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whatanoof · 3 years ago

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Battling Death Itself

Anon I am so sorry that this took so long. Stuff happens, but it's still frustrating to not know if someone is ignoring your ask, if tumblr ate it, or if(like in this case) requests are just taking abnormally long. But here we go, hope you're ready for the angsty angst:(

gif credit to @badbatch

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

Warnings: angst, injury, blood, swearing, death omen-like stuff, creepy dream, fluff

Summary: As a medic, you’re used to battling bleeds, cuts, burns, etc. You’re used to patients who are willing to heal, not one reckless Jedi Padawan who is ready to throw everything away to accomplish his mission.

A/N: A huge thank you to my friend @marvelassassin221b for the help with this prompt when I got stuck. You da best, and never forget it

One cannot go through a war and come out unchanged. You can pretend that the terror, violence, anger, anxiety, and selfish instinct didn’t affect you. You can gaslight and fool yourself until the bantha come home, but no one, not even the smallest civilian child, walks away without it burning into their minds like a brand of survival that will cost some of your humanity.

When you dream, you dream of a pile of lightsabers. There must be hundreds, maybe thousands, piled high enough that you cannot make out the ground from your position at the peak of the mountain. They clink and jangle under your feet, like a death rattle that refuses to leave you alone.

You want to leave. You have to leave, you can feel the spirits of the fallen Jedi Order hovering over your head, gazing down at you in disapproval everytime you disrespect their revered weapons. You take a step off of the peak.

A rending screech echoes into the death filled air, and the metal handles collapse under your feet, sliding down the side of the mountain like an avalanche and taking you with it. The sabers pile over your head, blocking out the already dim light.

Have to leave. Have to fight. So you thrash furiously, clawing at the tomb encapsulating your living body among the dead. Somehow, you find the surface. You break through the pile with a gasp, inhaling air into your starved lungs, hands pawing at the moving surface to keep you afloat in the raw desperation of survival instinct.

A weathered lightsaber is clenched in your hand, double bladed and beaten up. With a shaking hand, you press the button to activate the blade. The blue blade slices through the air with a throaty thrum and through the reality of your dream, dropping you into the darkness. You hit the ground with a grunt, somehow not impaling yourself on the lightsaber even as you stare in awestruck horror. Because you recognize the blade and handle.

A heavy hand lands on your shoulder, and you whirl with a gasp. A tall figure stands behind you, a Lasat male with kind eyes and clad in robes belonging to a Jedi. He holds a hand out to you, “That doesn’t belong to the living world.”

---

The crackle of the comm yanks you out of your fitful doze, but as you strain to listen from your position in the sitting area, no words come through the white noise. You sit up and look into the cockpit. Cere is typing furiously with eyes glued to frequency readings in front of her.

Seconds later the array in front of Greez begins to beep and the Latero leans forward to study the sensor map display. A tiny ship lit in red dances through the grid. Greez grabs the holo and enlarges it, examining the lines of the ship carefully.

“Cere--”

“Greez--”

The two stop and look at each other before Cere takes precedence, “I’ve only seen these kinds of frequencies from one kind of occupation.”

Greez nods, “I recognize the ship. It’s Haxion Brood.”

You stand and approach his chair, “Axiom what?”

Greez replies, arms darting across the controls with ease as he manipulates the energy to further analyze the readings from the environment. “The Haxion Brood, kid. Biggest smuggling and gambling ring in the Outer Rim.” He turns his head to address Cere. “I can decode their transmissions. Transfer the readings to my screen.”

Cere hits a few buttons and Greez pulls a headset over his ears. The air in the room is so thick that you could cut it with a vibroblade, until Greez speaks, “We have to go. Cere, set a course for these star coordinates.” Cere takes a single look at the symbols and nods before heading to the navigation map.

Your brow scrunches, “How do you understand their code?”

Greez waves your question off, “Not important. Point is, I can, and I know where we have to go.”

Everything is moving far too fast for you to understand. “And where is that?”

Greez barks out a sharp laugh, “Officially? Nowhere.” One arm distracts itself from the preflight check to dissolve the coordinates from the holo projector. “Unofficially? Ordo Eris.”

The Mantis lurches as it takes off and you stumble, “Wait, we have to wait for Cal to get back!”

Cere speaks from her position at the map, “He’s not coming back. We’re going to get him.”

‘Why would you need to go to Ord--’ You feel the blood drain from your face with the realization. What did the dream mean? A grim understanding filters into the processed air so that no words are needed.

“Get your kit ready. We’re going to need it.”

---

“Strap in, kid!”

Even with all of your preparation for the moment of contact, you’re still not ready for the awful screeching and rending of metal that echoes through the hull as it contacts the floor of the arena. Above the chaos and noise, you hear Greez curse. The harness digs painfully into your skin, but it keeps you in your seat long enough for the Mantis to jolt to a stop. The door opens, and Cal stumbles on board, lightsaber glowing in his hand while the other clutches his side. BD-1 clings to his shirt, beeping and chirping as it hangs on for dear life.

“Go go go!” Cal collapses against the wall, gasping for air. BD screeches and jumps onto the floor, gazing up at Cal and blipping while glancing at you periodically. You can’t tear your eyes away from the lightsaber, which has slipped to the ground in the frenzy. That doesn’t belong in the living world.

Greez hasn’t stopped swearing colorfully in at least five different languages excluding Basic, but it all fades to the background as you fumble to release your harness. “Cal!”

It’s not releasing, why isn’t it releasin--

The mechanism clicks and you’re out of your seat before the Mantis is fully off the ground. You reach Cal right as he begins to slip, “Whoa, careful there.”

Damn he’s heavy. You lower him to the ground, supporting his head on your lap. He chuckles breathlessly with eyes half-closed, “Why should I try to be careful when I have you?”

You laugh shakily, “I can’t be with you all of the time.” BD-1 bobs its head in agreement, dragging your med bag within reach with one foot.

Greez calls back, “Hang on, making the jump now!”

You grab a support bar and hunch over Cal. BD hops into your lap, and you wrap your other arm around the little droid to help hold it steady against you until the ship stops shaking around you and the peaceful quiet of hyperspace fills the hull. You allow yourself to breathe as the asteroid fades into the distance out the viewport. For now, the world will hold together.

---

By the time Cere comes back to check on you, you’ve maneuvered Cal into an upright position propped against the wall.

“Hey.” She sounds tired, stressed, strung tight like a bow string that’s about to snap. “Greez set course for Kashyyyk. We can lay low there, the Rebels have all but driven out the rest of the Imperials.”

You nod in acknowledgement. Cal is silent beside you. BD-1 boops its agreement.

She continues, “That rescue tore up the Mantis a bit. Overworked the thrusters and damaged internal regulating software, so Greez and I are going down to run diagnostics and see what we can repair en route. BD.” The little droid chirps. “Gonna need your help with the electrical portion.” BD-1 bobs its head and scampers over to her, and Cere puts a hand on the floor so that the droid can climb her shirt to her shoulder. She straightens, and regards the two of you, “All good here?”

You nod. “This guy needs a little patching up too.”

Cal gives a halfhearted wave and grin from his position on the floor, “Can confirm.”

Cere chuckles, “Alright then. Comm if you need anything. And be responsible.”

“I’m always responsible.” Cal protests. Cere doesn’t respond to him, opting instead to glance at you with an amused resignation in her eyes. She turns and leaves with BD, who chirps a goodbye as they vanish through the trapdoor that leads to the engine room.

You sigh and turn back to Cal, “I don’t even know where to start. Here.” You tug his poncho to get him to sit up.

“Careful. There’s acid.”

You yank your hand back with a hiss, shaking it off as you study the cloth. He’s right, there’s discoloration around his abdomen and the poncho is smoking, something that you missed in the chaos of landing and taking off from Ordo Eris. Upon closer examination, the acid had eaten through the poncho and soaked into the shirt below. Luckily, none touched your skin, but more unluckily, Cal has been wearing his shirt for far too long to be healthy.

“Take it off.” You lift the edge of his shirt to help him pull it over his head.

He grunts as the fabric lifts, revealing reddened and irritated skin that you begin to put healing balm on, “If you wanted me shirtless, all you had to do was ask.”

Blood rushes to your face even as you send an unimpressed look his way. He’s grinning, a smug and infuriating grin that lets you know that he knows that he got to you. You spread more of the medicine onto his skin, “You’re surprisingly chatty for someone who almost died.”

He stretches his arms, painfully attractive with how his chest and arms flex and his face scrunches and his hair--

You blink, abandoning the train of thought and finishing your work. You cap the medicine and return it to your bag. “Let me check your leg.” He sends you a look, a frustrated look that is so unique to Cal that it makes you chuckle. “I saw you limp in here, don’t give me that face.”

He groans, “I’m fine. It got me in the door, didn’t it?”

You roll your eyes. Typical. “Take them off.”

“Is this a strip game or something?” He’s… flirting with you?

“Do it.”

You did not think that this is how you would be getting Cal Kestis pantless in front of you for the first time. You’d imagined that you would be more excited with every inch of skin exposed, that your heart would race and the blood would rush to your face and your… yeah.

But instead, your stomach drops with every bruise that is revealed, the lump in your throat grows when you hear him suck a breath through gritted teeth when the cloth rubs over sensitive skin. By the time he’s pulled the pants around his ankles, your jaw is clenched hard enough to hurt. There’s a gash the length of your hand slicing across his skin. Although it’s gratefully shallow and mostly clotted, it's ugly enough to garner a double take and a long stare as you consider your options. When you speak, it’s a barely breathed whisper.

“Damn it Cal.”

He laughs, but you can hear the pained grunt that he tries to hide when he shifts, “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“When did you do this to your leg?” You yank a bacta bag out.

He hisses as you disinfect the area, “Uh, a little after I found BD. Right before I went into the arena.”

You stop cold and stare at him, “You fought on this?”

“Well what else was I supposed to do? Roll over and die?”

You sputter, “No, but I-- no.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, a single, infuriatingly sassy, red eyebrow and lays back to allow you to apply the bacta infusion.

“How’s it going in here?” Cere chooses that exact moment to walk in, and you suppose you should be grateful that she didn’t witness the petty argument.

You shoot a look at Cal, but he’s refusing to meet your eyes. So kriffing immature. You respond to Cere, “Good. Could be better.”

She nods once, “We received a transmission from the rebel. Tarfull is willing to meet you, Cal. There are contacts on Kashyyyk that will direct you to him.”

Cal’s face is drawn and serious, aging him ten years as he considers her words. “Tell them I’ll be there. How long until we reach Kashyyyk?”

“An hour. Enough time to finish the inflight electrical repairs, so BD will be available to go with you.”

“I’ll be ready.” What? Did you just hear him correctly?

You wait until Cere leaves the room before you whirl on Cal, “Are you crazy?”

“What?”

But you’re not listening anymore, “No, you’re definitely crazy, or I’m going crazy, because I just heard you tell Cere that you would be ready to plunge into the wilderness while you’re half dead.” A pile of lightsabers.

“It’s a cut, I’m hardly half de--”

“Okay, a cut. A cut that could get infected, or could start bleeding again, or could slow you down. It won’t be such an easy fix next time if you go out like this.”

He says your name sharply, “It’s my job to go and get that holocron.”

You cross your arms over your chest tightly, hugging close enough in hopes that you can calm your pounding heart, “And it’s my job to keep you alive.”

“The longer we wait, the more danger Tarfull is in. The Rebels can’t stay in one place forever.” He pushes off of the wall, aiming to propel himself off of the ground and stand, but you catch him with a firm hand in the center of his chest.

“You need rest. Bacta might be a miracle of modern medicine, but it can’t work in an hour.” A death rattle that refuses to leave you alone.

He says your name, so seriously and rigidly that you stop and look at him, “Let me get up. I need to go.”

“No!” Your fingers twitch over the needle. “Cal Kestis. You stay right there, or I swear to the Maker I will sedate you!” Fallen Jedi hovering over you.

“This isn’t a matter of my own well being anymore, our mission is on the line!” He pushes your hand away and sits up. “This is for those children out there, so that the Sisters don’t get to them, so that they can have normal lives.”

“Don’t you fucking put that on me Cal, I know what is at risk. I know that you are the only stars forsaken Jedi in this Maker damned galaxy who can help those children, but what use are you to them if you’re dead?!” Lightsabers rattling over your head, trapping the living amongst the dea--

“It doesn’t matt--”

“Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds?!” You’re screaming, you know that you shouldn’t be screaming when he’s lying there injured and possibly dying, when you know that his heart is pure in intention, but why can’t he see how much you need him to be okay. Your fists are clenched, waving in the air above him and its only when his eyes widen and he puts his hands up defensively that you realize you had picked up the hypodermic needle.

Your eyes meet his and your body trembles, whether from rage or fear you can’t tell. Carefully, moving millimeter by millimeter, you lower your hand and drop the needle. It makes no sound as it hits the ground, which is remarkable considering how effectively it had silenced the situation.

“I--” Your voice cracks and in any other situation you would be embarrassed. But you clear your throat roughly, “I can’t lose you. I won’t let you go off and get yourself killed. You need to let your body heal, because you can keep going, keep pushing yourself to the limit and I have no doubt that you are strong enough to, but your body is going to fail you one day, and it’s my job to make sure it doesn’t just yet so please listen to me, I’ve never asked for you to stay before.” You’re rambling, you’re talking too much because you scraped just a little too close to the surface with that first sentence. “Please Cal, I couldn’t live with myself if I let you go out there like this and yo--”

You’re cut off by Cal’s body contacting your firmly, arms curling around your body as he hugs you tight to his chest. And all of your worries and problems that you were ranting about seconds earlier fade away because his bare chest is right against the skin of your cheek and he’s so warm and smells so good and you’ve forgotten why you were--

“Breath. It’s okay.” He demonstrates with several deep breaths, chest rising and falling against your cheek. You hear the whoosh of air in his lungs, and you shakily try to imitate. You fail the first two times, your pounding heart and surging adrenaline forcing your breaths to come shallow and fast. But he stays close to you, radiating comfort and calm that soaks into you and gradually slows you down.

“You’re still not going out there on that leg.”

Cal shushes you, “I know. I need you to calm down before we get to Kashyyyk. I’m not going to leave until I know you’re okay, and those children still need saving.”

Annoyance sparks through you, “I told you not to put that on me.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. That was a cheap shot.” You wriggle to try and get out of his grip, but he only tightens his arms around you. “Stop fighting me.”

“Only if you stop fighting me.” Still, he’s too strong and you can’t deny that you’re exactly where you want to be.

“Oh I intend to. But I can’t stay forever. How long do you need me to rest?” His chin rests on the top of your head.

You hum thoughtfully, snuggling closer with your fingers drumming gently on his skin, “Bacta treatments optimize after five hours of immersion in the tissue.”

“I’ll give you two hours.”

“Three.” You counter. “I can accelerate the healing if you give me three hours.”

He hums deep in his chest, vibrating against your skin, “Deal.”

You stay like that for a few more minutes, peacefully breathing the filtered Mantis air that smells like antibiotic burn cream and metal. When you open your eyes, your gaze lands on the lightsaber, which has rolled into a corner since the hit and run on Ordo Eris.

“Cal.” Your voice is raspy from the lump in your throat. “The lightsaber.”

He hums, calling the handle to his hand with the Force, “Yeah. Should keep it safe.” He clips it to his belt with one hand, the other still crooked firmly to cradle you.

“Where did you get it?”

He pauses for a fraction of a second, then his arm returns to stroke the back of your head, “It was Master Tapal’s. The Purge. It’s all that I have left from before.”

“Your Master. Was he a Lasat?”

Cal chuckles, “Most intimidating one that I’ve ever met. Wisest one too, but he had a leg up on the competition, being a Jedi Master.” He pulls away slightly to catch your gaze. “How did you know that he was a Lasat?”

You hum, burrowing back into his chest, “I’ll explain later.” For now, the world would hold together.

Cal Taglist: @marvelassassin221b, @my-awakened-ghost

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #angst #fluff #jedi fallen order #my boyyy #who lacks any and all sense of self preservation

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angelsdevils · 3 years ago

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Ace x OC

Title: My Twin Brother No Warning

[Anne's devil fruit is called the Dragon Dragon Fruit, meaning she can breathe fire and shoot fire out her hands, similar to Ace only difference is she can turn into a dragon as well.]

I was walking behind Ace, smiling as we boarded the Moby Dick. I was officially joining the Whitebeard Pirates. Most people didn't know Ace had a sister. He didn't even know he had a sister until he realized we looked alike. We were twins. The doctor missed that, so when Garp took Ace, that's when my mom Portgas D Rouge gave birth to me. Of course, she died soon afterward, bless her soul. I never really hated my father. In fact, I wanted to be like him. But Ace talked me out of it and talked me into joining the crew.

"Ace? I didn't know you had a twin." A guy with a pompadour hairstyle said, looking at me. I flashed a smile running my hand through my raven hair after removing my hat that was similar to Ace's.

"Yo, I am Anne. Ace's twin sister."

"I didn't know I had one either until I met her. And we can't even deny we aren't related, same mom and dad." Ace said, scratching his face.

"Idiot, duh, if we are twins, we came from the same parents." I

sighed, rubbing my temple, and he flicked my forehead.

"I am older, so respect me."

"Oh, shut up, you are only a few minutes older than me, and I am sure it's because you pushed me out of the way," I said, flicking his forehead back. Whitebeard watched as they bicker, and he only laughed.

"Your sister is hot, Ace."

"Watch it. Ann put some clothes on." Ace said, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Excuse me."

"You are on a ship full of men. Put a shirt on."

"If I have to wear a shirt, you have to wear a shirt. And I just realized we dress the same besides your tattoo says Asce and mine said Anne... and I wear a bikini top."

"I don't have melons. And oh my gosh you are right its scary it's like I am looking at the female version of me." Ace blushed.

"Pervert. And it shouldn't come as a shock and idiot; we are both twins. Of course, you are looking at the female version of you."

"They are way too similar." Several of them mumbled.

"Gurararara, welcome to the family, Ann." I looked up at the giant guy and nodded, tilting my hat.

"Thanks, though, I have to say. I had no intentions of joining, but my air-headed brother managed to talk me into it." I shrugged.

"Oh what did you plan to do?"

"Join Luffy's crew."

"... YOU KNOW MY KID BROTHER LUFFY!?"

