#i have told my best friends that i want to commit violence against them

[selfspinninglies]

u have like., leaf? maybe seafloor idk

very true leaf is very me

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 3, Unbidden - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, minor discussions of sex, drunk!Bucky, minor violence, FloRida's Low (that song slaps, okay?), minor anti-Winter Soldier sentiment, an unnecessary Ted Bundy reference just because. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.1k

Previously On...: You and Bucky had a heart-to-heart after you came back from your mission with Steve, and Bucky asked a very interesting question about the nature of your relationship with the Star Spangled Man.

A/N: I just finished writing Chapter 9 ahead of schedule, so here is Chapter 3 a little bit earlier than I planned on posting it! Consider it in honor of Sergeant Barnes' 107th Birthday! This is my favorite chapter; I had so much fun writing it, this part in particular (even though it took me a million tries before I got it to where I wanted it). Sam is finally given some page time, and I adore him, so I hope I've captured his essence sufficiently. I sort of love writing drunk!Bucky. Part three is where things are going to take an interesting turn for Bucky and Pocket so I'm looking forward to posting that soon!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)  @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @jmeelee @cazellen

Slapping your American Express Black Card onto the polished mahogany bar, you made sure the bartender was giving you his full attention. "Everything my group orders tonight goes on my tab, got it?" you told him. "If Tony Stark tries to pay for a single thing, tell him it's already covered and if he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me." The bartender nodded, taking your card and depositing it with the other open tabs behind the bar. It was going to be a very lucrative night for the bar.

You'd all come to Gino's, a downtown dive of place you all loved, to celebrate Bucky's clearance for missions. As a part of his presidential pardon for the Winter Soldier's crimes (completely unnecessary, in your opinion, because Bucky hadn’t been the one to commit them), he had been required to undertake 12 months of court-mandated therapy, and now that he had ten months under his belt, his therapist had signed her approval for Bucky to engage in real Avenger work, provided he was accompanied by another member of the team at all times for supervision. He'd be leaving tomorrow for a classified location with Steve and Sam; they'd be gone for about a week, so you'd wanted to commemorate the event and leave him with some positive memories before he left.

You rejoined your group in the far back, where you'd commandeered the largest corner booth and the surrounding tables. "Tonight's on me," you declared as you approached, "so drink up and eat well." Your friends cheered their thanks; Thor even banged his giant fist against the table in appreciation. You did a mock curtsey before coming to stand behind Bucky where he sat, draping your arms around his neck and shoulders and bringing your head down alongside his.

"Having a good time?" you asked him.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, leaning back into your touch. "With you by my side? Always," he replied, his voice laced with affection. "But you didn't have to do this, doll. Pay for everything, I mean. We could have all gotten our own."

Letting go of his shoulders, you moved around to sit next to him. "Bullshit. My best friend is going on his first Avengers mission, this is the least I can do."

"Listen, man," said Sam Wilson, also known as The Falcon and, if you were being completely honest, one of your favorite teammates after Bucky, "I know things might have been different when you were younger, but in the 21st Century, when a lady offers to buy you drinks, the polite thing to do is just say 'thank you' and get hammered."

Bucky laughed and chugged down the beer he'd been previously nursing and took the bourbon you'd brought over for him from the bar. "Thank you, Pocket. Though, I don't think I'll be getting... hammered on anything here."

"You're most welcome, Buck," you said, patting his cheek, the stubble tickling at your palm. "But if you are looking to get hammered, I believe our resident God of Thunder has brought a little something extra you could sip on in between beers." You nodded your head toward Thor, who sat a few seats down, pouring a splash of Asgardian something from a flask into Steve's tumbler.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Maybe I'll take him up on that." The super soldier got up and, squeezing your hand, made his way over to Thor, who gladly poured a generous splash of spirits into Bucky's glass of bourbon.

You watched him for a moment as he sat and drank with Steve and Thor, a warm feeling building in your chest at the sight of him looking and doing so well. He'd made so much progress since he first arrived at the Tower and you were unbelievably proud of him.

"You've been good for him, Pocket," Sam offered with a raise of his glass. "But I gotta know, when are you two gonna stop tip-toeing around each other and make things official?"

You let out an agonized groan. "Not you, too, Sam. Why don't you and Natty get together and write some fanfic about it? That's about as close to reality as it'll get."

"What are Wilson and I collaborating to write smutty fanfiction about?" Natasha asked as she sat down in Bucky's vacated seat, passing you a shot glass.

"Za nashu druzhbu!" You toasted in unison before downing the sweet liquid. To our friendship!

"A Redheaded Slut shot? How very Natasha," you teased.

"Don't try to change the subject," Sam interjected. "Romanoff: (Y/L/N) and Barnes. They go together like Netflix and chill or what?"

Natasha's eyes lit up. "Absolutely! Oh my God; I'm so glad you see it, too. They're just screaming 'Let's fuck already,' right?!"

"I don't know that they haven't started already," Sam said, obviously pleased to finally have someone to talk about this with. "I've never seen Metalhead as content as when he's with Pocket. Figure she's gotta be doing something to keep a smile on his face, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows, setting Natasha off into a barking laugh.

"Jesus Christ, Sam!" you sputtered. "I'm sitting right fucking here!"

Sam gave you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Baby Girl. 'M just calling it like I see it. And with you and Barnes, I see it."

"She's going to stick to the story that nothing's going on between them," Nat began.

"Because there is nothing going on between us," you interrupted.

"But I think we all know something is brewing between those two," she continued, as if you hadn't said a thing. "I mean, do you really think they're just sleeping in the same bed every night?"

"Hold up, hold up." Sam raised his hand to stop Nat. "You're telling me those two share a bed? How long has this been going on and why am I just hearing about it now?"

"Oh my god," you said, putting your head in your hands and wishing the floor would open up and suck you into a hell dimension. It had to be better than sitting here listening to the two of them talk as if weren't in the room.

"You didn't know?!" Nat's expression was incredulous. "Essentially since the moment Barnes moved into the Tower. They alternate whose bed they sleep in, but it's literally every. single. night."

"That's it," you murmured, though you were sure they weren't paying you any attention, "I am never telling you another thing, ever, Natalia." They weren't embarrassing you, per se. You felt no shame about your closeness with Bucky. It was more that you hated that they were making assumptions about him. You could take ones made about you; you'd been doing that your entire life, but Bucky was different. He was... fragile wasn't the right word, but it came close. You wanted to protect him from everything negative, including your friends gossiping about his alleged sex life.

"Guys, please," you said, loud enough to catch their attention. "I know that, whatever I say, it's not going to convince you that I'm telling you the truth, but I don't want Bucky to hear it, okay? You're just going to make him uncomfortable and he'll retreat into himself, close up. So, save it for when you're by yourselves, alright?"

The sincerity in your words caused Sam and Nat's gazes to soften as they looked at you. You hoped that, despite their ribbing, they understood that your concern for your shared friend was genuine, and that, of the three of you sitting at the table, you knew Bucky best.

"Alright," said Sam, "I'll drop it. For now. But know I've got my eye on you, Pocket." He gave you a shrewd look. "Don't think you can keep your secret from Ole Sammy forever."

You shook your head, annoyingly amused.

The evening moved on pleasantly: conversation and alcohol flowed, and you felt yourself loosening up as the shots you'd drank with Natasha worked their way through your system until you were sporting a pleasant buzz. Bucky eventually came back to join you at your table, eyes glassy and with a giant, dopey grin plastered across his face.

"How's that Asgardian liquor treating you, Buckaroo?" you asked him with a grin of your own, knowing full well he was sauced.

"'s real good, Pocket," he slurred, propping his head on his fist and gazing at you with a dreamy expression. "'s nice and tingly, like the sun is shining on my insides."

"I'm happy for you, Buck," you said with a laugh, shooting an amused glance over Bucky's head to Nat, who responded with a smirk of her own. "That's real good."

He put his arms around you and pulled you into him, almost tugging you off of your chair in the process. "No! You're real good. Sho good to me, all warm and fuzzy and pretty. Just wanna keep touchin' you, you know? 'Cause you make me think of happy things." He paused to nuzzle his face into your hair. "You're m'favorite person."

"You're my favorite person, too, Buck," you said, stifling a giggle, amused by this new soft, silly side of him.

"Me?" he squeaked--actually squeaked. You nodded and then let out a surprised squeal as he pulled you into his lap, holding you almost tight enough to be uncomfortable, his metal arm clinging you to his chest. But then he pulled his head back to look you in the eye, his face suddenly serious.

He slurred, leaning in closer. You could smell the sweet scent of the Asgardian liquor on his breath. "Don'tcha dare tell Stevie, though, doll" he hiccupped, "'cause he'd be real put out if he found out I was your fav'rite."

"Well, then we won't tell him," you assured him, casting a bewildered glance to Nat. She subtly shook her head, as if to say she was just as confused as you as to why Steve would care if Bucky was your favorite person.

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Good. Don't want 'im feelin' bad, but 'm not sorry. 'S not my fault, either. He had ages and he didn't do nuthin'. That's on 'im. Not on me, not on you. On 'im." He began petting your hair in long strokes, seemingly distracted by the feel of it and losing his original train of thought. "Mmmm, you're so pretty. M'pretty little Pocket."

"Why, thank you, my handsome soldier," you replied, tapping him playfully on the nose while wondering what the hell he had been going on about concerning Steve. You hoped he wasn't so drunk that he didn't remember this conversation in the morning, because you were going to press the shit out of him for details.

Oh, but then... the next song from the jukebox caught your attention, and you looked up as the opening bars of Flo Rida's Low filled the air.

"Oh no," moaned Nat with a trace of laughter. "You're gonna dance, aren't you?"

A broad grin broke across your face. You loved dancing to anything, but this song was your kryptonite. "I can't help it," you told her, "it calls me, I come. Let's go!" You stood up, taking Bucky's hand and trying to pull him along with you, but the super soldier just shook his head and refused to move. Apparently he wasn't that drunk. "Fine. Sam, Nat, dance with me."

"I'm coming, Baby Girl," Sam said, taking Nat's hand and dragging her to meet you.

As soon as you had the space, you began to move, the music pulsing through your veins, syncing perfectly with your heartbeat. You swayed your hips in time with the infectious rhythm, your body moving effortlessly to the beat.

You felt Sam come up behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he began to dance with you, bass thumping in your chests. You and Sam had danced together countless times before; he was one of the only ones in the Tower who enjoyed dancing as much as you did, so the two of you had had plenty of practice moving together. Your movements may have been completely innocent, but they gave the appearance of something much more intimate-- it was just the nature of the dance. You could feel the heat of Sam's body pressed against your back, the way his hands gripped your hips protectively. It was all in good fun, a playful dance between friends, until you felt Sam's hands fly from your waist as you were about to get low.

You spun around, finding Bucky standing where Sam had been just a few seconds before, Sam now several feet away, anger wearing heavy on his face.

"What the hell, man?" Sam barked at Bucky. "What'd you shove me for?"

Bucky, his face flushed and eyes narrowed with a combination of intoxication and something dark, took a step towards Sam. "Didn't shove ya, Wilson," he slurred, his words blending together. "Ya just...got in the way."

"Got in the way? Man, we were just dancing. How was I in your way?"

Bucky's jaw clenched, his metal arm flexing by his side. The atmosphere shifted, thick with tension, as if the air in the room had suddenly turned molasses-slow.

"Okay, boys." You stepped between them, hands down and palms open, trying to create as much distance between the two as possible. The last thing you wanted was a drunken argument devolving into some kind of brawl. "It's getting late, and we've all had a good amount to drink." You gave Sam a pointed glance. "Bucky, will you take me home to the Tower? I'm pretty tired and I think I'm ready to call it a night."

Sam nodded in understanding-- it would be a hell of a lot easier to get Bucky home in his current state if he thought he was escorting you, instead of the other way around.

"Yeah, 'course, Pocket," Bucky said, his eyes softening as he looked at you. You were able to call out your goodnights to the rest of the team and, leaving instructions with Nat to close out your tab at the end of the night, began making your way to the door. Bucky stumbled a bit, his balance compromised by the alcohol in his system. You wrapped an arm around him, steadying him as you both made your way outside.

Outside the bar, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the noisy atmosphere inside. Bucky leaned heavily against you, his arm draped around your shoulders for support.

"Fuck, Barnes. You're heavy," you groaned under his weight.

"Fuck me, Pocket," he slurred, head tilting to the side. There was that look in his eyes again. The same one you'd seen the day he'd gotten his new arm. You couldn't identify it, but it made the hair on your arms stand up straight.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said." You could feel his warmth seeping through your clothes, his presence comforting even in his intoxicated state.

"You good to stand on your own for a second, soldier?" you asked him. "I need to hail us a cab."

Bucky nodded and you carefully eased yourself out from under his arm, scanning the street for a taxi. The bustling city night was alive with lights and sounds, creating a tapestry of urban energy that seemed to match the frequency of the electricity that ran through your brain.

God, did you love this city.

As you raised your hand to flag down a cab, you couldn't help but steal glances at Bucky, his hair in disarray, falling into his eyes and his lips slightly parted as he breathed in the cool night air. Even drunk and disheveled, he still looked so handsome. There was a softness to him in the moment that made him look younger, and for a second, you could imagine that beautiful, carefree young man who had been drafted to cross the sea to fight someone else's war, and had paid for it with even more than his life.

A taxi screeched to a stop in front of you, interrupting your reverie. You hurriedly opened the door and helped Bucky inside, sliding in beside him. The cab driver gave you both a curious glance before pulling away from the curb. Once you gave him the address to Avengers Tower, that look got more and more frequent as he kept checking his rear view mirror.

"Hey, eyes on the road, buddy," you snapped at him, probably putting more aggression into your voice than you had intended, but the way the cab driver was looking at the two of you made you uneasy.

The ride back to the Tower was quiet, the low hum of the taxi's engine serving as a backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your mind. Bucky slumped against you, his head resting on your shoulder as he dozed off. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your skin. The city lights blurred past outside the window, casting a hazy glow over both of you.

"Listen," the cabbie eventually began in his thick New Jersey accent, "sweetheart, ya seem like a nice girl, but I don't think ya know what you're dealin' with, here. That man right there's the Winter Soldier. He's a murderer, a nasty one. The kind that likes to take a sweet thing like you and do horrible things."

You rolled your eyes. If they were going to keep telling stories about the Winter Soldier, the least they could do was get the details right instead of making him sound like Ted Fucking Bundy.

"This nasty murderer is my best friend," you said, each word clipped and infused with the anger you felt on Bucky's behalf. "So, maybe you should stick with getting us to our destination instead of trying to lecture me on something you know absolutely nothing about."

The cabbie fell silent, his eyes darting nervously between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. You could tell that he was regretting his decision to say anything, realizing that he had struck a nerve. Or, you thought with an amused chuckle, afraid that you were just as nasty as the Winter Soldier. But you couldn't blame him entirely. The reputation of the Winter Soldier was notorious, and it was only natural for people to be cautious. You just wished they knew the name Bucky Barnes, and the actual man, himself, just as well.

You sighed and shifted your gaze to Bucky, still unconscious against your shoulder. It wasn't fair, you thought, how people judged him solely based on his past. Yes, there were dark chapters in his history, but he had fought tooth and nail to regain control over his life. He had redeemed himself in countless ways even before he had officially joined the Avengers.

As the taxi approached Avengers Tower, you leaned over and gently shook Bucky awake. His eyes fluttered open, confusion etched in his features for a brief moment before recognition set in.

"We're home, Buck," you whispered softly, trying to soothe away any lingering unease from your brief conversation with the cab driver. "Let's get you upstairs." You threw a handful of bills in the cabbie's direction, not even bothering to wait for him to give you your change; you just wanted out of his cab and away from his prejudice.

Bucky nodded, rubbing sleep from his eyes. With your help, he stumbled out of the taxi and leaned on you for support as you made your way into the building.

"'m sorry 'bout that, doll," he drawled as you passed the security desk, sending a quick wave to the night guard.

"Sorry for what, Buck?" you asked him. He was silent as you made your way to the elevator bay, waiting until you had pressed the button to summon the elevator car.

"'bout the cabbie." He avoided looking at you while you waited, and it was like a punch to your gut-- he'd heard everything that ignorant man had said. The elevator doors dinged open and you helped usher him inside.

You took a deep breath as you pressed the button for your floor, the retinal scanner making quick work to prove your identity and verify your security clearance. "Buck," you exhaled, "you have nothing to apologize for. That man was an asshole and an idiot."

Bucky leaned back against the elevator wall, his head thumping against the cool metal. "But he was right. I am a nasty murderer."

You could scream. You could strangle that cabbie with your bare hands. Bucky had been doing so well, had been having such a good night, and one person's careless remark had ruined all of it.

"Barnes," you said, turning to face him. "Look at me. Do you think I'm stupid?"

His eyes grew wide at the insinuation, even in his drunk state, he was with it enough to be taken aback by your question. "'bsolutely not, doll. You're the smartest person I know. Smarter than Stark, even, 'cause you can admit when your wrong." The compliment left you trying to hide a smile.

"Okay. Do you trust my judgment?"

"With my life," he breathed. The elevator opened to your floor, and you helped Bucky out into the hall and down the corridor toward his room. The soft glow of the hallway lights illuminated his features, casting a warm, intimate aura around the two of you.

"So, if I'm not stupid and you trust my judgment, trust me when I tell you are not what that man says you are. You are a good man who had too many horrible things happen to him. And despite all those horrible things, you are still the kindest, funniest, most gentle man that I know."

As you reached his door, Bucky turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "Thank you, Pocket. Thank you for taking care of me, and for being my friend," he murmured, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion.

A small smile played on your lips. "Always, Buck," you replied softly. "Now let's get you inside."

With a gentle push, you opened the door to his room and guided him over to his bed. Bucky collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the softness beneath him. Once you'd pulled off his boots, you knelt down beside him, tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

As you straightened up, Bucky reached out and grabbed your hand, his grip surprisingly strong despite his intoxicated state. His gaze locked with yours, a mix of vulnerability and longing flickering in his eyes.

"I don't want you to leave," he whispered, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

"I'm just going to hop over to my room to change into pajamas," you assured him. "I'll be right back. Promise." You smoothed his hair, trying to tame it from where it stood up in all directions.

"'kay," he said through a yawn, "but don't take too long. I got somethin' I need to tell ya. 's important."

"Okay," you told him, planting a kiss on his head. "I'll be just a minute." You hurried across the hall to your own room, changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth in record time.

Re-entering Bucky's room, you were extremely curious as to what he'd wanted to say to you. "Alright, Buckaroo, I'm back. What did you--"

You smiled to yourself. Bucky was fast asleep, light snores emanating from him as he lay sprawled across the bed. You couldn't help but find him adorable in his slumber, especially with his hair sticking up in all directions.

With a soft sigh, you walked over to the side of the bed and gently sat down, watching Bucky's peaceful face. It was moments like these that reminded you of how much he had been through, how much pain and loss he had experienced. Despite his tough exterior, there was a vulnerability about him that tugged at your heartstrings.

You leaned in closer, unable to resist the urge to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. Your fingers lingered on his skin for a moment longer than necessary, feeling the warmth radiating from him. The desire to protect and comfort him overwhelmed you, making your heart ache with affection, and something else that you couldn't quite identify.

Pulling down the covers, you climbed into bed next to him, snuggling up to his body for warmth. He grunted and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. It wasn't long before you drifted off into a slumber of your own.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam. A potentially stupid question. Image descriptions for screen readers. Do they work the same way for audio and video? As in are they needed or helpful? I'm finding conflicting answers when I search for this.

Not at all a stupid question! I think sometimes it can vary by community, to be honest.

Screen-reader users, visually impaired folk, and others for whom IDs are particularly relevant, feel free to chime in; I'm going to ramble and you likely have more useful stuff to say. Remember to do it in reblogs or notes, as I don't post asks sent in response to other asks.

I'm not visually impaired, and I don't use a screen reader and thus am not really able to speak with firsthand authority. In the past, when I've asked, I've heard that in-post text is better than alt-text for images; even if that stops being the case, I prefer to use in-post text because there are people who aren't screen-reader users who also like the IDs. I do too, actually. And generally I've heard that video as well as image should be described. I don't do straight audio generally, but when I do, if it's a song I don't bother because the title is there and lyrics are googleable, if it's speech I like to see/give a transcript.

I like when videos have descriptions especially, because I am almost never in a position to play a video I see on my dash. If the video doesn't autoplay I don't want to hit play because then it will load with audio and I'm usually either a) somewhere I can't have audio or b) already listening to something and unwilling to turn it off. If the video autoplays it's muted, but if it's audio-heavy there's the same issue. So if someone posts a video without a description/transcript, unless it has captions, I can't engage.

