too lost in his own head.

How could he not be? He thinks. The shit he’s done. He can’t burden anyone with that. There are only three people who can understand him on any level, and they are certainly not at this party.

A couple more minutes he thinks. He’ll stay a couple more minutes before making his excuses.

That goes completely out of the window when you literally bump into him. He doesn’t know how it happens because he’s standing stationary for Christ’s sake. You’re in the midst of apologising when he reaches out a hand to steady you, his warm palm coming to rest upon your shoulder, thumb accidently skirting your collarbone. It’s the first physical contact he’s had with anyone for a while, and it makes his heart thud even harder in his chest.

When he looks into your eyes he knows he’s in trouble. They’re a stunning shade, the hues bleeding into one another. He’s told women they have beautiful eyes before but with you he means it. The words slip out of his mouth before he can take them back and you tip your head back and laugh. It’s a musical sound that strikes a chord somewhere deep down inside of his soul.

“Pretty bad huh?” He says smiling despite himself.

He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t approach women, he doesn’t hit on them. Every single relationship he’s been in, he’s fallen into.

“I’ve heard worse.” You reply.

He can see it, you’re a striking woman. He’d sure you catch a lot of guy’s attention. There’s no ring on your finger and he feels a surge of hope.

“I bet you have.” He says knowingly, taking a sip of his beer.

It starts from there, the two of you sitting at the makeshift bar long into the night. You’re warm, companionable. He learns that you’re a writer for one of those sketch shows he’s seen on TV, that you don’t usually tell people that. You list the professions that you’ve made up during your tenure on Tinder, each one becoming more creative and silly the longer it goes on. He finds himself laughing for the first time in a long time and he’s forgotten just how it good it feels.

“Because they’ll ask for tickets?” he asks, questioning the reasoning behind it. He’s old fashioned, he prefers actually meeting people instead of using apps.

“Mostly.” You tell him before deliberating. “I also don’t want them to have that part of me. Remember this it isn’t a long-term connection I’m looking for; I just want to get fucked.”

Heat creeps across his cheeks and he takes a swig from his beer in an attempt to hide it. He finds your openness refreshing and it emboldens him. He hasn’t had this much fun in a long time, he can’t remember the last frank conversation he had.

“And why is that?” He asks you.

“My schedule.” You say with the shrug of your shoulders. You gesture to the space around you, it’s getting late, or early depending on how you look at it. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon, bathing the garden in an orange glow. Most of the guests have gone home and the entire yard is in a state of disarray. Frankie can see his sister sprawled out on the couch through the French windows, a blanket haphazardly tossed over her. “Everybody’s going to bed, but this is the golden hour for me. The work I do, the pitching, the rewrites, the editing, the filming, it all happens overnight. It’s entirely nocturnal. You can’t ask anyone to get on board with that. People think they can handle it but they can’t.”

He senses you’ve learned that from experience. That there’s been a boyfriend or two in the past who’ve called it quits because they couldn’t deal with it.

“I’m an insomniac.” He reveals to you, his hand clasped around his beer. “Sometimes when I can’t fall asleep, I drive around the city with the radio on, get out of my own head for a little while.”

“I get that.” You tell him with a smile. “The city is different at night, it’s quiet, it feels like it’s settling.”

You’re not wrong. He sees a lot of shit you don’t see in the day time, but it’s the peacefulness that he enjoys. There’s less traffic on the road, the streets are quieter. He thinks the nightlife suits him.

“The good thing about that is that I know all the good places to eat…” He says checking his watch. “… at four thirty in the morning.”

“Are you asking me out for breakfast?”

“Would you come along if I did?”

“Yea.” You tell him. “I think I would.”

“There’s a place around the corner.” He tells you, touching the edge of his cap. It’s a nervous gesture, because only now does he realise the enormity of his actions, that the night is shifting towards date territory, and he hasn’t been on a date for a very long time. “We can walk it?”

“Sounds like a plan.” You say as you climb off the barstool. Frankie follows suit, helping you into your jacket before the two of you slip out through the garden gate, trying to make as little noise as possible. There’s a giddiness to it, he feels like a teenager sneaking out of his parent’s house to meet a girl.

Out on the street he’s surprised when you capture his hand in yours. They fit together perfectly, your fingers entwining with his. It’s been a long time since he’s held someone’s hand, even longer since he’s met someone who he connects with.

“I like this.” He says, his thumb ghosting along the inside of your wrist.

He sees the blush creep up your cheeks and he can’t help but smile because it’s just so fucking adorable.

“Good.” You tell him. “Because I like it too.”

Enjoying my work with Frankie? Add yourself to his taglist!

Love Frankie? Check out his Masterlist here!

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales

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pumpkennpie · 14 days ago

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Hiii! I'm so curious about what you have to share with us!

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

@speciallivery

hiii sorry it took me a bit to answer, i just saw the notif!!

the question is from this ask game

here's am almost 600 word snippet from one of my absolute favorite landoscar wips! i'm not gonna put the title out yet, so i just refer to it as 'orpheus'

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As the instrument sings from his lap, so too does Oscar. He begins humming, a gentle closed-mouth thing that intertwines with the melodious lyre. His hands move of their own accord, bringing to life a song that has never before been heard by man or beast alike. As the tension builds, Oscar opens his mouth, creating harmonies with his instrument to rival that of a siren attempting to pull a poor sailor into her depths. Around him, the cacophony of the forest lulls to a whisper before finally falling silent. The birds above him flutter their wings, dropping from the highest branches to gather on the lowest boughs. A sparrow flits around his head for a few moments before perching on his shoulder, its tiny talons sinking into the flesh beneath his tunic. The squirrels quit their bickering, scurrying down the trunks of their trees to bound through the tall grass surrounding Oscar. Oscar continues his song, letting his voice grow louder in the still air of the forest. One by one, more animals make their appearances. A gray hare hops into the clearing, ears perked up high on his head. A dark raven, black as the night, flies in through the opening of the canopy, taking rest in a tall pine. A red deer hind peeks her head in through the trees, tentative at first before stepping in, the gently swaying grass tall enough to reach her knees. Behind her toddles a newborn calf, no more than a few days old, its downy coat speckled with brilliant white spots. The pair are a sure sign that spring is in full swing. The mother and child approach Oscar, bedding down in a cluster of baby blue forget-me-nots to his right. They curl around each other, the calf resting its head on its mother’s body as it drifts off into a peaceful slumber. Oscar quiets his voice, returning it to the gentle whisper of a hum. He slows the tempo of his plucking, turning bright staccato notes to sweeping legato melodies. Finally, as the birds cease their travel, and the hare drops his ears, and the deer slumber quietly, he brings his song to an end. The last chord sings into the forest, a hopeful sound that evokes the feeling of new beginnings being carried on the warm late-spring breeze. Just as Oscar moves to lay down and join the animals in their dozing, a new melody floats through the trees. Somewhere to his left, there is a soft, twinkling laughter, not unlike the sound of wooden chimes ringing in a gentle wind. “You have to play more,” comes a voice, reverence evident in its tone. A twig snaps in the underbrush, closer to Oscar than the laughter had been. The sparrow resting on Oscar’s shoulder flits away, spooked by the sudden sound. The deer perk up, but don’t move from their bed of flowers. Emerging from the forest is a striking young man. His skin is as golden as the lyre in Oscar’s hand, glowing under the rays of the shy spring sun. His hair is as curly as a grapevine and as brown as the earth beneath his bare feet, bouncing with every light step he takes. There is a wreath of branches woven into the curls, crafted from the soft leaves of a young laurel bush, intertwined with strong vines and light yellow wildflowers. His eyes- oh, his eyes; they are the color of the lichen that covers the tree trunks around them, some enigmatic mixture of green, gray, and blue that entrances Oscar.

#this fic is my baby #i couldn't pick a shorter snippet #so here is the first time they meet #i love doing this #send me more!!#ken writes orpheus #ask ken #ask games #landoscar

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sweet-villain · 3 months ago

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Cause I Believe~ 8 Older Eddie Munson

Part 7

Summary : A date with Eddie, a conversation that's sideways

Eddie munched on his burger, his hands glistering with grease as ketchup painted one of his fingers.

“You ever stop and think about what you really want?”

You paused, the weight of his question hovering like the last rays of sunlight.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, eyes dropping to your half-eaten burger.

Eddie leaned forward.

“C’mon. There’s gotta be something. A dream. A kick-ass goal.”

A nervous chuckle escaped, this erratic warmth contrasting with the chill creeping up your spine. “Dreams don’t come true for people like me.”

“People like you?” He tilted his head, a half-smile splitting his lips. “What do you mean?”

A glance at his faded band t-shirt, memories tangled in nostalgia, urged an answer. “I’m just… ordinary, Eddie. What’s the point?”

Eddie shook his head, a strand of silver hair falling over his eyes as he pushed it back with a flick of his wrist. “Ordinary? Man, you’re more than that. You're beautiful.." he trails.

Eddie's voice softened, the playful edge fading as he focused on you. “ You're so much more than a diner girl. Steve is lucky to have you helping him out."

You squirmed in your seat, the compliment like a moth bumping against your heart. You pushed a stray fry around the plate. “It’s just a job. I mean, it’s not a life plan or anything.”

Eddie studied you.

" Then why aren't you chasing after what you reall want?" He asks, licking off the ketchup off his finger.

You glanced out the window, the streetlights flickering to life, casting shadows across the vinyl booth.

“Because it’s easier to blend in with everyone else here, then look for something that might not be there."

Eddie scoffed, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. “Blending in? You? No way.”

" You don't get it" you picked at your burger like it was something so gross.

“Try me.” He leaned back, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised defiantly.

" You want to be a rockstar, you have dreams and you sing. You play. You have many friends. You're something unlike me..."

“Yeah, but I'm not a rockstar yet, sweetheart."

His voice softened, the twinkle in his eyes slightly dimming. “I’m still just Eddie who plays in bars, you know? Chasing shadows and old dreams. There’s safety in the dark, but no glory.”

" But I have connections and I believe that connection will get you somewhere."

Eddie leaned forward, the wisps of his smoke-scented hair framing his face as if to shield the truth beneath. “Connections? Those can fade faster than old band posters. What about passion? What makes your heart beat like a drum when the light goes out?"

" This connection I have is very reliable, it will get you in a studio"

“You think so?” Eddie’s brows knitted together, his voice rising with a hopeful bounce as he leaned closer, the dim light highlighting the contours of his face. “I mean, that’s great, but does it strike a chord in your heart?”

" What do you mean? Your the muscian here, Eddie. Not me. I have different dreams."

" Like what?"

" I want to be a photographer... a mother.." you whispered the last words out.

“Photographer? That's amazing” he said slowly, the grin fading, replaced by a seriousness.

“Yeah, but it feels silly saying it out loud,” you murmured, tracing a ring of ketchup on the table with your fingertip.