"Yeah, I do. Oh crap, he will not be happy I was supposed to meet him at the bar." My eyes widened, and I facepalmed.

"Now that I think about it, though, he said I reminded him of you. Huh, it's a small world." I said, shrugging.

"How can you just wave it off like that?"

"I am hungry."

"I will cook you something, princess. By the way, I am Thatch, the cook." Thatch said, smiling at me, and I smiled back.

"Nice to meet you, Thatch, and thank you."

"I just need to know how big is your appetite."

"Don't treat me differently. I am sure it's no different than Ace's."

"We will run out of food if we have to feed them both." Someone sighed.

"Noted." Thatch said, winking and leaving to go to the kitchen, and I tilted my head.

"He is cute."

"Not a chance." Ace said, crossing his arms.

"Not a chance." I mimicked him crossing my arms back.

"We can fight."

"That would be pointless, you ate the flame fruit, and I ate the Dragon Dragon fruit." I stuck my tongue out, and he huffed.

"Ace, be nice to your sister."

"Marco..." Ace huffed.

"Thank you, Marco," I said, and then a thought popped into my mind.

"Wait, omg. I am the only girl."

"I said that already."

"Where am I going to sleep?" I looked at Whitebeard with wide eyes, and he only chuckled.

"You and Ace can share a room." Me and Ace looked at each other.

"I am the girl and younger you get the floor."

"Hey, it's my room."

"Correction, it's our room," I said smiling, and Ace sighed.

"Ace she is the spitting image of you so how you feel with her is how we feel 98% of the time." Marco grinned in a teasing manner.

"I am that bad?"

"Minus the fact, you fall asleep when eating, yeah."

"I do that too, just saying," I noted, and Ace grinned, holding a hand up to me, and I high-fived him. Ace walked me to our room, and I sat on the bed, and he sat next to me.

"So. There is so much we don't know about each other, and we are twins." Ace said.

"Well, I am like 85% sure we are the same. If it were possible, we would be identical, but I am a girl."

"Do you like meat?"

"It's my favorite. Do you like booze?"

"Of course, what pirate doesn't?"

"We both hate shirts. And wear cowboy hats." I say, and he laughed softly.

"Yeah, promise me something." Ace said.

"What is it?"

"I just met you, and since you are my blood sister, I don't want anything to happen to you. Be careful if I can't protect you."

"Did you forget mom died right after I was born? I was practically raised on my own. I don't need protection."

"Can't a brother worry about his sister?"

"Just like you worry about Luffy?"

"That's a whole new worry. He gets into too much trouble."

"I hate to break it to you. I get into trouble too, just like him. And I am quite hot-headed."

"I feel bad for the crew." Ace shook his head, and I laughed.

"I do, too they have to deal with the two of us together." Ace chuckled and laid down, and I laid beside him, cuddling into his side. He wrapped an arm around me, and I closed my eyes, slowly drifting to sleep. Not long after I drifted to sleep, Thatch walked in, and Ace woke me up.

"Dinner is done." Thatch said, and I sat up, flashing him a charming smile, and he flushed, walking out.

"Quit flirting with my friends Ann."

"Well, I can't help it if he is really cute. And all I did was smile." Ace put me in a headlock, and we ended up wrestling around before I ran to the kitchen, grabbing my plate and eating it. Everyone watched as we ate, slept, and ate again. And I started to steal Ace's food without him noticing, and everyone was snickering. I sat back smiling, rubbing my stomach.

"That was amazing, Thatch."

"Thanks, Ann."

"No, thank you..."

"Hey, where did my meat go? I know I didn't eat it." Ace exclaimed.

"Are you sure? I saw you eating it." Ann hummed, and Ace's sweatdropped, scratching his head. It took everyone in their power not to laugh. I leaned back before I felt a tug on my shirt, and I looked to the side to see a cute boy wearing an old-style outfit that was green.

"Omg, you are so cute. Can I like adopt you????" I exclaimed, squishing him.

"H-Hey... no, you can't. I am an adult." I pulled back and laughed, squishing him again.

"Oh boy..." Ace said.

"Ann please leave Haruta alone."

"Haruta? So cute." Ann exclaimed, and Haruta blushed.

"I forgot what I was going to say..."

"That is okay, hehe." Ann smiled, stretching as she stood up.

"I think I am going to bed now. I am tired."

"You can't. We were planning to throw you a welcoming party."

"Then why cook food?"

"Because you were hungry, and everyone was too." Thatch said, and I yawned again.

"Ahh, fine, I am only staying up for 3 hours, though, and that's it," I say, smiling and leaning against Ace as he leaned against me. Everyone cooed at us.

#one piece #op #ace #portgas d ace #whitebeard pirates #whitebeard #portgas d ace x oc #ace x twin! oc #twins #fluff

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

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Night Changes [Eight]

Summary: 34 ABY.

Warnings: Angst, smut (a large amount of smut!), fluff but it’s sad, I’m sorry this one hurts. WC—+12K

A/N: Wow I can’t wait to get your feedback on this. BUCKLE UP!

34 ABY - Location Unknown - Aboard Star Destroyer ‘Finalizer’

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the resistance on board,” A cold, modulated voice woke Poe from his troubled slumber—his pathetic attempt at rest, considering he was strapped upright, his hands and legs restrained from moving at all.

The First Order goons had been on him for hours before finally giving up, realizing with each slice into his skin or blow into his side that he only grinned wider. He wasn’t going to give up anything, even if they pulled his eyes from his head, and they seemed to understand that and left him alone, he wasn’t sure for how long now. He’d assumed they’d left him to die.

He tilted his head up, his neck protesting at the movement before his eyes landed on the figure across the dark room. The man was tall, covered from head to toe in black, his face covered by a dark helmet. The modulated, amused-sounding voice spoke again when Poe made no reply, “Comfortable?”

“Not really,” He admitted, glaring even though he was curious as to who this new arrival was. He didn’t seem bothered by Poe’s sarcasm.

“I’m impressed,” The First Order man stepped closer to him as he spoke, “No one has been about to get out of you what you did with the map.”

Poe looked where he guessed the man’s eyes would be, “You might want to rethink your technique.” He challenged, his body tensing in preparation for whatever violence it was about to endure.

Only, the man reached up a gloved hand, palm open towards him. For a beat Poe was confused.

For a beat, nothing.

And then the oddest sensation, like a hand dipping beneath his skull and squeezing his brain, and he almost gasped. He let out a small breath, his eyes dropping from the masked man because—he needed to focus, to push this pain away, to prevent...what was he doing to him?

The pain and pressure doubled and Poe slammed his head back into the headrest, unable to hold in his pained groan, his entire body protesting at the invasion. He tried to push at it, but there was nothing he could find to push against, it was invisible, it was nothing.

The man tilted his head, “Where is it?”

Ah, he was trying to get to the map. In Poe’s brain, using a-a something that he’d only ever heard tales about, never seen, thought was long gone. He hadn’t been prepared for this sort of attack, this form of torture that seemed to make his brain want to cooperate, just for relief.

He thought of you, then, and what you said any time there was a close call, an enemy with the upper hand. It spilled out of his lips, automatically, “The Resistance will not be intimidated by you.”

The pressure increased again and fuck, fuck if it didn’t hurt worse than any other pain in his life, the pain of losing Charlie, of losing you, the pain of stab wounds or blasters to the leg. This hurt so much worse and he wanted it to stop but he couldn’t let it—as long as he was in pain, the information was safe. He’d go down burning, he had to!

“Where is it?” The man sounded frustrated, his hand moving closer to Poe as that pressure continued to build and build and he had to swallow it, let it happen, let the pain exist.

He tried something, then, in desperation. Poe let his brain flood with the memories he had of you, each one like a movie, and thrust them toward his interrogator, let him see the most vivid thoughts he had instead of the location of the map.

Poe stared down at you, his eyes threatening to blur with the tears he was shedding, and he had to keep blinking to clear his vision. You looked beautiful, standing before him in a simple lace dress, your lower lip trembling as you gave your vows.

“...and that was how we met, on the day of your mother’s funeral—the woman whose ring I’ll wear now, honouring her. Honoring you. I’ve loved you my whole life, Poe Dameron...”

“Pretty,” The man murmured, and Poe wasn’t sure if it was working or not so he kept thinking of the day he married you, pushing the memories at the man before him.

You were wiping at your tears as he spoke, holding your hands tightly in his own and working hard to keep himself from sobbing through his vows.

“...you and I were never honest with each other like we should have been. We built up our whole lives around each other, and then we lost Charlie,” He paused there, leaving a moment of space for your brother. “And we crumbled, each in our own way because we didn’t have a solid foundation. The truth is, the day Charlie died there were only two ways that could have gone, and we both know that the version where you died, where he didn’t save you, was never really an option. And I was-was angry at him for doing it but angrier at myself for how happy I was that I didn’t lose you. And now we’ve come back to each other and we have that foundation and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for lost time, sweetheart.”

He pushed the memories from his mind. As if eager for the man to see the greatest moments of his life. Like a movie. Because he had to protect the map, he had to.

And he didn’t need to protect you any longer.

The last memory slipped through, he hadn’t meant to think of it. Tried not to, always-but he was weak and the pressure and pain were blinding him. It just appeared, and the man saw it, Poe knew he did when he saw his head tilt a little more as if interested in what he saw.

“Pity,” That cold, modulated voice didn’t sound like he thought it was a pity at all. “Well she certainly can’t have it, can she? Tell me where it is.”

The hand hovering in front of Poe’s face twisted and the pressure on his brain increased rapidly until he couldn’t bear it any longer and he let himself scream, and scream, and scream...

Right before he passed out, he thought first of BB8 hurrying away with the map on Jakku. And then Poe thought of you, his beautiful wife, and how fucking much he already missed you.

Life was now so surreal to Poe, in the best ways, that just the knowledge he could touch you whenever he wished made it difficult to stop himself from doing just that. A hand trailing down your back, a brush of his lips against your temple, his body pressed against yours, even reaching up to cup your cheek. And while you seemed to enjoy the attention, often shooting him little smiles that made his insides warm, he could see that currently, it was irritating you.

“Poe, we’re supposed to be blending in here and if you keep giving me those ‘I’ve seen you naked’ eyes it’s going to attract attention.” You carefully adjusted the scarf you wore, which served both to protect you from the suns of Tatooine, and keep anyone in Mos Espa from being able to identify you.

Poe wore one similar around his neck, his hair gelled back in a way he thought looked awful (and confirmed when he’d stepped out of the ship’s fresher earlier and you laughed, hard). Today’s mission was more personal, though it had been approved by General Organa. Jess Pava had located, purely by accident, the location of the Twi’lek man, Dario, who had tried to capture you and Poe back on Takodana months prior after giving over First Order intel. He was in hiding from both the Resistance and the First Order now.

Poe sighed dramatically, dropping his hands to his sides as you continued walking, his eyes sweeping the crowds of the busy city street, “I can’t help it. We’re still in the honeymoon phase.” He argued, and you giggled in response.

“We’ve been married five weeks, Poe, the honeymoon phase is the entire first year.”

Poe mulled this over, biting back his smile so as not to stand out to those passing by in the opposite direction. He still couldn’t believe you had agreed to marry him if he was honest. It all felt too good to be true, but if there was one thing he’d learned as a Rebel all these years it was to enjoy the good while he could—he wasn’t spending a lot of time ruminating. He was instead regularly replaying in his mind how quickly you’d said yes, the excitement and joy and adoration that had split your face into a wide grin as he kneeled before you the morning after your feelings for one another finally came out.

“Let’s get married, flyboy.” You’d said, and he’s not sure he would ever come down from the high those words provided.

It had been a bit of a whirlwind, after that. You had still needed a few days' rest to get your voice healed up, and Poe was only able to spend that day with you before being called back to duty. While he’d been gone on a mission, you had organized everything from the comfort of his room, first telling only your closest friends—Tahla, Temmin and Kare. Then you had located the base officiant to ask for her to wed you and Poe in a private ceremony upon Poe’s return.

It was amusing how everyone took the news. You’d described to Poe how Temmin and Kare had high-fived one another, while Tahla had merely laughed, nodding his head in an annoyingly knowing way.

When Poe had arrived back on base, he’d sought you out in his room to find you being examined by Tahla and a medical droid, the former happily declaring that your voice was as good as new. He had then congratulated you each on the happy news and assured you both that he could remain for the ceremony with a cheeky sort of grin.

Poe married you the very next morning. The ceremony was small, just you and Poe, your three friends and the officiant. BB8 had also been present, happily beeping the moment Poe began to cry-which was around the time when you’d surprised him by taking your father’s wedding band from his droid and presenting it for Poe. You told him that as much as you were meant to wear his mother’s wedding band, the same went for him wearing your fathers. You said Charlie would have wanted it to end up in his hand, regardless of who he married, anyway. Poe had replied that he was always going to marry you.

That had been, quite easily, the best day of his entire existence.

After the ceremony, Poe had whisked you off to a nearby beach, the flight a mere ten minutes, where you would enjoy a short three-day honeymoon together camping, surrounded by nothing but sand and water, sunshine during the day and the stars twinkling by night. Temmin had helped Poe to pack camping supplies and promised to keep BB8 safe as he and Kare went off with the droid on a mission alone.

He made love to you on that beach—sand got everywhere, of course, so he took you again in the water that you’d entered naked with the intent to clean up. And again in the tent after dinner. He woke in the middle of the first night and spent a good twenty minutes eating you out before you’d woken, your orgasm ripping through you moments later when you realized what he’d been doing. You’d returned the favour the next night, pulling Poe from a deep sleep by sucking his cock so expertly he saw stars, then drinking down everything he’d given you when he came while moaning sinfully.

“Alright,” You drew his attention from his thoughts—thankfully as he was starting to get hard thinking of the honeymoon. Stepping out of the way of foot traffic, you peered nonchalantly across the road at a grubby-looking cantina. “Jess said he’s in there about this time every day. We just have to wait for him to come out.”

“Uh-huh,” Poe stepped closer to you, an eyebrow quirked, “And not shoot him on sight, right Major?”

You bristled immediately, “I am not going to kill him. Here.” You jerked your chin up stubbornly and Poe chuckled, leaning down and capturing your kips against his softly.

When he pulled back, you threw him a mock glare, “You shouldn’t get me all worked up when you know we don’t have the ship to ourselves, Commander.” You made busywork of adjusting your scarf, eyes back on the cantina.

Poe grinned down at you, “We could knock Dario out-“

“Yeah? And what about our dear Captain? You think Snap would mind?”

He blinked, momentarily having forgotten Temmin was waiting on the ship for them, even though Poe had been the one to ask him along as backup.

“Shit,” He mumbled, and you rolled your eyes goodnaturedly.

He let you think he was annoyed at the lack of privacy, but the truth was Poe had asked Temmin along because he had become extraordinarily overprotective of you since the wedding. After the honeymoon, you’d rejoined him in the field and the first moment he saw you with your blaster at your hip, something inside of him had just...snapped.

He’d realized after your attack on Canto Bight that losing you wasn’t an option, that your life was worth more than winning the war to Poe. It had scared him, to think like that, and everything after that had happened in such quick succession that he’d pushed the thoughts back. But then that first mission together as a married couple had occurred and he realized how intense those protective, selfish thoughts were. And he was being selfish—because you were one of the best fighters, best pilots, the Resistance had. Which was why you’d been brought to D’Qar to join his team in the first place, of course. Limiting your fieldwork would have been as much as a disservice to the Rebels as it would have been to his marriage, so he didn’t even consider asking you to stop.

Well, he’d only considered it very briefly.

He knew what you would say, if he did ask, anyway. And truly, his belief in your capabilities hadn't diminished in the slightest; he simply couldn’t fathom the idea of you being hurt. Even here on Tatooine, he was keenly aware of all possible threats to you—to YOU, not to the Rebels, not himself. Hell, at that very moment he could see you were covered in a layer of sweat, courtesy of the over-hot planet, and the urge to whisk you somewhere cool and out of the sun was almost as powerful as his desire to complete this mission.

He was aware that his scales were not, in fact, balanced.

No, they’d tipped right over in your favour, though he kept you unaware of that knowledge, and every day now was a struggle when Black team was on a mission. The best he could think to do was bring back up, just in case, and always keep you close to him. If he had to jump in front of gunfire for you, he would in a heartbeat.

If he ever started to feel guilty over these feelings, he would think of your brother. Charlie would, no doubt, be thrilled that Poe and you had married, that Poe had officially made you his top priority.

D’Qar Five Weeks Ago

“I know I said you didn’t have to help,” Poe crawled towards you on the makeshift bed you’d put together inside the tent, his voice low, “But I’m glad you did, sweetheart. Got us to this part quicker.” He wiggled his brows at you and you giggled, your eyes following his movements hungrily as he climbed over your body.

“What if I tired myself out, flyboy?”

Poe smirked, pressing his body over yours, “That’s okay, sweetheart. I can take care of you, just relax for me.” He began to kiss a trail up your neck and along your jaw, lifting one hand to gently coax you to settle into the cushions. You allowed your warm body to go limp, signalling a trust in Poe he still had trouble feeling worthy of, and let out a small sigh of content.

He wasted no time in ridding you of your clothing, immediately devouring newly exposed skin with his mouth as he did. He was marvelling over how much his life had changed in the last week, how incandescently happy he was. When a whimper fell from your lips as he circled his tongue over one of your nipples, he drew back and saw your eyes blown wide with lust.

“You’re such a tease.” You mumbled, reaching down to palm his erection over his khakis. Grinning widely, he leaned away and quickly stripped himself before bringing his body to settle over yours again, this time skin to skin. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close.

“Oh sweet girl,” He murmured into your ear as he reached between your bodies to run two fingers through your slick, “So wet for me already.” He withdrew his hand and gently rocked his hips forward, moving slowly as he sunk into you, a gasp falling from his lips at the sensation of your tight heat clenching around him. Perfect, you were utterly perfect.

Your back arched slightly as Poe filled you, angling to allow him to sink deeper, “Poe, Stars!” You whimpered, your hands sinking into his curls while he lazily worked his hips, drawing sweet little noises from your lips. It wasn’t the first time you’d made love that day, yet the intense desire you felt for one another was clear, heavy in the air around you, drawing you back to each other as nothing else could.

Being with you like this felt too good to be true, the sort of euphoria that must come with a limit, and so he savoured every second, drawing each thrust out as long as he could as he peppered your pretty face with kisses. “I love you...wife.” He joked, and you giggled beneath him, your legs tightening at his waist.