There are a lot of guides out there for how to write IDs and I kind of think, based on conversations I've had, most of them are bullshit by people who don't use screen readers. In my experience, which is not universal but is relatively comprehensive, people who can't see an image often do not want a precise objective description as we're instructed to provide.

There's a great essay that touches on this, Against Access, where the writer, who is Deafblind, talks about how he doesn't want a diagram, he wants an emotional evocation.

Why are you telling me, telling me, telling me things? Your job isn’t to deliver this whole room to me on a silver platter. I don’t want the silver platter. I want to attack this room. I want to own it, just like how the sighted people here own it. Or, if the room isn’t worth owning, then I want to grab whatever I find worth stealing.

I've had people get shitty with me about putting "feelings" into my IDs, but the majority of people for whom those IDs are necessary have told me they like it because, for example, saying "She looks like she's about to commit violence" is a subjective opinion but conveys something that "A woman is standing with arms upraised and a frown on her face" does not. And if you're describing an image but there's not a ton of meaning to it, describing it in clinical detail is wasting time. A paragraph describing a fortysomething white guy and all the clothing he's wearing and the room he's in is not as helpful, on occasion, as simply saying "This is a photograph of me in my bedroom." It depends on context, which is your call to make, and the only way to get good at that is to do it.

But again: this is my experience with my readers, and even John Lee Clark, quoted above, doesn't speak for his whole community. So I would suggest that the best way to get an answer for this is just to ask your readers what they'd prefer. If you have friends who use screenreaders, ask them. If you don't, or if you don't get a response from your readers, I would do what you feel is best until someone tells you otherwise, and then be gracious and discuss it with them so you can better understand their needs. In my experience, when someone is genuinely trying to make a more welcoming space for disabilities -- as opposed to making virtue-signal attempts to Be The Perfect Ally -- they get a lot of slack when they don't get it exactly right. It is better to make a welcoming space for people to feel safe telling you that you fucked up than it is to pretend you're never going to fuck up.

So yeah, as someone who is more or less fully sighted, that's my two cents, but if you really want to know what your readers want, you know...I'd ask them. :) Good luck, either way.

[corsair-news-alliance]

To all survivors of the 30 hours war. To all surviving members of CORSAIR Mercenary Company our home may have been ripped from us, it may be soaked in the blood of our fallen comrades.... But... It's back in our hands.

The company is dead. CORSAIR Mercenary Company is gone. But... The spirit of what it means to be a CORSAIR is far from gone.

She's battered, and ripped to shreds, her guns pulled out, her streets barricaded still and her shops boarded shut. But friends.... She is ours again. Our home... OUR HOME IS OURS AGAIN.

They cannot take that from us. We can bring her back. Build our lives back, rebuild our shops, our rooms, our safety. Because the Mercenaries we were will never return.... We can still do something with our skills. We can still do good in this galaxy. I offer shelter to anyone willing to help rebuild our home... Rebuild your home. I offer a place in the new life we can build.

But before that... Everyone thank APMS-341-A from @leastinsanesscpilot for filing all the paperwork to get our home back.

Back to the core of why we're doing this... Before our home burned. Harrison Armory accused of slaughter of vicious violence against them... And we told them no. No we would not pay reparations for their crimes. That we would not give them money for the pain and suffering they caused.

Before our home burned we showed the Galaxy the crimes we committed on Three Candles Deep to expose the utter horror of the flash cloning project that Longbeard died to stop.

And as our home burned we fought for what was right, we held off the endless horror of our own friends.. of our family turning guns on us because we wouldn't follow our old leader in her madness. She burned our ties to so many....

I tried to save as many of us as I could. I failed to save Commodore. I failed to save most of the handlers. I failed to save most of us.

But we survived. Despite it all we survived.

That is the story of CORSAIR. We are survivors. We are rebels. We refused to bend under the boot of the status quo.

CORSAIR is the home of the lost

CORSAIR is the home of those seeking something more

CORSAIR was the chance for something new... If you had nothing... Or had nothing but excess.

We never did this for the money truly.... We know the old joke of three deployments. Three times boots hit the ground and you could retire. But we didn't retire.

We kept going in.

For glory.

For a purpose.

For the family we made.

So let's do something worthwhile again. Fight a fight against the status quo like Sylvia wanted all those years ago.

When I awoke from my Coma I made the choice to continue to piss off @harrison-armory-incorporated I chose to release the footage from every deployment we had with them, had against them, anything related. Because we turned on one another because they kicked our fragile foundation.... So I kicked back.

We have evidence

We have expirence

We have mechs

We have the tools to take the fight to the companies. To take the fight to every place where innocent people are hurt.

And we can do what we do best. Tell stories.

Frontline reporting. Taking care of those who can't fight. While we do everything we can to not bend to authority.

If the DoJ/HR can't be everywhere at once. And if Albatross won't show the Galaxy what's going on, then we'll do both.

We'll rebuild. I know Anna already wants to design us a fleet.... It's time to remember what it means to be a CORSAIR.

SO LET'S REBUILD OUR HOME

LET'S FUCKING FIGHT A GOOD FIGHT

AND LET US RESIST TILL LEGENDS BLEED

//Morse\\

[igncrxntripley]

double trouble

requested by @lokis-queen01 - Would you be able to write a request for Damien Priest x female reader where she is Dominic’s twin sister but she is in a secret relationship with Damien and she joins judgement day with Dominic but also reveals that she is in a relationship with him

a/n: posting this crazy late but pls enjoy :)

mentions: overall SFW, some description of violence within matches, slight emotional manipulation, some family drama, use of google translate, fem!reader, poc!reader, latinx!reader, mysterio twin sister!reader, damianxreader

translations: mi corazón: my heart, sweetheart; princesa: princess; mi princesa, estoy tan orgulloso: my princess, i’m so proud of you; bienvenido a tu nueva familia: welcome to your new family. 

taglist: @thesithdiaries​ @cassiesgreta​ @roseheartsworld​ @theworldofotps​​ @babybatlover​ @ripleyswhore​ @auburnwrites​ @obl1vionblackhart​ @emogoblin-666​ @hereliespumpkin​ @blxxdshxteyes​ @neptune-lover​ @bunnysmyname​ @i-have-issues-lol​ @ares-athena​ @thatonepansexual2000​ @witcherfromwallachia​ @christinabae​

there was no doubt in the world you loved your dad, but he had put both you and dominik on the back burner when it came to your careers. the three of you used to be unstoppable together - a father and his children winning championships and being some of the best in the industry! what could go wrong?

nothing went wrong, per say. but three people entered your lives and helped you see the light; rhea, damian, and finn. three people who had followed your family relentlessly for weeks, months, even, to convince the mysterio twins to join the judgement day. and the two of you fought tooth and nail against it because you were that committed to your dad. 

dominik was the first to finally be convinced. rhea had a way with words, and it was clear just how enamored he was with her. when you found out, though, you were livid. 

--- ---

“you what?” you said, looking at your twin in shock after he told you what he’d decided. “dominik, you can’t be serious. after everything they’ve done to us?” 

dominik shook his head. “y/n, think about it.” he said, a darkness in his eyes that you hadn’t ever seen before. “they can give us what dad hasn’t. you’ve seen how they work together, support one another to be the best they can possibly be. it’s what we need. we could be unstoppable!” he said, grabbing your upper arms as you looked away from him. “i love you, but i’m doing this with or without you. and i don’t want anything to happen to you.”

a scoff left your lips. “oh, you don’t want anything to happen to me?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “as if they haven’t already made our lives a living hell. rhea has been manipulating you and spreading these lies through your head!” 

dom squeezed your arms, needing nothing more than for his twin sister to hear him out. “listen to me, please.” he said softly. “i know you’re upset. i get that. but just...just hear them out.” dominik was practically begging you. you knew he wanted the two of you to do this together, but you just couldn’t get behind it. not yet.

--- ---

just as rhea had worked her charm on dominik, ‘the punisher’ of the judgement day had started to make his own move on you. and just like his counterpart, he had a way with words and a certain smoothness to him that had you eating out of the palm of his hand. you weren’t giving into him that easily though. 

--- ---

sneaking around with damian wasn’t easy. if you weren’t careful, someone was going to see you. so the two of you often met up in his hotel room, you leaving your dad and brother at the guise of seeing one of your friends. you knew you couldn’t do this forever, though. so you had to make a decision about damian’s offer. 

this came to a head only a mere week before clash at the castle; you sat in damian’s lap during one of your top secret trips to his hotel room, your arms around his neck and playing with his hair as he gave your hips gentle squeezes. “i can’t do it, dame.” you whispered, the nickname rolling off of your tongue as you looked down at your lap. 

damian leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours. “why not, mi corazón?” he asked softly. “you’re better off with us. we can take care of you; i can take care of you.” he reminded you, the same speech damian had given you for weeks on end during your secret conversations. “we won’t have to hide anymore. and you know if you don’t say yes then...then we can’t do this anymore.”

his words made your chest hurt. while you wanted nothing more than to be with damian and let everyone know you were his, you couldn’t do it at the risk of hurting others. “my dad, though...”

“baby, i know you love your dad.” damian said with a gentle shake of your head, using his finger to lift your chin so he could look at you. “but you’re so much bigger and better than him. both you and dominik have so much potential, and rey hasn’t even scratched the surface.” he was so gentle with his words, so patient as he watched the gears turn in your head. it made your heart flutter, but at the same time your brain wanted you not to believe a word he was saying. “join us, y/n. not just for me, but for you.”

you had decided that night what you were going to do, but you were going to wait to make it clear what your choice was. it was going to be the first step in paving your own path, without the influence of your father. of course damian was thrilled, but you made him promise to keep quiet for just a little while longer. 

cardiff wasn’t ready for what you had planned. 

--- ---

clash at the castle, september 3rd, 2022.

you stood at ringside, next to your twin brother dominik as you both watched the match in front of you; your dad, rey myserio, teaming up with edge to finally put away the judgement day after months of them tormenting your family. not only had they attacked the three of you, this match was meant to put things to bed, give everyone the piece of mind they needed and hopefully get the judgement day off of your backs.

but no one knew what was coming.

you and dominik had talked about everything backstage, away from your dad and away from anyone who didn’t need to hear it. you had a plan, and you were going to make a statement without the help of rey mysterio. this was your moment, dominik’s moment. and no one was going to take it away from you. 

truth be told, most of the match was a blur; you and dominik kept up your gimmick as the proud kids in the background of rey and edge’s moment up until the very end. but eventually you found yourself stood in the ring, next to your brother, watching rey and one of his great friends celebrating their big moment. 

but then dominik made his move, and you knew your plan was officially in action. 

your twin gave edge a low blow, and didn’t even try to hide the smirk that rose on your face as the hall of famer fell to his knees. the shock on your father’s face only fueled your fire, and as edge sat on his knees you followed it up with a superkick to the chin that had his head spinning. 

rey turned both you and dominik to face him, your own chest heaving with rage and anxiety as dominik caught his breath. as twins, your energy had always radiated off of one another and you always did everything as a team; this was no different, your brother’s hand reaching for yours as his way of letting you know you were in this together. 

“por favor, por favor.” your dad pleaded, his hands in front of him as he looked at his eldest children. “listen to me, both of you. please, leave him alone.” one of rey’s hands reached out to hold dominik;s chest as the other held your cheek, and truth be told that alone almost sobered you up. the look in your dad’s eyes through the white contacts almost convinced you to stop this whole thing and walk away...but you didn’t. 

dominik delivered the harshest clothesline he could manage right to your dad’s chest, and you immediately climbed up to the top turnbuckle at the nearest ringpost. the boos in the audience only fueled the adrenaline rushing through your body as you landed the biggest splash of your career so far onto your dad, and you and dominik stood by to look at exactly what you’d done. 

you could only barely hear the judgement day’s laugh behind you as you left the ring with your big brother, hand in hand as you both came to terms with what you’d done. but you knew this was only the beginning, and come monday night, everyone in the wwe universe was going to find out what the mysterio twins had planned for their futures. 

--- ---

monday night raw, two days after clash at the castle. 

you stood backstage next to your twin brother, watching on the monitor as your dad and edge spoke about what you’d done only two days prior. you stood with damian, distanced from the rest of the judgement day so you could have your own moment with him before sealing the your fate. his arms wrapped around your waist, and yours rested on his shoulders as he gave you one final kiss. 

“you look good in all black, princesa.” he said softly, complimenting the black mini skirt and heeled booties you’d chosen. a gentle smirk teased his lips as the two of your gently swayed your bodies; damian knew this was hard for you, and he was doing whatever he needed to do to calm you before you and dominik confronted your father. “let us handle business, okay? and after tonight, everything will be okay.”

you gave damian one more gentle kiss, nodding your head as his words registered in your brain. “thank you. for everything.” you whispered, smiling up at him before you were interrupted. 

“break it up, lovebirds.” rhea teased softly, her own hand interlocked with that of your twin brother’s. “we’ll see you two shortly.” she and the rest of the judgement day made their way to gorilla, and you followed behind with dominik. 

“you’re ready?” he asked you softly, giving dom a small nod as you locked arms with your brother. 

your free hand adjusted the collar of his button-up shirt, giving him a smile that was practically identical to his own. “as ready as i’ll ever be.” you said quietly, standing by the monitor to watch the segment unfold. 

edge made his final call for you and your twin brother to come out to the ring, but edge and your father were met with the screams of rhea’s music much to their disappointment. you both watched, as rhea tormented your father and the hall of famer about how she’d turned dominik into ‘a real man’, and how you were so much more than ‘rey mysterio’s babygirl’. 

truth be told, the next few moments were a blur. you gave your brother one final look, gently squeezed his arm, and the two of you walked out to meet the judgement day to claim your new spots in the group. 

you couldn’t look at the ring, because you knew seeing your dad would only make this more difficult. but oddly enough, you relished in the booing that resounded through the crowd; it made you feel so...good. so powerful. and you could feel that same energy radiating off of your brother as you two walked in slow strides side by side. you both joined rhea’s side, rhea pulling your twin brother closer as your hands busied themselves with the bracelet around your wrist damian had given you backstage.

“dom, y/n...” rey practically begged. you finally looked up at the ring, seeing his pain through the mask on his face. “snap out of it, guys. both of you still have time, so make amends with edge. make things right.” his eyes went directly to you, and even though it hurt to look at your dad in the moment, you stayed strong. “y/n, babygirl, come on.” he begged. “this isn’t you. my little girl wouldn’t do this.”

you watched as your father got out of the ring, closing the distance between yourself and your brother as you met him on the ramp. rhea followed close behind, but your dad stood in front of his twins to make one final plea. “don’t do this.” he said softly, neither you nor your brother even bothering to look at the man in front of you. “i’m talking to both of you. don’t do this.”

the two of you refused to let him intimidate you into giving in. you were no longer going to allow your father to treat you like small children, but rather you were both going to prove to him that you were better than anything he could have ever amounted to. 

“you can’t even look at me in the eyes? see me face to face?” he asked, his voice filled with shock and anger at what he was witnessing. he was so shocked and angry, that all he could do was walk back up the ramp. you and dominik watched, your faces straight and unwavering while rhea had the audacity to laugh at him. the old y/n would have been fuming at someone laughing at her father...but you let that version of you die in cardiff only two days ago. 

the next few moments were a blur; damian and finn had unleashed their attack on edge in the ring, your dad came back out to make one final plea, and he then became the target of his own attack from rhea. but what awoke you from this odd daydream, was the feeling of cold steel being placed into your hand. 

you gave rhea a small nod, climbing up the stairs to the ring to stand side by side with damian. he gave you a smirk, standing to the side to allow you the room to do what you pleased, and with the encouragement of your new-found family you didn’t hesitate to hit edge with that chair as hard as you possibly could. it was hard to even explain the rush through your body as the metal connected with edge’s back, but it felt amazing. 

the boys took over from there until your dad got back in the ring, trying to be a hero as he stood over edge’s body to shield him from damian and finn. but by then you’d all moved out onto the ramp again, damian’s hands pulling your body closer to his as your dad watched. 

damian gently grabbed your cheek, the both of you smirking at rey as your boyfriend pulled you into a kiss. this kiss wasn’t just for show, either; t was the same as every other time damian had placed his lips against yours, all those times you two met in secret before or after shows to discuss your future with the judgement day, and now he was using it as a gesture to show where your loyalty now lied. 

while his calloused hands gently led you back up the ring, smoke practically pouring from your father’s ears, you smiled at the feeling of standing arm in arm with your new family. with four people who wanted nothing but the best from you, and who were going to do everything in their power to build you up rather than put you on the back burner like rey had done. 

this was your moment. dominik’s moment. not rey’s. and the whole world was about to find out who the real mysterio twins were. 

once you were backstage, damian lifted your body up into his arms in the biggest hug he could manage. you hid in his neck, breathing in the spice of his cologne and tangling a hand in his ponytail. “mi princesa, estoy tan orgulloso.” he whispered in your ear. “bienvenido a tu nueva familia.”

you pulled back as damian placed you back onto your feet, giving him one more kiss before smiling at the man who single-handedly turned your life around. “i think i like the other side a lot more already.” you told him softly. letting him lead you back to the dressing room with the rest of the group. 

who knew betrayal could be so romantic?

[obislittleone]

Tw: suicidal thoughts (don't be alarmed I'm just venting)

I am so tired. I am so worn out. It doesn't matter what I say. It doesn't matter what I do. I have been financially and physically giving to Palestinians and Israelis who have been injured and were innocent victims through this war. The organization my family and I are working with has done so much to try and save lives. I have done all I can possibly do, but it's not enough. Those of you who drop in my dms or my asks to call me a 'genocidal colonizer' are so truly lost. I hope you all get help, because the amount of hate I've seen against not only myself but against literally every Jew I know is absolutely abominable. Don't say 'from the river from the sea' unless you know what it means, and if you say it, don't say it to a jew. You may hate Israel, and you may even think that all the people there deserve to die, but have you ever taken into consideration that the innocent Jews of either Israel or the rest of the world have nothing to do with their government or the mistreatment of Palestinians? Did you ever once think before you commented on a Jews post to 'wipe Israel off the face of the earth'? Chances are you did not. Chances are also that if you did, you probably just hate jews. Don't comment any bullshit on this post, I'll just remove it. I'm not here to fight anymore, I'm just here to say a few words, and give a perspective to those who think I'm some devil worshipping satanist just because I'm jewish.

These are the asks in my inbox on the daily:

Do you have any idea how this mentally affects a person? Do you even know how horrifying it is to know that so many people want you dead? I've had run ins with depression and suicidal attempts and thoughts my entire life, but never have I been this influenced by outer forces into thinking that I should be dead. Never once has anyone encouraged me to pull a trigger or off myself. Not until this has happened.

The comments and reblogs on posts about my best friend who lived in Israel, and her mother (who is arab, btw) that was killed in the October 7th attack are beyond wild. I can't even imagine how crazy it must be to live in the middle east as a jew. This is only a fraction of the hate that I experience in my day to day life, now.

The middle fingers I get from pissed off passersby at Walmart because I wear a star of david, or the slurs I get called because I told someone I had to leave an event early for Shabbat. It's all hatred, and it all sucks.

The violence, and the aggression that innocent jews are getting from random people who hate them. The little old man who stood on a street corner and held a sign in protest of Jewish hate that was killed today by a pro-hamas protestor. Its all too overwhelming. Why? Because even if you choose not to see it, or even if you condone it and think its 'not that bad', Jewish hate is getting dangerously close to what it was during the time of the holocaust. What's worse? It's being praised. Not just accepted, but encouraged. I posted on my instagram asking for prayers over my friend who's having to hide in a bomb shelter because of the war. The amount of comments saying 'just let her die' were astounding.

I have to ask you, where is your humanity? When jews can not only feel compassion but openly support Palestinians and try and give their services to save their innocent women and children from dying in the war, where is your compassion for innocent jews? Where is your willingness to feel an ounce of sadness for the loss of a life? Are you so hateful that you will condemn a teenage girl to die because of the violence her government commits? And if it happens, will you be so heartless that you will praise the notion that she is dead?

A common phrase used when I ask pro-hamas bloggers what their stance is on the beheading of children or the raping of women is, it usually comes out as: "well what do you think declonization looked like?"