Eddie leaned back, crossing his arms but keeping his eyes on you.

" You know, maybe we should get you a camera to get you started" He says.

" That's expensive, and your not doing it"

“Why not?” His gaze pierced through the dim lit diner, eyes bright with challenge. “If you want it, why not fight for it?”

“But I don’t know the first thing about photography!” The words tumbled out in a rush. " I'm just a lost cause with it"

Eddie’s laughter bounced off the diner’s walls, a melodic sound that contrasted with the drab grease-stained surroundings. “A lost cause? Look at me. Have you seen me? I didn't start playing guitar with the snap of my fingers."

" But you had a vision" you mumbled.

" It took time and a hell of a lot of practice,” he said, his eyes glinting as passion fueled his voice. “I painted my dreams on stage and bled through every note. Every strum, every word I sang out at a bar microphone wasn't with seconds that came to me."

“Yeah, but you had the courage to show it,” you countered, your fingers tightening around the edge of your plate.

" You start small, and then progress"

" Why do you want me to presue this?" you asked him.

Eddie leaned back, arms folded across his chest, his smirk giving way to a more serious tone.

“Because I see you, you know? With that camera in your hands, capturing moments the rest of the world overlooks. You’re not ordinary. You're something,” he replied, his voice low.

" But the other thing you didn't hear, right?"

Eddie raised an eyebrow, leaning in as if drawing the truth from the air between you. “What’s that?”

" It's nothing" you shook your head.

Eddie's eyes narrowed, sizing you up. "Not buying it." He leaned closer, elbows resting on the table, his focus narrowing “You think I wouldn’t understand? Just spit it out.”

" I know your older than me, but have you wondered what's it like to be a dad?"

Eddie blinked, caught off guard. The air shifted, a dense silence filling the space between you.

“Why do you ask?” His voice dipped low, a hint of wariness creeping in.

" Because I want to be a mother one day... and we're kinda dating?"

Eddie’s expression shifted, confusion mingling with something deeper. He fiddled with the greasy wrapper of his burger, tearing it methodically, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

“Yeah, but…,” Eddie hesitated, his words caught in the space between you, swirling like the remnants of the burger floating in his imagination. “That’s a big deal. It’s like… life-changing.”

" I'm not saying right now, Eddie. But one day. But you want to travel the world..."

Eddie finally met your gaze, eyes searching yours for honesty, for the truth buried beneath layers of hopes and fears.

" Yeah, my dream is to sing on a big stage in front of the crowd with a guitar in my hands. I want people to hear me, cheer for Eddie Munson..."

He cleared his throat.

“...and I want to feel the music vibrating in my bones,” he finished, his voice laced with a raw intensity. Eddie leaned back, his fingers brushing against the chipped edge of the tabletop.

“You can but would you ever want a family of your own?"

Eddie stared into the remains of his burger, contemplating. “I don’t know,” he finally replied, voice barely above a whisper. " I don't think I'm cut out to be a father..."

Silence enveloped the table, stretching between you like an invisible barrier. You traced the outline of your plate, the remnants of your burger abandoned, coating your fingers in grease.

“Why not?” The question slipped out before you could swallow it.

" I don't know how to be one. My father was never there for me..." he replied.

A heaviness settled over you as his words hung in the air. The flickering diner lights flickered like memories fighting to surface.

“I just…,” Eddie paused, his gaze dropping to the table. “I don’t want to mess it up and have the kid live the life I lived through..." he adds.

You leaned in, studying the shadows tracing the lines of his face. “Eddie, you can’t control everything. No one has the perfect playbook for parenting.”

" Look sweetheart..this date has been nice and all..."

Eddie tossed a napkin onto his plate.

“...but I’m still just figuring out my own life.” He leaned back, glancing up at you.

" I'm not rushing you, we're just talking about it"

Eddie let out a breath, a half-laugh escaping as he scratched the back of his neck. “Talking about family at a burger joint seems kinda backwards, don’t you think?”

You shrugged, a smile creeping up the corner of your mouth.

"We have been on one date, sweetheart.." he adds. " You want a family sweetheart, your looking at the wrong place.."

Your smile faltered, the tension wrapping tighter around your chest. “Maybe,” you murmured, eyes flickering to the window where the night soaked the street in deep shadows.

The clock stroke 12 am and it was your birthday and the conversation you were having with Eddie was thick with tension and silence.

" Happy Birthday, sweetheart" Eddie says trying to bring you back to him. But it was clear there was tension and uneasyiness between the two of you.

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a smile. The words felt hollow, echoing against the walls of uncertainty. “Guess we should celebrate, huh?”

" How about first, I take you home to get some sleep and when you wake up... well we will see."

You swiped at a crumb on the table, avoiding his gaze. The offer lingered like a hint of hope, yet it felt shrouded in all this unspoken tension.

“Yeah… that sounds good,” you finally said. You cleaned up the plates and washed them in the back that Steve wouldn't find out you were there. You took your keys and wiped down the counter while Eddie watched.

Eddie stood up and helped you get your things as you two exited the diner, locking up that Steve didn't find out you were here.

The crisp night air tingled against your skin, carrying the scent of fried food and the distant hints of rain. Streetlights glowed like distant stars, casting patterns on the pavement as you and Eddie stepped into the quiet embrace of night.

“You okay?" He asked, the conversation stopped and you stopped looking at him. Giving him any attention.

“Just… thinking,” you replied, voice barely a whisper.

" About what?" He asks.

“About everything.” You stuffed your hands into your pockets, the chill creeping into your bones.

Eddie walked beside you, his gaze scanning the ground as if searching for clues in the cracks of the pavement. “Sounds heavy. Got something specific?”

" This" you answered. " Whatever this is between us"

Eddie stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean?”

You took a breath, steadying your racing heart. “Us. This... connection....I thought we had something good."

“Of course,” he replied, the hint of confusion stark against the quiet night. “We do.”

“ We want different things"

He tilted his head, his brow furrowing deeper. “What do you want, then? Because you just told me that you want something different from me.”

“I want more than just... this,” you gestured between the two of you, " I don't want the banter back and forth. I don't want just the flirting. I don't want teasing, the what if's. I want a future with someone, but you don't seem to be in it because you'll go be someone out there one day" you throw your your hand to the sky as if telling him he will be someplace else without you.

“Listen,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. “Music is my first love and it means a lot to me.." he starts.

"That’s great, but what about me?" Your voice sharpened with a mixture of frustration and longing.

Eddie stepped closer, the space between you, " you'll have to wait for me."

“Wait?” The word spilled from your lips, heavy with disbelief. “You want me to wait while you figure out every note and lyric in your band?"

Eddie stepped closer, the space between you shrinking, his brow furrowing deeper. “It’s not just about the music. It’s about finding myself again—becoming someone I can be proud of.”

“And what if you don’t come back and decide to buy mansion, surround yourself with girls that wear barely nothing...?"

Eddie’s eyes flickered with surprise, narrowing as he leaned closer, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the night air. “You really think that about me?”

" Have you seen yourself Eddie? You're beautiful..."

" My looks aren't everything, sweetheart.."

Eddie glanced away, fingers tangling in his hair, frustration flickering across his features. “This isn’t about charm or looks. It’s way deeper than that. You think I want to ditch this… whatever we have?”

“Then what do you want me to do?"

Eddie took a deep breath, the weight of expectations pressing down on his broad shoulders. “I don’t want you to do anything. I want you to be real. I want you to understand that I’m just… I'm still trying to understand where to go, what to do with myself..."

"I just don't know what to do with this, with us.."

Eddie's eyes softened, the tension bleeding from his expression. “Look, I might not have all the answers, and maybe I can’t give you what you want right now, but I care about you. This isn’t just empty banter and empty conversations."

You stepped back, caught off guard by the weight of his words. “It feels like we’re stuck in this endless circle, Eddie. You want freedom, and I’m just looking for someone to share my life with.”

" I just want to be something to the world" he says.

Eddie’s voice trembled slightly, the intensity of his gaze penetrating through the shadows.

“Something?” you echoed, a knot tightening in your chest. “What does that even mean? You’re already something to me.”

He inhaled, " Sweetheart. The world use to see me very differently. Never stood a chance agaisnt anyone. I've had friends, I've lost people and it hurt. Now, I want to be something out there that people see Eddie Munson isn't just a guy who own a music store, who sings in bars and plays guitar... he means something. I want to have someone be proud of me..."

“You think I wouldn’t be proud of you?”

Eddie ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “It’s not that. It’s just… the path I’m taking is uncertain. If I dive into this music thing, it’s all or nothing. And I don’t want you waiting around for something that might break your heart.”

" Eddie..."

" I don't deserve uncertainty.. I don't deserve to just be a waiting game..." you tell him.

“Listen,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. " Before you came along, my plan was to leave Hawkins, to find my way into the music business. To be someone."

You shook your head, hurt curling in your chest. “So this is it? You’re just going to leave everything behind? Leave me?”

" I didn't say that, I am still working my way around"

“I’m not saying I want to abandon you. I care, but I can’t promise anything. My life’s a mess.”

You swallowed hard, " and mine isn't?"

" Let me get you home" he abodones the conversation.

Eddie turned away, his shoulders tight with unsaid words. The night air wrapped around you like an uncertain cloak, blending the warmth of the diner’s greasy aroma with the chill that settled deep in your bones.

“Fine,” you finally said, " what a shitty way to start my birthday."

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture betraying his frustration. “I didn’t mean for this to go sideways. I just… I don’t know how to handle all this.”

" Don't worry" you hissed.

You opened his car door and slam it when you got in. Eddie slipped into the driver's seat, the tension is heavy, thickening the air between you like the fog rolling over the horizon. The engine roared to life.

He adjusted his seat and backed up from the parking lot.

“Where to?” he asked, his voice steady but eyes still fixed ahead.

“Just take me home, please.” You crossed your arms, the chill from the air conditioning feeling sharper than it should.

Eddie glanced sideways, searching your expression and sighed. He tried to reach over to touch you but you moved further into your seat.

The silence settled back into the car like an unwanted passenger, its weight muting every bump on the road.

Eddie drummed his fingers on the wheel.

You glared over at him.

“Look,” he said, breaking the silence," I'm into you. Your into me."

“I was until now,” you shot back, the words sharper than you intended.

Eddie's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his fingers curling around the leather. “That’s not fair. We’re just figuring things out.”

“Figuring things out my ass"

Eddie slammed his palm against the steering wheel, the sound echoing in the confined space of the car. “You can’t just throw that at me like I don’t care! I’m trying here.”

“Trying?” You laughed, " that is some bullshit."

Eddie’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck straining as he focused on the road ahead, knuckles white against the steering wheel. “What do you want me to do? Wave a magic wand and fix everything in an hour?”

“ No, I want you to consider that you might have a future here... with me..."

Eddie's grip on the steering wheel tightened even more, the leather creaking beneath his fingers. He stole a glance at you.