“I love you too, husband.”

You pressed at his chest then, signalling your desire to flip over, and Poe clutched your hips as he rolled, keeping himself buried within you as he laid on his back. When you relaxed atop him, his cock sunk even deeper and he grunted at the sensation, “Fuck, baby, so tight for me.”

With a moan, you started to move, rolling your hips to keep him deep within you and chasing your own pleasure, hands braced on his chest to hold yourself steady. Watching as you rode him, your breasts jiggling temptingly and skin gleaming with sweat, was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. He never wanted to leave this beach.

“That’s it, sweet thing, bounce on my cock,” He gritted out, lifting his arms and grabbing at your tits, “Be as loud as you need, baby, no one can hear us out here, fuck.” His head dropped back onto the pillows as a wave of pleasure seemed to roll through your body, the resulting tightening around his cock pulling loud grunts from him and threatening to make him cum.

You started a steady stream of moans then, your pace remaining consistent as you whimpered and cursed, the hands on his chest pressing hard enough that he could tell you were attempting to prevent him from taking over; you wanted to be in control. The realization made his cock twitch, and you seemed to sense his thoughts as you glanced down and bit your lip, meeting his gaze.

“Poe, I’m so close,” You sighed, and he let go of one of your hips to rub his thumb over your clit, circling just how he knew you liked it, how he’d learned over the past few days.

The resulting orgasm rocked your entire body before you seized up and he swore your pussy was gripping him almost too hard, and then he was coming too. It was different, in a good way—he wasn’t moving his hips at all, yet you were milking his cock as you came around him, your hips still moving back and forth, and the surprise of it made Poe come even harder, “Oh stars, sweetheart!” He grunted, his entire body twitching until you finally collapsed and he caught you, holding you close while you both panted heavily.

“Poe?” You whispered, your face nuzzled into his neck.

Poe’s arms tightened around you and he kissed your hair, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m starving. No more sex, please feed me.”

Laughing, Poe lifted you lightly, each of you groaning at the sensation as he slipped from you and your mixture of fluids spilled out onto his thigh.

“Okay, sweet girl, let’s eat.”

It went without saying that you would enjoy one another for dessert.

You perked up suddenly, eyes still on the cantina, and Poe casually glanced over his shoulder. Spotting Dario ambling out of the door, he felt a lick of heat crawl up his spine; that asshole had pointed a blaster at you. He was going to turn you both over to the First Order, who would have tortured and killed you. Maybe Poe should have been more concerned that he would kill Dario, rather than arrest the motherfu-

“Let’s go.” You grabbed Poe’s arm and tugged, starting forward as Dario turned to walk up the road. Considering the Twi’lek was in hiding, he didn’t exactly hasten to return to the comfort and safety of his temporary home. It was easy to catch him up, and you tossed Poe a delighted little smile before surreptitiously unholstering your blaster and pressing into Dario’s back.

Dario made to turn, a small noise of surprise huffing out, but Poe threw an arm around his shoulder before he could see you and smiled. “Dario, dear friend, it’s good to see you.” He tightened his hold to an uncomfortable pressure.

“Ah, fuck.” Dario grumbled, putting up no fight. His eyes widened when you used your free hand to search him for weapons and pulled out his old blaster, tucking it into your waistband.

“Fuck is right,” You hissed, pressing the blaster a little harder into his back, “You’re coming with us, Dario. The Resistance has questions for you.”

Poe smiled at you proudly as you each led Dario through the streets towards the waiting ship. He saw you biting back your smile—you were much better at acting appropriate in the field than he was, though he had to admire his strength; the urge to kill Dario on sight had almost made him see red.

But that would have made the mission a failure, as Dario could have information the Rebels could use, and getting him out of the reach of the First Order ensured that he could not give them information about the Resistance.

Still, Poe would ensure his capture was far from comfortable.

Poe’s hand had found its way to your lower back, where he pressed it gently as you walked along beside him from your post-mission check in with the General. “You didn’t need to punch Dario the second time, Flyboy.” You teased, the memory of Poe punching the traitor before pushing him into the base’s lock-up making your lips tug up at the corners.

He laughed, shrugging as you weaved through the busy hallways, both nodding polite greetings to those you passed. Everyone referred to you as Major Dameron, now that word had spread through the base these past six weeks that Poe Dameron and (y/n) Horn had been married. You knew for certain you’d never been happier in your life, and based on how Poe could barely keep his hands off of you, he was enjoying life just as much.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just tag along for your check-up?”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at your husband with mild exasperation, “Poe, it’s an annual,” You reminded him, stopping in your tracks to step close to him and peer up at his handsome face, “Go work on your mission report and I’ll see you in the room later, alright?”

When he merely grinned at you mischievously, you giggled before sliding your hands up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips first, something you noticed he did a lot, as though he were testing that he was still allowed to kiss you. He then cupped your jaw in his hands and met you again, this time in the sort of kiss that made your knees shake, his tongue tracing along your lips teasingly before he pulled back and pressed a more chaste peck to your forehead.

“See you later, sweetheart.” He murmured, his tone suggesting your evening would be a long continuation of that kiss. You felt very warm when you smiled up at Poe before spinning and walking down the hall to the med bay, fully aware his eyes were on your ass.

The med bay was fairly quiet when you arrived, the nurse at the main desk seemed to be peering off at nothing, lost in thought. You cleared your throat awkwardly and she started before a polite smile appeared and she rolled her eyes at herself.

“Sorry about that,” She said, and you waved your hand to show there was no need, “What can I help you with?”

“I have an annual, Major H-um, Major Dameron.”

The nurse smiled more broadly and winked at you before standing, “Come with me, dear.” She led you through to the back, past the emergency section and into the further depths where offices and operating rooms were located. She gestured for you to enter a doorway you had plenty of times before, where annual checkups and post-mission physicals were done. “The medical droid will start on your readings after you change into your gown and the Healer will be here shortly.”

You thanked the nurse before she left, then walked over to the bed and plucked the gown from where it was folded. You changed out of your clothing quickly before tugging it on, then hopped onto the bed to wait. When the droid came in moments later, you stuck out your arm and let it begin its work taking your blood pressure, a small sample of blood, examining your eyes and ears, everything all so routine you were as zoned out as the nurse had been when you arrived.

A younger female Healer walked in as the droid took your temperature, smiling warmly. “Good afternoon, Major. I’m Healer Boyd.”

“Nice to meet you, Healer Boyd,” You replied, watching as she looked down at the droids readings displayed now on her tablet. All was quiet for a few minutes until the droid was at the implant in your arm performing the routine scan. The droid beeped after the first scan, then scanned again and this caught your attention as you’d never needed multiple scans to get a reading on the birth control implant.

Healer Boyd glanced up from her tablet and walked over to the droid, “Let’s do that once more, please.” She directed, and the droid repeated the scan once more, then beeped indignantly. Her eyes narrowed fractionally in confusion and she stepped up to you, her hand reaching for your arm, “I’m just going to have a feel, seems the implant isn’t giving a reading—which I have seen before; we might switch it out today.”

Her fingers gently prodded around the skin until she pinched up a small section of your upper arm and the droid attempted the scan again. The Healer hummed when the droid beeped indignantly, and then walked over to a supply cabinet and began riffling around.

“I thought these implants lasted longer before needing to be changed out?”

“Usually, yes, but sometimes the implant does have to get exchanged earlier, it’s not an exact science,” She turned and settled onto a stool next to you, offering you a smile, “But that’s why we do the scans. And of course, the implant still does its job while it’s in your arm. I’m just going to ask you to lie down for me while I do the switch...that’s great thank you.”

You closed your eyes once you were laying on your side, grateful the procedure was painless but not interested in seeing it for yourself. The Healer worked quietly while extracting the implant and you had begun to mull over how they even worked, your medical knowledge in the area fairly basic, when she made a sudden noise of surprise.

You glanced up at her, then followed her startled gaze to the implant held in the extraction prongs. Even you could tell it looked wrong like the tiny medical device had been set on fire, no longer sleek but rather mangled and lifeless.

Healer Boyd stared at the device for a few beats, then looked up at you. “I’m going to have to make a call.”

You waited impatiently for half an hour for Healer Boyd to return, no longer laying on the bed but instead pacing around the small room nervously. You seriously hoped you weren’t about to find out you had some sort of disease or illness, because that seemed like the sort of luck you would have. Though you hadn’t ever heard of any that disintegrated medical devices.

When the Healer did finally reappear, the expression on her face was tightly pleasant, like she was readying herself. “Major, I’ve just been in touch with Healer Martell and his team,” She began, gesturing for you to take a seat.

Tahla had gone back to the outpost he worked from the day after your wedding. So why he was the one Healer Boyd had called only further confused you. “Okay, why...” You trailed off, swallowing heavily.

“I believe you were told that the pollen you and Commander Dameron were exposed to during your mission earlier this year was very rare. So rare in fact that some after-effects are unknown,” She glanced at her droid, which moved forward and began to bandage up your arm where the implant had been removed from, first peeling off the gauze that had been placed there temporarily. You watched with narrowed eyes—they still needed to put in a new one. “And we haven’t ever had a situation where those who were exposed were left untreated for as long as you and your husband were. I ran a few tests on the device while I spoke to Healer Martell. It appears the long-term exposure allowed the pollen to...treat the device as white blood cells would a foreign contaminant.”

You stared, “The pollen destroyed the implant?”

“Yes,” She replied slowly, taking her stool and sitting on it directly in front of you now, “Of course, checking the implant was never a thought-we’ve simply never seen this before. Your implant hasn’t been working since around the time you and the Commander collapsed on base.”

You didn’t understand why she was sitting so close, nor why the droid had left your arm bandaged. “But I can get a new implant, right? Tahla assured me-assured us both, that we no longer have pollen in our systems.” You tried to keep your voice steady, unsure of what emotion you were even experiencing at the moment, just that you could feel it bubbling up inside of you.

“He was correct, you both are free of the pollen. And we can put a new implant in, however not at this time,” And she reached out then, her hand grasping one of yours firmly, “You’re pregnant, Major. Based on today’s check-up, it appears you are about six weeks along.”

Well, fuck.

The first thing Poe noticed when you walked into the room was the bandage on your arm. He’d been sitting at the desk, typing out his report, when you arrived, your expression unreadable.

“Sweetheart,” He shot out of the chair and crossed the room in two strides, one hand landing on your cheek and the other gesturing at your arm, “Did a med droid malfunction?”

You laughed, “No, I’m alright,” Your voice was an octave higher than usual, and your eyes were glassy, not meeting his but instead looking somewhere over his shoulder. “Do you think Charlie would be proud of me? Of how far I’ve come, that I hold the same rank as he did?”

Caught off guard by the question, Poe glanced behind him and found you were staring at the picture of the three of you he had on his corkboard. “Yes, of course, he would,” Concern now flooding him, Poe led you to the bed and helped you take a seat. You still didn’t meet his eyes, your expression torn. “Charlie was proud of you before you even joined the Resistance. Once you did join—hell, he bragged about you all the time.”

“And you? You’re proud of me?”

Poe stared at you for a beat before dropping to his knees in front of where you sat. Sliding between your legs, he gripped your thighs tightly, “What’s going on? Did you get pulled from duty? Are you sick?”

You shook your head, then dropped it to Poe’s shoulder where he could hear you taking slow, measured breaths. “They didn’t pull me. But they suggested different duties.” Poe wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tight, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pushing you back so that he could look at you again. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking to his and then away. Poe waited as patiently as he could for you to elaborate. “They said—it might be best for me to keep away from the riskier missions. From combat. Because of my condition.”

Poe frowned, his stomach tying itself up in knots of concern, “Condition?”

He saw it then, a brief flash of the emotion you were holding back—joy. It was fleeting like you were scared of it, but it made the whole odd conversation you were now having with him make a little more sense, made your next words a little less shocking.

“I’m pregnant, Poe. My implant was destroyed by the pollen before we...” You trailed off, rubbing your hands over your face and then meeting his gaze again, “They said about six weeks along, so still early which is why I haven’t had any symptoms.”

Poe had lived his life since joining the Resistance with the knowledge that each day that he didn’t get hurt, captured, or killed, was a day to celebrate. After Charlie had died, and you had left, he realized that a single moment could alter his entire existence. One night could change everything, and he only had so much control.

You coming back into his life, that had been a gift. After forgiving one another for the past, you had a chance for a fresh start. And he’d been happy with that, just knowing you were his friend again and that you cared for him--it was enough.

But then you’d told him you loved him. And it had been like every moment, every breath he’d ever taken, had been leading up to that night-as right as it felt, that feeling of coming home, joining his body with yours. Finally saying everything he’d held in for so long, that was as good as life could get. It was perfection, and he had no right to demand more—until he did, and he asked you to marry him, and you’d said yes so quickly and smiled so widely that he remembers, distinctly, thinking to himself, ‘yes, this is enough.’

Pregnant.

The reality of having a child when you were soldiers in the war against the tyranny of the First Order, weighed heavily over the good news. But his first emotions, which hit him like a tsunami, were of radiant joy, the best kind of tears springing into his eyes as he gazed at you, his beautiful wife, his best friend, his soulmate, in wonder. Because surely, even though it was unexpected, life could not be this good? He wanted to ask you to pinch him, just to prove he wasn’t asleep and dreaming up this life with you, but he found words hard to come by, so he smiled broadly.

You had been watching him warily, but the moment his face split into a painfully wide grin, your own broke through and for a minute you just looked at one another, soaking up that happy, astonishing feeling.

“Sweet girl,” He breathed after a while, tears still blurring his vision, “Maker I—pregnant? Are you...how do you feel?”

“Physically, normal? I don’t know about the rest of me, I think I’m in shock.”

Poe reached one hand up to cup your jaw, stroking his thumb over your lips, “Have you...did you, uh,” He paused, wanting to word this right. He knew he didn’t need to ask you but was determined to treat you with the respect you deserved. It was your body, your choice, and the reality was you had that implant for a reason—he could not just assume your willingness, he had to be sure, to let you know he supported any decision you made. “I will support you here, no matter what you want to do, alright sweetheart? I know this is...this is huge.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his and Poe saw a flurry of emotions cross your features as you considered the implication of his words. “Thank you,” You reached up and placed your hand over the one he had cupping your jaw, “This is huge...and unexpected, and fucking terrifying. I’ve thought about us starting a family, you know—one day. But this is, Maker, Poe, this is our baby. Ours.” You brought both hands cradle over your stomach, a mixture of protectiveness and happiness colouring your words.

The sight of your hands pressed where you were growing his child, the way you spoke so strongly, it did something to Poe. Like it was the final piece of his life, slotting into place and completing him, his chest expanding from the force of it all. He suddenly felt stronger, wiser—and more in love with you than ever, if that was even possible.

He reached out somewhat tentatively, placing a hand over the top of yours where it rested on your so far unchanged stomach, his eyes moving upward until he met your gaze. You drew in a breath at the expression on his face, your eyes widening.

“Ours,” He repeated, his voice low and thick with emotion, “Our family.” He leaned forward then, and captured your lips in a soft kiss, losing himself in the moment. You kissed him back eagerly, your eyes on his lips when he eventually drew back.

“I realize what this means—what keeping the baby will mean,” You admitted sadly, “Even without the Healer’s recommendation, I understand I can’t go into the field any longer. You and I were already blurring the lines of protocol to keep each other safe.”

Poe nodded in agreement, his hand tightening slightly at your stomach, “You are sacrificing a lot to do this, sweetheart. Please know that I understand and I’ll do anything I can to make sure you’re happy. I’ll talk to Leia in the morning, ensure we get you a good assignment here.” He felt a little helpless, now, realizing that you had nine months of pregnancy to endure and he could only do so much to help you.

“We’re going to figure this out,” You spoke almost as much to yourself as to Poe, your brows pinching together, “Family comes first, always. So we’ll figure this all out. Together.”

Outwardly, Poe nodded and smiled at you encouragingly. Inside, however, a spark illuminated the stark reality--that he was currently sitting with the love of his life, who was pregnant with his child, in the secret base for the Resistance.

Arguably one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy.

34 ABY - D’Qar

Five months pregnant.

Shit, you were exhausted.

It had been another long day. You wanted to blame the baby for draining your energy, but you knew that it wasn’t realistic—you were more mentally exhausted than anything.

Anytime Poe was away for more than a few days at a time, your anxiety spiked and you had trouble focusing on much else. You had surprised yourself, when you first found out you were pregnant, over how quickly the resolve to pull yourself from combat and flight had come over you. You didn’t even miss flying because Poe would bring you out for ‘test flights’ whenever he could get the time, give you a chance to stretch your wings, figuratively, and break any monotony in your schedule.

But you didn’t find your new job boring, because you worked directly for General Organa. You advised and planned and aided her on the daily, in whatever capacity needed, which sometimes allowed you to get a glimpse of the kind of horrors the First Order was performing across the galaxy and it only fueled your internal fire to work hard-not just for her, but for everyone. For the oppressed, those captured, those who had been lost, and especially for your little family. If you could bring this baby safely into the galaxy and give them a good home, then it was easily worth the long hours.

But you worried constantly over Poe. He was out there with Temmin and Kare on dangerous missions; you could do nothing to calm your nerves, and it drained you. Sometimes there were several days between communications and you would inevitably begin to spiral, convincing yourself he was captured or dead, always waiting for the dream that was being married to your best friend to turn into a nightmare.

His missions lately had been especially dangerous, as Black team had been finalizing the search for pieces of a map that lead to Luke Skywalker, Leia’s brother. The infamous Jedi went missing after a tragic event no one knew the details of. Even Leia kept that one close, and you never tried to ask. She simply told you that it felt necessary to bring Luke back, not only because he was her brother but to fight the First Order. That was enough for you—if you could bring your brother back, you would stop at nothing to do it.

When you reached the door to your shared room with Poe, your eyes fell heavily shut, relying on your memory of the space to shuffle forward, contemplating if you could manage a shower while this tired or if you should just go straight to bed. You were convincing yourself to shower when an amused voice cut through the air, startling you.

“Are you sleepwalking, sweet girl?”

Your eyes snapped open to find Poe sitting on the edge of the bed, his flight suit discarded on the floor nearby so that he only wore his briefs and a white tee.