I am always shocked. Every. Single. Time... why? Because I hope with every shred of naivete i have in me that people who have lost so much will understand the pain of those who are also losing so much. When you condemn one government for killing your children, and bringing a genocide upon Palestinians, why do you not also condemn the murdering of children and innocent Jews? Is it because 'that's not your team?' Is it because you want to win so badly that you don't care what the cost is? Do you think that turning into the thing that killed your people will make you a hero? The only thing I can possibly think of that would make a person respond that way is bloodlust. When you condemn an entire nation (including the innocent people) of killing your own, then turn around and do the same thing to their innocents, do you think you've proved something?

Whenever I address these things I'm usually met with the same stuff about how I'm a Jew so I'm biased and I don't get to have an opinion... but I don't think it's fair to say that to someone who's literally living with the repercussions that your hate is causing. Don't tell me to be quiet if you're spreading nazi rhetoric about jews and telling people to kill us.

Again, don't bring any bullshit on here. It will be deleted, and you will be blocked. I've spoken my piece. If anyone is interested in learning more about the organization I work with and donating to help Palestinian and Israeli families getting caught in the crossfire, please drop me a message, I'd be glad to give you more information.

[cookiethebirdthing]

I think the changelings from My Little Pony were always very compelling for me because the way they were often written, specifically in fanfiction, is as beings who choose how they want to present themselves and be perceived and they just need love to survive. Love being a substance that can be abundant and easy to come by and hurts no one to consume. A substance that they can't produce naturally or in enough quantities (depending on the interpretation) to be able to survive. One that, when deprived of, makes it extremely difficult for them to continue to present the way they want. And one that they are frequently purposely deprived of by the society they are in.

This society, by the way, views these beings as inherently dangerous, manipulative, deceptive, abusive, and generally lying about who they are. At best they are seen as beings that are just... trying their best or pretending to be something they aren't and never will be.

This society that spreads falsehoods about how changelings will mind-control and brainwash (literally the terms that are used) their children into being friends with them and into accepting them as equals. They spread stories of changelings being predatory creatures that only wish to harm them and their children. There are even plenty of fanfiction where there are stories that ponies spread about changelings brainwashing/kidnapping children and then forcibly turning them into more changelings that are in-universe pointed out to be completely false and based on nothing.

The news sensationalizes stories of changelings committing violence, makes up falsehoods, and reinforces these ideas. The police force is specifically trained and instructed to hunt down and imprison (and often kill) changelings. They are taught how to spot changelings in disguise.

Beings in general learn how to spot changelings from differences in behavior and appearances. They are told to look for suspicious behavior. Sudden changes in personality. Specific physical characteristics. To distrust their friends because they aren't who they say they are. And that if a friend is a changeling, they should be reported to the authorities and shunned.

A lot of stories even have beings performing vigilante justice against changelings that is excused by the police and government. Even in cases where the laws punish them, it's always disproportionately in favor of the beings who are not changelings.

And changelings meanwhile are constantly terrified of being found out. They are terrified of making one single wrong move. Saying just one thing wrong. Being discovered and shunned from their community in the best case or murdered in the worst. The only place changelings are safe is when they are in their own communities of only other changelings where they can even be undisguised without fear of losing everything.

If any of this sounds familiar see: trans, stigmatized mental illnesses, disabilities, etc

[runningfrom2am]

the sea around us; chapter twenty-seven

In which Rafe Cameron has to choose between his dad and a pogue who's changing his outlook on life more and more every day.

(rafe cameron x f!oc)

(eventual!jj maybank x f!oc)

warnings/tags: violence, drug/alcohol use, smoking, sexual content (if you squint), slowburn, older brother’s best friend, (these tags are obv not exhaustive but regardless it’s pretty PG13)

wc: 1.4k

my masterlist

series masterlist

requests

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

~Rafe's POV~

I stand at the edge of the police tents on the side of the water in the pouring rain, looking out into the pitch black of the ocean. I was told that Kiara and Pope were brought in by the cops, but they were alone. It was too late.

I wiped all the blood off my face, but my whole body still aches from the beating I took from Pope earlier, all I can think about is Snowy's voice, giving me the worst goodbye I've ever received.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

I have bigger things to worry about. I'm basically Barry's bitch now- now that he knows what my father did. I doubt he'll let it go smoothly. It seems no one will- and they refuse to understand.

I look around as I hear voices pick up and as lights start to flick on down the coast, the cut is finally getting power back after hurricane Agatha. I watch as the lights get closer, and suddenly the lighthouse is illuminating the surface of the ocean, landing on a boat out on the water.

"That's them!" I hear someone yell, and I squint to try and get a better look at the boat, I don't think it's the one I saw at the garage. It's seconds before they're being chased out by police boats, and taking off into the storm.

It can't be her. I'm praying it's not her. No one knows that she was planning to run, they think it's John B and Sarah, but I know. I can't bring myself to tell anyone- though. I didn't want to let her go, but I'm not willing to sell her out either. It's impossible to choose between her and my dad- and I'm walking the fine line between the two. I don't know how this is so hard- I have to choose my dad. I have to, but I can do her one last favour by saying I don't know where she went, which isn't entirely untrue.

I hear my dad talking and walk under the cover of the tent.

"John B, son, if you can hear me, please come back. Just turn yourself in." He says as I lean on the table next to him. "If you love my daughter as much as I think you love my daughter, you'll turn around and bring her in. It's too dangerous riding out into that storm, you won't make it."

Feedback comes back through the speakers on the radio, before a voice crackles through. It sounds like they're farther away than that boat that the police are chasing, but I keep my mouth shut.

"Ward Cameron, do you hear me?" It's John B.

"Yes son, I'm right here. Please bring her back, okay? We'll work it all out when you get home." My dad lies. I clench my jaw as I feel Officer Shoupe's eyes on me.

"You killed my father. And you framed Snowy and me for a murder we did not commit, after you tried to kill us with a god damn spear gun!" He yells into the radio. "You took everything from me!"

I look over at my dad but he avoids my eyes. He looks stoic- like he really couldn't care less. But I can tell he's a little panicked with police and government eyes on us while John B accuses him of two murders- and attempting to kill Snowy. If that was true she would have told me, but I don't know why John B would lie about that. It's a bold claim just to make someone look bad.

"But I am still here." John B continues. "And I swear to god, Ward, I will come back one day and take what's mine."

"So you listen to me, alright? I'm coming for you." It's cutting out so badly now it's hardly audible. "I am coming for you."

My dad doesn't respond, and it's only a matter of seconds before someone informs us that we've lost the signal. I find myself slamming my fist against the table, but no one stops me. My dad shoots me a glare. Keep it together. He's telling me. I can practically hear his voice in my head.

"Listen, those are kids out there." Shoupe says into the radio, taking it from my dad. "Don't stop looking."

Something about that makes reality hit me. She's so young- I can't take it anymore. I will face her anger for selling her out when she gets back, but it will be worth it just to hear her voice again."Snowy is out there. Her and that friend of hers, uh, JJ, have a second boat and they're out there too and you have to find her." I say, trying not to display the panic I'm feeling in my voice.

"Where are they going?" Shoupe asks me and I shake my head.

"I don't know."

"Alright. You two stay here- we're going to need to talk to you." He says, patting the table and joining the officers who are reeling over what I said, trying to fit that into their planned approach on how to catch them.

I feel like I betrayed her. I know I shouldn't, because so far what I assume was their plan has already worked and John B and Sarah aren't being followed. I'm just struggling with the idea that she is out there on the ocean when I can hardly see a foot outside this tent because of the hurricane.

I step outside the tent to try and catch my breath. It felt like the walls were closing in on me just thinking about what Snowy's facing out there- if she's even still alive.

"Rafe, son, did you say Snowy is out there?" I hear a man's voice as they approach me. I recognize him as her father.

"Yes sir." I nod, looking past him and seeing his family in tow. "She's with JJ, on the boat they're chasing now. I think."

"Shit..." He mumbles, rubbing his forehead. "You guys get inside." He says to his wife, who leads the twins inside. I make brief eye contact with Declan as he walks past, holding tight onto his moms hand. I feel guilty because I couldn't stop Snowy from leaving him.

Their dad follows them into another tent, designated for families to wait, and Kegs stops right next to me, not saying anything for a few moments.

"You want to come wait with us?" He asks, as we're both looking at my dad inside.

I nod, and we both walk in where we see his mom talking to the Heyward's. They don't look pleased to see me, but they have bigger problems. We all do.

It's only a few minutes before we get news from an officer, but it felt like forever.

They hesitate before speaking, and that's how I know it's not good news. "We, uh... We lost them." He says, rubbing his arm nervously. I feel totally disconnected from my own body- I feel numb.

I look over at Snowy's parents, who look devastated, then angry. "They're dead? They're just kids, please, you have to do more!" Her father insists. "You have to find her!"

"No, sir, we don't know that. We just lost track of the boat. They could still be out there." I can tell her dad doesn't believe that's possible when he shakes his head, turning away from the kids as he tries to hide his tears. Kegs is gone from my side and over with the twins, who are sitting on some camping chairs in the corner. He's talking to them quietly, but I can still hear the shake in his voice as he tries to explain what's going on without outright saying that their sister is dead. They start to cry, and I can't take it anymore.

I quickly walk outside, trying to create as much distance between me and that tent as possible. I can't cry. I won't. Keep it together, my father's voice echoes in my mind but I can't take it anymore. I know there are tears streaming down my face but I can't feel them with the company of the relentless rain. I squint out at the water, the flashing police lights are long gone from the ocean now, but I know she is still out there. Alone. I did everything I could to try and get her to stay but it wasn't enough and now I'm paying for it, and I can feel her drowning. I could scream. I just want to scream into this storm until it hears me and lets her out the other side alive.

So I do.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

omg that is part one finished! now on to part two/s2. thanks so much for all the love on this series so far, it's not my most popular one but it has such a special place in my heart and i guarantee it won't stop until the box is cancelled or ends lol. maybe not even then- honestly. anyway, thank you guys so much!!

taglist: @boo22sstuff @madelynie @username5786451 @peachprairie @slut4drudy @sadfury @mutual-mendes @cecesrings (i also tagged some mutuals for the last chapter of part one!! message me or reply if you want to be added (or removed lol)!!)

[magical-mistakes-vm]

6

As she finished speaking, Mahala wasn’t sure if he was more shocked by everything that poured from her lips or she was.  Her voice had been firm, her eyes meeting his evenly, and she had somehow kept from shaking.  Now was only to see what he said.  Would he admit what he was thinking, what was swirling behind those hazel eyes of him that seemed to be shifting colors already in the light of the kitchen?

And now we find out how our Master Warlock responds.

Once more Vollrath found himself wanting to throttle the witch in front of him and kiss her till she was breathless at the same time.  Even his best friends would have been proud of her for challenging him like she just had, and he was. His jaw clenching to keep him from snapping at her, not because she was wrong or out of line, but out of a defense mechanism to keep anyone from getting to close, he took deep breaths through his nose as he took another step closer to her and used his hand still on her hip to pull her flush against him.  His eyes never left hers, and it was an intense stare he expected her to wither from, but once more the little witch before him surprised him and straightened more to face off against him with a fire in her eyes that called him like he was a moth.  He was NOT going to let her go, and her threat to walk away from him sparked something in him, a desperation to stop her in any way he needed to.  

"It appears we've already had our first miscommunication, Mahala."  He breathed out heavy through his nose, shutting his mouth once more to keep from making it worse and leading to an actual fight.  A few more breaths and he continued,  "I was not saying I'm not attracted or that I don't want you to flirt, although I will not lie and say I would prefer of the three of us that it was with me you flirted with, if you do.  I won’t even deny that I find you desirable and hard to resist." That at least got him a raised corner of her mouth. He sighed and gently pulled his wrist back from her hand to take that hand gently in his. "Let me try this a different way, okay?"

Once Mahala nodded he lowered his head down so their foreheads were touching.  He would have to focus on keeping his voice low which meant also choosing his words better.  "You are the strongest witch I've ever met, and I don't know if it's that or something else that is drawing us together but I feel it.  I want to protect you, Mahala, I want you to feel safe, I want to help you discover what you truly are, and I want to share a whole bunch of wonderful firsts with you involved that…but not just with that, I just don’t normally have to put it all into words.  What I don't want is for you to have the wrong idea of what my life is like or I'm like and that be what ruins things.  I can assure you I'm quite capable on my own."

Vollrath closed his eyes, still feeling the weight of her gaze and took a deep breath. "Letting people in, letting people close, doesn't happen often with me." His eyes opened, and he saw confusion swirling in her eyes. "That doesn't mean it won't, it's just hard." His jaw tensed. "I don't do casual relationships because of that.  So as we work together if you can't…" He swallowed.  Fuck he hated how many times as an younger man he'd been told both he and his love weren't worth it.  His heart ached and he fought the notion of telling her to forget it and he'd have Baldur train her. It was then that the thought of his best friend touching her, having his arms around her as he taught her spells just about had him committing violence.  Was he losing his mind?

"Vollrath?" His name, soft and quiet as a prayer, and the sensation of Mahala’s hand against his cheek had him opening his eyes to gaze back into hers.  He didn't even realize he'd closed them, and he wondered how long he'd stood there lost in his own thoughts. 

"What's wrong?" Mahal asked, her voice no louder than the first.  She could guess, but did not want to be wrong. A single tear started to escape his left eye and she gently wiped it with the pad of her thumb.  How did they get here?  The large male who could be intimidating in a heartbeat obviously in pain over…something?

He swallowed once more. "Just promise that if something develops you won't just walk away at the first sign of trouble or things not being a fairytale." Vollrath was actually pretty proud of himself for sounding a lot more calm than he was.  He'd just told her how to wound him deepest and leave him destroyed in her wake.

Mahala searched his eyes once more for deception but found none, instead only his openness and a form of vulnerability.  "I stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago, Vollrath." She believed she at least now understood what he had meant before.  "I'm also stubborn and have no problem speaking my mind.  So, you'll always know what is on it. Just don't think that because you can boss everyone else around that you get to me as well." One side of her mouth rose as she smirked up at him. 

A light chuckle shook his chest, "my darling little witch, I hate to break it to you but how else are you going to learn." Once more Vollrath was starting to relax as they both laughed at his teasing comment.  His heart still ached and if she had pulled away from him, he wasn’t sure exactly what his reaction would have been.

"And what if I don't listen?" The smile that had lit up his whole face when he'd laughed had made her heart do something funny, so she decided to test the waters further and see if she could get another one.

"Defiance, eh?" He smirked, amused, and raised a brow. "You know there can be punishments arranged." He laughed as her eyes went wide and her mouth made a little "o".  So close together still, he couldn't miss the laughter trying to hide in her eyes.  "Although…I tend to prefer incentives better." He grinned and moved his hand from her hip onto her back.

They were so close Mahala had to wonder if Vollrath could hear or feel the thundering of her heart at the slight dip in his voice and the feel of his tightening hold on her.  This man she knew almost nothing about was having serious effects on her.  "And what incentives would those be?  They might not work on someone like me."

By all the gods, Vollrath could easily fall for the untrained witch before him.  Something so simple as playful banter seemed to elude former paramours, most having never been anything but overly serious.  "Hmmm…for a worldly witch such as yourself? Starbucks? Cheesecake? Steak dinners? Trips to my cabin? Or…" He'd had her smiling and almost laughing, transfixed by the lights dancing in her eyes when his lips found hers.  Soft , slow, and almost chaste, his first kiss in decades stole his breath and left him craving more.  

When their lips parted, Mahala found herself looking up into his eyes that seemed to have shifted to an amber, the color of fine aged bourbon.  "Or…or is very nice…" she somehow managed to stumble out, although her brain and heart were both aflutter at the moment.  One soft kiss and Vollrath had left her a jumbled mess.

[the-mighty-glow-cloud]

ELEMENT and FEEL for Cain, and uuuh PRIDE + HUMBLE for your lycan hunter guy ? (so sorry i forgor his name 💀)

ok finally coming back to this now that i've administered my 1000th boop and gotten my silly little badges 😌

for Cain:

ELEMENT - what is he made of, what is his character like?

he is made of teeth and nails and blood, but also glass and thread. he is so so scared all the time, and the only way he knows to hide that is to lash out with unfettered aggression whenever the shreds of comfort he has left are violated. his brain is a chimera of innocence and ruthlessness, programmed to oppress and kill, and burdened to regret every second of it. he isn't necessarily aware of it, but he is at his core an extremely selfish person; he's spent several years of his life committing atrocities against his own people to protect himself. he is always looking for a way out of the nightmare that is his existence, but has ignored several such opportunities because the charade of violence keeps him from being found out, and it's become comfortable after so long. he wants nothing more than to escape the horrors he's forced to perpetrate, but the horrors are what he's best at and he's terrified to have to do anything else

FEEL - how does he react to a person's touch?

he is EXTREMELY averse to being touched, he's been robbed of bodily autonomy for so much of his life that physical touch is pretty much an act of aggression in his mind. he doesn't even let anyone touch his armor because it's more or less an extension of his body to him, and he immediately becomes aggressive if someone else touches his skin

--

for Volkar (my sweet dumbass bloodhunter and my best son):

PRIDE - what is his biggest flaw?

100% his hubris and the naivete it comes from, he has the most unshakeable confidence that he can find his way out of any situation, usually by being really really nice. like he believes in the power of friendship on the level of a shonen anime protagonist. however if being friends at the problem doesn't work, he's 1000% sure that he can solve things with the power of incredible violence. unfortunately for him some problems are immune to both friendship and excessive physical attacks, but he will die (or, in his canon, get his arm blown clean off) before acknowledging that

HUMBLE - how does he handle praise?

oh he LOVES to be told he's doing a good job at literally anything, when i describe him as a golden retriever boy i really mean that. he thrives on praise from anyone he considers a friend (i.e. literally anyone who doesn't express overt desire to harm him. this boy thinks strahd von zarovich is his best friend) and will go to absurd lengths to show off in front of them. when i was playing him, if we got into a fight and he was in wolf form i'd always mention that his tail was wagging furiously the whole time because he was so excited to impress his friends. he might be a little bit insane. i'm love him

[galacticwildfire]

Fire Meet Gasoline | Poe Dameron

Seven

Poe Dameron x Solo Original Character

Hope Solo’s haunted by the night the temple burned. Having gone rogue she hunts the First Order in search of answers until a fateful encounter with Poe Dameron brings her back to the Resistance and Leia puts her daughter under his command to find Luke Skywalker.

Word count: 8.6k

Tags/warnings: the slowburn is slowburning, flashbacks, cursing, moral dilemmas, a girl and her droid, the space equivalent of stalking someone's socials, ideological arguments, mentions of war crimes/kidnapping children/torture/indoctrination, references to Freefall and Bloodline, family violence in flashback (ben), poe pov, ptsd

All my stories are written for adults with adult themes, I use tags but read at your discretion.

A/N: the flashbacks included are from the prequel I've published on ao3 and wattpad. It's a work in progress but mostly complete.

~

~

~

Hope

Maybe in hindsight I went too far.

Do I feel remorseful? Not particularly. Do I feel disappointed in myself? Yes.

Am I a hypocrite? Very much so.

I sit with my knees tucked up to my chest looking out at the lake country from the balcony of Varikyno on Naboo. Moreso looking at my N-1, parked beside the Shiraya, barely resisting the temptation to go back to what I've been doing and not look back. Wondering if Poe's already told Mom what I've done. He seems to idolise her, he wants to prove himself to her, so of course he has.

He'd be on the Echo of Hope by now wondering where the hell I am, meanwhile I'm sitting here in the only place that still feels half like home. My grandmother's force signature is strong here, in a place where there's no darkness, only light. No darkness except for me.

And I look down at the blood on my clothes, the red staining the white, unable to bring myself to strip them off quite just yet. 

"I know R2," I say as he lectures me despite the Clone Wars era war crimes he's complicit in. "But I tried okay. I would have actually helped if he hadn't killed himself. I tried to do the right thing, and that was after he'd tried to kill me."

But R2 isn't too phased by violence, no, that's never been his issue. His issue has always been running away, and the simple fact I'm sitting here instead of going back to base to sort things out for the mission. 

"If we go back," I begin and point my finger at him. "And that is a heavy if. You are not going to snitch on me to Mom. I know that her and Luke told you to look after me and report back, and I know you've been mad at me for deserting, but I don't need a guardian anymore R2. I need a partner. If you could stand by and watch Mom and Luke kiss each other I'm sure you can keep this mess to yourself. You're my best friend R2, and I know you worry about me, but you know more than anyone how hard I've tried to be good. You know I don't want to be so angry, not like Anakin, especially not like Ben."

He gives a sad beep as I rest my head on his dome, looking out at the setting sun. 