“Do you really think I haven’t considered that?” His voice cracked slightly, a vulnerable edge creeping into his tone. “This place, this life… it’s all I’ve ever known. But it’s not enough anymore. I want more. I want to be out there. Out of this place."

The words hung in the air.

“So you want to leave me, Dustin, Steve.. Robin.. Mike.. your music shop.. your home...?"

Eddie's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning pale.

“Home?” He glanced over, urgency flickering in his eyes. “This place feels so damn suffocating lately. I'm so tired of living here..."

You felt a twinge of frustration mingle with concern. “So, what? Running away is the answer? Just ditching everything you’ve built?”

“I’m not running away! I’m trying to find myself. To become someone worth something!”

" Stop yelling at me, Munson and two, what the fuck am I to you then? Huh? Why banter with me? Why flirt with me? why do this?"

Eddie clenched his jaw, his expression shifting between frustration and confusion.

“Because you matter,” he shot back, his voice strained but firm. “You have no idea how much it means to me. But you can’t ask me to drop my dreams that I have wanted since I was kid..."

" I'm not just some chapter to you, Eddie.."

Eddie’s brow furrowed, his grip on the wheel unyielding as he focused on the road ahead. “I never said that. You’re not just a chapter, you’re—”

“Then what am I?” Your voice cracked. " Why are you doing this to me..?"

Eddie’s grip on the wheel softened at your question. He shifted in his seat, eyes narrowing on the road ahead.

“You’re…” His breath caught, the air heavy with unsaid truths. “You make it so easy to be myself, you make me feel so many things but I'm still figuring life even if I have a few grey hairs, more tattoos and I'm grown up. I'm not the boy that grew up. It's too hard to explain it to you.."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, surprising you both. “So the solution is to just walk away? When things get tough, you bail?”

Eddie's jaw clenched, and he sighed heavily, fingers tightening again on the wheel. “ I am not running away, I am figuring out.."

“Figuring out what?” you pressed, the frustration bubbling over. “How to abandon the people who care about you when it gets complicated?”

Eddie’s knuckles turned white against the steering wheel. “It’s not that simple. You don't know me, sweetheart."

Your heart raced, anger mixing with a prickling hurt. “I don’t know you? I’m the one who sits across from you, who hears your dreams and doubts. I see you, Eddie.”

He shot you a glance, frustration flickering his eyes.

" Sweetheart I can't keep doing this with you over and over"

“Doing what?” you shot back.

“Dancing around these conversations. It’s exhausting,” Eddie replied. He parks the car in the parking lot of the apartment complexes. He shuts off the engine.

" Tell me right now, was it a lie that you like me.. was it some game for you to enjoy watching me chase you like a little girl?"

“Are you serious right now?” His voice dripped with disbelief. ““Am I serious?” Your indignation flared, cheeks tinged with anger. “You flirted, you took me out—was it all for a laugh? Entertainment?”

“Hell no!” Eddie slammed his hands against the steering wheel. " I do like you, alot."

“Then what is this?” You gestured wildly, the tension tangling in your nerves. “Is it just a phase? Or am I here to serve as your safety net while you figure out your grand escape from Hawkins?”

" Why do you keep saying like your just some helping hand?"

“Because that’s how it feels!” The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered. “Like I’m just a distraction while you chase bigger dreams.”

" You were the one who offered me about this connection you have saying oh Eddie you'll make it big... yadda yadda.."

“Because I believe in you!” You shot back, frustration spearing through your chest. “But it feels like you’re the one who doesn’t believe in us.”

Eddie's hands fell to his lap, tension rippling through him. “ I do, but I want to travel the world making music, sharing my music with the world too."

“Then what's left for me?” Your voice cracked, the unease gnawing at your insides. “You keep talking about dreams, about leaving, but I’m stuck here—waiting for you to decide if I even matter.”

" you do matter! This is what I want, I'm sticking to it."

" You know what, I'm tired of this going in circles with you. Here" you fished out a number for him to call, " this is my uncle's number. He's a producer. Call him or not. Whatever, I'm done here" you opened the door, stepping out into the cold air. " Good luck, rockstar" you slamme the car door.

" I'm so stupid" you mumbled to yourself heading up the stairs to your apartment.

You expected Eddie to run after you and tell you he's wrong about all this. But he remained in the car, stunned.

You opened your apartment door and slide down it with your head in your hands as tears ran down your rosy cheeks.

You don't rememebr what time you went to bed, but you wake up the next morning with knocking on your door that you had no idea who it was. You weren't expecting anyone.

Your groaned throwing your door opened seeing Steve, Dustin, and Robin standing there with happy looks on their faces.

“Happy birthday!” they chorused, their excitement bursting through the doorway like confetti.

Steve held a colorful cake topped with candles, while Dustin bounced on his feet, barely able to contain his energy. They pushed their way inside, Robin looks around.

" Why does it smell like fries?" She asks.

You blinked, heart still racing from the night before. “Umm… I made burgers last night.” The words slipped out almost sheepishly.

Steve raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying the half-hearted excuse. “ Where?' his eyes narrowed.

" Um... hehe.. about that.." you start, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Oh no, you didn’t,” Steve said, throwing his hands up. " I didn't give you the key to sneak in for late night cravings. Someone could of stoled something from the diner!"

You stepped back, a sheepish grin creeping across your face. “I’m still here, aren’t I? No one robbed the place. Just a few burgers and some late-night musings.”

Dustin eyed you suspiciously, tapping his foot, " Uh huh... with who?"

" I don't want to talk about it"

“Come on, Spill it!” Robin chimed in, leaning against the archway, a playful smile teasing.

You swallowed hard, the memories of last night swirling like smoke in your mind.

“Nothing happened. Just… a little heart-to-heart.”

“Heart-to-heart?” Dustin echoed, eyes wide. “That sounds suspicious. What kind of heart-to heart and with whom?"

You hesitated, the weight of last night pressing heavily on your chest.

“Just… Eddie,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Eddie?” Steve's eyebrows shot up, leaning in as if he was trying to understand. " What happened?"

You sighed, the weight of the night pressing down again. “It's complicated. We talked about... a lot.”

Dustin nudged you, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Like what? Was it romance stuff?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged, " I found out some hurtful things.."

Robin leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with interest. “Hurtful how? What did he say?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “It’s not so much what he said. It’s about what he doesn’t want.”

Steve crossed arms, " Do I need to talk to him?"

You raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile threatening at the corners of your mouth. “You? Talk to Eddie? Good luck with that.”

Steve rolled his eyes, a mock expression of offense crossing his face. “Hey, I can be intimidating when need be. Just give me a baseball bat and a serious face.”

Dustin snorted, shifting from foot to foot with anticipation. “ Yeah, when was the last time you won a fight?"

Steve shot him a glare while you suppressed a smile.

“Alright, alright,” you said, moving to the kitchen. “You guys really came talk about Eddie or celebrate with me?"

Steve tossed the cake onto the counter, grinning widely. “We came to celebrate, obviously! I mean, I figured this birthday was going to be a whole thing, and not a heart-to-heart with Eddie Munson.”

" Where is Eddie, anyways?"

" Probably sleeping" Steve says. " it's very quite next door" he adds.

You turned to eye the wall that separated your apartment from Eddie's. The memories of last night felt raw and fresh, tumbling in your chest like bits of crumpled paper.

“Guess he needed a good snooze after all that heart to heart" Dustin joked.

" Or a good knock in the head" you mumbled.

“Yeah, sounds like he could use it,” Robin chimed in, her playful grin giving way to concern. "Hey, everything aside, you know you can talk to us, right?"

" It's complicated. He's complicated. Feelings are complicated."

" Wait, you have feelings for Eddie?" Dustin gasped.

The weight of his question hung in the air, dense and unfamiliar.

“Dustin, I—” you started, searching for words that could untangle the mess sitting in your chest, " I did, but…"

"But what?" He asked.

" Things might not happen between us" Dustin mouth opened and closed.

" But you guys are so good for each other" Robin says.

“Good for each other, sure,” you replied, the edge of frustration creeping into your tone. “But what does that even mean? Being good for someone doesn’t guarantee anything.”

Dustin threw his hands up in exasperation. “ You two are like the ying and yang" he motions with his hand.

“Yin and yang?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “We’re more like oil and water.”

Steve stifled a laugh, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. “You’re making it sound way worse than you think"

" Did he even get you anything for your birthday?" Steve asked.

You hesitated, the question hanging in the air like a stubborn cloud. “Not exactly,” you finally replied, forcing a faint smile. “Not really."

" What?!" Dustin yelled, " I am going to go knock on his door right now and show him a thing or two" he rolled up his sleeves.

“Dustin, chill!” You reached out, grabbing his arm before he could make his move. “Don’t go storming over there. It won’t help anything.”

“But he’s a total jerk for not doing something. It’s your birthday"

A knock comes to the door and all head turns to glance at it. You let Dustin go making your way to the door and throwing it open. One the ground laid a present, a bit heavy looking too.

You crouched down to see who's its from, it has his initials. Eddie.

You brought it inside and set it down on the counter, opening it up and gasping seeing what it was. A camera. Expensive one.

“Whoa,” Robin said, peering over your shoulder, eyes wide with wonder. “This is… incredible.”

Dustin gasped, " This must of cost a fortune."

" I'm going to kill him" you muttered.

" Since when does Munson afford such a thing" Steve asks.

You stared at the camera, its sleek body polished under the kitchen lights, the weight of it settling in your hands like a sudden realization.

“ I need to return this to him, I can't take it"

“Why not?” Robin asked, her brow furrowing a little. “It’s a gift. A really nice one at that.”

“It’s too much,” you replied, the weight of the camera pressing down on your heart. “He shouldn’t, he can't."

Robin rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Oh please. He’s into you. Can’t you just accept that he cares?”

" if this is his way of proving his cares, I don't want it" you put the camera in the box and walking to the front door. " I'm going to give him a piece of my mind" you add.

“Wait!” Dustin called after you, the urgency in his voice barely cutting, " he's working today, he probably dropped it off."

You paused, fingers hovering over the doorknob. “Working? At the music shop?”

“Yeah! He’s probably there right now,” Dustin called from the kitchen, his excitement deflating like a balloon. “What are you going to tell him?"

You turned back, the camera cradled in your arms like a fragile promise. “I don’t know! Something needs to be said. He can’t just toss gifts my way and expect everything to be fine!”

Steve stepped closer, concern etched in his face, " he likes you. We all know he does."

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up again. “Liking someone doesn’t erase all the other nonsense from last night. It doesn’t change the fact that he looks at his dreams and sees freedom while I’m just… here.”

Robin stepped closer, " But it doesn't mean that you two don't deserve each other."

You hesitated, holding the camera away from your body as if it radiated the very truth you feared facing.