“Poe!” You gasped, launching yourself across the room and into his waiting arms. “Stars, you’re home! I thought you’d be gone longer.” He pulled you onto his lap as you spoke, settling you against him and wrapping his arms securely around you before burying his face into your neck. He inhaled you deeply, a new habit he’d established since you’d left Black team as if grounding himself with you.

His breath was warm against your skin when he spoke, “We were able to wrap things up quickly,” He tightened his hold on you with one arm so that he could reach between your bodies with the other and gently place his hand over the slight belly you now had. “How are you two doing? You look so tired, sweetheart.” His tone was laced with worry that you knew you wouldn’t be able to fully quell.

“We’re doing good, Poe, really. Remember what Healer Boyd said—“

Poe sighed, his lips tugging up at the corners, “It’s exhausting work, growing a human?”

You nodded and gave him your best grin, though you imagined it was more sleepy than anything. You studied your husband, from the worry in his face to the bags under his own eyes, the tension in his jaw.

You had sensed there was something he wasn’t saying for a while now but hadn’t figured out how to ask him what was going on. You had no real reason to suspect he was keeping anything from you, it was more of a feeling, and you didn’t want to cause him further stress by accusing him of anything without a better idea of whether you were right.

You usually ended up convincing yourself it was just the weariness and nerves of becoming a parent, a feeling you shared. With how unexpected your pregnancy had been, and the fact that he was off-world more often than not, he must have been feeling a great amount of guilt and concern. So you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, to distract yourself from everything. To welcome him home and show him you were just fine, that you missed him.

Every time he came home from a mission, the reunions ended up like this—it was like the relief only lasted so long, therefore you each needed to try and extend that feeling by getting yourselves as close to one another as possible. Skin to skin, bodies entwined, the assurance that you were safe and loved. Your hormones were such that even just a casual look from your husband ensured you became slick with need, and it was as though Poe was experiencing his own version of the same, meeting your insatiable desire with his own at every turn.

You loved the feel of him stretching you, tonight you’d barely been able to get out of your pants before he was pulling you back onto his lap and driving into you, the need to feel one another outweighing the parts that usually preceded; foreplay, clothing removal. You were already soaking and ready for him, rolling your hips as he scooted further onto the bed so that he could brace himself to thrust upward. When he found that angle, the one that made you see stars, you let yourself scream; for him, for more, for everything.

Poe delivered, never faltering in his need to ensure you reached your peak over and over, as though he couldn’t feel pleasure unless you did. You’d never known such an unselfish lover as Poe, and it made you love him even more. Even if sometimes, you thought you might combust from the way he pleasured you, or the way he spoke when making love to you.

The reality was, you and Poe had only just begun to explore one another fully when you found out you were expecting. Newlyweds, your relationship still fresh, and then you were with child—his child—and you discovered he wasn’t only passion and sweetness and slow lovemaking, he was also commanding, cocky, and you loved it when that side of him came out.

When you’d started to show—your belly bulging slightly and your breast swelling, that part of Poe seemed to evolve, as though the sight of you swollen with his child was the sexiest thing he could ever imagine. And as you pulled your shirt over your head now, you saw that glint in his eye, the way his pupils blew out as he gazed at you, how he bit his lip before letting out a groan that you swore was the single most erotic sound in the galaxy.

“Like what you see?” You teased, running a hand down your body to rest on your bump, your hips still rolling.

Poe growled, his grip on your hips tightening, “Fuck, you are sexy,” He leaned forward and licked over your breasts as he pounded up into you and you whimpered. “Think about you t-the whole time, when I’m gone, sweet girl.”

“I know, Poe, I miss you too. Think about you when I touch myself-”

Poe’s half-lidded eyes widened, and he was suddenly flipping you carefully onto your back on the bed, his breathing erratic, “Is that true, baby? You touch that pretty cunt while I’m g-gone, wish I was here filling you with my cum?”

He started to rut his hips down at a near brutal pace and you cried out in pleasure, unable to find the words to respond. He didn’t like your silence—commanding, dominating Poe now in full force, and he leaned down to bite a mark into your neck, a snarl tearing from his throat.

He needed to hear you admit it.

“W-wish you could fuck me all the time,” You whispered, your voice cracking as he fucked you into the bed, “Isn’t nearly as—oh shit, Poe I’m gonna-“

Your back arched as the pleasure that had been building up inside of you finally snapped--that hot, wet sensation wiped all coherent thought from your mind, stars painting the inside of your eyelids. You heard yourself repeating his name as you soaked the bed with your orgasm, your walls fluttering and clenching around his cock until-

“Oh sweet girl,” He groaned, his hips stilling as he pressed deep into you and spilled his cum, his body shaking from the force of his orgasm; you clutched him close. He didn’t allow any of his weight to fall over you, pulling out slowly before flopping down onto the bed next to you and tugging you into his side. “You okay? Did I got too hard?”

You were panting, completely blissed-out, and it took a moment for his words to register, “Oh, I’m more than okay, flyboy.” Giggling, you rolled onto your side and peered up at Poe, meeting his warm eyes and smiling. “How about you, are you okay?”

You didn’t mean for the level of concern to show in your voice, but it slipped out and he caught on to it immediately, his eyes never leaving yours as he seemed to consider your question.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke, “I’ll be honest with you, sweetheart, I worry about you...things are—they’re getting intense out there. Leaving you here doesn't feel as much like I’m keeping you safe as it once did. If this base is ever discovered, the First Order will make its destruction top priority. They won’t hesitate to kill every single person on this planet.”

His voice was heavy, the words coming out easily enough that you knew he’d been thinking this for a long time. He sat up, sitting crossed-legged on the bed and staring across the room at nothing, and you felt a sense of dread begin to grow at the back of your mind. You suspected you might be closing in on what he’d been keeping from you, and suddenly felt afraid to know.

“Poe, we have a lot of things in place here to keep us safe. There are escape plans.”

Still looking across the room, Poe gave a small nod of his head, “But none can guarantee your safety. I know you worry about me when I’m gone—well I’m fucking terrified for you, too. And I—I...” He stopped talking, his mouth snapping shut as if he had to physically fight to keep the words in and you frowned, watching him.

You sat up, moving slowly and then reaching down to push the comforter off the bed—it would need to be laundered. You had a few extras for this exact reason. Poe was silent as you moved, his eyes staring unseeingly across the room.

“Poe,” You reached out one hand and touched his shoulder, keeping your voice level despite the nerves coiling in your stomach, “Just say...tell me what you’re thinking.”

Silence.

“Poe Dameron, look at me.” You commanded, and his eyes shot up to meet yours, widening in surprise at the fierce expression on your face.

“I—I’ve got another mission,” He began shakily, a hand coming up to rest over yours on his shoulder, “And it’s big. It’ll just be me and a lot could go wrong, and I can’t stand the idea of leaving you here, that you would stay here if something happened to me.”

You opened your mouth to argue that nothing would happen to him, that, of course, you would stay, only he turned suddenly and brought both hands to cup your jaw, the look of fear on his face like nothing you’d ever seen; you’re Poe didn’t scare, he laughed in the face of fear.

“Sweetheart, I’d be letting you down, letting Charlie down, if I failed to protect you. To protect our baby,” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and you didn't like how it felt like he was saying something in that kiss. “I spoke to Leia, a few weeks ago. I asked her...begged her to help me keep you safe.”

Your frown deepened, “I work alongside her every day, Poe, I probably have the safest job in the entire Resistance.”

He shook his head, “What I mean is, I asked her where the safest place would be to hide you until this war is over.” Poe was looking at you cautiously now, and you leaned back to assess his face.

His words confused you. You stammered your reply uncertainly, “Hide me? What do you mean—I’m not going-”

Poe’s face tightened, tears now threatening and his voice came out choked, “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to, sweet girl. I have to keep you safe, and the truth is if I do get captured and the enemy finds out about you, about both of you, I wouldn’t be able to do that,” Poe dropped one hand to press over your belly, the gesture both sweet and protective. Your ears were ringing, though, and you didn’t have time to appreciate it. “I don’t want to send you away, you know it’s the last thing I’d ever want, but if you go somewhere safe, then I-“

“You can what, Poe? Fight the First Order all on your own? You do realize what you’re saying, right? We both know how this war is going, it could be years before it’s over. Years before...and what if you get caught and they find out where I am? Then what?” You felt your anger and despair growing by the moment, no doubt exacerbated by the flush of hormones coursing through your system.

Poe’s eyes flicked away from yours briefly, and he gulped almost comically before looking back at you and continuing, “Well, Leia thought of that. She seems to think that...our minds aren’t always going to be safe, that the First Order has a weapon that could break through...so she knows where she is going to send you, but I won’t know. No one else will.”

You stared at your husband for a very long, tense moment.

“B-but if you don’t know where I am-“

Poe blinked and several tears began to stream down his face, “It’s the best way, the only way, to do this. And I promise I’ll fight every day to stay alive and then I’ll find you.” He tried to pull you close again only you resisted, pushing his hands away so that you could give him your harshest glare, which he flinched under the heat of.

“What if, Maker forbid, something happens to Leia? I could be anywhere, in any system on any planet, and you’d have no way to find me, you-“ Your voice started to raise, an almost hysterical surge of emotions bubbling up your chest, “It could be years before the war is over and then a decade before you’d be able to find me! That-that’s bullshit, Poe. You’re going to abandon us on some fucking random planet and we could never see you again!”

You were crying now too, the tears blurring your vision as you shouted, refusing to accept this plan. But the sad way he looked at you as he cried told you Poe was serious, that he saw this as the only way forward, and you wanted to fucking scream.

“Sweet girl, I will never abandon you. I love you so much that even if they do somehow capture me, I won’t ever break, I’ll keep fighting and then if I have to tear this entire galaxy apart, I’ll find you. I promise I will find you,” He wiped harshly at his face, then grabbed your hands and held them tightly in his own, his expression desperate, “I want to meet our baby and watch them grow. I want to give them a sibling or two, even, and grow old together. Leia has everything figured out--she’s even going to have my dad flown here; he can go with you, so you won’t be alone.”

You wrenched your hands from Poe’s and shot off the bed, your eyes widening in betrayal, “Leia has everything figured out?” You repeated, and you saw the realization of what his words had revealed flash across his face, “You-when exactly did you think I was going to get shipped off, Poe?”

He didn’t answer, and you thought back to the beginning of this conversation when he’d claimed to have a big mission in a few days. You gaped at him as the realization hit that he was here for the next several days to get you ready to leave.

To say goodbye.

You burst into tears, heavy sobs pulling from your chest because there was no arguing this, was there? If you didn’t go, he could be out there too worried about you to be focused and then it would be your fault, wouldn’t it? And he was right, this base, even if you were glued to Leia twenty-four-seven, was still a hot zone for attack should its location ever be revealed to the First Order.

And did you truly expect to raise your baby on this base? There wasn’t even any space in this room you shared with Poe for a fucking crib, no places you could go to play, no other children for your child to play with. You had known all this the moment you’d found out you were pregnant, but now the reality of it all was crashing down around you because you’d never thought it would mean having to leave Poe. Again.

Another thought occurred to you, and you ignored the way he was trying to soothe you, now sitting on the edge of the bed but keeping his distance, his expression making clear he wanted to pull you back into his arms.

“What if I don’t want any of that?”

Poe tilted his head, confused, “What do you mean?”

“What if I told you I was staying, that I would have the baby and then you could go get shipped off somewhere safe with them, that I wanted to be the one to stay and fight?”

Poe gaped at you only for a beat, “You said—sweetheart, I asked you if you wanted this and you said you did, I thought that meant you wanted to stay with the baby, that you were okay with leaving the fight. I never wanted you to feel forced to do it!”

“I know,” You agreed evenly, your voice hardening, “But I didn’t know that it meant I was going to be fucking shipped away, Poe!”

You saw him falter then, his entire argument crumbling and he slumped where he sat on the edge of the bed, his head falling into his hands, “You’re right...I’m so sorry, of course, I can’t just expect you to...Fuck.” His shoulders shook as he tried to bite back his sobs, and for a moment you stared down at him, his words doing nothing to calm you.

Because he wasn’t wrong. Sure, it was a misstep for him to just assume as the mother that you would be the one to go away and raise the baby, it was old-school thinking. But you were aware of who you married, weren’t you?

He was the best pilot in the Resistance, the strongest fighter, the best of the best. If anyone was going to win this war, it would be your Poe—and while you used to think it would include you being at his side, fighting right along with him, that was no longer the reality. You couldn’t pull the best chance the Rebels had from the fight, and you couldn’t stay and fight yourself.

Which meant you had to leave.

You stepped forward and knelt before Poe, your hands tentatively touching his thighs and he started, his head popping up, “Oh sweetheart, don’t crouch down like that-“

“I’m fine,” You interjected, sliding between his knees and reaching up to cup his face, mirroring the way he’d embraced you so many times before, “And you...you’re right. I’m sorry for—well, I hate how you’ve just sprung this on me, but I know I can’t stay here and raise our baby like this.”

Poe searched your face and you wiped your thumbs under his eyes to clear away the tears, even as the reality of what you were agreeing to settled within you. He shook his head lightly, “I didn’t know how to do this. It’s the last thing...we only just found each other again, the idea of not knowing where you are, not being able to check-in, it terrifies me, sweetheart.”

You sniffled, nodding your head, “You aren’t going to be there when I...” You trailed off, the picture in your head of giving birth without Poe by your side too hard to say aloud. He understood, pulling you close against him as he dropped to the floor, hugging you tightly as you both sobbed.

“I’m so sorry,” He murmured, one hand stroking your hair, “I promise I will find you the moment I can, and I’ll never leave your side again.”

You couldn’t help but think, at that moment, that you had been right.

The dream really was a nightmare.

35 ABY - Aboard The Falcon - Sinta Glacier Colony

Poe looked up as a distant noise sounded, peering around Chewbacca to see a wall of Tie-fighters approaching where they were docked in the Falcon. He shared a terrified look with the Wookie.

“FINN! We’re about to be cooked!” He shouted back, hoping that the transmission of the message from their unknown spy in the First Order was nearly complete-they needed to get going.

“We’re almost there!” Finn hollered back, his voice cutting off as he ran to check R2D2, and after a tense moment...“We’ve got it, Poe!”

Poe didn’t hesitate, meeting Chewie’s eyes briefly before launching the Falcon forward and away from the informant, the knowledge heavy in his mind that there was a good chance Ovissian Boolio was going to be murdered for giving them the message. But there was nothing to be done for it now; this message was of vital importance to the Resistance, they needed to get it back to base.

The Falcon raced through the bay as fighters gained on their rear. Poe had no doubt that Finn was hurrying to the shooter station, but maintained the high speed and steered as carefully as he could. They hit a corner a little close and there was a shudder throughout the ship as it made contact.

Chewie exclaimed worriedly at this, “I’m sorry, I know, I know!” Poe apologized, frantically readjusting as they heard Finn begin to fire from below. He could see a lot of bogeys on the radar still, “Finn, you’re supposed to be getting rid of those things!”

He heard Finn make a noise before he shouted back, “Got one!”

“How many are left?” Poe swivelled in his seat and started making adjustments to the ship's systems, an idea forming in his mind. Not his best, but definitely not his worst.

“Too many!” Came the response from below. Shit.

The next few moments were incredibly tense as they worked together to outmaneuver the enemies on their tail until each one crashed or was shot down by Finn. Adrenaline was running high aboard the Falcon now as the near-death moments started to pile atop one another. Mission success was currently not guaranteed. Your image appeared in his mind briefly, the memory of the last time he had seen you, the love in your eyes.

He swallowed, swerving the ship up and seeing another wall of fighters ahead, “How thick do you think that ice is?” He asked Chewie, who made a loud noise in caution but Poe only gunned it forward, until relief swept through him—they were able to break through, free of the station and in open space now.

There were still fighters in pursuit, though, so they weren’t in the clear yet. Poe gritted his teeth, briefly glancing over his shoulder to see Finn standing behind him, before bringing the ship into light speed. When he pulled back out, most of the ships had managed to follow and after a bit of complicated flying, he put the Falcon back into light speed as Finn shouted in fear from behind him.

“What are you doing?” Finn cried, gripping the back of his seat. Poe fiddled with the controls, fully aware he was pushing the ship to its limits but not willing to go down without exhausting every last effort to survive.

“Light speed skipping,” He grunted in reply, reaching up to set his parameters with one eye on the fighters still in pursuit.

“How do you know how to do that?”

Poe hit the throttle forward, throwing the ship back out of light speed, “My wife.” He replied, leaning forward and steering around the onslaught of obstacles in their direct path, simultaneously readying the ship to jump again. He heard Finn begin to react to the knowledge the Poe had been married, surprise evident in his friend’s tone, but Chewbacca’s words of caution were louder and Poe glared at him instead, “Yeah, well Rey’s not here, is she?”

He gunned it into light speed, then almost as quickly pulled them back out. His stomach was in his throat as a very large, very alive obstacle was now dead ahead, and Poe silently thanked you for having taught him about light speed jumping before readying the ship to jump again.

“Last jump,” He yelled, leaning forward, “Maybe forever-hold on!”

When they landed the Falcon back on Ajan Kloss, Poe was furious beyond all measure. It wasn’t just that he’d nearly died, again. Almost cost the lives of his friends, again. It was that Rey hadn’t been there, and she was one of the best pilots he’d ever met. She was almost as good as him, nearly as good as you had been. He was heartbroken that you weren’t there to fight anymore—but Rey was and yet she chose to stay on base and train when her joining them on a mission like this would have been a much-needed boost, a much greater chance at survival.

They hurried off the Falcon and Poe lingered momentarily to instruct the ground team, “It’s on fire! Whole things on fire!” Maker, he was getting tired of these close calls. He’d been through a lot—survived a great deal, over this last year, but today was close enough that he had felt the hands of death creeping toward him, momentarily.

When he turned away from the burning ship, Rey was approaching, her face excited despite the condition of the Falcon. He marched over to her with his face straining, attempting to keep his cool.

“Hi! There’s a spy?” She asked brightly, her gaze surveying his stiff posture.

Poe huffed, “Really could have used your help out there.” He admitted, unable to keep the vitriol entirely out of his tone.

Rey frowned, then attempted to change the subject. “How’d it go?”

Poe stopped before her, hands landing on his hips, anger flaring, “Really bad, actually. Really bad.”