After all these years, whenever I've taken things too far, I keep coming back to that night on Theron with Ben back when I was sixteen, after those men tried to take me for ransom. I hadn't been afraid, not of three mere men when I'd spent my entire adolescence being trained to defend myself against such abductions, but Ben... I had to stop him from committing a slaughter in the back alleys of the city. 

That was night I learned how deeply the darkness had corrupted my brother, the night I knew without any doubts in my mind where that darkness came from. Perhaps I'd judged him too harshly, but when I felt that his darkness was the same as Vader's how could I not be afraid?

"We're going home," I swallowed, trying to de-escalate the situation after my warning hots had forced them to scatter before he could cut them down. "And when we do you aren't going to get mad at Dad."

"He's the one still dealing with these lowlifes!" he argued and I stood there with my eyes shut as he raged "They were going to take you!"

"But they didn't," I said, having been more than proficient in self-defence at that point, with or without a lightsaber. "I would have handled it."

"How?" he asked me, not even attempting to keep his voice down. "Punching the guy didn't exactly work!"

"I would have handled it how we handled things," I said, punctuating my words so he knew exactly what I meant. "We don't need to resort to murder to deal with a group of thugs, Luke taught us better than that."

I never expected him to snap at me. "Don't stand there and judge me like you and I are the same!"

I could only look at him in pure bewilderment. "What?"

"You have no idea what's out there!" he yelled and I cried out in pain as he grabbed my aching arm, already bruised from his earlier hold on me. "You don't know what I'd do to keep you safe!"

"I can keep myself safe!" I yelled back and pulled against his grasp only to find his grip iron, and then crushing. "Ben you're hurting me-"

He'd pushed me into the wall, the impact jarring as he stood over me and pinned me to the hard surface by my arms as he yelled in my face with a near psychotic anger I'd never seen before in my life, but it would be far from the last.

"Don't pretend you know better than me when I'm the one who's dedicated my life to the force!" he raged and I stayed pinned there, frozen in a state of shock. "You don't know what it's like being the one with this power, with the darkness." My non-responsiveness only angered him and he shook me violently, cold tears staining my face. "Don't judge me for the things I'd do to protect you from it!"

It was the darkness that caused me to snap out of that frozen state, having had to draw upon the force to break free. I'd struck him across the face before pushing him off me and he'd had the audacity to look stunned as I yelled "What the hell is wrong with you!"

He only snapped out of it when he saw the bruise already forming on my arm from his grip and stammered "Hope I-"

I stepped away from him with a raised hand. "Don't."

"I'm sorry," he rasped out. "I'm so sorry I-"

"Don't!" 

The next day I'd asked R2 if Anakin had ever hurt anyone he'd loved. R2 was reluctant to answer me then but after hearing Ben had scared me he relented and showed me the hologram of Anaki and Padmé on Mustafar, or at least a still holophoto of it. The recording he reserved for after Ben had lost his mind and I'd locked him in one of the cargo holds of the Falcon.

Sometimes I truly do wonder what happened to the girl who tried to dissuade her brother from the same violence I use so freely now, except I know exactly what happened to her. It was one attack after the other until she died in that fire.

Even more so, I wonder what happened to the girl that stood in the senate and promised her mother that she would make her proud. Growing up she never told me she wanted me to succeed her as senator for the Alderaan sector, or rather what remained, even if she had hoped I'd make that decision myself. 

But she named me Princess of Alderaan when I made it clear that I wanted to fight for something and she gave me the power to do so. Even if it feels as if I've thrown that away. Meanwhile here on Naboo I was nudged towards running for office. I wasn't born here, but I was granted citizenship when I came here to study and welcomed with open arms as the lost granddaughter of Padmé Amidala who had finally returned home. I was never Hope Solo, only a girl whose face people searched for the glimpse of the queen who had been all but deified by the Naboo. I could have just as easily become Queen of Naboo if it was what I wanted, but much like now, all I wanted to do was run. 

Poe was the one who all but told me to go, and he didn't need to tell me twice. It seems I'm not the only one with a short temper, or at least a short tolerance. But I understand why Poe reacted the way he did, because I used to be the one on the other side of it. He didn't hesitate to physically pull me off, but it's the look that was in his eye that haunts me, having looked at me so differently to how he did before then. 

But I knew it wouldn't last.

Does it hurt seeing him look at me like that? Yeah. Especially when he threw in my face the fact that my own mother had warned him against working with me, but again that isn't a surprise. Still, what I did to an officer who tried to kill me to further his own standing is the most mercy I've shown any of them.

When Hondo told me about the officer it seemed methodical to go and take care of it, Poe disagreed. He wanted to run recon and ask around, I wanted to go and hunt down the problem. I tried to give him orders, he tried to give me orders. So there was no way it could have ended in anything but a fight. Technically I did threaten mutiny as well when I told him I'd go and take the data myself, I'm certainly debating it. 

Still, his very first instinct after I was shot at was to try to pull me behind cover and that proves to me that my own instincts about him are right, regardless of what he might think about me now. That blaster shot could have just as easily hit him, and then that would be another life on my hands, but still he tried to cover me first before even thinking of himself. He might think of me just how the rest of command does now, he might be queasy when it comes to the reality of the fight we're facing, but instincts don't lie about who a person is. 

And I feel awful now for throwing the blame in his face for something that wasn't his fault. It's something I know better than I wish I did. Jedi Killer. Anakin Skywalker was known as the hero who died defending the temple despite leading the slaughter, Ben was the victim who perished despite turning on Luke. Meanwhile I'm the one shouldering that blame and the legacy of Vader that my brother seems to covet. 

And the intelligence onboard that damn yacht is more important than anything. 

I could go and storm it alone. I could take everyone on board prisoner and get the intelligence. I know Ben's on the Finalizer I just need to find the damn thing. But what if the ship doesn't contain that information? Then that means I've gone and stolen intelligence right out from beneath my own mother's hands and finally destroyed any chance of trust I have left without any payoff. 

Being groomed to be a politician means I know how to lie, it comes easily enough to me. I've never particularly liked it, or rather seen the point in it when spitting out the truth often get's results faster. I could still perform the mission with Poe and follow by Hondo's example to double cross him and take the intelligence for myself. I know well enough that batting my eyes gets me what I want most of the time, Poe hardly seems to be an exception to that, but I'm still my parents child and double crossing someone who I know is a good person doesn't sit right with me.

And Mom... as much as I hate it I don't think there'll ever be a day where I don't crave her approval. Once I had her complete trust and now I have none. 

I look out at the darkening horizon and back to R2. "Why does it feel so hard trying to do the right thing?" R2 reminds me my issue isn't doing the right thing, but rather taking orders I don't like. "You're right R2, I want to be in charge. I want to be able to strategise and have a seat at that table. I just- I just want them to trust me and my judgement because I am capable and it's unfair that-" I trail off then, knowing just who I sound like and so does R2. 

Sometimes to this day I wish I didn't know the things I do. I wish Dormé never told me who Anakin Skywalker was when he was my own age and the fact that this feeling... it doesn't come from nowhere. As Ben would tell me, they don't trust us because of our emotions and the power that gives us. 

I truly do wish I could only see Darth Vader when I think of my grandfather instead of recognising his eyes when I look in the mirror and knowing we aren't so indifferent. 

Although it seems all my brother sees when he thinks of our grandfather is Vader.

Which is why I have to be better than that.

~

Poe

If I thought my methods were crazy, Hope Solo is insane. 

And not the good kind.

Finally everything falls into place, every cautious warning Leia gave and the way people would whisper her name. She isn't just insane, she is violent. She is violent and self-righteous and maker forbid you try to give her a command. 

The one time I don't listen to Leia...

Iolo and Karé have helped with transporting the ships to the Echo of Hope, considering Hope didn't trust Hondo Ohnaka enough to divulge anything to him I didn't either. She could have given me a heads up she was bringing me to the most infamous pirate in the galaxy, but considering she's cozy with Boba Fett I should have known what to expect.

"You're pissed," Karé comments as mechanics start looking the ships over and I begin second guessing if I shouldn't just take Hope off the mission entirely, considering I don't even know where the hell she is, and get a third ship so Iolo and Karé can come with me.

"Are you sure you haven't had Hope Solo dock?" I ask one of the mechanics, beginning to fret considering she should definitely be here by now. 

"You mean your girlfriend?" Iolo teases, both of them having heard about the mysterious pilot I'd found before I learned that she is the most infuriating person I've ever met. 

"Definitely not," I say, having declined to give any details about what happened but I think they've both gotten the sense there's no getting along after this. 

"I'd heard she's difficult," Karé mentions. "A hell of a pilot who doesn't like taking orders. She's been the gossip on base the last few days, heard someone say she's Han Solo come again but walks and talks with all the authority of a young Leia Organa." 

"You aren't wrong there," I murmur under my breath, unable to speak to the first part but I can imagine the second's accurate.

I thought when I went and saw her to sort out the mission we'd made a headway, that my first impression of her was right after all. Hell all the way to Batuu I'd been more nervous around her than I've been around anyone since I was sixteen, but I should know better by now considering how quickly that went to hell. 

I'm glad L'ulo isn't here right now otherwise he'd tell me I have a type.

Which unfortunately might be true.

But then again, I've never met anyone quite like her.

"Heard someone say she's someone else come again," Iolo says and he doesn't need to elaborate. "Seems like she's got a temper on her."

"She's a teenage girl not Darth Vader," Karé dismisses, only for me to quickly shake my head.

"No, no, no," I quickly correct, laughing anxiously. "She's like twenty."

All things considered that shouldn't be the issue on my mind right now and Karé raises her eyebrows at me. "Why the panic? You still feeling all warm and fuzzy about the General's daughter?"

"I don't think there's anything warm and fuzzy about Hope Solo," I say, but quickly steer the subject away from my own feelings, although the Vader comment plays on my mind after what I saw. Still, it's an awful comparison to make. "Hope might have a lightsaber and a temper but she's definitely not like Darth Vader. I mean look at Leia and Luke Skywalker. They're his kids and they were the ones to defeat him, and I can tell you Hope's just as passionate about defeating the First Order."

And I find myself remembering what the officer called her, Jedi killer, the same thing they called Vader. Hell if she's been compared to him since she was sixteen then it's no wonder she has some issues, and I begin wondering just what was the incident that caused her to be stripped of her rank. If she could stick her blaster into a man's wound to get the answers she wants and look confused that I'd be shocked it's clear she's no stranger to interrogations. Hell I don't even know why she was asking about Kylo Ren, he's just one of the other mystery figures like Snoke but she seemed satisfied with the answer she got considering she didn't fight me when I pulled her off.

"I'll be back," I tell Karé. "I need to check something."

I find my way to my quarters onboard the Echo of Hope, they haven't gotten much use since I relocated to the main base but it still houses a datapad. I hadn't looked at her file due to respecting her privacy, but right now I need to know exactly what I'm working with to even consider allowing her on this mission.

Although as she would remind me, I apparently don't allow her to do anything since she believes she doesn't have to take orders from anyone, not even her own Mom. Snap wasn't exaggerating when he said she'd walk all over me if she didn't respect me and hell even Threepio was right in giving me the heads up. 

Her file's restricted but thankfully I'm high enough in command to be granted access, Leia had even recommended I take a look if I had any concerns and I sure have them now.

------------

SUBJECT: HOPE ORGANA SOLO

BIRTH: 11.22.11 ABY

STATUS: ROGUE

RANK: AGENT 28 - 30 ABY

              CAPTAIN 30 - 31 ABY (STRIPPED OF RANK)

TITLES: LADY OF HOUSE NABERRIE 25 ABY - PRESENT 

                  PRINCESS OF ALDERAAN 28 ABY - PRESENT

                  REPRESENTATIVE OF THE ALDERAAN SECTOR 28 - 31 ABY

ALIASES: ASHLA NABERRIE

                    LADY AMIDALA (REFERRED TO AS SUCH BY THE NABOO)

SPECIES: HUMAN FEMALE | CITIZENSHIP: NABOO/ALDERAAN

HEIGHT: 151CM | HAIR: BROWN | EYES: BLUE | SKIN: FAIR

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: BURNS TO RIGHT ARM AND LEFT LEG (SEE MEDICAL RECORDS)

EDUCATION: HOSNIAN PRIME JUNIOR LEGISLATIVE ACADEMY 16-23 ABY | LEGISLATIVE YOUTH PROGRAM 23-28ABY | UNIVERSITY OF THEED 23-28 ABY (EXPELLED-EXPULSION REVOKED 29 ABY)

TRAINING: LUKE SKYWALKER'S JEDI ACADEMY 23 - 28 ABY | NABOO ROYAL SPACE FIGHTER CORPS 23 - 28 ABY | ROYAL HANDMAIDEN TRAINING PROGRAM 23 - 28 ABY | RESISTANCE 28 - 31 ABY (DESERTED)

SKILLSET: LIGHTSABER PROFICIENCY | ADVANCED FORCE ABILITIES | PSYCHOMETRY | EXPERT MARKSMAN | EXPERT PILOT | HAND TO HAND COMBAT PROFICIENCY | ESPIONAGE | MECHANICS | ENGINEERING | POLITICS | GAMBLING 

RELATIVES: LEIA ORGANA (MOTHER) | HAN SOLO (FATHER) | BEN SOLO (BROTHER - DECEASED) | LUKE SKYWALKER (UNCLE - WHEREABOUTS UNKNOWN) | ANAKIN SKYWALKER (MATERNAL GRANDFATHER - DECEASED) | PADMÉ NABERRIE AMIDALA (MATERNAL GRANDMOTHER - DECEASED) | NABERRIE FAMILY (MOTHERS BIOLOGICAL FAMILY) | ORGANA FAMILY (DECEASED)

KNOWN ASSOCIATES: R2-D2 11 ABY - PRESENT | LANDO CALRISSIAN 11 ABY - 31 ABY | CHEWBACCA 11 - 29 ABY | AYLEE SYLL 23 - 28  ABY  (DECEASED) | SIYA NABERRIE 23 - 29 ABY | THE AMIDALANS 23 - 29 ABY | DORMÉ 23 - 31 ABY | THE RESISTANCE 28 - 31 ABY | BOBA FETT 31 ABY - PRESENT | HONDO OHNAKA 31 ABY -  PRESENT 

DISCIPLINARY INFRACTIONS: FOURTEEN KNOWN COUNTS OF INSUBORDINATION. FIVE COUNTS OF DESERTION. TWO COUNTS OF PHYSICAL ASSAULT. THREE COUNTS OF VERBAL ALTERCATIONS.  FIVE COUNTS OF UNAUTHORISED ENGAGEMENT OF THE ENEMY. THREE COUNTS OF UNAUTHORISED FORCE WHEN ENGAGING THE ENEMY. ONE COUNT OF USING PROHIBITED FORCE DURING THE UNAUTHORISED INTERROGATION OF A PRISONER. REQUEST FOR COURT MARTIAL DISMISSED BY GENERAL ORGANA. (FIND ATTACHED)

KNOWN CRIMES: CLASSIFIED TO GENERAL ORGANA, ADMIRAL ACKBAR.

SUBJECT NOTES: FIND ATTACHED EDUCATION AND SERVICE RECORDS. ANY UPDATES OR SIGHTINGS OF SUBJECT OR R2-D2 TO BE DIRECTED TO C-3PO. 

LAST UPDATED 05.1.32 ABY

---------                 

Her service record's unfortunately impressive, but one look at her disciplinary infractions proves the simple fact that if she wasn't the General's daughter she would have been removed from the Resistance years ago, and likely arrested by the Republic. But it's the final line in that section that causes my stomach to drop. What I saw wasn't the first time, although something tells me the last was far more drastic.

I attempt to open the attached file but it's classified to high command only, which tells me that Leia pulled off a greater cover up than just telling people she went to university. She'd offered to do the same for me after my own stint in the Navy, to make my own rogue mission simply go away, it leaves me feeling almost eerie. Even more so when I see Luke Skywalker's status. Her file was last updated a month or so ago, nothing having been added since she's returned, but something about it leaves me unsettled just skimming over her family history. I would have expected Leia's parents to be listed instead of her birth one's but if she spent that much time on Naboo it's not surprising it would refer to that side instead. 

The rest of her file includes details of the missions she's undertaken dating back to 28 ABY. It's extensive to say the least. I've reviewed files of other pilots since taking command of Blue and Red squadron but none are as detailed, impressive, or alarming as hers. She's been an active combatant since she was seventeen, flying in a starfighter corps since she was twelve along with other vague training on Naboo. She'd spent her entire adolescence training for combat and politics while I'd spent mine aching to just get off Yavin-4 and getting into skirmishes with local authorities. 

It's not surprising she's lashing out now after taking on that much responsibility as a teenager. Leia had, and considering her biological and adoptive mother were both queens it's a hell of a legacy to have to live up to. As much as I wanted to join the Academy as soon as I was legally old enough to get off Yavin-4 and make a life for myself, I'm almost glad now that I was able to spend my younger years without any responsibility as achingly boring as it had been. Well, until I was sixteen or so and from there on boring is the last word I'd use to describe the later half of my teenage years. 

Meanwhile she had the media documenting hers, and remembering what Snap said about looking at the holonews if I had doubts about her I reluctantly cave and connect to the holonet. It feels strange, searching for someone on the news to learn about them, but after what I saw on Batuu and her fight with Leia before that I need some reassurance she isn't as bad as I want to believe she is, or rather as bad as she'd trying to make herself out to be.

The most recent holonet feature's dated to around a year and a half ago and after a moment of hesitation I open it.

"Hope Solo earlier this week stormed out of the senate after a petition for funding to General Organa's Resistance movement was rejected and personal attacks were levied against the princess due to her status as a force user, alongside the argument that funding a paramilitary led by the heir's of Darth Vader could only end in disaster," a reporter states and I shake my head at that last remark. "Counter proposals were made that the Resistance should be investigated due to concerns regarding the paramilitary. Several senators also supported the suggestion that the fire that destroyed Luke Skywalker's Jedi Temple also be forensically investigated. Twenty nine students were killed, including General Organa's own son Ben Solo, in what has been claimed to be a freak accident involving a lightning storm. Further questions were posed as to the whereabouts of Luke Skywalker which the young princess refrained to answer."

BB-8 beeps beside me in question, but unfortunately I don't have the answers to that either. Even worse, I don't think Leia does either. 

"This incident has brought attention back to the princess's infamous speech to the senate following the initial shock revelations regarding General Organa's paternity which led to General Organa formally naming her daughter as her successor and transferring her title as Princess of Alderaan."

The image switches from the reporter to Hope, several years younger and dressed fully in white. She stands by Leia's side, without the eyeliner and the rest she looks unpresuming, the type of girl who is quiet and generous, but I've become familiar enough now with the glint of pure unhinged anger in her eye to recognise it there.

A senator I don't recognise speaks to Leia about who can only be Luke Skywalker. "We have only ever had his word for what happened on the second death star and if his word is worth no more than yours has been these past several decades... well your highness, we hardly know what to believe, and as for your daughter... Vader did begin as a Jedi didn't he?"

The recording shows Hope muttering something under her breath, I'm no expert at lip reading but it's just loud enough I can make out that even then she had a mouth on her. Leia looks at her in alarm before trying to pretend nothing was said but the other lady definitely heard it. 

"What was that?" she questioned, her voice painfully high. "Hope, sweet child, why don't you come forward and speak if you have something to say."

"Hope, you do not have to say anything," Leia's heard telling her but Hope steps forward looking like she's out for blood.

"Carise-"

"Lady Carise." 

"Lady Carise, I was not aware Imperial sympathisers still hunted Jedi," Hope began and Leia's head snapped towards her. "Tell me do you wish to drag me before inquisitors? Because if so you'll be very much disappointed to learn they died with your Empire. And may I ask what right you have to speak considering it was also a misfortune of birth that gave you the title that allows you to stand here and hurl accusations at the woman who brought the Empire to its knees."

Now I understand what Snap meant as I see the equally shocked and proud look on Leia's face listening to Hope as she goes on for what seems like a couple minutes before reaching the part I still remember watching as it aired.

"You would do well to remember her political and military record surpasses that of any single person who has served in this senate," she chided not just the Senator she was addressing, but every damn person in that room. "Senator Sindian, can you or any person in this room say the same for your own records before you start publically hurling accusations of treason against her, or will you and your fellow politicians just make these claims in private where you cannot be held accountable despite many of you having personally and willingly served the Empire? In fact how many of your parents and grandparents were active participants in the Empire's tyranny? For if one senator is to be damned to hell for it then we should start an inquisition to ensure that every last person in this room with connections to Imperial leadership can also be put on trial alongside her."