“Look, maybe he’s just trying to figure out how to balance everything,” Robin said softly, her voice steady. “You can’t just dismiss that he sees something in you too.”

“Something?” you echoed, running a hand through your hair, " I am a person with feeling. I brought up to him, brushed up on one day of being a mother and he pushed me away like I want it right now."

Maybe he panicked. You dropped a lot on him all at once. He wasn’t ready for that conversation.”

" But I didn't mean it right now"

“But you weren’t wrong either,” Robin countered, her gaze steady. “You opened up, and it scared him. Just give him a chance to process it. You both deserve a chance.”

" But he wants to travel the world, be a rockstar. How is that going to work if say I get pregant and he can't make it when the baby is born?"

Robin crossed her arms, her brow furrowing as she took in your words. “That’s a big ‘what if.’ You’re jumping to conclusions."

" I am just saying, he wants his fame and freedom."

“Maybe it’s not just about that,” Robin said, leaning against the countertop, her gaze unwavering. “Maybe he’s not looking to leave everyone behind. He just wants to find his way. You know?”

“Find his way? How long has that been going on? He's not a teenager anymore."

“True," Robin replied, her brow furrowing, "but that doesn’t mean he’s figured it all out, either.”

Dustin shifted from foot to foot, hands bouncing with unspent energy. “People don’t have all the answers right now and he's been hurt a lot in the past. He's not the same as he used to be" Dustin says. " We all saw him at his lowest and we all see him at his highest."

" Have you even seen him sing? Play?" Robin asked.

You shook your head, feeling the tension constrict around your heart. “I know he has talent. That’s not the issue. I just…”

" You should see how much he wants his dream, watch him perform. Through music you'll understand him more."

“Music isn’t just notes to him,” Dustin added, bouncing on his feet with excitement. “It’s the world. It’s his way of fighting back against everything that’s held him down. When he sings, it’s like he sheds all of off and show that he's a person too, sharing his feelings, sharing that he's real."

You stared at Dustin, his words chipping away at the armor around your heart.

“Music,” you echoed, feeling the weight of it sink in. “It’s everything to him, isn’t it?”

“More than just notes and lyrics. It's been his life line."

You cradled the camera tighter, the weight of your concern intertwining with a glimmer of understanding. “He needs that freedom to chase something.”

" I don't want to hold him back then" you mumbled.

Dustin stepped closer, his eyes sparkling with a mix of empathy and determination. “You don't have to hold him back. You can be part of that journey. He wants to share this with someone, and maybe that someone can be you.”

“But he doesn't seem to want me, he isn't here..."

Dustin’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of determination shining through the uncertainty. “No one said it’s easy, but you’ve got to believe he cares. He showed it by getting you that camera. He doesn't have money left and right hanging out of his pockets."

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make everything okay,” you sighed, the camera feeling heavier in your grasp. “Just because he gave me a gift doesn’t erase the doubts piling up in my head.”

“Then talk to him,” Steve urged, " tell him everything. Show him, yell at him if you have to. But tell him, use your words. He's not a kid, he's a grown man."

You met Steve's gaze, uncertainty swimming in your chest like a buoy lost at sea. “And what if he decides I’m not worth the trouble?”

“Then he’s a damn fool,” Steve declared, arms crossed tightly. “But you need to lay it all out for him and then let him decide what he wants."

The weight of Steve's words sank deep, stirring something within you. You looked at the camera again. It gleamed under the kitchen lights, catching reflections of hope mixed with uncertainty.

“What if –” you started, unable to suppress the way the words form in your mouth, " what if he looks at me when I walk through the music shop and it all goes to shit?"

Dustin stepped closer, determination flickering in his eyes. “You won’t know until you try. You’re not walking into a battlefield; just a conversation.”

Robin nodded, her expression steady. “Just be honest with him. Lay it all and if he decides he doesn't want this, fuck him and come back and we can get drunk."

The weight of Robin's words pressed heavily against your chest as you considered the options.

" You know what the worst part of it.."

" What?" Dustin asked.

" I like him, but I'm scared to fall for him and it's too late.. I think..."

The room seemed to still, the weight of your admission hanging in the air like an unresolved chord.

“Scared?” Robin’s brow furrowed, her expression softening in understanding. “ it's okay to be scared to fall for someone.."

“But what if I fall too hard?” The question slipped from your lips, barely a whisper. You felt vulnerable as the words lingered and heavy.

" You tell him" Steve says.

“Tell him?” You echoed, staring at the gleaming camera as if it held the key to your unspoken fears. “Tell him what exactly? That I’m terrified of losing him before I’ve even really had him?”

“Exactly that,” Steve nods. " You two are two idiots not seeing it."

You contemplated the weight of those words, their gravity wrapping around you like a cloak. “How do I even start?”

Dustin shrugged, a reassuring smile on his face. “Start with how you feel. Lay it all out there. No hiding, just tell him."

" Thank you, I just don't know if words will form" you laughed.

“Trust me,” Dustin said, a grin stretching across his face. “You’re stronger than you think. You just have to believe in yourself.”

" How did no one else snatch him up after all this time?"

A glimmer of amusement washed over Steve’s face. “Honestly, have you seen his hair? It’s like a bird’s nest.”

" He does have some strands of grey hair too" you added.

Laughter bubbled through the tension, illuminating the gloom hovering in your heart.

“Seriously,” Robin chuckled, “I bet he’s got old ladies feeding him bread crumbs just to see him strut around.”

" But seriously Y/N, go talk to him" Steve says.

"Yeah, you need to," Robin chimed in, crossing her arms. " We will wait here" she adds.

" How am I going to ge there?"

" Run, walk" Steve says. You eyed Steve keys around his belt.

Steve looked down at his keys and then back at you, " First you sneak into the diner with Munson and now you want to borrow my car. Are you okay?" He asks.

You bit your lip, a rush of determination crowding out the lingering fear. “Just… imagine me getting there in a hurry.”

“Sure, but I’m not driving you,” he chuckles. Your smile got wider and his eye grew wide.

" No!" he pointed a finger at you.

“Steve, please,” you pleaded, your heart racing at the thought of not seizing this moment. “Just this once!”

" You're going to wreck her" Steve wined.

“Come on, Steve!” you urged, desperation clawing at your throat. “I need to talk to him now, before I lose my nerve.”

“NO"

“Come on!” You stomped your foot, frustration bubbling over. “I need this. Just this once, let me borrow the car!”

Steve glanced from you to Dustin and Robin, unsure what to do. His brow knitted in thought.

" You're something else, you know?" he angerily took the keys off his belt loop and tossed it to you. " Not a scartch or it's coming out of your paycheck."

“Thanks, Steve! You’re the best!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, eyes rolling, but the corners of his mouth betrayed a hint of smile, " happy birthday" he adds.

You clutched the car keys, heart racing with a surge of adrenaline. “I’ll be back soon!” The door swung shut behind you as you rushed out, the chill of the morning air invigorating your spirit.

The engine roared to life as you held the camera down in the passenger side while driving off to the music store. The streets were busy as you drove by, nibbling on your lip trying to get there faster.

The music shop sign came to your vision as you parked around the corner to it finding a spot right off the bat. You slide out the car with the camera in your hands.

Your heart raced as you approached the familiar storefront, the colorful signs beckoning you like a siren’s call. The clashing sounds of guitars being strummed and laughter mingled in the air like sweet melodies. You paused at the door, breathing in as your eyes watched Eddie as he was ringing up a customer.

His fingers danced over the register keys, a few strands of silver catching the afternoon light. He laughed easily—his laughter a magnet pulling you closer, an intoxicating blend of familiarity and fear.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped inside, the door bell rang signaling him that he had a new customer or so he thought.

Eddie glanced up, his smile widening as his eyes landed on you, a flicker of surprise igniting the air between you. He paused, his fingers lingering over the register as if time had hesitated alongside him.

His eyes dropped to the camera in your hands.

"Hi" you spoke first.

He walked around the counter as he approached, not too close but not far.

" Hi" he greets you.

#older eddie munson #imagine older Eddie munson #Eddie Munson imagine #Eddie Munson x reader #jewls writes #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n

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traningdummy · 2 years ago

Text

Whole with You

(This was the longest thing I’ve ever written)

Javier Peña X Male Reader

Javier Peña, the playboy in the office. Sleeping with informants after he got what he wanted from them, without his work both in the bed and in the office Pablo would still be around.

Yet he still yearned for something deeper than a one night stand, he wanted true genuine love. No pillow talk bullshit where they say “I love you” in the middle of an orgasm, he wanted a genuine I love you.

So when he was moved out of his department he began to search for love, always going on dates yet they all ended the same. He slept with them, and the next morning they would leave and never talk to him besides wanting some fun.

He hated himself for this, always doing what his date wanted and ignoring why he was dating in the first place. Always trying to please the person under or above him, but never pleasing himself.

Y/n L/n was a local farmer in Texas, he always went to the farmer’s markets to sell his crops, berries, or cattle if he had any. He became quite popular around the town, yet no one knew if he had a partner.

His farm would make a lot of money selling his crops, making people think of him as a rich man. So people all over the state would try to win his hand in marriage but none would succeed.

He knew from the start why people were suddenly interested in him, yet he wanted to see if any actually loved him. None of them did, all of them asking about his money and farm, none of them asked about Y/n himself.

So everyday for a month he would reject countless requests for a relationship, until most people stopped trying and left him alone. He was grateful for it so he could tend to his crops, but he also wanted a partner.

He hated being alone as all he had was his cattle and radio to keep him busy, yet he still felt like something was missing. He wanted someone to love him, someone to take care of him, someone to take care of besides his work.

Yet as he tried to recall all his last dates with the countless people none of them struck a chord within him, but he still had hope. So for every weekend he would go into town and just walk around, greeting friends and new people. Looking for one person to strike that chord within him.

Javier also had the same plan as the farmer, going into town and greeting new people. Seeing a lot of his old one night stands as he did, but he tried to know them better but all they wanted was sex.

All they wanted was his body, not his personality, just his dick and ass. He hated it, he hated himself for it as well as that was all he ever did and never went for an emotional approach.

But after months of searching the two men met someone, the person who would fill the void they needed.

•••

“I’m going into town, be safe Oreo.” Y/n told his cow as he gave her water, she gave him a small moo before he left the stables. He washed himself off and changed before getting into his truck, the drive was always his favorite part.

The music always seemed better in the truck than in his home, probably because he was actually going somewhere besides the bed or living room.

When he made it into the town he parked his truck and left, locking the doors behind him. As he walked he gave waves to everyone, greeted friends and old neighbors as he did.

“Y/n!” His grandmother yelled and he smiled, he leaned down to give her a hug and she smiled. “Still looking for someone?” She asked and he nodded, standing back up.

“Yep, today feels different Gran, I’m just sure of it.” He told her and she nodded with a smile.