“Hans ship!” She exclaimed then, gazing over at the burning Falcon and gesturing in dismay.

Before he could reply, BB8 came whizzing up to Poe, beeping excitedly in greeting. At first, he was happy to see the orange and white droid, until he looked down and realized it was pretty beat up. He glared up at Rey, “What did you do to the droid?”

“What’d you do to the Falcon?” She countered stubbornly, her arms crossing.

“Falcon’s in a lot better shape than he is, Rey!” He exclaimed, gesturing at BB8 incredulously. This was why he found her difficult-here she was, safely on base ‘training’, with the one task of minding his droid. And not only did she fail at that, but she also dared to get angry at him for getting Finn and Chewie, the intel, and himself back safely to base.

��BB8 is not on fire, Poe!”

“What’s left of him isn’t on fire!” He shouted, knowing full well that this was about more than his droid and yet struggling to see past his rage and form a proper sentence in Basic.

Rey seemed to sense his anger and took a breath, steadying herself, “Tell me what happened.”

“You tell me first, Rey.” He deadpanned, scowling.

Rey glared straight back at him, holding up her hands in frustration, “You know what you are—you’re difficult. A difficult, stubborn man.”

“You—you are-” Poe cut himself off as he heard Finn call for Rey from behind him, and instead stepped around her to drop before his droid, shaking his head. “You okay, buddy?”

BB8 beeped merrily, sharing with Poe what had happened that afternoon but cutting off to ask if he was alright. Poe sighed, running his hands over his face, but nodded to his droid.

“I’m alright. Just thinking about her a lot today,” He admitted quietly, “Now what happened to you?”

Before BB8 could reply, Chewbacca yelled to Rey and Poe heard his name mentioned before she was walking toward him again, this time with Finn in tow. “You light speed skipped?”

“Yeah, well it got us back here, didn’t it?” He shot back, his hackles raising again. Finn caught Poe’s eye, his expression bright with curiosity—he wanted to know more about you, no doubt.

“You can’t light speed skip the Falcon!” Rey cried in exasperation, her eyes wide and for one moment, Poe wanted to scream. He’d come this close to dying today and had managed to get them all home safely, even if it did mean the Falcon needed a lot of repairs. She couldn’t just thank him, maybe?

His voice was rough when he replied, “Turns out you can, actually.”

Rey’s eyebrows shot up, “How do you even know-“

Finn interjected this time, “Turns out our friend here hasn’t been completely honest with us, eh, Poe?” He grinned, glancing from Rey to Poe, then winked, attempting to diffuse the tension.

With a sigh, Poe frowned before responding. Stepping closer to his friends, he kept his voice low. “That information stays between us, and Chewie, Finn.” He’d mentioned you in the heat of the moment and wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about you. But he’d spent an awfully long time holding back his truth from Rey and Finn and it was starting to feel wrong.

“What information?” Rey looked between them, confused.

When Poe looked at her, he hesitated, his gaze hardening while he considered what he was about to tell her. He trusted Rey, and Finn for that matter, but he’d chosen to keep quiet about you all this time for a reason, and it was hard to break down those walls and talk about you. He’d built them up to protect himself, to keep his pain and sorrow buried down deep.

Poe pointed between them both, his jaw set, “Between us!” He growled, giving them both a harsh look.

Finn clapped Poe on the shoulder, eyes serious, “Of course it does, man. Between us.” He agreed, and Rey nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Poe hesitated for another moment, and then finally confessed.

“I’m married. You uh...you know about my best friend, Charlie...” Poe began and Rey’s expression became understanding while Finn merely gaped, his brows knitting together now in confusion.

“Charlie died,” Rey whispered sadly, recalling the conversation they’d shared a few months prior after Han had died and they were discussing loss. “And didn’t you say...you told us his sister died too—Maker, Poe-!”

Finn gasped, his face morphing in horror, “Brother, you aren’t saying your wife is d-“

Poe couldn’t even stand to hear the words, so he cut Finn off with a rough shake of his head, peering around to ensure no one overheard. “No, that’s just what Leia and I let everyone believe, who knew her. She’s alive.”

Finn’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, but Rey kept frowning at Poe, her expression uncertain. “Why did people need to think she was dead? She was one of the best fighters we had, wasn’t she? If she’s alive, can’t she come back?”

Poe shook his head, the emotions he’d held in this past year threatening to spill, and he had to pull in a few breaths to focus. He wanted his friends to understand why he kept fighting, why living and winning were so fucking important.

“I had to send her away, not long before I met you, actually, Finn,” Poe smiled at him, “I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen or heard from her since I said goodbye, back on D’Qar. I had to ensure she was safe, even if I got captured. And no one could get her location out of me if I didn’t know it. So she’s out there, somewhere, and one day I’m going to ask both of you to come with me to meet her.”

He wiped aggressively at his face, hating the tears that spilled, and waited for their replies. At first, they were both quiet, regarding Poe with dawning comprehension, suddenly understanding exactly what he was saying.

Finn was the first to speak, his voice laced with sadness, “You haven’t seen her for over a year?”

Poe shook his head, and Rey reached out and touched his shoulder gently, her eyes softening, “You said you had to send her away...what does that mean, Poe?”

He gazed down at his feet for a moment, and when he looked up he guessed he must not have kept the emotion off of his face, as each of his friends looked at him in surprise, stilling entirely as they waited for him to reply.

“There wasn’t anything in this galaxy that could ever stop her from fighting. She was my second in command, and would still be to this day, only she-” He thought of you then, how you had long since delivered the baby, wondered how that had been for you, whether you’d recovered well. He knew his dad would be doing everything to keep you both comfortable and safe until Poe could come for you all. His heart still ached. “It’s a long story, I guess. But she got pregnant, and we both realized she couldn’t stay on D’Qar—which was the right call, because look what happened there. Leia smuggled her somewhere far away and didn’t tell me a single detail.”

Rey had brought a hand to cover her mouth in shock, while Finn’s grip on his shoulder had tightened substantially. They both stared at Poe, their expressions a mixture of sadness and joy that he felt every day.

“Poe, man, that’s incredible,” Finn breathed, shaking his head slowly, “You have...a family, you have-“

Poe cut him off with a small smile, “I’ve got a wife and a baby out there somewhere. They’re waiting for me to finish this fight and find them.”

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bring-the-storm · 3 years ago

Link

Rated: T

Word Count: 1833

written for @mlcorefour appreciation week

After accidentally panicking and telling basically the whole world that she's dating a member of the hero team, Ladybug must someone to fake-date her, and fast. Of course Carapace suggests the obvious solution: she can just date his girlfriend for a few weeks. As the plan dissolves into chaos, the four learn what it means to be the heart of a team, while also getting into more shenanigans than humanly possible along the way.

---

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Those were the first words to tumble from Chat Noir’s lips, his smile too overeager, too happy to be genuine.

“I didn't-”

“Girl, you have GOT to be kidding me,” Rena Rouge interrupted, whirling on her the second her feet touched the rooftop. “I thought we were friends!?! Who is it? Pegasus? Viperion?”

“I thought he was dating Ryuko,” Carapace jumped in.

“I’m not-” Ladybug opened her mouth to explain, only to be interrupted. She couldn’t really blame Alya (who only had fifteen Ladynoir pinterest boards and showed them off to anyone who so much as mentioned the superhero duo).

“Oh, right,” Rena Rouge nodded. “Otherwise she totally would’ve been my next guess.” The fox heroine turned to her desperately. “Please don’t tell me it’s Tigresse. I’ve been working on my Tigerella fanfic for months.”

“Guys, can you calm down for-”

“King Monkey, maybe?” Carapace guessed as Chat plopped down on the edge of the building, failing at not looking miserable. “He doesn’t really seem like he’s her type, but you never know.”

Rena Rogue cut her off again. “I swear, if it’s Vesperia and I didn’t see it coming…” The heroine buried her face in her hands. “Ladybug you better explain. I don’t know what to do with my life anymore!”

Instantly, three sets of eyes locked on her, begging for clarification. Ladybug took a deep breath.

“Guys, I’m not dating anyone.”

“But you said-” Rena protested.

“I know and I’m sorry!” she cried, trying not to look at Chat as her face heated. Not that it meant anything. Obviously. “The reporters kept asking all these questions and I just wanted to get out of there and it slipped out.”

It was hard to miss the flash of relief in Chat’s eyes.

“So, let me get this straight,” Carapace said, staring at her incredulously. “Your grand plan to get out of a stressful press conference was to tell everyone in Paris on live television that you’re dating someone on our team?”

It sounded a lot worse when he said it out loud.

“I panicked,” Ladybug admitted with a wince.

Carapace breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, at least you can just admit that and everything will go back to normal.”

Rena Rouge and Chat Noir glanced at each other knowingly and almost simultaneously burst into giggles, as if he had said something hilarious.

“That doesn’t sound like a good sign,” Ladybug swung her yo-yo in an anxious circle.

“Trust me when I say it will not work out like that,” Chat Noir smirked somewhat bitterly in the light of the setting sun.

Rena waved her hand across the sky as if she could already read the headlines written on the clouds. “Shocking Reveal - Ladybug Tells All.”

“I could just tell them the truth,” she tried to protest.

“Heroes Attempt to Cover up the Truth,” Alya finished, stopping the yo-yo’s frantic circle with her flute.

Ladybug groaned, wanting to kick something, preferably Hawkmoth’s stupid face.

“And of course it's right around the anniversary,” Chat Noir reminded her.

“Uh, no it’s not,” Carapace glanced at her partner like he was crazy.

And he kinda was. She distinctly remembered a picnic with a certain kitty on the rooftops near where she ‘fell from heaven’ as they watched a parade of small children stream by, wearing Stoneheart cosplay only a few months ago.

“Not that anniversary,” Chat Noir deflated a little. “I was talking about Oblivio.”

Her brain screeched to a halt.

“This just keeps getting better and better,” she groaned.

Carapace and Rena exchanged a glance. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“After a certain Ladyblogger posted a photo of me and Chat,” she locked her gaze on Rena, relishing the moment a little too much. “Some of the fans seem to have gotten it into their heads that Kitty and I are destined to get together on that day.

“Generally involving a week full of frustrated Ladynoir-shipping akumas,” Chat jumped in. “And one exhausted and pointedly not together bug and cat.”

Ladybug giggled. “Okay, you have to admit, some of them are kinda funny.”

The cat hero snorted. “I wouldn’t call Aphrodite funny.”

“What about the fanfic style one?” she nudged his knee playfully, trying to see if banter would help cheer him up. “You have to admit, throwing mugs at the akuma during the coffee shop AU was the best.”

A hint of a real smirk flickered across her partner’s lips.

“You called me sweet when you dumped all that sugar in my hair,” she reminded him.

“It was an accident!” he protested with a grin.

“Yeah, right,” Ladybug crossed her arms. “You were supposed to throw it at him. You totally did it on purpose!”

Chat clutched his chest, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. “I can’t believe you would have such little faith in me, m’lady!!”

Both of them somehow missed the knowing glance their best friends shot each other.

All their weapons buzzed simultaneously, doubtlessly with an update from the news. Chat Noir flicked open his baton and sighed, showing the headline to the rest of them.

“Which of Our Heroes is Ladybug’s Boyfriend?”

Her partner scrolled through the article, grumbling under his breath.

Carapace raised his eyebrows under his hood. “Bold of them to assume you don't have a girlfriend.”

“I wish I could say that it’s bold of them to assume I’m dating anyone at all,” she sighed. “But I kinda started this so I guess I can’t blame them.”

“THAT’S IT!” Rena Rouge leapt to her feet, nearly knocking her boyfriend’s shell over the edge of the roof.

“What?” Ladybug glanced at her comrades to check if they had the slightest idea of what was going on.

“You told the press that you’re dating one of us on the hero team, right?” the fox heroine asked excitedly.

“Yes?” Ladybug answered hesitantly. “You were there too.”

“Not the point,” her friend waved the comment off. “The only solution that doesn’t end in even more akuma attacks is fairly obvious.”

The other three glanced at each other to see if they had gotten it.

“COME ON GUYS,” Alya sighed. “Ladybug just has to pretend to be dating one of us for a few weeks. Think about it. They go out on a few dates, cue general excitement from Paris about the first official hero couple, tragically break up after a few weeks and everything goes back to normal.”

Ladybug shrugged. “I guess it could work.”

“Why does this sound way too similar to the basic plot for any fake dating fanfic?” Chat Noir hissed in the nearby turtle hero’s ear.

Or hood by where his ear should be.

“Probably because that's exactly what it is,” Carapace whispered back.

Rena smirked.

“And I happy to know of an available cat who would be happy to take-”

Her triumphant Ladynoir wingwoman grin fell from her face as the duo shook their heads in unison.

“Bad idea,” Chat Noir admitted. “I don’t want to think about the worldwide catastrophe that could occur after out ‘breakup.’”

“It would be like last Valentine’s day, but infinitely worse,” Ladybug jumped in, wincing at the memory of yet another love akuma that nearly burned Paris to the ground in its mission to make its OTP kiss.

Not that kissing Chat was such a bad thing. He was kinda good-

She cut off that mental track before it could get anywhere.

“Well, who else are you going to fake-date?” Alya asked. “I mean, I would totally be up for the job, but…”

She gestured at her boyfriend.

Carapace’s silence spoke for itself.

“Uh, babe?” Rena nudged him with her boot.

“Yeah?” he said with a grin.

“You can’t actually be considering this.”

“Why not?” he shrugged. “It’s not like anyone in Paris will know any better.”

“Hawkmoth could target me!” Alya pointed out. “He knows where I live!”

Carapace shrugged. “I mean, he could do that anyway.”

“Still, this could…” her voice trailed off. “Uh- why you aren’t fighting me on this.”

The turtle hero shrugged. “I guess I don’t see a problem with it, dudette. As long as both you and Ladybug are cool with it, then I’m not going to stop you.”

“You’re supposed to be my voice of reason!” Rena Rouge stared at him like he had just admitted to secretly being Chloé’s BFF. “Are you secretly a sentimonster or something?”

Nino raised his hands innocently. “I’m just trying to be a supportive boyfriend and help you reach your dreams.”

“By handing me off to the first bug who wants to date me?”

Carapace fell back dramatically. “Babe, did you see Ladybug today,” he cried in an impression of his girlfriend's voice. “The way she stuck that landing and then she winked at me and I swear I died. No offense babe, but if Ladybug ever asked me out, I would break up with you in an instant.”

Rena turned bright red.

Ladybug giggled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You’re cool with this?” Rena spun on her.

“I mean, if Carapace is,” she smirked. “Sounds like it's the closest to a realistic relationship I’m going to get.”

Rena Rouge buried her head in her hands. “Hold on. I need to go scream on a rooftop.”

“Take all the time you need, babe,” Carapace called after her.

Ladybug smirked, grabbing her hand and kissing it like Chat would sometimes do for her (which totally didn’t leave her in a stuttering mess afterwards. Obviously.). “Yeah, babe. Take all the time you need.”

Rena Rouge turned red and fled.

“Whoops,” Ladybug turned back to Carapace with a sheepish grin on her face. “Too much?”

“Just because you’re fake dating my girlfriend doesn’t mean you can steal her,” Carapace nodded. “Don’t worry. She’ll be back in a few minutes and fully on board with this.”

“I should go and talk to her,” Ladybug said as she bit her lip nervously. She waved to Chat in a TOTALLY NORMAL WAY as she leapt over the rooftops.

***

The ribbons on her pigtails fluttered in the evening wind as Chat Noir watched her vault over the rooftop after her possible future fake-girlfriend.

Carapace whistled. “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

Adrien’s face heated as he punched the turtle hero's arm. “Shut up.”

“Have you considered telling her that, you know, you still love her?”

Chat Noir laughed bitterly. “And watch her heart rip in half as she tells me yet again that we could never be more than friends? No thanks.” He glanced away. “I’d rather give up my miraculous.”

The sounds of the city that echoed off the rooftops awkwardly filled the void between them.

Finally, Chat Noir asked. “So, wait, are we actually doing this?”

Carapace nodded. “We’re superheroes. It’s our duty to protect Paris. If the only way for us to do that is for my girlfriend to pretend-date yours, then it’s a sacrifice we have to make.”

#mlcore4 #miraculous #miraculous fanfic #chat noir #rena rouge #Ladybug #carapace #*waves nervously* hi how are you guys doing

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chaseatinydream · 4 years ago

Text

pirate king (22) (org.) || atz

trigger warnings: gunshots, blood, injury, whipping

You freeze.

Every muscle in your body goes taut, a cold shiver running down your spine. The arm around your waist is firm, strong and from the almost unbreakable grip he has on you, he doesn’t intend on letting you go any soon.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” The man behind you purrs, his breath ghosting over the sensitive shell of your ear. A squeak escapes you as the barrel of the musket digs into your temple. You might be terrified to the point of near unconsciousness, but part of your mind registers that this isn’t the same lieutenant that you had seen yesterday. “The rest of you, show yourselves.”

Your heart sinks in your chest as the rest of your crew come into sight.

Most of them are tied up in groups with rope, their heads hanging low as Navy soldiers kick and push them out of the cargo hold, where they had been hidden from sight. So that was why the ship had been so strangely silent when you and Wooyoung had returned to the Treasure.

They had been captured.

“Hello, hello, hello, my two dear pirates.” The man behind you locks one arm around your neck, dragging you up the gangplank with him and you choke, your fingers scrabbling fruitlessly against his arm. His well polished boots click smartly on the deck of the Treasure as he addresses all of the pirates on board. “Now, we’re finally all here together. I’ve been waiting for this the whole night.”

There’s poison in his voice, sweet as honey and as dangerous as snake venom. You don’t dare to struggle against him for fear of being shot point blank in the head, but his hold on you is making you panic and he’s crushing your windpipe, making every breath an arduous effort.

Before you, you see Jongho on the ground, arms in heavy iron shackles used only for slaves, beaten and bloodied black and blue by the Navy soldiers. Your eyes widen in horror at the sight of him. Glancing around more desperately, you try to spot your master, Yunho, Yeosang, the captain.

“Ahh, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m head of port investigation, Leon Bastiville. I heard two of you had a fun trip to the governor’s last night.” The officer behind you yanks your head back by the hair and you let out a muffled whimper, tears trailing down your cheeks as he twists the musket playfully against your temple. “Did you enjoy yourselves? I heard one of you got shot by my men… Was it you, sweet one?”