The recording ends there and I switch off my datapad, not needing to hear anything else. For a good while I sit there stunned, and as frustrated as I still am with her I can't help but admire her spirit. Admiration perhaps being an understatement. I don't know what the hell Leia's thinking when she says Hope takes after Han Solo, because what I just saw there is all her. 

The same voice I'd listen to as a misguided teenager around the same age as Hope was in that recording, listening to Leia lecture the senate on the importance of vigilance, of upholding what my parents fought for.  I'd felt a sudden, deep, and impossible to rationalise connection to her. A need to reach her, help her. It felt laughable to try to explain it then, and somehow even more so now. Especially now that I'm not applying those feelings to a role model, but to Hope Solo. 

I wish I could say that impossible to rationalise need to connect with her was the same as I'd felt watching Leia's addresses all those years ago, that is just as innocent and admirable, but it's not. From the moment I met Hope in the field all I've felt is an irrational need to know her, before I even knew her name or anything about her, and then I did meet her.

That connection, that spirit, the way those sparks inside of her literally set me alight even if it was quickly dimmed when Leia arrived... even after what I've seen it still hasn't gone out completely. She is brilliantly intelligent, confident in her abilities and in herself, tactically minded. She's passionate, assertive, fiercely driven for better or for worse, and I dare say fearless when it comes to anything but Leia, although that's a sentiment I share. 

I've known a lot of pilots in my day, fighters, but I don't think I've ever met anyone quite like Hope Solo. Which is why I don't want to give up on that connection just yet. Taking her on for this mission I had never been more confident in a decision, even if reality has struck since then.

But that connection's still there, and slowly the pieces explaining her anger and frustration begin coming together. Someone tried to kill her and she hardly blinked an eye because people have been trying to kill her since she was sixteen. For years she's been fighting a war I never even knew had started until a few months ago, she's trying to stop it at any cost and on Batuu I saw just how far that responsibility has driven her. She told me she has a different mission, and if Snoke isn't so different to the Emperor she's the only Skywalker we have. 

And I want to help her if she'll let me.

And so I head back out into the hangar, trying to figure out just what approach to take with her because Snap wasn't wrong, she won't take orders and will walk all over me if I try to force her to do anything she disagrees with. She said herself she was only co-operating, but still, whatever issues she has with authority need to be sorted out, or at least I need to show her I'm not that type of commander, but I can't let her off either. 

I need to find the right balance with her, but just as I'm debating what that is I'm stopped in my tracks by the sight of her in the hangar. She's dressed now in clothes similar to the ones I'd first seen her in, looking more undone now than the last time I saw her, but also far more apologetic. For a moment I wonder if she's even going to acknowledge me, and I'm pretty sure she's debating the same thing, but decides to approach me. 

"Commander," she says roughly as I cross my arms over my chest, never having ever felt the need to establish any sort of dominance with anyone until her, but she needs to understand that it isn't her way or no way. 

"Princess," I reply and see a flash of annoyance but she takes it and gets to the point, clearing her throat.

"My actions were... slightly extreme."

"Slightly?"

"Comparatively yes," she says and I don't want to find out what she's comparing it to. "I'm used to working alone, you can probably see why now."

"So there's no witnesses?" I ask and notice her battling an inappropriate smile.

"Something like that."

But it's when she looks up I know damn well whatever act I was going to put on isn't going to work, not when it comes to her. Not when she looks at me with those eyes. 

She's unquestionably beautiful, soft features contrasting with a personality that is anything but that. Her features are similar to Leia's, although with blue eyes I can't truly place considering I've only ever met Leia. I don't miss how the dark liner around her eyes makes her expression harsher, or rather attempts to, and I can't help but come to the conclusion she tries her hardest to look anything but soft. The additional height in the platform of her boots that's definitely beyond regulation further supports that theory. 

I've worked with a lot of good looking people without problems, but there's something about her eyes that makes whatever judgements I'd made on Batuu quickly disappear from the forefront of my mind. The spark in them burning away what little common sense I've still got when it comes to her.

She clears her throat and I realise we've been studying each other's faces for a moment too long. Although from the colour in her's I know that whatever effect she's got on me, I've got at least some of that on her.

"So, have you told the General what happened?" she asks reluctantly, pressing her lips together expecting bad news.

"Not yet, I wanted to make sure you actually turned up here first," I say, having noted the five counts of desertion. "And the fact I'm trying to figure out how to tell her what happened."

Her mouth quirks to the side and it's then she actually seems to put effort into looking at me like she's trying to corrupt me, her eyes widening as she says "You know... she doesn't have to know."

"Solo," I begin and she quickly realises that tactic won't work. It almost does but she doesn't need to know that.

"Alright, alright," she says raising her hands in her defence. "But, if you have to tell her can we at least agree on a story."

She wants me to lie. She knows what she's doing is ethically wrong from the quiet, pleading look in her eye she has the dignity not to verbalise. 

"Solo." I lower my voice now, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the situation when it comes to her. "You know I have to tell her exactly what happened."

Although I can't deny I've been debating over the last few hours if the truth is such a good idea. It'll reflect badly on me the fact I stormed off after the fight and let her run off but I can live with that, however something thing tells me she can't live with the thought of Leia knowing the truth. 

She's quiet before sitting down on a crate, elbows on her knees as she lowers her head for a moment before raising it and asking "Have you figured out why I was stripped of my rank yet?"

"I was told second highest level of insubordination other than mutiny," I answer, having my theories along with what Snap's told me, but I think now I know the answer. "Leia decided to leave that up to my interpretation."

She nods to herself, and that cloud of grief that so often hangs over Leia... it seems it extends to her as well. But along with the grief, there's guilt. 

"I was sent on recon to a planet in the border regions due to First Order activities," she begins and I sit down on the crate beside hers to listen. "They were seizing the mining colonies for resources but it turns out they were seizing more than that. They tried to take every child below the age of twelve, the ones who were older were put to work in the mines because they're harder to indoctrinate." I want to lower my eyes but I can't help but look at her and the pain etched across her face as she recounts it. "When I was a kid Imperial remnants, or I suppose the beginnings of the First Order, tried to take me. My brother he-" she stops herself sharply, for just a moment the pain in her eyes becomes utterly raw and she swallows a shaky breath before composing herself. "He shot the man who grabbed me and I was able to make a run for it, the kid who was with us wasn't as lucky. She'd be another one of the thousands who've been taken and indoctrinated into being cannon fodder."

The image of her brother's name with deceased written beside it comes to mind now. Leia's never once spoken or even referred to him, but it seems that loss hit Hope brutally and I wonder for a moment just how close they were. As an only child I can't really know what it would be like, but I know how the pain of loss persists. 

I also know how a kid sees their parent as a hero, but it seems it might not have been her parents she idolised, but her brother. 

"How old were you?"

"Four," she answers and I shake my head. "So when I saw that... I couldn't just stand by and something in me snapped. I killed the stormtroopers and intercepted the transport with the kids on board. One of the kid's parents had caught up to them and was able to pilot the transport to a safe location, meanwhile I grabbed the officer who had been overseeing it." It's then she hesitates. "What I did wasn't pretty and broke the most crucial laws of engagement, and the Yavin Code, and the moment I turned my back for a second he's gotten that device and bit down on it just like the agent on Batuu before I could kill him myself. It's why I'd attacked the agent how I did, because they don't operate like we do Poe. They'd sooner kill themselves than face justice, they're ordered to kill themselves. How are we meant to deal with people like that without force when I know exactly what crimes they're guilty of?"

Morality, it's something I struggled with for a long time, especially when I first left Yavin-4 and was thrown into a different world where nothing is as simple as right and wrong. I have no doubts about what she did, but nothing is black and white. I had my darker moments too with the Spice Runners, although for different reasons than the rest of the crew. 

The moment I was confronted with human trafficking still lingers in my mind now, and when I got my hands on the guy overseeing it that wasn't pretty either. Zorii had to stop me from going further, telling me if I killed him someone worse would take his place. She'd almost laughed at the thought I was actually going to go through with it after having spent months trying to avoid violence and casualties at any cost, but what I saw pushed me to the edge. I'd been shocked by the chill in my voice, knowing that killing him would mean he wouldn't be able to do it again and I think I would have gone through with it if she didn't stop me. Not because she believed it was wrong, no, but because they still needed to work with him despite what he'd done. 

In a way I know that Hope's own attack that got her stripped of her rank had been driven by that same anger at seeing injustice and seeing a solution to it, no matter how dark, and being held back from it. I couldn't deal with not being able to do anything to stop it, having just about broken my hand after driving into a wall when Zorii laid into me about trying be a hero instead of a Spice Runner. That was the moment everything changed for me and I wonder if it's the same for her, desperation to stop something out of our control.

"You're right, and I shouldn't have reacted how I did considering what he'd done," I say quietly, knowing how easily she could have been killed right when we were about to have it out in the middle of the street, but still remind her as much as myself. "But we have to be better than them, otherwise what are we fighting for?"

"I know," she admits, and those are the words I least expected her to say. "And despite what everyone believes I do try, there's just questions I need the answers to."

Finally then it all comes together and I'm not too fond of it, because I understand now why Leia thought her and I would be able to understand each other. I'll admit, I wish I could dislike her. I wish I could see that she was just bratty and commanding with no regard for anyone else. Those things aren't completely untrue but there's more than that. She's a traumatised person acting out in anger and trying to make things right the only way she knows how. 

Something I understand more than I wish I did.

But there's one question still on my mind and gently I ask "Why did you ask him about Kylo Ren?"

At the sound of the name her body seizes up. The name is one that's familiar to me, but shrouded in as much mystery as Snoke. Clearly it's less mysterious to her.

"He's Snoke's apprentice," she answers after a moment of thought. "A force user like I am. He-" she cuts herself off and shakes her head. "I'm trying to find out what Snoke is, and getting to his apprentice is the best way to get to Snoke."

I barely know her, but every instinct I have screams that she is lying through her teeth and sure enough her hands are shaking. She knows Kylo Ren. Snap had told me what happened at the temple wasn't an accident, described the wounds that are listed in her file. That the freak lightning accident that destroyed the temple was a force user like Vader. Someone had tried to kill her, and I'd bet my ship that it was Kylo Ren.

A darker thought comes to mind and I wonder if she knew him before that night, the anger in her voice when she demanded to know where he was... that sort of anger isn't directed towards a faceless enemy. She knew him personally. 

I look over and find her eyes on the ground, her hands clasped together and deep in thought about nothing pleasant by the way her lip quivers and I wonder from how guarded she is, if he was someone close to her? A boyfriend maybe, although I can't say the thought of that doesn't stir some emotions of my own in me. 

Whoever he was, she cared about him, maybe even loved him, and he left her for dead, and she's driving herself insane trying to track him down. 

"Are you alright?" I ask her and she looks caught off guard by the question.

"Yeah, of course I am," she dismisses, taking a moment before asking "Are you?"

"Yeah why wouldn't I be?" I answer just as quickly and she meets my eye, something telling me she sees through me a little more than I'd like her to. Although it seems that's mutual.

"It wasn't your fault you know," she says suddenly, concern evident in her voice. "What he did to himself."

"Well that's a change of tune," I can't help but remark, having taken that attack the hardest, and her face falls. That singular action has me backtracking. "It- it wasn't yours either, I shouldn't have blamed you for what happened when he took the shot at you first." 

I was shocked and throwing blame about without a second thought while struggling to process it, not knowing what her actual intentions were or what I'd just seen. One moment there was a blaster shot and the next he was screaming and then dead on the ground. I barely even remember what came out of my mouth, but she threw it right back at me.

"And I shouldn't have blamed you either for trying to do the right thing, we both reacted badly to the situation," she acknowledges, surprisingly seeming to have little issue with admitting that she isn't perfect. "But what I'm trying to say is that I get it. The first time that happened to me- I didn't really process it until later either. When you're up in an x-wing all the time, you're detached in a way. You're firing at another ship, not a person looking right at you. Coming from the Navy you wouldn't be used to seeing that kind of thing."

"I've seen enough, I'm not exactly a stranger to the things that happen out there," I find myself saying, and she blinks as if remembering something. 

"Your dad worked with mine didn't he?" she asks out of the blue and I'm genuinely surprised she'd know anything about my parents considering who hers are. "Pathfinding?"

"Yeah, Han Solo led the strikeforce my Dad was part of," I say and she nods to herself, looking at me a little differently but I can't quite understand why. "Why the question?"

"I just remembered where I'd heard your last name from, that's all," she says, seeming a little ominous about it, but she seems to warm to me a little more. "You know how old guys like to reminisce about the war after a few drinks."

"Yeah," I nod, going along with it, trying to remember back to when I was a lot younger and would actually hear those stories from him rather than the silence that would come later in life to try to deter me from following after him. "So, if our dads could work together for a whole war do you think you and I can work together for eight whole minutes to pull off this mission?"

There's that glint in her eye, that spark, as she teases "Eight minutes is a long time."

I find myself leaning forward towards her, lowering my voice. "Could be longer?"

"Try not to give me orders and I might just not mind," she says, lip curling upwards as I catch the mischievous glint in her eye. 

"Partners then?" I compromise. Officially Leia's told me this is my mission to oversee, but I think I know by now there is no giving orders to the daughter of Leia Organa. She's said she's her father's daughter but somehow I can't help but feel she's underestimated her own contribution.

"Partners," she agrees and she raises an eyebrow as I extend my hand to her. "Handshake?"

"To seal the deal."

She holds my eye as she takes my hand, her grip firm not that I should expect anything else. All things considered she might be a little insane, but from what I've learned that's hardly her fault, and I can't say I mind when there's a hell of a lot to like. 

"Might even get to that first name basis," I tease and she laughs, it's a sound I like when she's not laughing while she's mad out of her mind. Although even then, I'd be lying if I said she didn't make me feel some sort of way when she's mad, but there's no way in hell I'm ever letting her know that.

Neither of us quite move to let go of each other's hand, electricity coursing through the touch. "Don't push your luck, Commander."

My flirting isn't intentional, but natural as I find myself leaning in closer. 

"I don't know, luck tends to be in my favour," I say and her eyes brighten as I run my thumb along the edge of her hand, every resolution I'd had before she stepped onboard this ship flying right out the cockpit along with any common sense. 

And right on time to remind me about the dangers of not thinking with my head Leia's ship lands in the hangar.

"It doesn't seem to be in mine," she coughs as she stands upright, neither of us having noticed how physically close we'd become until then, and I keep a more respectable distance as we both stand at attention but my eyes are on her rather than where they should be. 

Leia steps out of the ship and seems surprised to see us together. "Commander Dameron, Hope."

"General," we both greet and Hope looks to be doing everything she can to keep herself composed and I realise the last thing any of us need is for her and Leia to have it out over what happened on Batuu when we're about to try to pull off the most dangerous mission the Resistance has undertaken.

"How did it go acquiring the ships?" she asks us and raises an eyebrow at the panic she no doubt senses. "Do I want to know how they were acquired?"

Hope's eyes dart towards me and I just shake my head dismissively. "Not much of a story to tell, some bartering but nothing overly eventful."

She hums doubtfully and Hope's tense beside me but manages a nod and Leia looks between the two of us cautiously. "Do you have everything you'll need?"

I look at Hope now who answers "Yeah, I think we've we've got everything."

She can't quite look Leia in the eye, and I wonder how things became like this between them after the recording I'd seen of them in the senate. Until then I was confident in my assumption she didn't respect her, but I was proven dead wrong. She defended Leia more fiercely than anyone and yet here they are. When I was a teenager it was similar with my Dad and I. Worse even. I was grieving and angry and wanting to run free while he was holding on too tight. I wonder if it's the same with them. 

"Well then, I wish you the best of luck," she says to us, her voice heavy as Threepio comes to stand behind her. "Because you're going to need it."

"Hey, never tell me the odds remember?" Hope tries to jest and there's a pained look in Leia's eye as she manages a smile and cups her daughter's face until Threepio speaks up,

"Well actually the odds are-"

"Threepio," her and Leia both warn and Threepio turns away now as Leia brings Hope into her arms. She looks like she doesn't quite know what to do with it but eventually returns the embrace and R2 beeps beside me happily, almost in relief.

I think everyone standing witness shares that relief. 

Leia pulls away and speaks to both of us now, her voice as nervous as I've ever heard it as she orders us "Make it back in one piece."

Hope and I both nod and give our assurances, and with that she leaves us to prepare. In my peripheral I swear I see Hope wiping a tear from the corner of her eye before turning to me, her voice is quiet but genuine. "Thank you."

I can't promise I won't have to say anything when we return, but for now we both need our heads in the right place and so I put a hand on her shoulder as we look at the ships, fitted with the concussion missiles. "You ready?"

Her eyes meet mine and her lips curl into a dangerous smile. "Are you?"

My smile matches her's now, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little too excited for this mission considering the odds of not making it out alive.

But with her by my side... I can't help but feel like the odds are in our favour. 

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ how glamour aids in her obsession ]❜

ft. kotoka torahime x f! reader — xsoleil, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ how does kotoka use ‘glamour’ to get closer to you?┊2.1k words

contains: yandere kotoka, talks of blood & violence, high school setting but all characters are adults, manipulation (?), mentions of bullying, character death by murder (not koto or reader… but expect angst), not proofread & rushed ending i want this out of my drafts

➤ author's note: if this goes against her lore or i got something wrong about her ability, nuh uh i didn’t, i’m actually her scrunchie

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ inspired by & based off @/kanekoii’s ‘yandere kotoka’ works (here) and (here)!! i’ve been thinking of it nonstop ever since it was posted <3

kotoka promised herself that she would never use her abilities for the wrong reasons from the very moment she discovered them, knowing that the power to disguise herself as another person with the simple flash of a camera was something that could easily be abused. it’s only ever been used for pranks or to help out a friend in need if they needed her to impersonate someone, only for purposes that she knew wouldn’t harm anyone in the process. of course, the temptation of committing crimes that could be pinned on another has come to mind a few times out of curiosity, but she shakes away the thoughts as quickly as they come because she simply isn’t that type of person!

this has been her principle for the longest time, yet her viewpoint changed when she developed utterly crazed feelings for her best friend— feelings that have been suppressed for so long, all it took was a little spark to blow up the gunpowder barrel that was an obsessive infatuation. isn’t it crazy how feelings like love could change a person so easily, causing her morals to flip upside down and, as a result, allowing her to open her mind for putting ‘glamour’ to its full use?

her power is actually a well-kept secret, told only to family, very close friends, and the student council. if chaos were to ensue because of her actions, it’s not like anyone would suspect her even if they knew about it since she has such a renowned reputation of being charming, lovable, and just plain silly sometimes! so without fear of getting caught or any ethical dilemma to stop her, how does kotoka use ‘glamour’ to get closer to you (or should i say, alienate, you from everyone else)?

starting off, shape-shifting does take up a lot of energy. even though she wants to jump at the opportunity as soon as the idea comes to mind, it isn’t something she can do more than two times a day (specifically once in the morning and once at night). before she starts using glamour to keep you to herself, she needs to cultivate an environment that’ll fracture your relationships before completely breaking them off.

this is where she uses her popularity, eloquent speech, and proficiency with social media to spread some tall tales here and there. everyone is only human, there isn’t a single person out there who doesn’t get irritated with another on occasion— the notion of telling someone else your annoyances about a friend isn’t inconceivable. a “he said, she said” type of situation, she knows exactly who to feed believable lies to so that they don’t get traced back to her. although, it was almost too easy, can you believe that some baseless rumors that came from nowhere were enough to start doubts and minor arguments in your friend group?

it isn’t surprising for the sociable vice president to take pictures with people, she probably just wants to post about her school life to her massive following or to put them on the institute's website to make it look more lively! the only thing that’s strange about it is how she is always insistent on keeping the flash on even if it’s in broad daylight, but it’s just annoying at most when it makes them blink on accident. honestly, she could care less for the images of all of the random students that she cheerfully poses with— deleting them once she has confirmed in private that she does indeed have the capability to transform into them since they take up way too much room that could instead be containing memories of you.

even if she could look like anyone she wants, she can’t just become like anyone she wants unless she learns how to think and behave like them. nothing too serious, it doesn’t need to be enough to the point that she could live their day-to-day life, but just enough to stage a convincing fight in their words. asking around in petty gossip and eavesdropping in conversations seemed to do the trick for the most part, but just to be sure, she also snuck into the student counselor's office to take photos of his notes on the students so that she could feel a little closer to them and wear their mindset better. now, she could pretend to be anyone in your social circle for about five minutes before cracking (depending on how observant you are in the moment), but five minutes is all she really needs to destroy a five-year friendship.