“Well I feel it too, now get out there and please bring me a cookie when you come back?” She asked and Y/n nodded before leaving, going further into town.

•••

Javier woke up with a feeling of determination today, which was odd for him as he usually feels sadness when he wakes up. He got changed before eating his breakfast, he was trying to think of why he felt good today.

But he couldn’t think of anything so he left it at that, going out into town for another search for love. As he did he saw new people, he tried to be friendly but they were not as friendly doing a small wave or nod.

As he kept going he heard a small commotion, he headed towards the crowd and saw two people. One was a woman who seemed to be dancing to the radio music, and the other was a man who was dancing with her.

“Pick up the pace Y/n!” She encouraged and the man laughed, looking down trying to follow her steps. The crowd cheered as they went, from what Javier could tell is that Y/n was a popular man.

He remembered hearing his name getting thrown around a couple months ago, something about money and people trying to date him. But his focus was thrown off when he saw Y/n falling towards him, he reached out and caught the man.

Their eyes both looked at each other, and they both felt a weird sensation within themselves. Javier felt like a flame inside of him igniting as he stared at the man in his arms, yet Y/n felt like a river became unblocked in his heart as he finally felt at ease.

After what felt like an eternity Y/n finally got himself up from Javier’s hold, the crowd stared at the two men before the woman stopped the music. “Thank you for coming to the show everyone!” She said and the crowd clapped, they slowly began to move away as the two were still standing in front of each other.

“Hey.” The woman tapped on Javier’s shoulder bringing him back to reality. “You mind running him to the infirmary, I think he twisted something.” She asked and he nodded.

As they walked together it was quiet, neither one of them would speak. Until they made it to the hospital, they had Javier go with Y/n into the examination room.

“Sorry about your leg.” Javier spoke up and Y/n did a small laugh.

“It’s fine really, I think I just tripped because I was mesmerized by you.” Y/n told the other man, his face became red and hid it in a magazine when the doctor came in.

•••

Ever since that day the two would always find each other, first starting off as friends with a little bit of romantic tension. Y/n would invite Javier to his stand at the farmer’s market.

“So how many cattle do you have?” Javier would ask Y/n, he would think before answering.

“Around 10 or 12, I love all of them very much.” He said selling some berries to a customer. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking what did you do before coming to this town?” He asked the other man who thought.

“Well, I can’t discuss it here but I was in a police force of some sort.” He told him and the man nodded, his interest was high but decided to not bother the man.

“Sounds very interesting, you want to hand out some samples?” Y/n asked and Javier would nod, getting out of his chair. The farmer would give him a basket filled with oranges, rubbing some sunscreen on his face before letting him go.

As he walked around he saw Y/n talking to a woman, he remembered her as the woman he was dancing with.

“So, how are you and mustache doing?” She asked and he laughed at the nickname. “What would you want me to call him?” She asked with a laugh and he shook his head with a smile.

“It’s a great name, but we’re doing well. I think I found the one Sam, but I don’t want to rush it and ruin it.” He told his friend and she nodded.

“Well I got a show to get too, have fun and tell him I said hi!” She said running out of the market. Javier then came over with an empty basket, setting it down on the table.

“Sam says hi.” He told him and he nodded with a smile.

“So that’s her name? I’ve been calling her dancer lady.” He joked and Y/n laughed.

“Yeah, her nickname for you was mustache.” He laughed and he gasped, before the two laughed.

“I mean it is my most defining characteristic.” Javier said, stroking his stache, making Y/n laugh.

•••

Soon they moved to the title of partners, but Javier couldn’t handle the slow pace anymore. The side of him he hated was starting to get the best of him, but Y/n was patient.

Javier had a raging boner in his pants, he wanted Y/n so bad but he couldn’t ruin all the progress he made with the farmer. He didn’t want him to think of Javier as a creep or something.

Yet Y/n knew about Javier’s history around town, people were trying to tell him that he was only going to sleep with him and leave him. But he didn’t care for that, he was here for Javier all of him.

“Javi I’m home!” He yelled and the man was in their shared bathroom, trying to hide his boner from him.

“Welcome back Y/n!” He yelled from the bathroom.

Y/n was suspicious but ignored it, already knowing what was happening. It has happened a few times already where Javi would lock himself in the bathroom for sometime, so he’s adjusted to it.

He made dinner for the two of them and waited for his partner to come down, it wasn��t long when he did. Y/n gave him a soft smile and a kiss before they ate dinner, he wanted to ask Javier why he wanted to hide his sexual side but waited for Javi to talk about it to him.

After they finished eating they sat down and watched a movie together, but Y/n felt something poking his leg. He lifted the blanket to see Javi’s boner hard at work, his partner put the blanket down and sighed.

“I’m sorry, it’s just second nature.” He explained to the farmer, he nodded and kept watching the movie slowly feeling the pressure fade away.

•••

Soon they both talked about Javier’s sex drive, Javier didn’t want it to affect the way Y/n sees him, but Y/n didn’t care because he loved the man he loved every side of Javier.

“So you’re fine with this?” Javier asked and Y/n nodded, just happy they were talking about it without Javier leaving randomly.

“Javi, I love everything about you, from your wonderful mustache, your beautiful smile, eyes, to your amazing personality. Nothing can make me not love you.” He told the man, taking his hand softly.

“Y/n.” He whispered and kissed the man intensely, Y/n being soft with Javi while the other man was touching all over his body like he would disappear. “I love you so much, por favor, no me dejes.” He whispered.

“No me iré, nunca.” Y/n responded and they kept kissing like their lives would end soon.

•••

It was only three years later when the two men got engaged to each other, it felt like their hearts were linked at first meet and they both knew that and were grateful for it.

Yet Javier had a longing inside of him, like he needed one more thing from Y/n before he could truly love him. Yet as much as he hated it, he needed Y/n to see everything.

So Javier planned a special day for them both, a dinner date on top of the farm’s hill where Y/n had first proposed. Then a movie inside the house before ending everything in the bedroom.

Y/n was tired after a whole day of tending to his farm, all he wanted to do was eat and sleep with his fiancé. Yet he saw Javier with a basket with food and drinks, he looked up and the cop smiled.

“I had a new plan for dinner tonight, is that fine amor?” Javier asked and Y/n nodded, he smiled and the two went out of the house and up to the hill.

When they made it up Javier set down the basket and sat down next to Y/n, getting out the food before getting the drinks. As they ate they watched the sunset, it was beautiful as it usually was.

Yet Y/n found something better than the sunset, and that was Javier. He doesn’t regret meeting the man, giving him a chance, and proposing to him on this hill. He watched his fiancé eat with a smile, the sunlight making him seem more ethereal than usual.

“Qué?” Javier asked Y/n, he didn’t say anything and looked away. Now he was embarrassed, feeling around his face for any crumbs but didn’t find anything. “Are you alright amor?” He asked and the farmer nodded, finishing his food.

“Yeah, it was just my fiancé looking like the most handsome man in the world.” Y/n responded and kissed Javier, it was a soft and tender kiss.

Javier sighed as Y/n pulled away, he held his face and smiled tracing his features softly. “Let’s go home, yeah?” He asked and his fiancé nodded, packing up the basket and leaving.

As they watched the movie Y/n leaned on Javier’s lap, slowly falling asleep as the movie went on. Javier wanted to keep his plan on schedule so, with some regret, he had to wake up Y/n.

He waited for the movie to finish before slightly shaking him, he groaned but woke up looking over to his fiancé. “Qué?” Y/n asked.

“I have one more plan for tonight, you think you could stay awake just a little longer?” Javier asked and the farmer nodded, yawing as he got up from Javier’s lap. He took his hand and led him to their room, inside soft music was playing from a record Javier bought for today.

“Aww, Javi.” He gushed and kissed Javier with a smile, the two smiled and fell on to the bed. The kiss became more heated as Javier slipped his hand into Y/n’s jeans, he gasped and moaned softly.

“I wanted you to see all of me, mi amor.” He whispered to him, rubbing his crotch while kissing all over his neck. Y/n now filled with lust and love flipped over Javier, switching positions.

“Then, let me devour all of you.” He said and kissed all over his body, taking off his shirt to get more access to his skin. Leaving marks wherever he could, his chest, shoulders, neck, arms, anywhere.

Y/n then removed Javier’s pants and began to suck on his thighs, enjoying the moans and whimpers from him. “Sí, mi amor, más.” He moaned and Y/n did. Taking off his and Javier’s underwear leaving them both naked, Javier’s hands wandering all over Y/n’s body as he did the same.

Y/n then reached over to Javier’s nightstand to pull out some lube, he put some on his fingers and looked to his fiancé. “Ready?” Y/n asked and Javier nodded, he lifted up his legs and put in two of his fingers.

“Oh shit.” He mumbled, feeling the cold liquid go inside of him. He hasn’t had sex in so long, he felt like a virgin again. He kept moaning and groaning as Y/n stretched his hole out, scissoring, curling, anything that would help his fiancé be more adjusted to him.

“Y/n, por favor.” Javier whimpered, feeling hot and bothered but ready to take him in. Y/n got a condom and put it on before lining himself up.

“Are you sure mi amor?” Y/n asked one more time, and Javier nodded, kissing him before slowly going into him. His breath hitched as he went in, slowly getting adjusted to Y/n’s size. “You’re doing so good, just a little more.” Y/n whispered to Javier.

It wasn’t much longer till Y/n was thrusting in and out of him, kissing him but also loving his moans and whimpers. Javier loved the way Y/n would hit the spot inside of him that would give him a jolt of pleasure.

Y/n kissed him softly besides his hard and fast thrusts into him, making Javier’s heart melt but also felt the knot in his stomach feel ready to break. “Y/n.” He whimpered and his fiancé nodded.

“Me too.” He whispered and with a few more thrusts they both came, Javier’s cum all over both of their chests and stomachs and Y/n pulled out and threw away the condom before laying down.

“You want to take a shower?” Javier asked, but Y/n was snoozing away. He smiled and held his fiancé close to him, finally feeling complete again.

#gay #male reader smut #x male reader #pedro pascal x male reader #male reader #top male reader #javier Peña x male reader

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unique-high · 4 months ago

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In between the pages of you | Yoongi x blk fem reader

Chapter one

NOT PROOF READ

Chapter 2: Yoongi's Reflections

Yoongi stands in the small ramen shop, the clock ticking past 2 AM, and the warm aroma of broth envelops him like a familiar embrace. The usual clamor of late-night diners is absent, leaving only the soft hum of the kitchen and the faint sound of water boiling. The steam from the pots blurs the edges of his vision, creating a hazy dreamscape that mirrors the thoughts swirling in his mind.

Instead of the savory ramen that usually draws him here, a steaming bowl of rice sits in front of him. Its surface glistens under the dim light, the sprinkle of butter and sugar melting slowly, creating a pool of warmth. Yoongi remember from your last journal entry how you made a wish on a bowl of rice and he wanted to do the same, maybe find hope in a wish on a bowl of rice, that old him would have thought was foolish.