Every alarm, every warning bell, every danger alert you have in your instinct is screaming in your head at full volume, telling you to get the hell away from this man and put an entire ocean between the two of you, but you’re too terrified to move an inch. Something seems off about him, as if you can feel the sheer madness radiating from him like some sort of black miasma. You’re scared. You don’t want to die.

Leon suddenly rams the musket against your temple hard enough to bruise and your face snaps to the side from the force, fresh tears springing from your eyes at the pain. “Answer me!”

“Yes…” You choke out, voice trembling beyond your control. Behind you, Wooyoung snarls and yanks against his bonds, but his two guards are too strong for him to do anything.

“Since you replied so nicely, let me tell you what you missed last night.” The officer sighs, stroking your hair gently. You’re so used to the same action being done to you by San and Wooyoung, but this man’s touch feels corrosive against you and you try your best to flinch away from him.

“Stay still.” Leon’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper, silken and dark. “I don’t want my finger to slip.”

Terror, cold as frost, spreads through your entire body. You can’t move.

“While the two of you were off causing your little commotion back there at the official’s building,” The officer drawls, playfully resting his chin on your shoulder as he addresses the crew, “one of my men ran back to the harbor to report it to me. My colleague that saw to you yesterday, Yoongi, was already suspicious of you. He smelled gunpowder on your ship, but your little de facto captain told us that you hadn’t been fired on.”

Every movement he makes, you can feel.

“So when I heard about the events of last night, I decided to check the ship out for myself.” His cheeks press against yours when he smiles. “And lo and behold, what did I find? The Pirate King himself, with his one green eye and his Treasure.”

Something cold wraps around your throat.

It was your fault.

You remember everything. The book, the guards, the delay because of your injury.

Captain.

“Bring him out.” Leon clicks his tongue and you see your captain shoved forward, head bowed and hands bound in front of him. Part of you desperately wants to run to the man who named you, to insist he never incline his head to someone he doesn’t respect, but you are completely powerless now. He looks so small, so defeated that you want to cry. Your captain’s head is bowed, and it’s all your fault.

“So, I wonder what you were trying to achieve by coming to Nassau.” The officer sighs, rolling the question on his tongue. Captain simply remains silent, not saying a word as he averts his eyes to the deck. You can feel Leon’s mood darkening at your captain’s refusal to speak.

“Bring me the cat.”

Cat? Why would this officer call for a cat, of all things?

Your question is answered when a young soldier steps forward, holding a thin, dark shape in his hand. Dread fills you when you realise what it is.

“I hope you can bear the claws of a cat o’ nine tails, milord.” Leon smiles, looking rather amused. Disgust and loathing rises in you at how sick in the mind this man is. He jerks a thumb at your captain. “Flog him till he talks.”

Your heart drops in your chest.

“Or stops moving.”

Your head jerks up before you can stop it.

No.

The members of the crew have similar reactions, all of them screaming some protest or another, but they are quickly silenced by their guards with some sort of blow or slap. Yunho gets backhanded so hard across the face that he collapses to the ground, blood trickling from his mouth. You see Yeosang at your right, face pale as a sheet and tears silently streaming down his cheeks.

Before your eyes, your captain is stripped of his shirt. He doesn’t make a sound, only stares forward, and you can feel the irritation pricking at Leon’s skin when he doesn’t react the way he wants him to.

An officer raises a whip to your captain’s bare back and brings it down.

You flinch at the sight and your eyes close instinctively against it, you can’t bear to watch. You hear the whistling of the cat o’ nine tails as it comes down against your captain’s back, the sharp stinging sound it makes against his skin, the soft cry it tears from Yeosang’s mouth. Then the sound repeats, again and again and again, till you lose count and tears rolls down your cheeks, your chest heaving with silent sobs.

Leon’s hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing your eyes open. “Watch, or your captain dies.”

You’re weeping openly now. Hongjoong’s back is a mutilated, bloody mess of raw flesh and shredded skin, crimson streaming from several open wounds. Your captain is on his knees, face pressed against the floor, body trembling. You can’t even begin to imagine what absolute agony he must be in, your musket wound was nothing compared to this. But your captain remains silent, teeth gritted against the torment brought on with each swing of the whip.

He doesn’t make a sound.

Why? Why doesn’t he try to fight back? Why isn’t he trying to escape?

The whip comes down.

A muffled scream leaves your captain’s mouth, it tears at your heart like claws.

The whip comes down.

You can barely see any untouched skin, your captain’s back is nothing more than a raw, bloody piece of flesh.

The whip comes down.

Your captain’s arms give out from under him, and he collapses to the ground, choking from trying to gasp for air and stifle the cries that fight to leave his mouth at the same time.

“Not willing to talk, huh?” Leon breathes, but you can hear the barely restrained fury in his voice. He must not be used to having people resist him like this. The musket digs deeper into your temple, but honestly you don’t care anymore, at this point, you’d rather he just shoot you and spare you the pain of watching your captain get flogged. “Should we move on to another victim?”

The officer’s eyes search the trembling crew for his next victim, but a soft groan from your captain stops him.

“Are you tired already?” Leon turns back in shock, only to see Hongjoong forcing himself back into a kneeling position, arms shaking against the pain as he looks at the Naval officer with a chuckle. “Maybe you’re not training your men hard enough.”

You want to slap your captain for the sheer stupidity of his words. His back is completely torn and ravaged, and if they continue whipping him they’ll be cutting into raw flesh or worse, his spine. And even if he does survive the whipping, the size of this wound is so huge that there’s no way it’ll be able to heal without him getting some sort of major infection.

If the whipping doesn’t kill him, the infection will.

What is your captain doing?

The young guard administering the lashes looks every bit as uncomfortable as you feel, glancing at his superior officer in worry. “Sir, I’ve already administered fifty lashes, but he might die if I continue-”

“Carry on.” Leon spits, voice rising in vindictive glee. But before the young guard can protest or carry out his orders, the officer pauses. “Wait.”

Silence drags across the deck as the commanding officer seems to be contemplating something. Then he turns to look at you, in his arms.

A terrifying smile looms on his face and for a second, your heart stops beating.

Leon turns back to address your captain.

“If you’re not willing to talk when being whipped…” He pauses for a short moment, glancing over at your captain. “... I wonder if your tongue will loosen if I do it to one of your crew, then?”

The question sinks in.

“No!” You hear San, Yeosang and Wooyoung scream simultaneously at once, but you can’t register the words that Leon has just said. They’re going to whip you, probably flog you to death, just to get captain to talk...

Your eyes meet your captain’s, blood roaring through your ears. And ever since the whipping started, your captain looks afraid.

“No-” Hongjoong begins to say, but then Leon’s fingers are at the front of your shirt, pulling at the clasp.

Your eyes fly wide in realisation. Your bindings!

This may seem like the worst time to think about this, but you can’t have your gender revealed now. Not when the rest of the crew already had begun to trust you so deeply as one of their own, not when Wooyoung had confessed to you the some of the deepest, darkest secrets of his heart.

Uncaring of the gun at your head, you flail and thrash against him, to no avail.

Leon growls, fury vibrating through him. “Stop struggling!” With that, he shoves you to the ground, the sound of cloth tearing filling the air as you crash to the deck next to your captain.

There’s a sudden silence as everyone takes you in. You can see every emotion in Hongjoong’s green eye, shock, pain, realisation, then betrayal.

“A woman…” Leon steps over to you, sheer wonderment and interest in his voice. You don’t like where this is going. He yanks you to your feet by the hair and you scream in pain as every nerve ending on your head floods you with a sharp agony. The smile on his face is something you’ll see in nightmares for days to come. “She’s coming back with us. I hope you’re pure for sale, my sweet, but I suppose that may be difficult when you’re on the same ship as so many men.”

Terror swallows you whole.

He wants to sell you as a-

Hongjoong lunges to his feet faster than you can blink. You gasp at the sight of your captain, who’s somehow standing despite the fact that he should be physically in too much pain to do so. His green eye is burning with fire, an uncontrollable fire that ravages everything in its path and burns the world around it to cinders.

The look in his eyes alone lets you understand why he was named the Pirate King. Nobody could ever match the sheer determination and will that burns in his very soul, a roaring blaze that even the ocean cannot put out.

For a moment, he’s as blinding as the sun.

“Wooyoung!” Hongjoong shouts, and immediately the head gunner bursts into action, his ropes falling from his wrists as he tosses three smoke bombs you know were hidden in his shirt to the ground. The deck explodes into a smoky mixture of ash, fine sand and ground glass that San had concocted a long time ago, sending the Navy officers into a panic as they scatter, eyes watering from the blinding powder. The crew of the Treasure, already long familiar with this ever since Yeosang started experimenting with these smoke bombs, turn away from the wind and keep their eyes and noses shut tight against it.

Wooyoung takes this opportunity to use a knife hidden in his boot to cut through the bonds of Jongho and Yunho, who roar into battle like two furious lions. You watch as Jongho tears the sword of a officer off him with his bare hands, before picking the unfortunate man up and tossing him into the sea mercilessly, before smashing through anyone in his way like a one man battering ram.

Yunho rips a spear from the hands of a younger soldier, kicking him to the side before tearing through the deck, freeing as many of his crew mates as possible, all of who join in the fight, armed or not.

In a single second, the tides have shifted.

Leon hisses in rage as the battle happens before him, dragging you back with him as he moves towards the gangplank. The gun has long left your head, Leon using it to sweep the area for any potential intruders.

“You’re coming with me.” He growls, yanking you back. You try to fight back, but he simply smacks you so hard that you feel like you’ve been knocked silly for a moment, head swimming as you try to get your bearings. “I need to call for reinforcements, so-”

Hongjoong raises a short piece of rope with two knots done on it. For some reason, you immediately know what it is, the power thrumming through it too immense to be that of any human.

“Pulling the first knot could yield a gentle, southeasterly wind, while pulling two could generate a strong northerly wind, but the third knot would unleash a hurricane. Hongjoong-hyung has one of these, but he’s used the first knot already.”

But you’re already on the gangplank, and if Hongjoong pulls the second knot now, you’ll be left at the harbor alone, never to see them again. Your eyes meet your captain’s, and for a second, you see them falter.

Suddenly, he flies out of nowhere, lunging for your captor. Leon snarls and tries to kick him away, but then he raises a short knife and buries it in Leon’s arm. The man holding you stumbles back onto the gangplank, falling onto the ground and your saviour takes your hand.

“Let’s go!” He shouts, yanking you with him as the two of you sprint for the ship. Seeing this, Hongjoong raises a hand to undo the second knot on the rope.

You glance back, only to see your captor’s face twisted into one of hatred, the loaded musket pointed straight at your backs.

Hongjoong pulls free the second knot on the rope.

The hand holding yours yanks you in front of him and into his chest, shielding you with himself.

The sound of successive gunshots fill the air.

You feel his body jerk once. Twice. Thrice.

The wind picks up in speed, and all of a sudden the Treasure is speeding away from Nassau, leaving the port island a mere speck in the distance.

“Chin... Hae…” You hear him gasp out through ragged breaths. His chest is heaving against you. You can’t breathe. You can’t think.

Like an insect trapped in amber, you watch, frozen in time, as the arms holding you close slacken, falling from your shoulders. Then he crumples to his knees, crashing to the ground, and that is when you see the blood pouring from three different holes in his back.

Your mouth opens in a scream of his name.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #jongho #wooyoung #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; fanfiction #w; pirate king

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bedlamsbard · 4 years ago

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Part 13 of the other side AU concept! I am going to eventually pull these apart into parts one (Devil’s in the Details) and two (Carry the Fire) and do edits/rewrites to the extent they meet my standards for going up on AO3 as chaptered, titled fics, but I don’t currently have the mental and emotional energy for that. (Have you...met January 2021?) In the meantime here are my in-progress playlists, if there’s interest: Devil’s in the Details and Carry the Fire.

About 5.8K below the break.

Zeb got up to keep watch, since he had the best ears of the group; Kanan took his place on the tree root and Ezra leaned back to keep his head tipped against Kanan’s knee, barely able to comprehend that single point of connection. Kanan’s presence radiated through the Force with startling solidity, as if after years of shadows someone had suddenly turned on a light in a dark room. Ezra had to fight back his urge to roll around in that strength like an overjoyed Loth-cat in a patch of sunlight.

“I don’t know exactly what happened when the Chimaera went down,” he said eventually. He hesitated, not wanting to get into the fact that at the time he had still been locked in his cell. He didn’t think he could get away without telling them that at all, but he didn’t want to lead off with it if he could help it. “I wasn’t up in the bridge – Thrawn and Pellaeon didn’t really want me near anything important. What I heard later was that the Vong tricked the Scylla and the Charybdis – they’re the only other ships left in the Seventh – into leaving the Chimaera, and once the cruisers were out of reach they hit the Chimaera with everything they had. Their ships aren’t like ours,” he added slowly. “They’re living things, for one – I have no idea how that works. They’re not shielded, but they’ve got some kind of – of miniature black holes that move around on their ships, swallowing up most shots before they can get through at all. Dovin basals, that’s what they call them. TIE pilots don’t know how to deal with them – ship gunners either, for that matter. I don’t know how they work; the Chimaera’s scientists were trying to figure it out.”

He glanced over at Sabine in time to see her eyebrows snap together, obviously trying to work it out for herself without even having seen one. She still had the piece of broken beskar in her hand, like she couldn’t comprehend what had happened to it.

“The Chimaera had already taken a lot of damage by the time the Vong started boarding,” Ezra went on slowly. “Zafira – that’s the death trooper captain – let me out around then, but I was never on the bridge or anything. I guess Thrawn had the idea that the Vong ships might not be able to survive in atmosphere since they’re alive and they live in space, so he started bringing the Chimaera down into the planet’s atmosphere.”

Sabine whistled softly. “Did it work?”

Ezra shrugged. “You saw the Chimaera.” He was quiet for a moment, remembering the desperate battle in the narrow corridors of the star destroyers – lights flickering as power was cut off, then restored, emergency notifications about hull breaches still blaring out absurdly over the sound of blasterfire and Vong war cries. He would have given his right hand for his lightsaber.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and went on, “Thrawn sent Pellaeon and some of the other bridge crew to the auxiliary bridge so that they weren’t in the same place. I know they were arguing about it – I think Pellaeon wanted to evacuate and Thrawn still thought he could win.”

“Zeb and Chop and I searched the bridge,” Sabine said. “There wasn’t much of it left. We had to get into the communications room computers.”

Ezra nodded. “Yeah. I was with the death troopers – we ran into Pellaeon on his way down to the auxiliary bridge and stayed with him. The Vong took Thrawn, the rest of the bridge crew, others – there’s no accurate count on how many died and how many the Vong took captive.” He resisted the urge to say that as far as he was concerned, the Vong were welcome to keep Thrawn; with his luck they’d team up and that was the last thing he wanted or needed. “No one was in the auxiliary bridge when the bridge went; by the time we got there it was too late to pull the Chimaera up. Pellaeon ordered the evacuation then; the Vong were already pulling out. I guess they got what they wanted. By then the Scylla had come back; Charybdis was still trading punches with the Vong out in space.”

He pulled his legs up and rested his chin on his knees. He didn’t think he would ever forget the sight of the Chimaera crashing, which he had seen from one of the evacuating gunships. The shock wave when the star destroyer had struck the ground had tossed the gunships around with toys; two of them had crashed into each other and exploded. Even the Scylla, making a reckless atmospheric approach in an attempt to save as many of the Chimaera’s crewmembers as it could, had been thrown aside. Ezra never wanted to give Imperial any more credit than necessary, but the fact that Commander Kisujo had kept the Scylla from crashing was probably a minor miracle, especially given how much damage the cruiser had already sustained.

“Pellaeon went back afterwards to look for survivors,” Ezra said eventually. “There weren’t any. There were Vong hunting parties all over the place, though, seeding their blasted worldshaping plants.”

Hera stirred. “Those are the plants all over the Chimaera? We thought the ship must have been there for years until we got into the computers.”

Ezra nodded. “This planet is already pretty close to what they like in a world –” He gestured at the jungle that sat heavy and waiting all around them, “– but I guess they do it as a matter of course whenever they’re grounded for a while. Change the chemical composition of the atmosphere, the groundwater, destroy anything that looks like technology, enslave the natives – I don’t think this place has any, though.”

“So what are you doing out here?” Zeb asked over his shoulder.

“Looking for the Vong,” Ezra said. He rubbed his aching shoulder, where a Vong warrior had slammed him into a bulkhead on the Chimaera, and which had gotten further banged up when the shock wave from the Chimaera’s crash had tossed them his gunship around like confetti. Getting thrown into that tree hadn’t helped it either, nor did it help that it was the same shoulder he had been shot in six years ago. “Pellaeon thought he’d send someone who actually had a chance at making it back. And who he didn’t mind losing,” he added sourly. “TIE patrols spotted the Vong camp out this way – or the one who made it back said so, anyway. Pellaeon wants Thrawn back for some reason. And the rest of the crew, I guess. Even if they’re Imps they don’t deserve what the Vong will do to them.”

He fell silent, thinking about some of the holos he had seen of Vong-controlled planets the Chimaera had found. He had only been allowed groundside on one of those occasions, when Thrawn had decided he wanted to see what a Force-user would make of it, and he’d wanted to claw his own skin off within minutes of touching down.

“This isn’t the invasion fleet,” he said eventually. “I don’t know where they are. Thrawn thought it was some kind of advance scout fleet to figure out how hard the Vong would have to hit the Empire.”

Hera exchanged a look with Kanan over Ezra’s head. Sabine and Zeb both swore, Sabine in Mando’a, Zeb in Lasat.

“What?” Ezra said. “What did I miss? Uh, besides everything that happened in the last six years. You can just give me the highlights.”

Sabine rested the piece of beskar on her knee and ticked them off on her fingers. “Tarkin’s dead, Vader’s dead, the Emperor’s dead, Alderaan got blown up, the Empire’s in pieces but Palpatine still tried to destroy it from beyond the grave, the New Republic’s being run by idiots. Did I forget anything? Oh, the Jedi are back but all they do is argue about doctrine.”

Kanan sighed. “That’s an oversimplification.”

“Wait – what?” Ezra said.

“Not everyone on the Provisional Council is an idiot,” Hera said.

“Wait, what?” Ezra felt like he had just been hit with a very large brick. “Palpatine’s dead?” he said, focusing on that.