in theory, it would be easiest for her to pretend being you since she knows you best (maybe just after your parents and yourself), but she can’t ever stay in your form for more than a minute. whenever she does, she feels her heart beating what feels like a million miles an hour as if it is going to explode and feverishly hot all over because she gets too excited. on the other hand, if she pushes aside the exhilarating feelings, she has developed a distaste at the thought of a counterfeit you walking around. it actually pisses her off because you’re just too perfect for anyone to dare replicate (even if she’s the only one around with the ability to do so, but it seems that her own rules don’t apply in this case as she still morphs into you every now and again)!

and so she plays the part of looking like your friends by speaking words in their voices to split apart the rift in your relationships that already formed from her previous antics, slowly but surely. you’re just so confused about why everything was going downhill so suddenly, why everyone is suddenly being mean to you then acting like nothing ever happened when you asked them about it later. at first, you thought it was all an elaborate trick, but what kind of evil prank lasts for weeks without ever telling you the punchline and saying that there wasn’t anything going on? they even got annoyed by your insistence on their cruel words, so some of them left you before you could even make the difficult decision to leave them.

it’s just typical high school drama to the ears of the rest of the student body, a game of telephone where the details are messed up, but the core of the story still stays the same. a supposedly sweet girl (you) turns out to have been saying nasty comments about her friends behind her back and plays victim that it’s been the other way around when they start to leave her. sure, it isn’t true in the least bit and someone has been operating outside the public eye, but the truth doesn’t matter when everyone is hungry for dramatics and all have a general story that can’t be changed since the one in the center of it all is the only one who thinks differently.

in all honesty, doing all of this breaks kotoka’s heart. she hates being mean to you even if she’s spewing pure lies while wearing someone else’s face and you don’t know that it’s her. she hates looking at your eyes widen from dejection as you begin to weep when she turns her back on you. she hates watching you burst out in tears when she comes over to console you, sobbing and stuttering that you have no idea what went wrong. whenever she repeats the cycle, she questions everything that she’s doing and briefly wonders if it’s worth it.

oh, but when you wrap your arms around her and cry on her shoulder while thanking her for always being by her side, she remembers why she’s doing all of this— working towards being the only one for you forever and keeping you all to herself. any ounce of regret she might have quickly evaporates while she soothes you, absolutely drunk and addicted to the feeling of being the person that you run to when troubled and need comforting. it’s a vicious cycle for her as much as it is for you, one that’s started with agony and then followed up with bliss.

during all this time, she still hasn’t spilled a single drop of blood during this pursuit even though she decided that she has no principles to stop her from it if it’s for you. how far she is willing to go for your love was about to be challenged when the sage of grief caught onto her plans. she didn’t think that he didn’t notice that she went through confidential notes about a certain group of friends, did she? while she may be slick when it came to isolating you from the others, but he has noticed changes in her behavior ever since this incident broke out.

kotoka has become a lot colder and more reserved in contrast to the kind and compassionate character everyone remembers her as, even becoming more irritable and prone to arguments. of course, she’s also more meticulous and attentive instead of being an airhead which does wonders for her duties as vice president, but it’s safe to say that it’s a change that the student council would gladly take back if it meant seeing her being her benevolent old self again. some outsiders have speculated that it was due to the stress of being the only one who’s protecting you from any more unwarranted rumors, but hex thinks otherwise. she hasn’t said anything about the drama at all from what he’s heard, much publicly less taking the unpopular stance of being on your side. besiand she seems a little… too excited at the prospect of everyone leaving you alone… all to herself…

the last thing she wanted to do was hurt one of her best friends much be the cause of their death, but if he told you all about his assumptions about what she’s been doing in the shadows and allowed you to connect the dots, you would scorn her and hate her forever then leave her… she can’t have that! she would do anything to prevent that nightmare from happening, solidifying her resolve to plan the murder of hex haywire to protect the hard work she’s been doing to nurture a romantic love with you. she didn’t want it to end up this way in such a violent manner, but she had to keep him quiet somehow.

both metaphorically and physically, she wasn’t herself— taking on the appearance of someone who frequently bullied you to do something that she never thought she could do six months ago. she stared at his dead body with dead-looking eyes, clutching the bloody knife one last time before letting it go and walking away from the scene of the crime. his blood stained her school uniform and hair, but once she found a private area where no one saw her, she turned back to her true self which was completely devoid of any of the sins she just committed.

according to the police, kotoka torahime was a witness who called the police, it was a student who had a history of harassing other students— they were seen on the security footage performing the crime and their fingerprints were found on the weapon. motives were unknown, but they didn’t have an alibi and the evidence was pinned on them. they would be going to prison for something she did, but she didn’t care about the fate of someone who had the gall to terrorize you at school.

the tears she shed for him until her shining blue eyes were bloodshot were genuine, but it was a necessary evil that she was willing to do in order to preserve all of the progress she had made. it’s all worth it and she knows it, it’s all worth it to have you rush over and embrace her to calm her sorrow (and unknowingly to you, her guilt) just like how she would console you before. it worth it to have you lovingly caress her long two-toned hair and gently hush her to calm her down, promising her that you’ll always be by her side no matter what struggles she might face just like she did with you.

that’s right, all of the lies she spread and the blood she spilled up to this point was worth it just to hear those words. as painful as the process was, she was rewarded with the ecstasy of your affection in return and she would do it all again for the high of delight that you provided her because she loves you more than anything else.

[that-disabled-radfem]

Happy back-to-school y’all

I’ve attended and worked at a couple of super liberal universities. I avoid the gender studies departments for obvious reasons and I still had a lecture in which the female prof gave a brief overview of TERFs and proclaimed her hatred of JKR. Being openly critical of gender ideology, the porn industry, kinks, and ‘sex work’ are the kind of things that can ruin your future in academia. Not to mention the fact that any speech or actions that could be labelled transphobic (ie. defining woman as adult human female) can get you a suspension according to many universities anti-hate-speech policies. 

So, here’s a list of small and smallish (small in terms of overt TERFery, some may require more effort than others) radical feminist actions you can take as a university student:

(this is a liberal arts perspective so if you’re a stem gal this may not apply. but also if you’re in stem maybe you can actually acknowledge that women are oppressed as a sex class without getting kicked out of school. idk)

(Note for TRAs hate reading this: One of the core actions of radical feminism is creating female networks. This is not so that we can brainwash people into being anti-trans. This is because female solidarity is necessary for creating class consciousness and overturning patriarchy. It is harder to subjugate the female sex when we stand together.)

Take classes with female profs. Multiple sections of a class? Pick the one taught by a woman. Have to chose an elective? Only look at electives offered by women. When classes have low numbers they get cancelled. When classes are super popular, universities are forced to consider promoting the faculty that teach them

Make relationships with these female profs. Go to office hours. Chat after class. Ask them about their research. Building female networks is sooooo important!

Actually fill in your end of year course feedback forms. Profs often need these when applying for tenure or applying for a job at another university so it is very important (especially with young and/or new profs) that you fill out these forms and give specific examples of how great these women are. Go off about what you love about them! Give her a brilliant review because you know the idiot boy in that class who won’t shut up even though he knows nothing is going to give her only negative feedback because he thinks any woman who leaves the house is a feminazi b*tch. 

(note: obviously don’t go praising any prof - female or male - who is blatantly racist, homophobic, etc.)

(Also if you have shitty male profs write down all the horrible things they have done and said and put it in these forms because once a shitty man gets tenure they are virtually untouchable)

(also also, leave a good review on rate my profs or whatever other thing students use to figure out if they want to take classes. idc if you copy paste your feedback from the formal review. rave about the class to your friends. do what you can to get good enrolment for that prof for reasons above.)

Participate in class. Talk over the male students. Say what you mean and mean it. Call out the boys when they say dumb shit

Write about women. If you have the option to make a text written by a woman your primary text in an essay, do it. Pick the female-centred option if you’re writing an exam-essay with multiple prompts. (Profs often look at what works on their syllabus are being written about/engaged with as a marker of whether to keep those texts the next time they teach the class. If there are badass women on your syllabus, write about them to keep them on the syllabus) Use female-written secondary sources whenever possible. 

(pro tip: many women in academia are more than happy to talk to you about their papers. expand your female networks by reaching out to article authors through email and asking them about their cool shit)

Get your essays published! Many departments have undergrad journals you can publish in. This will ensure more people read about the women you write about and will demonstrate to the department that people like learning about women

Consider trying to publish your undergrad essay with a legit peer-reviewed journal. If you can do it, your use of female-written secondary sources boosts the reputations of the women who wrote those secondary sources. Also this helps generally to increase scholarship about women’s writing!

Present your papers at conferences! Many schools have their own undergraduate/departmental conferences that you can present at. Push yourself by submitting to outside conferences. Bring attention to women’s works by presenting your papers. Take a space at a conference that would otherwise be reserved for mediocre men

Talk to your profs and/or your department and/or your university about mandating the inclusion of female works in classes if this isn’t something they do already

Sit next to other women in your classes. Talk to them. Make friends. Form study groups. Proofread each other’s essays. Give each other knowing looks when the boys are being dumb. Just interact with other women! Build those female networks!

Be generous with your compliments. A female classmate and I were talking to a prof after class and the classmate told me (out of the blue) that I always have such interesting things to say. I think about that whenever I’m lacking confidence about my academic skills. Compliment the women in your classes for speaking up, for sharing their opinions, for challenging your classmates/profs, for doing cool presentations, etc.

Talk to other women about sexist things going on on campus. Make everyone aware of the sexist profs. Complain about how there are many more tenured men than tenured women. Go on rate my professor and be explicit about how the sexist profs are sexist

Be active on campus and in societies. If a society has an all male executive or is male-dominated, any women who join that society make it less intimidating for more women to join. Run for executive positions! Bring in more women! 

(Pro tip: Many societies’ elections are super gameable. You can be eligible to vote in a society election sometimes just by being a student at that university — even without having done anything with the society before. Other societies might just require that you’ve taken a class in a particular department or attended a society event. (Check the society’s governing documents.) Use those female networks you’ve been building. If you can bring three or four random people to vote for you, that might be enough for you to win. Societies have trouble meeting quorum (the minimum number of people in attendance to do votes) so it is really super achievable to rig an election with a few friends. And don’t feel bad about this. The system is rigged against women so you have every right to exploit loopholes!)

(Also feel free to go vote “non-confidence”/“re-open election” if only shitty men are running. Too often people see that only candidates they don’t like are running and so they give up. But you can actually stop them getting elected)

Your campus may have a LGBTQIA+alphabetsoup society. That society definitely needs more L and B women representation. It may be tedious to argue with the nb straight dudes who insist that it’s fine to use “q***r” in the society’s posters and that attraction has nothing to do with genitals, but just imagine what could happen if we could make these sorts of societies actually safe spaces for same-sex attracted women and advocated for our concerns

Attend random societies’ election meetings. Get women elected and peace out. (or actually get involved but I’m trying to emphasize the lowest commitment option with this one)

Write for the campus newspaper. Write about what women are doing - women’s sports, cool society activities, whatever. Review female movies, books, tv shows, local theatre productions. Write about sexism on campus. We need more female by-lines and more stories about women

Get involved with your campus’s sexual assault & r*pe hotline/sexual assault survivor’s centre/whatever similar organization your campus has if you can. This is hard work and definitely not for everyone (pls take care of yourself first, especially if you are a survivor)

(If your campus doesn’t have an organization for supporting survivor’s of sexualized violence, start one! This is probably going to be a lot of hard work though, so don’t do it alone)

Talk to your student council about providing free menstrual hygiene products on campus if your campus doesn’t already do this. If your campus provides free condoms (which they probs do), use that as leverage (ie. ‘sex is optional, menstruation is not. so why do we have free condoms and no free pads?’)

If you’re an older student, get involved with younger students (orientation week and such activities are good for this). Show the freshman that you can be a successful and well-liked woman without shaving your legs, wearing heels, wearing make-up, etc. Mentor these young women. Offer to go for coffee or proofread essays. 

Come to class looking like a human being. Be visibly make-up less, unshaven, unfeminine, etc. to show off the many different ways of being a woman

Talk to the custodial staff and learn their names. (I know there are men who work in this profession, but it is dominated by low-income women) Say hi in the hallways, ask them about their lives, show them they’re appreciated

Be explicit with your language. When you are talking about sex-based oppression, say it. Don’t say ‘sex worker’ when you mean survivor of human trafficking. This tip is obviously a bit tricky in terms of overt TERFyness, so use your best judgement

That’s all from me for now! Feel free to add your suggestions and remember that feminism is about action

[maybeijustwanttobeme]

Fear of the Knight: Chapter 7.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Female!Reader

Warning: swearing, spoilers, violence and mention of rape

Summary: After a childhood and youth together, Bruce and [Y/N] live separate lives full of secrets. A new serial killer in Gotham unmasked the truth of the city, but the lies of Bruce and [Y/N] also were unmasked. What is the cost of the lies?

Notes: English is not my first language.

Masterlist: Fear of the Knight

Sorry for the delay, between my elbow surgery and the end of the semester I wasn't able to write, but I'm back (again)! I hope you enjoy it. Leave a comment if you want to be tag ⭐️

-[Y/N], are you sure? I don't think it's a good idea to look for the vigilante.- Neera was worried.

-Of course, I'm sure. I already convinced Gordon to let me call him. I need to do this. He's the only one who can finish them off. I need to be free, and even if I have to go to jail, at least no one will be able to control me.

-You're one of the few good people I know in Gotham, but you're still a person, and you're going to make mistakes. You helped me! A stripper with no future! How many women from the Iceberg Lounge have you gotten out of that miserable place?

-32… but Annika…

-You're not going to be able to save us all. Just keep trying to change lives. I got your back, little bird.- both smiled at each other.

-How do I look? -[Y/N] asked as she showed her uncoordinated outfit to avoid being recognized.

-Horrible- answered Neera sincerely.

-Perfect!

-Now, we're going to get you out of this hospital.

-[Y/N], we can still go. What if he sees you as a threat?

-I don't think so -[Y/N] chuckled and showed her cast.

-What if I stay with you?

-No, I need you to go to the Wayne Foundation and give Annika's case- she said while tapping the envelope with evidence that they had worked in the hospital.

-I can do it tomorrow…

-No, I need Bella and Harvey to commit. I need to put the killer behind bars.

-How do you know the Wayne Foundation is going to cooperate?

-I'm going to speak directly with Bruce.

-[Y/N] - Neera gave her a worried look. Neera knew part of her history with Bruce. Neera was her best friend. Although [Y/N] wanted to tell her everything, she knew that she would put her in danger if she knew the whole truth of her life.

-I know he'll help.

-How?

-His parents. Martha and Thomas would have helped.

-If you insist. Call me when you get home.

-Sure.

[Y/N] got out of the car while trying to catch her breath. What floor had Gordon said?

Women liked him. He liked them, too, but he never stayed in one place long enough to form a lasting relationship. His relationships after [Y/N] had been just a fling and were just for pleasure. He was not sure he wanted one; he could only fantasize about a future with [Y/N]. Oh! But Selina was a beautiful woman, dangerously beautiful. She also understood his nocturnal world.

-I told you, baby. I can take care of myself-Selina said sensually before leaving, but he realized that she stopped when she saw a person. He turned around, thinking it was Gordon, but his heart skipped a beat when he saw [Y/N] standing there.

She had her hair fluffy, and no makeup and her bruises stand out more. She had an old Gotham University sweatshirt and shorts too big for her. She finally combined it with tall purple rain boots and a yellow raincoat. Bruce wanted to smile seeing her like that. He could almost hear her laugh looking for puddles like when they were children.

-You knew?- Selina asked her as she walked towards her like a cat hunting her prey.

-What are you talking about?

-Don't pretend to be stupid. It doesn't fit you. Since when did you know about Annika? - Selina's anger against [Y/N] was clear.

-I found out the last night we met - [Y/N]'s body language was defensive. She definitely wasn't looking to have that conversation with Selina.

-And you weren't going to tell me?

-It's not that I have your phone, and these days I've tried…-she was interrupted.

-I don't see you moving a finger.- [Y/N] changed her body language to an offensive one. She wasn't going to let Selina make her feel any more guilty.

-I'm not going to go looking for the killer. I'm going to have Harvey look him up as PR. I already told you that I don't have a death wish, and looking for the killer would be looking for the same destiny. Do not take justice into your own hand, Selina. The consequences can be high.

-I don't see anyone looking for justice for Annika

-And what do you think I'm doing here? - Bruce witnessed a battle of women who wanted to be right that was basically a battle of titans in front of him.

-You are not different from them. Taking dirty money and living off it.

-I have no choice. My fate may be the same as Annika's. I'm still a valuable little bird but replaceable. If you want to hunt down the killer, do it. I'm going to do it my way- [Y/N] with her look and tone, she left no option for Selina to say anything else. Selina followed her path as if she had never bumped into [Y/N].

Bruce watched [Y/N] take a deep breath as if she was taking courage.

-Stop judging me with your gaze.- she told him while trying to fix her hair in a ponytail, but she couldn't because of the cast. Bruce's fingers itched to help her. Since the day he'd seen her at Mitchell's house, he'd dreamed about her soft hair.

-Why could I judge you? Because of your friendship with Penguin? Or with Falcone?

-You don't know a thing, Bat.- the two stared at each other. Bruce didn't know what to say. He didn't want to talk much either. She could somehow recognize his voice. [Y/N] didn't know where to start.

-The cat got your tongue? - [Y/N] tried to joke around to break the tension. She didn't know where she had gotten the confidence to joke around with the Bat. Maybe it was the pain meds. Bruce still didn't say anything.- Uhm… I'm here to tell you a theory I have about the rat and answer any questions you may have about the mob.

-I thought you worked with them. - Bruce's tone was harsh.

-The most appropriate thing to say is that I work for them, although that would be to say that I have a choice.

-I saw you very comfortable with Penguin- he replied.

-Oz has saved me on several occasions. He is a friend.

-And Falcone? - The tone of both began to be increasingly hostile.

-He is more like my captor.

-I don't see you locked up.

-If I wasn't locked up, I wouldn't have come to you.

-Why are you locked up?

-Because of a bad deal I made a few years ago.- Both remained silent for a few seconds.- Could I tell you my theory? I'm not here to talk about my personal life.- the Bat nodded.- You remember Reed 'Piggy' Porcello, right? It was your first case with Lieutenant Janice Dure.

-How do you know that?

-I worked with Mitchell. We've heard about you since the first case. You remember it, right? - he just nodded again. The vigilante was a man of few words.

-Porcello was one of the few people who started working for Oz and Falcone, who worked for Marroni and my dad. And not only that, but since they were arrested, Porcello has had positions within the government. Why do you think Falcone paid to get him out of jail?

-Do you think he is the rat?

-Don't know. I just think it's a bit suspicious. Porcello betrayed Falcone, and he's still alive and working for him and the government.

-Like you.-he told her as recrimination. Bruce was trying to stay calm, but he wanted to know why [Y/N] was involved with them.

-I'm not the rat-her tone and gaze were strong. He knew she wasn't the rat, but he needed to confirm that information.

-I saw Penguin giving you money.

-It was for Colson. I'm a perfect disguise to move papers and money around, but I've never done anything else

-And being the key witness in the trial of Marroni and your dad? -[Y/N] felt that question was an offence.

-That is my worst mistake.- she needed to undo the lump in her throat.- I'm not the rat because I would have let your cowl be taken from you at the funeral - she argued.

-One theory is that you're using Porcello for us to investigate him, so you can go free.

-I am not the rat!-she almost cried.

-Why not? Your theory is that Porcello is a suspect because he is working for the government and Falcone. Also, he worked for Marroni and your father. But you are in the same position. Why him and not you?

-Because I lost everything, and he won.- her face had changed to one of rage. [Y/N] had gone through endless emotions during this confrontation.

-What did you lose? You own your father's company, the family house…

-Just on paper!-she interrupted him.- My family's company is dedicated to money laundering and their operations. My family home is destroyed. Until a few days ago, they decided where I lived. They choose my car, and my job and control some of my money. As Colson said, I'm their favourite doll.

-How did you end up like this?

-A bad deal. I want all of them in jail, and even if I have to go with them; I will be free from their control. I'm going to jail on my own terms.

-Why don't you tell me everything?

-No, it's my story. It's personal.- she returned to a more neutral tone but determined to prove her point.

-Do you really believe that Porcello is the rat?

-I don't know.- another silence.- Only when I think about it, who is the one who has won the most? Only Porcello comes to mind. Also, they don't call him Piggy just because he's fat, but because of the carnage, he commits when they ask him for a job. Since he started working with Falcone and Mitchell, he was no longer just a criminal, but a politician. Mitchell paid him well for his jobs outside the office. The rat is someone we can't imagine.