Yoongi read another journal entry of yours during the day, the page dog-eared and stained with splatters of soy sauce. From reading most of the entries you wrote, Yoongi found that your journal was your solace, a window into the heart of a stranger who seemed to understand the unspoken parts of you.

Your entry lingered on his mind as he flipped it open once more, the black Indian ink almost shimmering with meaning:

"June 10th, 2023. I still go to the little ramen shop tucked away between the Chinese restaurant and dry cleaners. Part of me wanted to find myself in the broth of the beef ramen and the fried dumplings. Part of me wanted to leave herself at table two. There was this want who wanted to find a part of me who I lost and there was this want who wanted to leave herself somewhere that years from now she can come back to and remember something about herself and the way it felt. Hmm, maybe that's why I started this journal too."

Yoongi read the words over and over, each pass striking a chord deep within him, reverberating through his chest. The weight of your introspection resonates, and he finds himself caught in the delicate balance of connection and solitude. It’s as if you laid bare the very essence of your own struggles—the desire to be found while fearing the vulnerability that comes with it.

Yoongi let his gaze drift toward the door, the familiar creak of the wood echoing in his mind. You could walk through those doors at any moment, and despite not knowing what you looked like, Yoongi felt a magnetic pull toward your essence. A belief that he would recognize you instantly, not by features but by a shared understanding.

With a sigh, Yoongi closes your journal, his fingers lingering on the frayed edges. It’s a talisman of hope, a reminder that there are others navigating the same shadows, searching for themselves in the folds of life.

Yoongi stir the rice absently, watching the butter swirl and melt, each movement drawing him deeper into your thoughts. What would he wish for if he could release a desire into this bowl? Would it be for clarity, for the courage to uncover the parts of him that remain hidden?

The door creaks open, a gust of warm night air blows through the small shop, and Yoongi's heart races. He looks up, breath hitching, but it’s just a couple of drunk patrons stumbling in for their midnight fix. Disappointment settles in his chest, but he shake it off.

As the clamor of their laughter fades into the background, Yoongi focuses back on the rice before him. Perhaps, like you, Yoongi too was leaving a piece of himself in this bowl—an offering to the universe, a small hope tucked away to be rediscovered later.

Yoongi picks up his spoon and takes a bite, the taste comforting, yet laced with that familiar sense of yearning. With each mouthful, he feels the warmth of possibility swirling within him, the kind that makes you believe that one day, perhaps soon, you’ll find your way back to the parts of you that have been lost.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll find you waiting at the same table.

Author's Note: Wow, I finally updated this story after so long. I was debating whether I should continue with this little series or not. But like most authors, I have self-doubt and worry about my writing. But anyway I hope everyone enjoys it :)

#kpop x reader #kpop x black reader #kpop fanfic #yooni x reader #min yoongi x blk fem reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yooni x y/n #min yoongi x woc #yoongi x you

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paragonrobits · 10 months ago

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It is day, or what passes for it in the acid rains and bleak dryness of Avernus, when the Dark Urge, Wyll of Badur's Gate and Karlach come to meet what might come, at least doing it together.

If they die, they thought before, at least it is with honor, and at least it is together. Perhaps it is something like a wedding, as only they might see it; dark and twisted and the best they could hope for. A wedding for who, that was anyone's guess.

At least, they thought, as the armies of Zariel came to meet them, this certain death would be met, with defiance and peace.

But they are not the only ones who meet it.

For there have been others fighting the eternal war of demon and devil, in penance for some unimaginable sin. And someone is watching them.

His eyes are, perhaps, blue. His hair thick and corded, in a style that has been forgotten. His face is grim, as he watches them go.

Going to meet death, knowing the certainty of it. He knows that himself, and something in him strikes a chord, and a sudden impulse seizes him.

And he goes, and power walks with him; a power older, some say, than Zariel herself. For this warrior is old; so old than he was there before the shape of the Planes as they were now had been settled. So old that he was nameless. If anyone in Avernus knew what his true name had ever been, then they were probably never going to tell anyone. Forgotten, in this modern age, but at his approach the world shook.

And the dragonborn turns to see this man come, the magic shifting around him like a cloak, twisting Avernus from Zariel's grip-

And the Dark Urge sees the human. If he was human.

Draped in a cloak abandoned by a far larger fighter no doubt slain not so long ago, he was a distinct figure, and for a moment, she thought the stranger was a zombie, or a flesh golem of some sort. His skin was gray, and horribly mottled, and then it takes a moment to see. That the gray are scars; he is horribly scared all over, perhaps from head to toe, every single inch of his body mutilated beyond comprehension. Some part of her, that still carries the scars of the one who made her, sings at such exquisite cruelty, a testament to unimaginable suffering.

His eyes are blue. His body is a horrendous mass of scars, and something in his eyes makes her feel as if she has found clan, down here.

He looks at them for a moment, and again the thought strikes her; somewhere, deep down, some part of him understands.

His cloak moves past as he revealed an arm, and there is a patch on his arm, unscarred.

He does not carry torment on his arm. Not anymore.

(He has fought the unended cruelty and evil of the Planes themselves.

He has battled upon Avernus and all the Lower Planes for time without imagining.

He has endured all this time. In older times, it was because he simply could not die. Now, it is because he has become too strong. Sometimes, the Planes throw you bad odds, and something else decides that for once, things ought to end up better, and perhaps it is fitting that he IS that better ending, at least in this moment.

It's nice, he thinks afterwards, to have people happy to see him for once. He's seen too much torment. It's nice to see people happy, even if they thought they were going to meet their doom.

They never do get his name. That's nice, too; going from having no name for himself to them making up a name for him on the spot.

Karlach says he looks like an Adahn. He bursts out laughing for a solid minute and it takes a while to explain why that's so funny.)

#balder's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #planescape torment #the nameless one #some variety of this idea has been bouncing around my head since I got this game last year!!#about time i did something within it #acutally i was going to have the dark urge sadly musing about having been happy a long time ago #with deliberate parallels being drawn to the Dark Urge's unknown but horrible past actions #and TNO's evil incarnations #queued

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addictedtostorytelling · 11 months ago

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I’ve been doing a bit of a csi watch lately and i’ve just finished blood drops. It really is such a close parallel to sara’s own past. I think at the time, they perhaps didnt know quite what was going on with sara’s past or maybe hadn’t narrowed down details - i don’t know writer decisions! But watching back, i think its a shame that this ep was done so early because itcould have provided such a fantastic thing for sara once her background was more well established - or perhaps, as the gateway for her bg to be told. Either could have worked well. Not that i want to see her suffer more, but from a storytelling pov i think it could have been interesting for this ep to play out in a later season and really affect sara, have her experience flashbacks or panic and back out of the scene. Basically for it to be clear that something about this scene is really getting to her. It could be we already know as the details of her situation have already been said, so we can draw an obvious connection, or that we don’t and upon asking why she’s so affected, she explains. Either way it also would have been prime gsr material, as gil could comfort her. It also might have been a good oppertunity for someone other than gil to do so, perhaps catherine or greg, since most of sara’s show of /healing of trauma is gil related. It would have been nice to see support (knowing support) come from somewhere else.

Bit of a ramble, sorry! Hope it made sense aaaa! Suppose i was just wondering if you felt the same in that the episode was so perfect that it might have been better used further down the line, rather than at the start of season 1? <3

hi, anon!

i can definitely see where you’re coming from and think that experimenting with the premises you put forward in your ask—i.e., moving the events of the episode back in the timeline and/or using them as an inroad to explore sara’s trauma in more detail—could be really fun in a fic setting.

that said, in canon, i'm pretty okay with episode 01x07 “blood drops” occurring both when and how it does.

i don’t consider it a wasted opportunity.

if you're interested in my reasoning, i've got it after the "keep reading."

so.

every story has to start somewhere, and, the way i see things, episode 01x07 “blood drops” provides the right start to sara’s trauma arc.

to me, the point of that episode (sara-wise) is to introduce the sense that there is something going on with her beneath the surface but not to fully elucidate what that something is as of yet.

to that point in s1, the sara we’ve seen has been ambitious about her cases and somewhat brusque with her new colleagues, with the exception of grissom, whom she softens around. while she hasn’t been dispassionate by any means and has even at times shown some emotional vulnerability—like in episode 01x03 “crate n’ burial,” when finding the “victim” buried alive causes her to despair the cruelty of people—there hasn’t, until now, been any sense that her reactions have been anything more than just the normal kinds of beats for a compassionate, justice-minded investigator.

episode 01x07 “blood drops” is where we see that assumption challenged.

a first crack in the armor.

it is the initial leg in a narrative that is meant to be a marathon, not a sprint, and it succeeds in its objective of kicking off that distance race, showing that what is happening to brenda clearly strikes a personal chord with sara, provoking an emotional response beyond even what the tragedy of the case might be expected to elicit from her, though not explaining wherefore, leaving that explanation off to be expounded on later, in subsequent episodes and seasons.

i think the episode does its job when you watch it through the first time: it makes you (along with grissom) go, “what’s going on here? what's driving sara's behavior?”

but then the real beauty of the thing is when you rewatch it again after having seen episode 05x13 “nesting dolls,” and you can see, in retrospect, all of those parallels and connections, the way the one story informs the other.

imo, the episode isn’t any less significant to sara’s arc or any less revealing of her because it happens early on in the timeline. the parallel isn’t less effective because it works reaching backward from episode 05x13 “nesting dolls” to episode 01x07 “blood drops” as opposed to going in the other direction.

it still exists. it's still recognizable. it still informs our understanding of sara’s story.

the necessary information is all there; it’s just sublimated.

like a fossil buried beneath the surface of the earth, with only just one tiny fragment of bone sticking out, the shape and size of what’s there will become more apparent upon further excavation.

while the writers didn’t know sara's full story at that point—according to ann donahue and josh berman, they first started to piece together what would eventually become sara’s canonical backstory circa the writing of episode 01x10 “sex, lies, & larvae”—they did know enough to show that her reaction to the case (and, specifically, to brenda) wasn’t just the normal compassion of an investigator but rather something more deeply personal, pressing up against some very raw nerves for her. they also knew enough to make grissom her touchpoint—the character who is on the receiving end of her belligerent, aloof weirdness at the crime scene and who most noticeably reacts to her uncomfortable jokes at the team meeting.

and in doing so, they set a precedent, laying the foundations for both sara’s character and the gsr relationship.

though neither grissom as a character in the story nor we as the audience outside of it yet realize as much at the time when the events of episode 01x07 "blood drops" are taking place, with repeated exposure, both he and we come to recognize that that abrasiveness in sara, that in-your-faceness, that poke-the-bear behavior, is actually what a trauma response looks like from her.