“Probably,” Zeb said. “Skywalker’s the only one who saw it happen.”

“Who’s – wait, like Anakin Skywalker? But he’s –” He stopped abruptly, remembering what had happened on Malachor.

There was an awkward silence shared between Kanan and Hera; Zeb and Sabine just looked at each other and shrugged. Sabine said, “If Palpatine was still around there wouldn’t be a dozen warlords – mostly former Imperials – running around trying to carve up the Empire between them.”

“Yeah, and maybe the Provisional Council would stop arguing with each other,” Zeb grumbled.

“The Jedi?” Ezra said a little wildly.

“Yeah, all three of them,” Zeb said.

“I’ll explain later,” Kanan said quickly. “It’s not quite as dramatic as it sounds.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you about the Death Star,” Sabine said. “Mark one and mark two.”

“The what?”

“Let’s focus on our current situation, shall we?” Hera said quickly.

“Don’t even get me started on Mandalore.”

“I’ve always tried not to!”

“Hera went to another universe.” Sabine considered. “And she has a baby.”

“What?” Ezra almost fell off the tree root twisting around to look at Kanan and Hera.

Hera bit her lip. “Jacen’s not a baby, he’s six,” she said. She looked at Kanan and smiled, soft and fond. “He’s back on Ryloth with my father.”

“I need a drink,” Ezra muttered, then, louder, “Congratulations. Wait, you, went to another universe?”

“Kanan too,” Sabine said. “Oh, Ahsoka’s back too, but that was a while ago.”

Ezra rubbed at his forehead. “Okay, can we catch me up later?”

“The relevant part is that neither the Imperial Remnant nor the New Republic is in any position to repel a full-scale invasion,” Hera said. She sighed. “The only reason the New Republic let us come out here – officially, I should say – is because there have been rumors about Thrawn for years. If he’s in contact with anyone in the Remnant –”

Ezra shrugged. “Believe me when I say that I’m the last person Thrawn ever talked to. About anything.”

“How much of the Seventh is left?” Kanan asked.

“The Scylla and the Charybdis are the only ships left, and they both got pretty beat up in that last fight with the Vong,” Ezra said, thinking back. Pellaeon didn’t tell him much more than Thrawn did, but he had seen the makeshift command post in the Scylla before he’d left. “Everyone’s taken pretty heavy losses since Lothal –” He looked up suddenly, his heart in his throat. “Lothal –”

“Fine,” Sabine reassured him quickly. “Ryder’s governor again, everyone’s fine, Loth-cats as far as the eye can see.”

Ezra’s shoulders slumped in relief. Eventually, he said, “At least ten thousand back at Chimaera Camp and on Scylla and Charybdis, but I don’t think they’ve got more than fifteen thousand left altogether. I guess it depends how many the Vong took off the Chimaera.”

Kanan drew in his breath sharply. Ezra couldn’t blame him; the Chimaera’s full muster was for forty thousand, but it hadn’t held that many people since well before the purrgil had reduced it substantially. Most star destroyers, Pellaeon had remarked once, seldom held a full muster unless they were expecting to go into battle; in the normal course of things a star destroyer simply didn’t actually need nearly ten thousand stormtroopers who would do nothing but take up resources and start fights.

“That many troops plus the cruisers is enough to give any of the warlords a leg up on the others,” Sabine said practically. “Even without a star destroyer – or Thrawn, for that matter, I can’t see him letting Isard or Zsinj hold his leash.” When Ezra frowned at her, she clarified, “Those are two of the warlords running around making trouble. Isard used to run the ISB, Zsinj is just annoying.”

“He’s gotten a lot of people killed,” Zeb said harshly. “That’s more than ‘just annoying.’”

Sabine made a gesture of apology. When Ezra looked uncertainly between them, Zeb explained, “Before I volunteered for this, I was with New Republic Special Forces – the Pathfinders, not the droppers. The droppers are all crazy.”

Ezra filed that away to ask about later.

Kanan and Hera shared one of those silent moments of communication that Ezra had been so familiar with half a decade earlier, then Hera said, “We’ve stayed here too long already. Ezra, were you on your way to or back from the Yuuzhan Vong encampment?”

“To. I know about where it is. And I can’t sense the Vong –” He glanced at Kanan and saw the older man’s nod, acknowledging that it wasn’t any fault in Ezra’s command of the Force, “– but I can sense the captives they’ve got. And what they’re doing to this planet.”

Kanan nodded again, his expression grim.

“Will you take us there?” Hera asked. “We’d better see this, and then we can decide what we’re going to do. Regardless, the New Republic has to know.”

Ezra nodded, a little puzzled at the odd tone in her voice, then realized abruptly what might be going through her head right now. “I’m not one of them,” he said. “I didn’t switch sides. It wasn’t all awful, but I spent most of the past six years in a cell except when Thrawn decided to haul me out in case having a Force-user around helped. No one on the Chimaera ever forgot whose fault it was they were out there,” he added, gritting his teeth against the sudden quaver in his voice. He touched a finger to the white streak in his hair; it was probably invisible in this poor light, but it was part of the reason he kept most of his hair cropped short these days. “I got this the last time some of them decided I should pay for that and shot me in the head. That was the fourth time someone tried. Thrawn executed a hundred and thirty-seven people for it, including all the death trooper officers.”

He heard Zeb’s growl, low and furious, and the leather of Sabine’s gloves creak as she closed a fist.

“I’m not an Imperial,” Ezra said, fisting his own hands against his knees. He had nightmares about that day sometimes, about getting dragged out of his cell and down to the starboard hangar bay; the death trooper commander, who had been in charge of the attempted lynching, had wanted as many crewmen as possible to see it. Ezra had heard later that there had been a significant number of the conspirators who had wanted to execute Thrawn as well, blaming him for bringing Ezra onboard, getting them lost in the Unknown Regions, and attracting the attention of the Yuuzhan Vong. As it was, Thrawn, Pellaeon, and most of the other senior officers who weren’t also in on the conspiracy had been locked in one of the conference rooms before they had managed to get out. He had found out later that Thrawn had actually wanted to execute more of the conspirators, but had decided not to under the circumstances. As a result Ezra had spent most of his time in the medbay worried that one of those who had escaped the executions would come after him to finish the job.

He looked at Kanan, knowing that he would be able to sense it even if he couldn’t see it, and added, “I’m still a Jedi.”

“I know,” Kanan said, reaching down to squeeze Ezra’s shoulder.

Ezra felt something tight inside him unknot. He reached up to grasp Kanan’s fingers, feeling sick with relief.

“I believe you,” Hera said. She looked over his head to Kanan, who nodded in response. “I believe you,” she repeated. “We’ll have a job of it convincing New Republic Intelligence, but let’s not borrow trouble before we have to.”

Before they left, Ezra found his sniper rifle and the sheared-off barrel. He handed the barrel to Sabine so that she could inspect the severed edge, comparing it to the dead amphistaff, and broke down the rifle until it was in its heavy blaster pistol configuration. He packed the rifle components away rather than leave them there; the machinists back at Chimaera Camp would either be able to repair them or use them for another purpose. The pistol went on his belt in the holster he had brought in case he needed to use it in that configuration.

Sabine returned the barrel to him and regarded the amphistaff’s corpse thoughtfully. Ezra had already tried and failed to get his vibroknife out of its neck, to his disgust.

“Can I take this with us or can they track it?”

“No idea,” Ezra said. “It’s never come up before.”

“Don’t take the risk,” Hera said.

Sabine sighed regretfully but admitted, “I’m guessing this isn’t the last time we’re going to run into these things.”

“The Vong are worse than grass ticks,” Ezra said, looking around until he found where he had dropped his night vision goggles. When Zeb reached for them, Ezra shook his head and explained about the amphistaff poison, which had already eaten through the lenses and left a brown patch on the ground where the goggles had lain. Ezra wouldn’t touch them again; he had seen too many people die from a drop of it on bare skin. It ate through stormtrooper armor only a little more slowly than it did cloth. At least five people from the Chimaera had had limbs amputated where they must have touched somewhere it had been, even if the venom itself was no longer visible.

“I’m really starting to dislike these things,” Zeb growled.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Ezra said. He looked around until he saw the thud bug that the Vong warrior had thrown at him early in the fight, and found it lodged into the thick bark of one of the nearby trees, which must have prevented it from returning to the warrior the way most thud bugs did. The fact that it hadn’t taken a chunk out of the tree impressed him, since he had seen them rip holes in durasteel plating a few times. That must have been very hard wood.

He pointed the thud bug out to Zeb and Sabine; Kanan and Hera were talking quietly to each other a little ways away. “We’ve been calling them thud bugs – they’re some kind of beetle; they can change their gravity somehow to hit incredibly hard. The Vong throw them – razor bugs too. That name’s probably self-explanatory.”

Sabine fingered a scratch on what remained of her armor. She looked oddly unbalanced without the missing portion of her breast plate, which she had stowed in one of her hip-pouches. “Ran into a couple of those. Lightsaber goes through them,” she noted, glancing at Kanan.

“Does it go through the armor?” Ezra asked curiously, hoping the answer was yes. He would feel better to know that something did.

She and Zeb both shook their heads. “Kanan’s real good at finding soft and tender places, though.”

Kanan turned his head at the sound of his name. Ezra felt the flicker of his attention at the edge of his mind; he hadn’t been listening in on their conversation. He was exquisitely aware of Kanan’s presence now that he knew the other man was there; if he had been paying more attention he might have realized when the Ghost arrived in-system. As it was, he had had his mind focused on the area immediately around him, trying to make certain that the animals and plants of the planet would tell him the Yuuzhan Vong crept up on him. He hadn’t flung his mind wide into the Force. No one on the Chimaera was Force-sensitive; the Empire screened even the weakest Force-sensitives out of the service.

He might have been more concerned about the way his awareness of Kanan’s presence was blotting out his awareness of the rest of the Force, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Kanan was here. All he wanted to do was creep over to Kanan’s side and bask in the sheer strength of his presence in the Force, like a Loth-cat in a patch of sunlight.

They left soon afterwards. Ezra took the lead with Zeb, wishing for the night vision goggles but knowing he didn’t need them. Even before Malachor he had trained blindfolded with Kanan – which he still remembered vigorously protesting at the time – and afterwards he had worked twice as hard at it, even though he had never told Kanan as much. He didn’t need his eyes when he had the Force, and with all his attention on the Force, the planet itself would tell him if the Vong were approaching, let alone Zeb’s sensitive ears and nose. Zeb had confided to Ezra that this planet reminded him of Lasan before its fall – Lira San, he had said, was nice enough, but somewhere between too similar and not similar enough to be comfortable for long. If Lira San was anything like, Ezra didn’t want to visit; he had already had enough of jungle planets and this was the only one he had been to.

He pushed his awareness of Kanan’s nearness to the back of his mind with a force of effort. Six months ago he had woken up from a sound sleep, shocked and shaking and knowing that some essential truth of the universe had just changed. Since it had happened he had touched that knowledge a hundred times a day, trying to work it out without having any way to do so. He had spent long hours in meditation, reaching out into the Force and falling just short every time. He had thought he might go mad with frustration. Thrawn, who never missed anything, had certainly noticed, even if Ezra had refused to say what had caused his sudden discontent. If Ezra had thought that there was any way he could get back to known space on his own, he might have made a break for it. He had considered it – Thrawn had certainly made the point enough that as a Force-user Ezra should have been able to – but by the time he had nerved himself up for it the Vong had begun hunting them in deadly earnest.

Being back here with them felt odd.

Ezra had certainly dreamed about it enough times, and if he hadn’t been so aware of his bad shoulder he might have thought that he was back on the Chimaera, sound asleep. He knew it was a danger, too; that his awareness of them ran the risk of distracting him at a crucial moment. As much as he pushed his knowledge of their presence away, trying to keep his mind only on the simple facts rather than the emotions involved, he knew he was putting them all at risk. He had to trust that between the five of them, they would be able to tell if Vong warriors searching for their missing patrol approached.

It took the better part of three hours before they reached the edge of the jungle. Halfway through, Ezra and Kanan both sensed the passage of another Vong patrol – sensed the wildlife and plant life reacting to it, rather – but the warriors were far away and showed no sign of approaching them. Dawn was filtering through the forest canopy in a gray-green haze as they ghosted up to the edge of the tree line. Like the path Ezra had taken earlier, the jungle ended barely a meter short of the cliff-face, forming a kind of bowl around the valley below. Ezra eased forward on his belly, pulling the riflescope out of his pack. He could sense the passage of another Vong patrol on the rim of the cliff, but it wasn’t near enough to be concerned with unless they were here for a while. He didn’t intend to stick around longer than he could help it.

The valley below boasted a kidney-shaped lake with large patches of some kind of plant life growing on the surface – Ezra reached out curiously with his mind and winced when he realized that they were Vong rather than native. The jungle around it had been cut back to make space for what he thought were either structures or grounded ships, all of them looking out of place here – not quite the right color or texture, with shapes that were subtly off enough to make him wince. He counted several dozen that looked like enormously oversized snail shells, a kind of orange-y green with a faint oily sheen to them. Something else, as large as a cruiser, he thought might be a grounded ship; its material was something like coral, or at least that was what it looked like through his riflescope.

Figures moved through the structures and ships – a few he recognized as Vong warriors, each of them unique in their vonduun crab armor; others were Vong from the different castes. He could sense humans down there, the prisoners taken off the Chimaera, but couldn’t spot them.

Sabine and Hera eased up on either side of him, Hera with a pair of macrobinoculars and Sabine with her rangefinder lowered. Ezra didn’t have to turn his head to know that Zeb and Kanan were hanging back, keeping watch against a Vong patrol.

Keeping his voice barely more than a whisper, Ezra pointed out the grounded cruiser-analogue, then the coralskipper starfighters that passed by overhead before landing alongside the starship. He hadn’t seen them in person before, just in holograms.

“Fast?” Hera asked him very quietly.

“About the same as a TIE, I think,” he murmured back. “They’ve got dovin basals – miniature black holes – like the cruisers, too, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Hmm.”

He had to grin at the hint of considering challenge in that syllable. If anyone could not only outfly a coralskipper solo but also shoot it down – the TIEs and handful of remaining TIE Defenders had to go after them in swarms – then it was Hera.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Ezra reached out with the Force, sorting through the thousands of human minds as he searched for the alien one. He couldn’t sense the Vong and their living tools at all.

“Thrawn’s there,” he said after a moment, not bothering to conceal his disappointment the way he had done when Pellaeon had asked him to find out if the grand admiral was still alive. He was pretty sure Pellaeon had been able to tell his feelings anyway, but it was the principle of the thing; Pellaeon was fully capable of having him shot as more trouble than he was worth.

Sabine snorted softly. “Might have saved us some trouble if he was dead,” she grumbled.

“Tell me about it,” Ezra muttered back. He peered through the riflescope again, letting the Force direct him. The shell-structures seemed to be where the prisoners were being kept, Thrawn among them. He couldn’t tell exactly which one Thrawn was in, but he supposed that when the Imperials went after him they would probably want to break all their missing troops out as well, since it would be about as much trouble. Unless Pellaeon tried to make him do it on his own, of course, Ezra thought, and started to grimace at the thought before he realized abruptly that that was no longer an option Pellaeon had.

He was reaching back reflexively for Kanan before he even realized he was doing so, his mind brushing against Kanan’s in the Force for a brief instant of reassurance. He felt Kanan’s response as if his master had gripped him briefly on the shoulder, calm and collected, though he knew Kanan hadn’t moved from his sentry position. Ezra turned his face down, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Sabine elbowed him gently. “Hey,” she whispered. “It’s all right. We’ve got you.”

Six years ago Ezra might have said something like you took your time about it, but he just nodded. If they could have come sooner they would have, and if they had come sooner, then Kanan – Kanan might not be back. Six years in the Unknown Regions with Thrawn and his merry band of sociopaths was a sacrifice he was happy to make for Kanan’s return.

They watched the Vong camp for another two hours, watching the mist burn off the lake as the sun rose. Some of the lower caste Vong went into the shell-structures, probably to feed the Imperial prisoners; none of the Imperials came out. Ezra did a rapid estimate with the Force and came up with somewhere between three and four thousand prisoners, which he supposed would make Pellaeon happy; the worst case scenario had been that all the crewmembers unaccounted for from the Chimaera were dead. Hera didn’t look thrilled when he conveyed this information to her.

“Well, we’re not putting them all on the Ghost, that’s for sure,” Zeb grumbled; he was close enough to overhear.

All Hera said was, “I suppose we’ll have to talk to Captain Pellaeon.”

Not long after this exchange, Kanan said softly, “There’s a patrol about two klicks west of us. We’d better clear off, if you’ve got all you need.”

“Not all we need, but all we’re going to get, I think,” Hera murmured. The three of them retreated from the cliff face into the cover of the jungle.

Ezra got to his feet, wincing at muscles that had gone sore after two hours lying on the ground. Kanan was still sitting cross-legged on the forest floor, facing away from them with his eyes closed and his expression calm. Ezra was barely aware of stepping towards him until he found himself reaching down to touch Kanan’s shoulder, wanting to reassure himself of Kanan’s presence. Kanan turned his face up towards him, opening his eyes, and smiled. Ezra drew his hand back, embarrassed, then grabbed Kanan’s forearm to help pull him to his feet, the hard edges on Kanan’s bracer digging into his fingers.

Despite their precarious position, Ezra still rather wanted to drape himself on Kanan’s neck and weep.

Hera came up behind him and put a hand briefly on his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here before Chopper decides to take the Ghost and come find us,” she said.

Ezra nodded, then nearly had a heart attack as Zeb ghosted out of the jungle to join them; his purple fur and green bodysuit and armor blended in perfectly with the foliage. If this was true of all the Lasat Ezra was definitely never going to Lira San.

They left silently, moving through the undergrowth with surprising delicacy for the size of their group. Ezra, reaching out with the Force, found the passage of the same Vong patrol that Kanan had sensed. If the disappearance of the patrol they had killed had been noted, it wasn’t evident from the way the Vong had acted. Ezra would have thought that they would have had better security, but apparently not. Either that, or the Force had led them to avoid it on their approach.