-Can you talk to Porcello?

-No

-Get some proof?

-No. I can't be near Porcello.- her tone did not give rise to discussion, although Bruce preferred to insist.

-Why?

-It's personal.

-It's hard to work without some proof.

-Kenzie is close to him. You could ask about Porcello; he's always in the Iceberg Lounge.- Bruce kept thinking that it couldn't be Porcello. He had watched him after the GCPD didn't put him in jail, and nothing indicated that he was the rat- You still don't trust me, do you?

-It can't be Porcello

-Why?

-It's personal - Bruce wanted to play with her too.

-I'm not the rat.

-What was that deal, [Y/N]? - he changed the subject. He hoped he could convince her to tell him the truth about her involvement.

-It's my life! I haven't told anyone. Why would I tell you?

-If we solve this case, it could help you set free.

-I can't… I can't. I don't trust you.

-Do you have any documents from them? or something that can serve as a clue?

-No, they are clever. They use paper so it can be destroyed and not tracked. I told you that Porcello is very close to Kenzie, look for him, he will talk.

-How do you know he would talk?

-Just tell him that you have the audio of [Y/N]. It's not proof, but he will sing if you ask him.-

-What is the audio from?

-It's personal.

-They'll know you talked to me. If you tell me the whole story, I can pretend I found it somewhere else, but with the half of the story, they'll know it's you. I'm not going to put you at risk.- That was true. There was no universe where Bruce would put [Y/N] at risk.

-Nobody knows the whole story.- she confessed.

-You protected my secret, and I'm going to protect yours.- [Y/N] thought that maybe she would never have a similar opportunity that someone could know her story to help her be free. What could an outlaw do? She looked into his eyes and saw absolute sincerity. Alos, I kind of familiarity like when you listen to someone you love.

With a sigh, she began her story with her.

-After college, I went to Metropolis to work for Lex Luthor on his PR team. At first, my dad didn't care until my work began to stand out, and my dad asked me to return to work in the PR of the family company. I told him no, the company was at Marroni's disposal, and because of that and… for… nothing, I didn't want to return to Gotham.

-The whole story, without gaps. - The Bat said with a certain sweetness.

-Because of Bruce Wayne, everything reminded me of him. During those two years in Metropolis, I was happy. I was starting a new life.- [Y/N] smiled as she remembered her life in the quiet city of Metropolis.- My dad wanted me so much in Gotham that he sent people to destroy my car, my aparment and follow me everywhere I went. I felt so insecure that I had to go back. My dad told me that it was temporary job, and I accepted.- There was a brief pause accompanied by a sigh.-After almost two years of work, I managed to raise the image of the company and my family. When I wanted to move out, my dad told me no. He was desperate because the GCPD had already started the whole investigation. He needed the family image, and I couldn't leave because he controlled my money, my car, my apartment, everything. I was going to sneak out after a night out with some friends at the Iceberg Lounge, but he found out. That's when I met some of Piggy's fury. Oz's men stopped Porcello. Falcone found out about my situation, and some of his men came looking for me to talk to the Boss. Falcone and Mitchell told me that if I was a key witness for the trial, they would take me out of my dad's control and give me their protection. They were going to give me control of life again. I accepted, and that was the worst mistake. My dad found out about that, and he sent Porcello again. He was goint to give me something worse than death.- she couldn't hold his gaze for a second and breathed again to gather courage for the next thing. Bruce felt his body burn with rage. - I knew my dad would do something, although I never imagined that he would send someone to rape his own daughter. From previous experiences, my apartment had cameras and microphones. When Porcello arrived, he destroyed the cameras, but not the microphones. Those are the audios I mentioned you before. Kenzie was with him, and he wanted to participate. Oz's men got there in time. Porcello only managed to break my wrist. Porcello and Kenzie spoke with Falcone, and they came out alive and with new jobs. Porcello stayed longer and left with his political job. -the melancholy in her voice turned to rage.- I was furious, and I went to talk to Colson, he ignored me. That's when I met Harvey. He told me that I should keep those audios for some future blackmail. The two of them were protected by Mitchell. To compensate me for that, Mitchell gave me a job with him and promised that Porcello and Kenzie would never come near me again.- her voice calmed down to a neutral one.- After the trial, I wanted to leave, but Falcone wouldn't let me. He told me that my company would be managed by them, and I would receive my monery as "owner". I told them no, and Porcello took me to the dock. That night Falcone told me I was replaceable, but they wanted to help me for helping them get Marroni out. I could being their little bird, or I could easily end up at the bottom of the pier. Nobody would do anything, I had no family, and if society replaced the Waynes, of course, they could replace me. - she smiled reluctantly at the end of that part of the story. - That's how I came to work for them. In these 3 years, I have been with them, Oz has protected me, and Mitchell gave me a job, but everything was conditional on what Falcone wanted. Porcello's betrayal made me think that he was going to go to jail or they were going to kill him, but they just gave him a little slpa in his hand, and he went on with his life; that's why I believe he is the rat.

-You never saw another escape window?

-Yes.- [Y/N] didn't want to tell the Bat, but she needed to get everything out, and he seemed to be a good listener.- When Bruce Wayne settled in Gotham after his constant travels, I thought he could buy my freedom - [Y/N]'s head was starting to hurt, and she felt dizzy.

Bruce felt a tightness in his chest. He had never hated himself so much in his life. He pushed [Y/N] out of his life to protect her, but he never realized she was already living in hell. Despite that, she was always looking to help people with a smile.

-I'm sorry for everything. I'm going to resolve this and give you your freedom as it seems you have done with the women of the Iceberg Lounge.- he promised her. Bruce would died rather than let her Falcone's hands again.

-I want justice for Annika, for everyone who suffers because of them.

-I will keep your secret it as if it were mine.

-Thanks. Do you think it's Porcello?

-No, when he made his deal with Falcone, the GCPD should already have a rat for the trial. But I need to talk to both of them because Porcello might know the rat to make a deal with Falcone, especially after the bombs incident. You're right. The rat is someone who won too much and was close to the circle of Marroni and your dad. - he told her sincerely.

The phone of [Y/N] interrupted the conversation. It was Neera.

-Hi, what's going on?

-You're good?

-Yeah, what happened?

-It's about the Waynes. I don't know how much support the Wayne Foundation can give. Just watch the news when you can and call me

-Okay. I'll call you- she didn't understand anything Neera was saying, but she sounded anxious. The Waynes?

-All good?- he asked when he saw her confused

-Yeah .. just something about the Waynes.- she wanted to move, but her dizzines made her fell. The Bat was faster and took her into his arms like a side hug. [Y/N] was on his left side. So close, she was able to look at a tiny mole just like Bruce's. She saw his lips, and they were just as delicate. She looked into his eyes as blue as Bruce's. She needed to touch him to know if he felt the same way. Bruce saw how [Y/N] looked at his lips, and he desperantly wanted to kiss her. He had kissed Selina a few minutes ago, and he had liked it, but [Y/N]'s lips were like a drug. Of the things he missed the most on his trips were her kisses. Wherever [Y/N] wanted t kiss him, from the most simple and tender on the cheek to the most seductive on the lips. When he looked into her eyes, he knew she had found out his secret.

-Bruce….- she whispered.- I need to call him… something about the Waynes.

-I'll look for you when I hear from them .- he was still holding her in one of his arms. It was almost inhuman to let her go.

-Take care… I… I should go.- [Y/N] now needed to find out if it was Bruce the vigilante. Bruce released [Y/N] little by little, and she just as slowly walked away from him.

-[Y/N]. Be careful. I'll be watching you

-No, as you can see, I can take care of myself. Solve the riddle and stay alive.- [Y/N] needed the vigilante to live. Was it Bruce? That question would eat her until she discovered the truth.

Bruce watched her go. Now more than before, he needed to discover the rat to free [Y/N], but what about his parents?

Tag list: @she-wintersoldat @angeliken @t-stark35@cc13723things@aniya7 @xingqiusliegee @frozenhuntress67 @y-napotat @uncle-eggy @lwtmonster91 @bookloverfilmoholic

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our little love part 2 - mafia/yandere au Drabble {angst + fluff}

As always please let me know what you think, I am actually going to go to bed now my brain is angry with me for not sleeping.

It seemed the cycle was never ending, you fucking up and pissing them off, them punishing you by drowning you in their love, only letting you come up to breathe so you could swim in your own guilt and submit to them.

You wince as the victim to your latest fuck up gets another blow to his chest. Taehyung and Hobi held onto his arms as Jungkook and Jimin kick and punch the poor individual. You know not to speak, it’ll only make things worse. Temperament was a fickle thing in their lives, trust was everything, and you still had to build yours up again.

“Y/n help please,” Kai whimpers as you stood with your arms crossed looking away.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Jungkook growled before punching your ex colleague in the face. You’re frowning, the need to beg them to stop was fighting for exit on the top of your tongue, but you bite it down and pray Kai doesn’t say another word. You know if you do as he asks they’d kill him. Your punishment was to watch silently.

Yoongi strolls up behind you, hands in his pockets before he rests his head on your shoulder, watching the display in front of you both.

“Nothing to say little love?” He whispers as your friend groans out in pain.

Please don’t kill him, you want to say, but you just shake your head in defeat. You want to believe they’re better than this, but the evidence of the contrary was never hidden from you. They showed you every side of them whether proud of it or not with bold eyes daring you to stop loving them, pushing your boundaries and morals waiting for you to snap. But the breaking point never came, you loved them, you shouldn’t and you knew it, but you did. You were completely and utterly theirs, yet still they treated you like you hadn’t seen the worst of them. Like you would run away the second you realised they were monsters, not that they would let you run far, only far enough to let you take a single breath before making you drown in them once again.

Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist, keeping an eye on your reactions. The asshole deserved it, not that they cared either way, he tried to take you away from them, that was enough.

Kai was your old partner before you took a very early retirement, what you didn’t know was that he continued the case you were working on before you left; the case of the seven men you now loved and the reason you quit said job. He had called you to meet up for old times sake and you, very naively in Yoongi’s mind, decided it was harmless. But if it was harmless why didn’t you say anything to the boys? You thought Kai didn’t know the reason you handed in your resignation, but he had been keeping an eye on you all before he realised you were the key to their downfall. He knew you harboured some feeling for him in the past and thought you’d reciprocate when he tried to flirt his way into getting his hands on the evidence you collected, he didnt know you burned it all. You lied to him and said you lost it, same difference anyway. This prompted plan b from him.

“Y/n they’re criminals,” he had said to you. “You’re a cop at heart you can’t love them.”

You floundered at his words when you realised he knew, and yet he still asked you to betray them.

“Kai I think I need to go...”

It was a mistake, you knew it then, but he followed you out onto the street and you hoped tonight the men you loved weren’t keeping an eye on you. Maybe naive was an understatement.

“Are they coercing you Y/n! Do they have something on you or are they threatening you?” He calls after you. “Because the Y/n I know would never love killers, what have they done to you?”

It was when he reached his hand out to grab your arm that your boyfriends decided to show themselves from the shadows. Which lead to the situation now, Kai beat up and bruised beyond recognition, and you forced to watch. He falls unconscious and they let him drop to the floor, you hate this side of them, it was cruel and cold but you’d never leave. They turn to face you now, their anger still present despite the last hour of releasing it onto your old partner. They don’t miss the way you’re shaking, the shallow breaths as you try and keep your tears to yourself. As much as you hate their violence, you hate their disappointment in you more.

——————————————————————————

You’re sitting in Joonie’s lap for what you call the debriefing of your punishment, this happened way too often in your opinion. You look down but he wasn’t having it today, tilting your head to look at him by your chin.

“Why did you get punished today little love?” He starts the same way as usual.

“I went out without telling you guys where I was going or who with,” you say while fiddling with your fingers out of nervous habit.

“And?” Hobi sits across from you in a chair, legs straddling the back and an elbow rested on top with his fist holding up his face. Hobi was hardest to pacify, he was ruthless and unforgiving and while that didn’t extend to you, you still had a hard time with his stubborn anger.

“I met up with Kai, and I let him touch me,” you’ve done this too many times before to not know how it worked. Kai’s ‘touch’ obviously meant nothing to you but for them it was the worst crime anyone could commit against their little love.

You remember the time you nearly tripped in the park and a guy steadied you politely, but you still had to hold Jungkook back from throwing hands.

“Kookie would you rather I fell and hurt myself?” No he hadn’t wanted that so he grumbled in agreement still seething but you cooled it down. “Instead of hitting him maybe you should thank him,” it was a joke but it made the youngest scoff.

“Baby girl why can’t you just be good?” Namjoon’s sigh brings you back to the present. “Why do you always have to test us like this?”

You didn’t mean to, you want to say it but the words are stuck below the sob in your throat. You actually whimper as his tone, bottom lip wobbling pathetically. He hadn’t even told you off properly, but you already felt like a mess as he bathed you in his disappointment. That was the common consequence of your actions and you hated it, you couldn’t do anything right.

——————————————————————————

“Jin do you need help with the food?” You ask your eldest boyfriend politely, he was frowning and you thought it was because today’s meal was too much for him to handle alone, his tone of voice made you realise it was because of you.

“No, I’m alright,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks and you’re left gaping at him like a fish. Jin loved it when you cooked with him, it was your bonding time without the others, although Yoongi would join you from time to time. The others also tried but Jin wouldn’t let them anywhere near the kitchen, they hogged you enough anyway.

You feel your soul deflate, still standing there as he ignored you.

“Are you mad at me too?”

The way you said it made his heart twinge with guilt, but the others were right you wouldn’t learn and your first betrayal was still fresh on their minds. He sighs and you turn away, refusing to crying in front of them for the tenth time that day. What was wrong with you? Ever since that day where they found out who you really were you felt like you werent enough anymore, you tried so hard to make up for it all but you kept messing up. You weren’t like this before, but after seeing the hurt you put them through you were constantly on edge and second guessing yourself. You wish you could go back and stop them from ever finding out.

Jin hears the sniffle as you walk away and he can’t go through with it.

“Wait little love,” he calls for you. “I forgot to cut the onions, would you mind?”

You shake your head, you didn’t mind, but you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you. Youre grateful to Jin for giving you this task, it hides the fact you’re crying, but you know he doesn’t miss it.

——————————————————————————

Jimin and Taehyung were giving you narrowed stern gazes through dinner, it put you off your food which resulted in getting told off by Jin just after he branched out to you in the kitchen.

You felt alone, like the seven men you loved were against you and there was no one to blame but yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly before getting up and removing yourself from the dinner table and dining room, ignoring all of their stares. You decide maybe an early night is best, you could start again fresh tomorrow. You don’t get too far up the stairs before a hand pulls you back, you turn to see Jimin with Tae a few steps behind him.

You’re so used to seeing them laugh and play around that it feels like you’re looking at different people. Even during missions or gun fights, the youngest three were always joking their way through the bloodshed, keeping scores of who got the most headshots and other grotesque games. You remember the time Jimin and Tae called you during he middle of a shoot out, arguing with you and each other over who you loved more out of the two while you begged them to not get shot or killed.

“Why did you go see him Y/n?” Jimin asked, he wore the demeanour he used for enemies and it takes you back to that night.

“I... h-he said he wanted to see me to catch up,” you explain but you know it’ll fall on deaf ears.

“And you thought that was a good idea, to see your old cop buddy?” His tone makes you feel stupid, you weren’t stupid.

“He was my friend Jimin,” you say in disbelief, you know in the end it was a mistake but at the time it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You’re ours,” Taehyung moved forward, towering over you even though he’s a step below you. His face is close to your own, eyes burning into yours as he looks disgusted at the words that left your mouth as if they’re still attached to you. “How do you think we felt when you went to see another detective? Do you have any idea what was going through our heads?”

“Tae I love you,” you lean away from him, searching his face for a hint of softness and love in his gaze, but there was only fire. “You know I wouldn’t, you all know I wouldn’t, I left that life for you why would I turn back to it?”

He stalks away from you without a word, Jimin close behind, giving you a final cold glance before leaving you alone. You thought your love could make them better but if anything you made their darkness worse.

——————————————————————————

Jungkook needed to vent, the only way he knew how was physically. Obviously it wasn’t the cleverest thing he’s done, taking rounds with the punching bag only to open up the cuts on his hand from beating the bastard earlier. He mutters a few curse words under his breath, why did you make matters worse? Maybe they were being harsh on you before today, finding any excuse to punish you a little, test your boundaries and see if you would run, but today they honestly feared that was what happened. They thought you chose to leave them and go back to the life you had before them, but they’d never let you go, they couldn’t let you go. Despite everything you loved them and they worshipped the ground you walked on. You were everything for them now, there’s be no point to any of them without you. Why didn’t you understand that?

He throws another punch to the bag, spreading his blood across them, it hurt like hell, but the thought of you running back to your old partner still played on all of their minds. He wanted to cry, he wanted to find you and beg you to never leave them, they’d be nothing without you.

There’s a knock on the door and he finds you on the other side, waiting for permission to come in. You never waited for permission, it makes him frown, maybe they were too harsh on you today. He could see you shuffling your weight, insecurity screaming through your eyes, you feared his rejection more than his anger.

He notices the first aid kit in your hand, you must’ve heard him. He doesn’t let the fluttering in his chest reach his face as he sits on the bench, waiting for you to come to him.

His gaze is expectant, daring you to cross the threshold and face him, you were no coward, you didn’t fear them the way others did, why were you behaving so meekly now? You force yourself to move and sit beside him, setting the kit down and pushing your hair back behind your ears. He doesn’t move his gaze away from you, even with the sweat and hair hanging in front of his face.

You carefully take a his hand into yours, sucking air between your teeth at how injured it was.

“I’m sorry you hurt yourself because of me,” you say, eyes on his bloodied knuckle as you press the ointment against the open wounds. “Are you sure you want me to stay, I keep hurting you...”

You try to sound like you’re joking, that you’re okay and the hurt isn’t weighing you down with your doubts. He frowns, they really did take it too far. He sets down the cotton wool from your grasp, taking both of hands into his before kissing each finger delicately without letting you look away.

“You’re perfect little love,” Jungkook says, reassuring you with no question in his voice. “We’re the ones who don’t deserve you, we’re mean and cruel but we’re never letting you go.”

You remember how loving they were before that night, maybe while they accepted the truth at face value they could never really forgive you in their hearts. Maybe that’s why they were being like this, they didn’t love you the same way anymore.

“Do you love me?” You had to know, the doubt was eating you alive.

He looks at you as if you’re insane, maybe you are, you don’t know anymore.

“Little love, don’t you see how much we love you?” He asks sincerely. “We would do anything for that love even if it made you hate us, you belong with us, and no one is going to take you away.”

You could see the crazed look in his face grow as he spoke, you believed him, the honestly worn like a heart on a sleeve. But his answer bought a wave clarity to your hazed vision, you made them like this, you made them worse, you had to leave.

[taechaos]

Social Media

from Textbook Love drabbles

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble(?), smut, college au

synopsis: “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

warnings: slight angst, arguing, dubcon, mild violence

word count: 4.7k

a/n: ima need yall to submit jk gifs cuz it is taking me TOO long to find a good one 👺 not proofread.

The weekend is fun: students’ two days of temporary rest and catching up on their assignments. Jungkook doesn’t concern himself with the latter, but he does enjoy waking up later in the day and lying down on the grass with his arms crossed under his head, bathing in the sun without any worries. It’s peaceful, thinking thoughts of you with dimmed eyes while the breeze gently wafts past him.

But of course, Taehyung wouldn’t let him just enjoy his day without a hint of irritation. Good things never last anyway. He’s sitting in the middle of the field, a hot spot for relaxation, and feels the soil under his palms while observing his surroundings. Yoongi is with them, munching on a few snacks while scrolling through his phone as it quietly plays music.

“The girl at the party,” Taehyung begins before glancing at Jungkook through his sunglasses, “she was alone when I came back. You weren’t around either; did you cum too soon or something? I saw you two kiss.”

“I left,” Jungkook mumbles without opening his eyes.

“Why?”

“I was bored.”

“And where did you go?” he pries.

“None of your business.”

Taehyung scoffs at his dismissal before averting his gaze elsewhere. “I do have a guess.”

“Don’t start,” Yoongi warns him without looking up. The two best friends usually get into arguments in a matter of seconds daily, and Yoongi just wants to spend his day without having to break up a fight. Just this once, he hopes… but hope doesn’t save him.

“I’m just wondering if you actually went all the way back to campus to fuck another girl, who coincidentally also does your homework.” His tone is cool and collected, but it borders on mocking that usually goes unnoticed. He’s been around these two too long for them to miss, however. Yoongi sighs, dreading the response already.