we’ll see it time and time again with her in subsequent episodes such as 01x10 “sex, lies, & larvae,” 01x16 “too tough to die,” 01x23 “the strip strangler,” 03x14 “one hit wonder,” 04x03 “homebodies,” and 04x23 “bloodlines,” until finally we get to its most blatant example, episode 05x13 “nesting dolls,” which serves as the climax to the storyline—and the point at which grissom has finally accumulated enough evidence to draw a conclusion about sara and approach her with it, showing up on her doorstep to say, "here's what i know, now please tell me the rest. i promise i'll be gentle with it."

by then, that moment of revelation is a thoroughly earned one, both for sara as an individual character—because after so long spent desperately trying to keep this huge, painful secret, to the point of alienating everyone she cares about from her, she is finally at a place where she just can’t anymore; she doesn’t want to; she needs to give voice to those memories and name the terrible thing; to confide in someone—and for grissom and sara as a couple—because for all of his many missteps over the years, something grissom has always done right is that he has consistently shown up for sara, proving to her through his patience, persistence, and refusal to allow her to push him away that he cares about her unconditionally and that he wants to be there for her, come what may.

the fact that episode 05x13 “nesting dolls” brings not only that moment of catharsis for sara but also paves the way for grissom and sara’s romantic relationship in vegas is so narratively satisfying; a culmination of so many plot threads, finally woven together.

and the way i see things, we might not have gotten to the moment of sara tearfully telling the story of her family tragedy to grissom as he sits across from her on her living room sofa in 2005 had he not first witnessed her acting ~off~ about the child survivor of a domestic homicide case back in 2000, you know?

episode 01x07 “blood drops” was that first domino to topple over.

and as for the issue of the sara never letting more people than just grissom in on her trauma of her own volition, honestly? i don’t necessarily see that part of the story needing to change, either.

we can discuss the healthiness or unhealthiness of sara’s decision to only ever (of her own volition) confide in just one person about her trauma elsewise, but at the end of the day it’s true to her character that she would never choose to open up about her childhood to her wider circle of friends.

given her private nature, her deep-seated fears of rejection, the way she trusts, what intimacy really means for her, how she wants to portray herself in public, how close to the surface her emotions run, how deep the pain of her trauma really is, how she attempts to cope, what her aspirations are for herself, etc., etc., that behavior on her part just tracks.

i likewise don't regret the fact we never get any flashbacks to sara's childhood (barring the audio ones in episode 05x13 "nesting dolls") or see her having the "classic tv panic attack" because i think her trauma is clearly articulated as is; what is implied is implied well enough.

i actually appreciate that her trauma responses are different (and even less straightforwardly "sympathetic") than the ones more frequently portrayed in media, as not all ptsd looks the same and some responses are quieter and harder to clock—more on the level of changes to the demeanor, isolation from others, engaging in risk-taking behaviors, etc.

so.

like i said up front: i could imagine some really interesting fics that might involve moving the events of episode 01x07 “blood drops” to occur later on sara’s timeline, using them either to directly precipitate her first confession regarding her past or to follow up on it (a la episode 05x21 “committed” in canon). i can likewise imagine some really interesting fics that made the episode more sara and/or gsr-centric and/or where other characters than grissom became involved in responding to sara’s behavior. there could be lots of cool storytelling avenues to explore along those lines.

@bartramcat used to wish we could have gotten an episode 01x07 "blood drops" callback featuring a teenage or young adult brenda collins in the later seasons of the show, maybe in place of the storyline we got in episode 15x12 "dead woods," and i can see how that option could be a very intriguing one to fic, as well.

but ultimately i'm glad to have the episode as is in canon.

of all of the complaints i have about writing decisions on csi, the way sara’s s1-s5 trauma arc plays out isn’t generally one of them. i think both its pacing and the way sara is characterized as behaving throughout works. ditto for the gsr aspect.

your mileage may—and from the sounds of things, probably does—vary, but, personally, i'm satisfied leaving episode 01x07 “blood drops” as is.

anyway.

i'm rambling now.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

#answered #anon #asks: csi #**#my meta #meta: csi #meta: sara #hypothetical scenario #01x07 #csiverse #let's talk shop

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happy-mokka · 1 year ago

Text

Ineffable.

I'm not a native English speaker. I had to google "Ineffable" when I first heard it watching season 1.

vocabulary.com:

"Anything ineffable is unspeakably beautiful, moving, or horrible. It’s beyond expression. If something is so powerful or emotional that you can't even describe it, it’s ineffable."

God's plan is originally described as being "ineffable" and referenced as such by both Az and Crowley multiple times throughout season 1.

Now after the world is digesting season 2 of GOs, the term quickly was transformed as the description of the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley.

"ineffable husbands" is probably the most used hashtag within the GO fandom here.

Crossing the "horrible" out of the above description of the word, I can't think of anything more fitting.

Unspeakably beautiful and moving.

Beyond expression.

Something so powerful and emotional that you can't even begin to describe it.

Ineffable.

I've read so many novels, stories - long an short - and watched just as many movies and shows.

A lot of them stuck for quite some time.

I'm probably an above-average romantic person and love-stories always strike a special chord in me.

Me tearing-up in the process is nothing unusual and family and friends never cease making fun of me for that.

But never for the love of sweet Jesus and all the angels in heaven, nor the flaming damnation of all 9 circles of hell have I ever been so devastatingly emotional as with the end of GO season 2...

Ineffable.

Neil Gaiman and all the co-writers miracled to continue the story around the angel and the demon in a way, that it achieves the feat to serve as a catalyst for these overwhelming emotions in so many people all around the world - throughout all kinds of nationalities, genders, characters...

Ineffable.

Wether some are more on Crowley's side, that handsome demon always ready for mischief but to his core still the former good-hearted starmaker, or some favor Azeraphale, always full of compassion and the definition of what most would consider to be originally angelic traits.

I like the idea, that both became like one over the vast period of 6 thousand years.

So different in their unique personalities but then again perfectly complementary in their way to walk the millenia together.

Angel and Demon.

Light and Darkness.

Ying and Yang formed by 2 angel's wings entwined into each other.

One cannot without the other.

Who doesn't whish to have something / someone like this in our lives?

Some might aleady have found it, but most will be seeking exactly this for a lifetime and still fail...but never stop hoping for it.

That's what makes this story so special for me - and I can imagine also for many of you out here...

That's what makes it so...

ineffable.

P.S.

Sorry, if my emotions got the best of me, but I had to try to bring all this madness in my head into some coherent form and put it somewhere...

#good omens #ineffable #simple truths #aziraphale #crowley #ying yang #light and darkness #loveislove #love #ineffable husbands #good omens season 2

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bunnywritesjunk · 2 years ago

Text

Ruusaan | Captain Rex x Reader

Series summary: You missed your tropical planet, but coruscant had more to offer. You are a field medic in the 501st. you work closely with the captain in hopes of not losing your job. But how close is too close.

Chapter summary: Rex hasn't spoken to you in days. Hopefully this mission will give you guys some time to talk.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Warnings: Slavery, Suicide (Canon typical suicide), Rated R

Word count: 3k

Series Masterlist

Genre: Fluff and angst

A/n: Hello everyone, this is the start of a next arc. Rexy boy is getting a little serious ooooh. I'm gonna try to post chapter 9 really soon. I think after this chap or the next one y'all will finally get what you've been waiting for.

Chapter 8

Rex hasn't you in days. He needed time to process his newfound feelings. There’s only one person that could give him proper advice on how to continue. Rex hadn’t thought about relationships with anyone, especially before the war ended. Did he want a relationship? Would it get in the way of his duties? Before he could overthink he found General Skywalker. He was in the hangar speaking to a trooper and General Kenobi. Rex nodded at them in a small greeting.

“General, Trooper.” Rex said to the group.

“Morning Rex.” Skywalker greeted him back.

“General Skywalker, can we speak in private?”

“Sure.”

Obi-wan and the soldier left promptly.

“What is it, Rex?” Anakin asked.

Rex looked around, troops were buzzing around the hangar going in all directions.

“Uh, maybe somewhere more private.”

Anakin nodded and started leading him away to an empty hangar control room.

“Is there something I should be worried about?” Anakin asked the Captain.

“No sir”

Once they got to the control room, Anakin closed the door behind them and stood next to it looking at Rex.

“Well, I had a question for you. A hypothetical question.”

“Go on.” Said Anakin.

“Well say hypothetically, there’s a soldier who has taken a liking to someone on their team. Hypothetically the teammate is showing interest as well, but the soldier has not had any form of a real relationship before and has important duties to attend to. Should the soldier pursue the teammate or keep their distance?”

“Huh, and this is all hypothetical?”

Rex nodded.

Anakin smirked at the Captain.

“Well, I think the soldier should have as many experiences as possible.

Relationships with teammates can be complicated. Just keep doing your- I mean he should keep doing his job and keep the relationship quiet. I don’t think many people will mind.”

Rex looked down at his feet, thinking about what was said.

“This is all hypothetical of course.” Anakin winked at him and left the control room.

Rex replayed the questions that has been plaguing his mind for the past few days. He knew his body yearned for you. His mind was even more fond of the medic. He managed to control his urges but that didn’t stop his dreams from reminding him of his current issue.

What the General said did strike a chord with him. To have more experiences. Rex walked out of the control room and headed down through the hangar. He needed to talk to you, just not today. He was still reeling from the last time he saw you. He needed time to think about what he wanted to say to you. You worked with him, Rex wanted to be careful about how he went about explaining his feelings to you. He walked back to his bunk to check his holo-pad. There was an upcoming mission briefing soon. He made his way to the bridge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slipping into your battle gear was no easy feat but you managed. You were being called to a special assignment. You weren't given the details yet but you were excited to get back into the field. After the Umbara incident, you got benched to make sure you're ok to go back into battle. Na'wi has been getting all the fun assignments, meanwhile, you're stuck on the ship. She even got called early to the mission you were getting ready for. Someone was supposed to contact you soon to brief you on the mission. You went through your pack to make sure you had all your supplies fully cleaned and stocked. You were a little nervous but you knew this mission would be better this time. Your holoprojector beeped in your pocket. You pulled it quickly and answered it. The holo materialized onto the device showing Na'wi and Anakin. You greeted them warmly.

“Hey girl, we're briefing you on the mission.” Na'wi said.

“Alright, hit me.” You responded. Anakin spoke.

“Well, This one is a little bit different from what you would normally do. But you can help us a lot.” You nodded waiting for him to continue.

“The people of the planet Shili have been kidnapped. We suspect it was Zygerrian Slavers with the help of Dooku.”

“Zygerrians?!” You exclaimed.

“Yeah, we figured that might strike a chord with you. We are going to Zygerria to infiltrate the system and get the Togruta people back to their home planet. Believe me, I have no desire to be civil with that scum. But, given your planetary history, you could prove useful.”