Jungkook sits up on his elbows with a glare directed towards Taehyung. “How’s your ex holding up, Tae? You think she cheated on another guy yet?”

Neither of the two friends have a filter around them, no consideration for their words as they apathetically insult one another; but Jungkook can go too far, especially by bringing up old wounds. 

Taehyung was in a toxic relationship with his first girlfriend of two years, which took a huge toll on his mindset. Constant infidelity, endless forgiving, make up sex and catching her with another man after: a cycle that went on for over 24 months. The concept of love became tainted in his eyes, no longer interacting with the opposite gender if not to get laid, and Jungkook’s commensalistic - rather parasitic - relationship doesn’t disprove his hateful ideology. Love only consists of two people: a host who provides, and the parasite that selfishly takes it all. 

But he isn’t over the pain that lasted a year after the break up, which was shamelessly executed by the parasite: his former girlfriend. It took a lot of trust to open up about it to his friends, and it lifted a heavy weight off of his chest. Only this year did he stop thinking about her, until Jungkook asked about her so casually. It stings his heart only for a second, and he scoffs as Yoongi intervenes, “Both of you need to shut the fuck up.”

“If you guys want to talk about my relationships, then don’t get all whiny when I talk about yours.”

Taehyung swallows his pride and confidently answers, “I don’t know, Jungkook. I hear she’s doing well, but no information on her boyfriends. Your turn: what’s going on with that nerd?”

“Elaborate.”

“Are you two dating?” Yoongi asks exhaustedly. They just keep taking every opportunity to annoy each other, and it’s even overwhelming him at this point. 

Rolling his neck side to side in thought, Jungkook takes a moment to answer, “No.”

“Bullshit,” Taehyung spits. “You know what? Let’s just move on. I’m sure I could get proper answers from someone else.”

“If you have a death wish, that is,” he warns with a slight seethe before lying back down.

He doesn’t respond and hides a smirk, a couple having a romantic picnic ahead of him from a distance. He watches them for a few seconds before muttering to himself, “It’s not going to be my death.”

Yoongi and Jungkook chill on their own after Taehyung leaves. He’s roaming the campus in hopes of finding that one girl who is always wearing some school skirt and working 24/7 to find out what is so special about her. Jungkook might think he doesn’t notice them interacting, but behind that airhead facade, he’s observant. It’s not that big of a fucking secret either, they’re not deliberately hiding their strangely beneficial friendship or whatever. You stick out like a sore thumb in the yard, though there’s not many people to tell you apart from anyway.

He approaches you rather slowly, inspecting your figure first before meeting you. Your posture is straight and composed, fingers quickly typing away on your keyboard without even looking at them. You look so serious to him, a contrast to the radiant butterflies flying past you in such a bright environment. He wonders if you ever procrastinate or take breaks, and most importantly, how someone that appears so smart has fallen into such an obvious trap set by his best friend of all people. 

His hands are in his pockets as he speaks his first words to you. “Hi, I’m Taehyung.”

Your reaction is instant: a quick look at him and you’re already frowning. “I’m Jungkook’s best friend,” he adds in case you’ve seen him around before. 

“I don’t know you.” And with that distant reply, you return to your essay. If meeting Jimin has taught you anything, it’s that you can’t trust anyone who claims to know your lover. They are just using it against you… 

“Well, shit,” he laughs, “I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Your eyes don’t waver from your screen, so he tries another approach: “Are you the girl Jungkook left the party a few days back for?”

Your ears perk up in his direction, but you don’t show it. But he notices the pause in your taps before you continue typing, and he holds that against you. He takes a seat across from you, and your laptop covers your face from him. “I just wanted to meet the person that’s got him whipped enough to get high and run off to them.” You bite down on a smile and prolong your silence. “I guess I’ll talk to you when you’re not busy.” 

He stands up just as you tell him, “Wait, no, I’m not busy.” You close your laptop mid-way before hesitating, but slam it shut nonetheless. “Sorry.”

“You’re good.” He sits back down and clasps his hands on the table. “So what’s going on between you and him? He refuses to tell me, as if you’re his little secret.”

You shyly look down at your flats and twiddle your fingers on your lap. “We’re together… but he is very mysterious.”

It’s a good thing you don’t glance at him to hide your blush, because he’s a little skeptical. He puckers his lips and furrows his brows but controls his expression when you look up. He mentally curses for taking longer than a few seconds to respond; it’s suspicious. “I know right? I don’t know why he’s so reluctant to talk about you. You’re a total sweetheart.”

Approval from Jungkook’s friend: check. Will he like you more if you get along with his friends? The thought excites you, because at least this is someone he likes, unlike Jimin. “Thank you,” you shy a smile. “Um…”

You’re awkward: not Jungkook’s type, Taehyung notes. You’re obviously the host... “So is this a fling, or are you two serious?”

“We’re serious!” you immediately answer. “I love him, and he recently told me he loves me too. He used to kiss me for doing his homework, but now he does it out of nowhere.”

Wow… romantic. He suppresses a chuckle because he doesn’t want to laugh in your face, not when you’re so cute when you talk about him. Your eyes light up with a gleam, a lovesick smile gracing your face and now desperate to befriend him. You look like him when he was supposedly in love. You’re serious about Jungkook, but for how long? Especially when the other side of the relationship is not so committed. It should be mutual: with two hosts.

“Yeah?” he acts interested and raises his sunglasses up to his hair. “How does he act around you?”

“Well,” you start gushing, “he is a little closed off with his emotions.” True. “He doesn’t like me talking to other guys.” Ooh, interesting. “He can’t stand being ignored,” you chuckle. Can he now? “And… he is so cute when he’s jealous. He has this glare whenever I don’t give him enough attention, but he would never admit it. He likes being intimate with me, likes it when I reassure him. He never says it out loud though, I can just tell by looking at him. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, never fell in love with someone until I met Jungkook. I just want to make him happy because he used to look so sad when I watched him from afar.” A hopeless romantic.

Maybe if you didn’t sound so genuine and innocent, he would’ve made fun of you. But he just feels pity for someone who is so giving to someone who gives back so little. You don’t deserve it; don’t deserve to stay up working on so many assignments; don’t deserve to not have any hobbies; don’t deserve to be so unloved. You are pathetic, but it doesn’t turn him off.

Taehyung is a host too.

He clears his throat at the unexpected stirring emotions in his heart, “What do you love about him? Do you like being treated like shit or something?”

“He doesn’t treat me badly! He is like a light switch, you know? He doesn’t know how to act, sometimes sweet and sometimes… a little mean. I love him for his pure heart, and I believe that we are similar in a lot of ways.”

Taehyung can’t contain his snort. Similar? You are opposites. You are similar to him, not Jungkook. He feels… jealous. The pairing is just so ridiculous and flawed, but you’re neither of the two; you are just good. Taehyung can be good too. “So, what’s your Instagram user?”

The lack of commentary and escalation of the topic catches you off guard. It’s a distraction. “I don’t have an account,” you reply in confusion.

“Wow, I’d expect you to cyberstalk Jungkook on there,” he jokes with a laugh.

“He has an Instagram?”

He purses his lips, his grin faltering as he nods. He takes out his phone from his pocket to show you the account, and holds it in your face. Your lips part as you gently take it from him, curiously inspecting the collage of images. 

“He plays the guitar?” you ask in awe. You click on each picture to zoom in on them, and your heart jumps upon seeing his selfies while Taehyung hums. He is gorgeous in your eyes, and you want to keep up with his posts in hopes of seeing another selfie. These are hidden gems that Taehyung had the courtesy of providing to you.

“He’s learning,” Taehyung says, “you should sign up and post some pictures as well. You’re really cute.” His cheeky compliment makes you happy; he is basically giving you his blessing! 

“Thank you, and you’re right,” you chirp, “I will make an account after I finish this essay. Want to take a picture with me?”

It’s safe to assume that Jungkook wouldn’t mind you talking to his best friend, so why not expand your social circle? You’ll be more involved with his life this way. Taehyung stammers slightly before agreeing. He switches benches to sit next to you while you rummage through your backpack to find your phone. He finds it strangely endearing how you hold it, using your index finger to swipe between apps to find the camera. It almost stings his heart that you’re so old-schooled in a cute way. Once you angle it above you with your arm stretched out to your left, Taehyung appears to be behind you as he lowers his glasses. You smile brightly into the lens while he cutely puckers his lips. 

Click.

“Are you wearing perfume?” he asks before he can stop himself. Your scent tickles his nostrils sweetly, and he doesn’t know why he’s noticing so much about you or holding a conversation with a woman without being naked. It’s been a hot minute since Taehyung’s had such a platonic interaction, and it shouldn’t feel this nice. He shouldn’t want to continue it through social media either.

“Yes! Do you smell strawberries? I noticed Jungkook eating them before, so I use just about anything strawberry scented. Lotion, shampoo, shower gel…”

He tunes you out as you gush and focuses on the smooth movement of your lips. You’re too good, and Taehyung knows he isn’t the best person but at least he’s not as bad as Jungkook. I shouldn’t think like this… but am I wrong? He will break your heart. What if it’s the right time to intervene to save you from that misery, and be a friend to both of you? He doesn’t want you to fall apart and be completely crushed right in front of his eyes, not when he just witnessed how childishly happy and naive you are. It wouldn’t be fair to you, nor to the life lesson he was taught years ago.

And he then notices that you're wearing strawberry lip balm. 

“Jungkook kis-” -sed someone else before coming to you. You hum and tilt your head at his interruption, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Jungkook… does love strawberries.”

Though your work ethics are questionable for how exhausting they are, it gets the job done sooner. The moment you’re assigned a task, you do it, regardless of if it’s yours or Jungkook's. Saturday evening and Sunday are free for you, so you spend your time outside after leaving your backpack in your dorm. You think you look silly, taking pictures of anything you find interesting to post on Instagram. You made an account, but it appears like a bot with its empty feed. Jungkook enjoys doing this, so you want to try it as well. 

You don’t stray far from campus because you’d easily get lost, and your gallery looks boring to you. The only decent photo you have is with Taehyung, but you want to post a picture with Jungkook before anyone else. You grumble under your breath while walking back to the dormitory building. You look through Jungkook’s posts again as you do so with a smile. 

A heavy arm slings over your shoulder and hitches your breath just as the culprit says, “What’s the rush?” He doesn’t even look at you, and you wonder if he recognized you from your clothes after coming up from behind you. 

“Jungkookie!” you cheer excitedly. He glances at you and quirks a brow at the nickname. His eyes then trail to your lit up phone and snatches it from you, which you don’t fight against.

“You’re stalking me?” He scrolls through his profile from your phone and smirks before stating, “I didn’t know you had an Insta.” The both of you enter the building with his arm still wrapped around you, which flutters your heart.

“I made one today, since you use it.” He exits his profile to look at yours. You’re in the elevator as you inform, “Taehyung told me.”

A pause, then a click. Jungkook snapped a photo of you when you pressed the button of your floor. “Pretty,” he comments while looking at your candid shot. You’re flattered and also happy that he’s joining your trip to your dorm. He hasn’t said a word of protest and takes the lead in going to your room. “What else?”

“Hm?”

“What else did he tell you?”

You rack your brain to remember anything significant to tell him. It was a long conversation: getting to know each other and more about Jungkook. “He told me you have an Instagram, then asked for my perfume, and then we talked about your love for strawberries-”

“Your perfume? Why was Instagram even brought up?” he presses, stopping in front of your door. 

You take out your keycard and shrug while swiping, “He asked for mine.”

The dorm is empty when you enter and sit on the edge of your bed. It’s very hard to not grin when you’re around Jungkook, but he doesn’t seem to care as he looks through your gallery. “Can we take a picture together?” you peep hopefully. 

“Of course,” he murmurs absentmindedly, intently staring at your phone. “We’ll take many pictures,” he looks up at you before leveling with the camera, “pose.”

You aren’t very educated on the art of posing per se, so you imitate the peace sign you saw him do with a wide smile and a hand on the bed. He is neutral when he snaps a picture with a shutter. 

“I want you to be in it.”

He drags his eyes away from the screen and his blank expression intimidates you. “Whose idea was it for you to make an account?”

“Um… Taehyung, why?” You lay your hands on your lap at the growing tension.

Taehyung went to this extent to get a reaction out of him? Is it possible that he’s this obnoxious? Or perhaps another motive…?

“I-Is he not your friend?”

Jungkook breaks his silence of thoughts with a scoff, “Oh, only the best.” You sigh in relief, though he says it with menace. Taehyung was curious about his relationship, not about your social media. He forcefully pushes you down on the bed and you hold back a gasp as he wraps his finger around your neck in a light chokehold with a thumb on your nether lip. Click. He then lowers his hand to your thigh, hiding half of it under your skirt with a gentle grap. Click.

Your cheeks flush at the compromising photos he’s taking and you nervously ask, “A-Am I going to post these?”

“Shut up.”

You seal your lips shut and he flips you on your stomach, palming your covered ass with your side profile in the frame, and another shutter resounds in the room. “Sit up.” You follow his command and turn around to face him. He pushes your hair to your back and his mouth latches onto your neck. He’s biting you while sucking on your flesh, and you release a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue swirling on the sensitive skin. It hurts, but you don’t complain and try to make sense of the growing arousal in your lower region. He only pulls away after half a minute and you’re confused by the satisfied smirk on his face while eyeing the result. He angles your jaw to expose your neck better and snaps another photo. “These are all going on your account.”

At your nod of submission, he starts unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re prettier with a mark. My mark.” Your body tingles at the compliment and you help him undress yourself by unbuttoning the ends. “Take off your skirt,” he demands as he slips off his shirt with ease. All of your clothes go off one by one as he does the same, and you don’t have the time to feel shy as his lips collide so roughly with yours that you’re pressed down against the mattress again. You still haven’t gotten the hang of making out, but it doesn’t matter with Jungkook because although it flows naturally, he also takes complete control over you. He’s not gentle, not with the way his teeth clash against yours and tongue leaving trails of saliva all over your mouth. Your toes curl with desire and anticipation, and you tug at his briefs that outline his erection. The feeling of his warm breath on you silences all your thoughts and you can only react on primal instincts. 

His crotch brushes against your bare folds, slick with your leaking wetness. Kissing him this passionately always leaves you feeling needy, and it embarrasses you that you get turned on so easily. But you don’t realize that is his intention as he glides his fingers all over your labia, making sure you’re ready to take all of him. 

Kissing you this passionately always leaves him feeling horny, and it’s apparent with his cock begging to be taken out of the restraints of his underwear. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing, but your lips are numb when he pulls away to position himself in your entrance. He doesn’t prepare you, but he doesn’t rush himself either as he painfully slowly enters you. You hold your breath and gawn on your swollen lip, moans catching in your throat and leaving as high-pitched hums. He sighs at the feeling of your pulsating walls. “God… always so tight. Don’t you ever touch yourself?”

He bottoms out and you whimper shakily at how full you are. The fact that he fits you like a puzzle piece convinces you that he’s your forever, your meant to be. Even with your lack of experience with other men, you believe no one can make you feel this dreamy. And to think he’s all yours now… “I-I don’t. I only want to do it with you.”

The atmosphere is so fragile, so romantic. It’s not your delusion this time, because he feels it too and it makes his heartbeat sync with yours: unsteady and rapid. And in the heat of the moment, he reveals, “I think I’m in love with you.”

A whine leaves you, so loud that it can’t be achieved with touch but with his words. It’s the utmost pleasure, and when he realizes what he said, he sets a rushed pace to distract himself from the embarrassment of pouring his feelings. You don’t allow him to forget as you echo, “I’m in love with you too.”

“No, no,” he denies with a shake of his head and it emits more love confessions out of you in a chain of ‘I love you’s, and he grunts, “Stop. Shut up!” He pins your forearms on either side of your head in a bruisening grip and thrusts into you harder. You have no choice but to scream in pleasure, unable to form coherent words when he’s practically fucking your brains out. 

His feelings of humiliation translate to his actions: he pushes himself down to the hilt, throbbing with lust but doesn’t chase his high. He doesn’t want you to talk, not when he’s blushing for more than one reason, so he ignores the contraction of his muscles and just fucks you until he can’t anymore, hypnotized by the bounce of your tits.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s so desperate, hitting your most sensitive spot with every thrust and making your eyes screw back. Neither of you can think, so loud and reckless until you reach your climax. It’s core shaking, as you cry out his name and tremble with stimulation. He’s never seen this expression on your face, one so twisted in pleasure and looking so erotic. It comes as a surprise and in the form of a punch in the gut as he savours your appearance before cumming inside you with a groan. A slip-up, a mistake, but he doesn’t care as he paints your walls in white, his load filling you up.

And he can’t regret it when he pulls out, because the drizzle of his cum spilling out of your pussy easily becomes his favorite sight. “Shit,” he whispers as more and more drips while you twitch and spasm from your orgasm. You don’t even realize what he’s done, and that makes his chest swell with pride; the most level-headed woman he knows is leaking with his release and stupidly doesn’t spare it a thought. And with that hickey on your neck? “You look fucking gorgeous,” he exhales. A bashful smile stretches across your face with eyes still tightly shut, and you don’t notice him grab your phone on the other side of the bed to take a picture of your stained pussy. 

“This one is for me,” he mutters to himself. Click.

After posting the softcore photos on your account and tagging himself in them, as well as a note of a pharmacy’s address across campus with a label written for you to get two separate contraceptives as an emergency and for your next creampie, he leaves your dorm. You fell asleep on him, and though he had wanted to join you, he decided to collect his scrambled thoughts and go to Taehyung’s dorm first. He isn’t livid, but he has a few questions to ask.

He’s playing cards with Yoongi, Taehyung’s roommate, as he patiently waits for his arrival. “What’s wrong about asking for her Instagram, though?” Yoongi asks before drawing out a card of ace. “Isn’t she our friend by association anyway?”

“It’s suspicious,” Jungkook murmurs while inspecting his deck. “Have you ever seen Taehyung with a girl before? As friends? He’s clearly trying to fuck her.”

Yoongi stifles a laugh, “That’s a reach. Besides, you two have shared a girl before. Are you actually dating her?”

Shuffling is heard behind the door until it swings open as Taehyung enters. “Kookie! What are you doing here?” He throws his keycard on his bed before hopping on Yoongi’s to watch their game.

It’s strained, Jungkook notices. His excitement is forced; why? “I came here for you,” he states bluntly. “A little birdie told me you’ve been talking to someone who belongs to me.”

“I didn’t realize she was your diary,” he tries to lighten the mood with a joke. “What’s the deal anyway? You said you weren’t dating her.”

Yoongi collects the deck of cards after Jungkook drops them, and shuffles them while eavesdropping. He’s sitting cross-legged across from Jungkook, and Taehyung is sitting on the edge of the bed next to him with his body turned sideways.

“I also said that unless you have a death wish, don’t talk to her,” he grits. “And asking for her social media? Are you into her now?”

Taehyung merely shrugs. “I thought she was pretty chill. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“She obviously means something to him, so I think you should just respect that, Taehyung,” Yoongi voices his thoughts while leafing the cards. Jungkook looks to the side and pokes the inner cheek of his mouth with his tongue but doesn’t argue.

“I think he’s just using her.” Jungkook’s reaction is instant as Taehyung’s nose instantly starts to bleed from the impact of his fist. Yoongi doesn’t look up. He holds a hand over his injury with a hiss and continues, “Really, Kook? A little too much, don’t you think?”

“Less than enough,” Jungkook fumes, “I like her, and she likes me. Just fucking leave it at that.”

“Couple of the year,” Taehyung chuckles mockingly, “I give it two days.” He stands up before Jungkook can hit him again. “Can’t wait to console her after your break-up, maybe she’ll fall in love with me next.”

Jungkook starts chasing him around the room as Taehyung runs without stopping his provocation. “Why so upset Jungkook? Do you see it happening too? I’m already imagining how tight-”

“You should leave, Jungkook.” Neither of them listen to Yoongi, so he yells, “Jungkook, leave!”

A moment of deafening silence passes as both of them pause to catch their breaths. “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jungkook spits with a heaving chest. “She’s loyal to me, but I’m sure you’re not familiar with that concept. No wonder your relationships only last one night.” With a final glare, he leaves as told to return to you. The only thing he needs right now is one more ‘I love you’ from you, as much as he hates it. Maybe he’s cruel, but he doesn’t know anyone who isn’t aside from you. 

Maybe Taehyung is just as cruel, fantasizing about all the ways he could be better for you before drifting off to sleep with a bandage over his wounded nose. He can just be a friend to both of you… he can be good too…