You looked down at your feet, processing the information you were given. Your planet has had issues with the Zygerrians for centuries. They saw your people as nothing but prizes to be won. Despite your planet remaining peaceful for all these years they still try to kidnap and enslave your people. They are a cunning and money-hungry planet.

“So you're going to use me as bait?” You asked.

“Not exactly. We need someone the Zygerrians will stop at nothing to have. You won't be sold, and you'll be with Rex, Ahsoka and I the whole time. Listen, you don't have to take this mission if it's too much.”

You knew the General wasn't trying to make you sound weak for turning the mission down but it bothered you anyway. You haven't seen action in weeks, not taking it would mean at least another few weeks benched.

“Alright, I'll help.”

“Great, you won't need your gear or armor, and wear something more...Traditional if you know what I mean.” Anakin said.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, ok I can do that.”

“Hey, that wasn't my idea it was her's” He pointed to Na'wi.

“Well, the plan will work better if she doesn't look like a Republic nurse. The rest of the Squadron will be holding down the fort on Shili waiting for you guys to return.” Na'wi said.

“Don't worry, we'll be in costume too. Our shuttle will arrive in the hangar in about thirty minutes. Be ready by then.” Anakin said.

“Yes sir.”

You severed the connection and put your holoprojector back in your pocket. You stared at the wall for a second before making your way to your closet. You saved a few outfits from your planet for when you visit home. You picked an outfit that you didn't care if it got ruined. It was a long orange skirt with embroidery and beading on it. It came with a matching one-shoulder crop top. You also grabbed a pair of simple brown sandals. It was considered a casual piece of clothing for your family despite the hours it took to make. You remember the shop you got it from, a kind old woman sized and fit it for you. You're sure she wouldn't mind making you another one. You took off your field nurse uniform and slipped into the outfit.

You set the clothes aside and went back into your closet and pulled out a large jewelry box. Jewelry is a status symbol on your planet. The more beads, shells, and gems you wore, the more important you are. You chose pieces that had little sentimental value as they would probably be lost during the mission. The Zygerrians would know that. You placed gold cuffs on your pointed ears, making sure your hair was done in a way they were very visible. You placed gold bands on your arms and rings into your nostrils. Some had beads dangling from them. You fastened some shells into your hair as well. Lastly, you placed a gold cuff onto your tail, it has a band of red crystal running through it, a crystal that can only be found on your planet.

You pulled out a black cloak to hide your clothing while you walked to the hangar. Not that you were embarrassed by your culture, but more embarrassed by what you were about to do on this mission. You wanted to draw as little attention to yourself as possible.

You walked quickly to the hangar, luckily avoiding most people on your way. When you got there you saw a small ship that didn't look like a republic ship. Ahsoka, Anakin, and R2-D2 were standing near the entrance. Ahsoka noticed you first, giving you a small wave as you approached. Anakin turned towards you, He was wearing a typical Zygerrian slavers uniform. You grimaced slightly at the sight.

“Alright, we're all here. Let's get this over with.” The general said.

You followed them inside the ship and saw Rex and Obi-wan dressed similarly to Anakin. Anakin sat in the pilot's seat, Rex his co-pilot. Rex looked over his shoulder at you and nodded. You didn't acknowledge him back as you were still a little sore from your last encounter with him. He turned his attention back to the ship and started to take off. The flight would only be a few minutes long so you leaned on the wall as the other spoke. As the ship drew closer to Zygerria, more ships appeared trying to enter the planet's atmosphere.

“Looks like Zygerria is a popular place these days.” Anakin said.

“Whatever is happening is attracting plenty of high-class scum.” Obi-wan added.

As the ship lowered onto the planet your nerves heightened. You didn't know what you were in for, but you had to trust your Generals and your Captain. Ahsoka placed a hand on your shoulder as if she could feel your emotions.

“Hey, don't worry. I'm in the same boat as you are. I'll be right with you.” She said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I'm also gonna be a bargaining chip for the Zygerrians.”

You hummed. “I see, well I don't know if that makes me feel better but at least I'm not alone in that.”

Ahsoka smiled and went to the back of the ship. You felt the ship land with a thud. When Ahsoka emerged she was cloaked head to toe. You pulled the hood of your cloak up to match her a bit more. The group left the ship, The Generals and Captain leading while you and Ahsoka followed behind. The planet was warm and sunny, a contrast to what you were about to experience. Walking towards the capital you kept your head down, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. The city was...less than hospitable. There were slave auctions and animal fights. It disgusts you. As you were walking a Twi'lek man fell onto the walking path. A Zygerrian told him to get up.

“Get up, you useless skug.” The Zygerrian spat.

“Master, the bonds, they're too heavy.” The Twi'lek said.

The Zygerrian growled. “Tell it to my whip.”

He unsheathed his weapon, about to lash the man. A hand grabbed the Zygerrians arm.

“You don't want to do that.” Ahsoka stopped the Slaver.

You helped the Twi'lek up onto his feet silently.

“You dare touch me?!” The Zygerrian said to Ahsoka.

“Excuse my slave, friend. She is freshly caught” Anakin interjected.

Two more guards approached.

“Hmm, what have we here? You wear Zygerrian armor but are not one of us. Who are you?” The Zygerrian asked.

“I've come for an audience with the queen.”

“Then you have an invitation. We cannot just let anyone in to speak with her majesty.”

“No invitation, but I do bring news. News the queen will be eager to hear.” Anakin said with a smirk.

“I doubt that you're nothing more than a Brigand.”

“I wouldn't say that, especially when the queen learns you prevented her from hearing the news about Bruno Denturri.”

An observation droid floats in between Anakin and the Zygerrian.

“Halt, cease all hostilities. This man is to be escorted to the palace by order of the queen.” The droid said.

While the standoff was happening, Obi-wan and Rex snuck off unnoticed. The walk to the palace was short. Standing in the throne room was nerve-inducing, knowing what the Zygerrians would do to get their hands on your people. And here you are on a silver platter. The Queen had a few pet birds around her.

“Make sure all preparations are complete for this evening.” The Queen said to one of her servants.

When she glanced down at Anakin her face lit up.

“And fetch refreshments.” She called to them.

The Zygerrian that escorted you introduced Anakin.

“My Queen, I present, Lars Quell.”

“Hmm so, you're the man who claims to be acquainted with Bruno Denturri?” She asked Anakin or Lars.

“Yes, your Highness. however, when I spoke with him, he failed to describe your beauty.”

You sighed. This was the plan huh?

The Queen chuckled. “Really? And did Bruno speak of my intense hatred of him? Or did that escape his memory as well?” The Queen asked with a scowl.

The Zygerrian guard raised his blaster at Anakin. Anakin gently pushed the blaster tip away from his face.

“He needed not speak of it, your majesty. In fact, Bruno Denturri will not be speaking...Ever again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bruno Denturri's dead by my hand. Here are two slaves from his palace, compensation for my efforts.”

Anakin grabbed Ahsoka's cloak and revealed her beautiful blue slave outfit. You would've wanted to know where she got it if it weren't for the circumstances.

“Unhand me, Brigand!” Ahsoka exclaimed.

“And this one I think you'll especially take a liking to.” Anakin walked up to you and took your cloak off.

The Queen gasped and stood up.

“An Igbo woman, she is rare. You impress me, Lars Quell, they are quite a prize. And to have defeated Bruno Denturri in combat? Well, you must be quite the warrior.” The Queen approached.

The servants bowed to her so you and Ahsoka followed suit. She circled you slowly, inspecting. She grabbed your tail and you fought the urge to pull away and hiss. She let go but replaced her grip on your face. Turning your head side to side and opening your mouth to see your teeth.

“What region are you from?” The Queen asked you.

“Yoruba.” You responded. Your tail flicked back and forth in annoyance.

The Queen hummed. “These slaves are certainly of fine stock. Bruno always knew how to choose a beautiful female.”

The Queen stalked over to Ahsoka and gripped her arm.

“Don't you dare touch me.” Ahsoka ripped out of the Queen's grasp.

The queen scowled “Though she will have to be processed. Her demeanor leaves much to be desired. I will bring in a friend of mine for the Igbo woman, he will pay nicely for her. What is your price for the Togruta?”

“With respect, how can I price the beauty of these slaves when I look upon the magnificence of your Highness, whose beauty would make the brightest star seem dull by comparison?” Anakin said.

Ahsoka looked at you and rolled her eyes. You shrugged in response.

“Lars Quell, you flatter me.” The Queen chuckled.

“No your majesty, however...” Anakin started whispering in the Queen's ear. She giggled.

“Lars, stop it, stop it! Hmm you are a bold one aren't you?”

“My reputation precedes me then.”

“Perhaps we can find a way to put a price on your slaves. Come walk with me.” Anakin and the queen linked arms and walked up the throne room steps.

You and Ahsoka followed. Beyond the throne room was a large balcony. The Queen's Twi'lek slave followed her with a tray of beverages. The queen took one and continued to speak to Anakin.

“Slavery is the natural order of things. The weak deserve nothing more than to kneel before the strong, bound to our service.” She continued.

“I will need men with your talents to spread our ways across the galaxy.”

Suddenly, The Twi'lek girl lunged at the queen with a knife. Anakin grabbed her forearm stopping her assault.

“Ah, let me go!” She screamed at Anakin. He released her and she fell back.

“You dare raise a hand against your master? Clearly, you require further processing.” The Queen said with venom.

The girl backed up to the balcony wall.

“No! I won't go back there!.” She said while climbing onto the wall.

��Wait, Stop!” Anakin lunged for the girl, but it was too late. She jumped.

You gasped and covered your mouth as you heard her body hit the ground. That poor girl was driven to kill herself because of these people.

The Queen sat on the balcony edge and sighed.

“Such a waste, but perhaps she was more trouble than she's worth.”

“But you Lars, you are proving quite resourceful, very well I will pay your price for this slave girl. It seems I am in need of a new servant.” She gestured to Ahsoka.

Anakin glanced once more at the body below. “She is my gift to you, your Highness.”

“You are a man of many surprises, it pleases me. My friend should be here shortly for the Igbo woman. Also, I wish you to be my guest at the slave auction, and to sit at my side.” The queen held her hand out for Anakin to take. He took it gently and led her away. Back inside the throne room, another Zygerrian guard entered.

“Your majesty, your guest is here.” He said.

Your heart pounded. You took a deep breath willing yourself to calm down. The man that entered was huge. He towered over the other Zygerrian guards and held authority. The Queen went to greet him.

“Ah, Jarok. Welcome, I have a wonderful surprise for you.” The Queen beckoned you over. You walked up to them calmly not looking him in the eye.

“Where did you catch her.” The Zygerrian now known as Jarok asked not taking her gaze off of you.

“She was acquired at Bruno Denturri's palace.” Anakin said.

Jarok placed a finger under your chin, lifting your head. You looked into his eyes.

“For years, I have been searching for one such as you.” His voice was firm and quiet.

“What is your price?”

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