The sun continued to rise steadily as they made their way single-file through the jungle. Zeb took point this time, with Sabine just behind him. While Zeb blended into the forest around them, the sunlight through the tree canopy dappled Sabine’s armor as she moved through it; Ezra couldn’t decide what colors it was and suspected he wouldn’t know for sure until they were back at the Ghost. Kanan and Hera brought up the rear, nearly soundless though Ezra was excruciatingly aware of Kanan’s presence.

After a sleepless night and a fight with the Vong, not to mention the intense emotion of the past few hours, he was so tired that he was nearly delirious with it. Everything had taken on a slightly bright edge; he could have fought if he had to, but he was just as glad for the moment that neither the Vong nor the native wildlife crossed paths with them. After almost a full day out here, he was also extremely aware of the fact that he had spent most of the past six years locked in a cell, with only occasional breaks to go nearly get killed, either by the Imperials or by whoever they happened to be fighting at the moment. He was almost tired enough that the cell was starting to sound appealing.

The day wore on, the heat and humidity growing steadily. Ezra kept his weary eyes on Sabine’s gaudily painted jetpack in front of him; it wasn’t the same color that it had been six years earlier – he would have been shocked if it had been – but the basic winged design was more or less the same, though he could spot differences. He was so focused on that to stay on his feet that he didn’t realize they had reached their destination until the flicker of movement behind transparisteel caught his eye.

Ezra stiffened, his hand going to his blaster. It took him a few moments for his gaze to focus; he was expecting nothing more than the endless expanse of forest, not the Ghost parked in a clearing just barely large enough for the ship. He stared blankly at the ship, unable to believe that it was actually here after so many years.

Kanan closed a hand on his shoulder as the ramp unfolded. Chopper, apparently unchanged from the last time Ezra had seen him, appeared at the top of the ramp, waving one of his manipulators and shouting in annoyance about how they had gone for hours, they could have died, how dare they leave him all alone. He stopped midway through his tirade, apparently having spotted Ezra.

Kanan pushed Ezra forward gently. Hera was walking past him, her own shoulders slumping with weariness; Sabine paused to turn on one foot, her gaze traveling over the clearing. Zeb was already on his way up the ramp with a comment to Chopper.

Ezra took one step forward, then another one. Chopper came down the ramp towards him as he reached it, chirping a cautious question.

“Yeah,” Ezra said. “Yeah, it’s me.”

He started to kneel down so that they were on the same level, then overbalanced and sat down hard instead. Chopper rolled up to him, close enough to touch but not doing so. Ezra reached out, hesitating for an instant before he laid his hands on Chopper’s chassis. The metal was warm to touch, the pain smooth beneath his fingers except where it was starting to chip away. He could feel the hum of the droid’s inner workings against his palms.

“Yeah, Chop,” he said again, and started to cry, his head bent forward against Chopper’s dome so that none of the others could see. “It’s me. It’s me.”

#other side au tag #cut scenes and concept writing #as always comments are appreciated #there's less in the details playlist because I'm working on the fire part of the story at present

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americasmarauders · 4 years ago

Text

the last great american dynasty--Bucky Barnes

summary: A short story on how she lived her life after her sweetheart was kiiled during the war.

words: 1,934

author’s note: it’s been a while since i last worked on this and i think it’s a bit choppy, but i hope y’all like it. it’s slightly inspired by taylor siwft’s song the last great american dynasty.

She didn't expect to meet him. The usual parties her father threw were filled to the brim with spoiled brats and entitled jerks. But he wasn't one of them.

He wore a crisp blue suit, his hair gelled back and his eyes bright like the sun. His smile was infectious and she found herself smiling from across the room just seeing the sight. He made his way towards her and she didn’t imagine how much her world would change.

Bucky, that's what his name was, had not come to one of those gatherings before. It was usually his father that came. But his father was out of town, and he was to take over the small company soon anyway, so he came. His bright smile and twinkling blue eyes knocked her world out of its axis.

They talked all night. Not those pretentious, boring conversations. Actual conversations. He told her stories about his sisters and his best friend. How his best friend was the best person in the world, how he struggled so much and yet never once lost his kindness. How his sisters were always up to mischief. Bucky's eyes shine bright at those simple anecdotes, and she shone with him, for him.

After that, he would sneak in through her window some nights and they would talk in hushed tones or nap cuddled to each other. He would leave by dawn, a couple of hours before his Father expected him to appear and help him with the business. Other nights, he would appear by the front door, by the end of the afternoon a bouquet of flowers in his hand and the most charming smile she had ever seen. He would hand her the flowers and shake her father’s hand and then he would whisk her to dance the night away.

And then….And then the war happened. And her heart would beat stronger and more anxiously every time she remembered that soon Bucky would be one of those boys that needed to enlist. He would say that everything would be fine, he would kiss her worries away leaving her flushed and distracted, only focusing on getting his lips back on her again.

But he got drafted. 107th infantry, leaving to the other side of the ocean, first thing after that 1A was seen by him. Bucky took her out dancing the night before he was sent away from her. She was left with a promise: he would go back to her, no matter what. And then he gave her a ring. Not something that would symbolize the promise of marriage, but the promise of his love.

He left with her heart in his pocket. She cried the entire day after she was him waving from the ship, him getting smaller the more the embarkation got away from her. Steve consoled her, held her hand and told her everything would be okay. But he too left for bootcamp, leaving her for the war.

he took over the company soon after her dad fell sick. It was a couple of years into the war, the ring Bucky had given her heavy on her finger. They exchanged letters, he would profess his love in every single one of them. But she could tell his exhaustion, she could tell the trauma he was facing. Then the letters stopped altogether for months. And she braced for the worst.

She buried herself in work and money and lavish parties for those horrible months. She filled her pool with champagne, swam in it with the best artists in New York. Inside she was bleeding, absent of a heart. She missed Bucky. She missed everything about him.

A letter came in the mail with his hand-writing on it and suddenly the parties weren’t needed anymore. He told her Steve was different now, like someone had injected steroids on him, and someone most likely had. He told her he had been captured and taken as a POW for those months he didn’t write. He was sorry that she worried for him.

She was just glad he was alive. She was just glad that she could see a light at the end of the tunnel. The war was ending, Hitler was nearing a dead end, the Allies would win and Bucky would come back home to her and everything would be alright.

Then again, hope really is for suckers. MIA. Three little letters changed her life forever. She had officially lost her heart. Forever.

She forfeited her right to the company. She remained on the board, but was rarely ever seen near the company’s building. She bought a house near the beach, few neighbors and quiet enough to live the rest of her life in peace. As much peace as she could get.

Sometimes she would fall back into bad habits: lavish parties, blowing her money on the ballet, not remembering enough of the night in the morning after. Most times, she would just live through the day and stare at the sea during the night, hoping and praying to whatever was out there that at least Bucky found some peace in the after life, just like she was trying to find hers.

She lived in that house for 50 years. She died in the house and left it and all of her money to Bucky’s sister, Rebeca.

And that was how Bucky discovered the house. He got a letter from a nephew he didn’t even know of that there were some letters addressed to him in the attic of his house and he would like Bucky to have them.

Bucky headed to the house, soon after he got the letter. The man welcomed him to the house--his home--and Bucky took notice of the little things about it. The walls were littered with pictures of family. Pictures of his sister growing older with her husband and kids. He guided him to a big and oddly cluttered attic. The nephew showed him a couple of boxes with Bucky’s name scribbled on it.

Bucky gave his nephew--God it was weird to call a man older than him that--a strained smile and the man left him alone. Bucky sat on the ground in front of the boxes and took out his gloves. He ran a hand through his short hair, sighing. It was weird to be in front of these. Because these things belonged to a man that was long dead. He wasn’t that guy anymore. He wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. He was somewhere in between.

He took out a small knife from his pocket and tore the tape that held the box closed. He opened the box carefully and took a peek inside.

There were clothes on top of it all. He took it off. A jacket, military one with Sargent Barnes stitched on it. He did know how his sister ended up with it, how it wasn’t lost in the destruction of war was beyond him. He set it aside in his lap and moved to the rest of the items in it.

There were a lot of photo albums of when he was a kid and a teen. He spent a lot of time browsing through them, trying to remember those memories, trying to convince himself it belonged to him. Once he was finished with that box he moved on to the next.

The box was filled with letters. Stacks and stacks of letters most of them addressed to him. As soon as he opened one of them he recognized immediately who wrote them.

He hadn’t thought about her yet. He had refused to. It hurt too much. But he was still there with the letters on his hands, delicately caressing them as if she was there with him. She wasn’t, and it hurt too much.

He sighed and opened one of them. It dated a week after he was declared MIA.

21/01/45

Dear Bucky,

According to the Army, you’ve been missing for a week. I’ve been missing you for longer than that.

God, I don’t even know why I’m writing this letter, you’ll never get to read this. Colonel Phillips was very adamant that you were most likely dead. I guess I just need to get this off my chest.

I just miss having you around. I miss everything about you. Your smile, your eyes, your voice. A hole was carved in my chest when you left and it will never be full again. I’ll never find what I had with you.

I never took the ring off. I never forgot you Bucky, not in the years you were away. Well, I guess you’ll always be away now.

I’m so sorry, Bucky. I’m so sorry you couldn’t come back from the war. I’m so sorry you couldn’t come back from the war. I’m sorry we couldn’t be together for more than we were.

I love you, Bucky. I’ll always miss you, like I’m missing my heart.

He sniffed and swallowed nervously. He folded and returned the letter in the envelope. He opened another.

14/01/46

Dear Bucky,

It’s been a year since you were declared MIA.

I spent the day with Rebeca. She’s getting married in a couple of months and I was helping her with the planning. It was good, it took my mind off the emptiness of this day.

She’s so happy Bucky. You would have liked the guy, he’s a smart guy, like you. He’s so sweet and respectful and he’s good for her.

She went to college, Buck. Can you believe it? She wants to take over your dad’s business so she made sure she was prepared.

You would’ve been so proud of her. She misses you. I know she does. She just never says it.

I love you, Bucky.

He then opened another. And another, and another and another and another. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in the dusty attic. It felt like a decade. It was probably just a couple of hours. He dug through every single letter of that box, craving for those moments he lost, he was robbed of.

At the very bottom of the box he found a tiny velvet box. He opened it. The ring he had given her sat perfectly in the velvet cushion of the box. He took it. He remembered buying that ring. He had enlisted Steve to help him out, insisting he’d come.

He was so nervous she wouldn’t like it, fearing it may have been too much. But he remembered the way she smiled and teared up at his confession. He remembered how she flung herself at him, smashing her lips on his with passion and so much love.

He loved her still. He hadn’t had the chance to stop loving her. And maybe if he had he wouldn’t have stopped. He doesn’t know, he was robbed of so many things and this was only one of them.

He sighed and returned all the letters to the box. He came downstairs and chatted a bit with his nephew, before asking if he could get those boxes. He said yes, of course, mom would have wanted that.

He took those boxes to his apartment in Brooklyn. On the bad days he would read back those letters, just to feel a bit of love. On the good days, he would look at them and think about the life he’d have to live for those people he had left behind, that he was ripped away from.

He’d have to make sure he’d live his best life for them.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes fandom #winter soldier #captain america #falcon and the winter soldier #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfic

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kiarcheo · 4 years ago

Text

Pirate AU

Almost 3000 words of a half-developed AU idea vaguely inspired by Pirates of Caribbean.

You know when you have some scenes clear in your mind and then the inspiration/motivation to write the overall connecting story fizzles out? Yeah. That is what happened with this one. But I didn't want to leave it languishing forever in my drafts folder so you can also read it in the miscellaneous collection of random stuff that I have on Ao3 (if lately you had the same problem with links on Tumblr as me, try removing the https://href.li/? part from the URL)

_______________

Catalina is the de facto governor of a small island. In theory her husband, Henry, is the governor, but he’s never there, preferring the mainland and doing his own things. Leaving Catalina in charge gets her out of his way while keeping up the façade of him being a respectable married man (if you ignore all the mistresses he has, but that’s another matter).

Catalina doesn’t particularly mind. She has no lost feelings for him and plenty of stuff to keep her busy. Governor’s businesses. Raising her goddaughter. Pirates infesting the surrounding waters.

Catherine ‘Cathy’ Parr is Catalina’s goddaughter. After her mother died, Catalina took her in and she has been with her since she was a child. When Catalina is sent to her ‘glorified’ exile on the island, she goes with her.

During the trip, Cathy sees something, or better someone, in the sea and convinces the crew to rescue them. It’s a young girl, some years younger than Cathy, Catalina reckons. She is a weak, thin, frail slip of a girl. Whether from the physical trauma (she has a deep gash on her head, blood caking her hairline) or from the psychological one of barely surviving a shipwreck, the girl can’t remember how long she has been lost at sea or pretty much anything else, except that her name is Katherine.

Catalina takes her under her wing too, albeit not officially. Not like she can adopt her without her husband’s agreement. And he was already not happy about her taking in Cathy. But what she can do is keep an eye on her and make sure she does not lack for anything.

Whether because of the long trip to their new home, being the only children on board, or just them clicking with each other, Cathy and Katherine, who most call Kat, quickly become inseparable. And as they grow up, things don’t change, making Catalina’s promise to herself to keep an eye on Kat quite easy.

Kat apprentices as a carpenter. Any problem at the residence, Kat is called, and she always brings with her small trinkets she made herself to gift them to Cathy. Kat’s services are not necessarily cost-time effective. Mostly not time-effective, since she always ends up spending way more time than needed there. And Catalina insists on paying for the time rather than for the work, another manner of taking care of Kat in her own way. Also, along with books, Kat’s presence seems to be the only thing that makes Cathy happy and Catalina won’t deny her that. Life on the island is not exactly the pinnacle of excitement or social engagement or entertainment. Not that Cathy complains. If asked, she would say that she has all she needs.

Of course, Henry has to ruin everything. A letter arrives announcing that he has arranged Cathy’s marriage with one Thomas Seymour. The captain bringing the letter is in charge of taking Cathy back to the mainland.

There is nothing anyone can do. Not Catalina – if she wants to avoid diplomatic incident...and raising her husband’s ire – not Cathy, and certainly not Kat. They have to say their goodbyes. Cathy makes Catalina and Katherine promise that they will take care of each other. Then Catalina leaves them so they can have some few last precious moments alone.

Fast forwards to days later, the ship that is taking Cathy to her doom, I mean, wedding, is attacked by pirates. Everyone is killed except Cathy, who is taken hostage.

Realising the ship that attacked them is the Greensleeves, Cathy thinks it’s on purpose. The captain has a beef with her godmother. But then she realises it’s just that a young woman, the only woman on board of a government’s ship, would make a good hostage regardless because it’s clearly someone important and probably worth quite a bit if a ransom is demanded.

‘And who do we have here?’ A woman circles around her.

‘You might want to read this, captain.’ Another, taller, woman hands her a letter.

While she reads it, Cathy has time to look at her. Had to admit, not how she imagined the famed pirate Anne Boleyn, scourge of the seven seas, and pain in Catalina’s backside as well as pretty much any navy.

‘Catherine Parr, uh?’ The pirate looks her up and down. ‘Let’s see how much old Lina is willing to pay for you.’

Cathy scowls at her.

‘Or would you prefer your future husband?’

‘No!’ She can’t stop herself.

‘Thought so.’ Anne nods to herself. ‘Not that I blame you. Seymour is a scumbag.’

‘Ehi!’

‘Not you, Jane. Not most of the time, at least.’ She sends a grin towards a woman standing one step behind her.

When everything is said and done, Cathy considers herself lucky. She might go back home. Delaying her marriage, at least. See Kat and Catalina again. Despite them being pirates, she feels more comfortable on their ship than the one sent by Henry, surrounded by guards.

All is nice and well, until a wave has the ship rolling quite violently. Cathy loses her balance and stumbles forward, a golden A on a necklace slipping out from under her dress and now dangling. Before she knows it, Boleyn has the pendant tight in her grip, pulling Cathy along towards her, almost choking her.

‘Where did you get this?’ she demands with a growl.

Cathy stands corrected. She can now see why Anne inspires such a terror.

‘Take it off.’

‘No!’ Not the smartest thing, but Cathy is not going to give it up without a fight.

‘You either take it off yourself or I do it for you, and I’ll take your head off with it too.’

‘Anne.’ The woman who had been called Jane tries to put a hand on her shoulder, but it’s shrugged off.

Cathy feels someone grabbing her from behind. She tries to wriggle away, but she can’t, the hold too strong. Then she feels a hand on the back of her neck, and suddenly the comforting, familiar, weight of the pendant is gone.

Anne lunges to catch the necklace before it hits the deck. Cathy instinctively takes a step back. Well, she tries, only manages to stumble back into the pirate behind her, still holding her.

‘I’m going to ask you again.’ Anne seems to struggle to pull her eyes off the necklace clutched in her hand. ‘Where did you get it?’

‘You better answer her.’ The voice behind her sounds honest, no malice or threat. Almost sound worried about what Anne would do if denied.

‘She gave it to me!’ Cathy blurts out before biting her lip. She might be terrified, but she doesn’t want to say more. Like how Kat had given it to her, asking her to put it on and never take it off to remind her by. How Cathy had argued that she wouldn’t need a physical object, she would be thinking about her every day of her life until she dies regardless. How Cathy had tried to give it back, saying that she didn’t want to take away the most precious thing she had. And how Kat had replied that it was the second most precious…and both of them would leave that day. She would be missing the necklace just like she would miss her heart, that Cathy was taking with her on the ship.

‘Take me to her.’

‘No.’ Cathy doesn’t know where she is getting the courage to stand up to the pirate captain.

‘Take me to her and I promise I’ll let you go. I won’t even ask a ransom. I swear.’

‘As if I’d trust a pirate’s word.’ Cathy spits out.

‘Fine.’ Anne growls with a scowl. ‘Then I will just go back there myself.’

‘But don’t you want to see her again?’ The person behind Cathy speaks up again, acting as the voice of reason of the situation. ‘She’ll find her anyway. She won’t rest until she does. Or she’ll die trying.’

Cathy tenses up. Just the thought of the pirates around Kat makes her terrified and furious at the same time.

‘Anna, get her out of my sight.’

‘She won’t hurt her. If that’s what you’re worried about.’ Said pirate makes one last attempt.

Cathy relents. Not that she has much choice. Or well, she does. But when the options are 1) going back with them 2) she is killed and they go back without her 3) she is delivered to Seymour and they go back without her...is that really a choice?

So they sail back to the island, but then it’s just a small boat rowed to the shore by Jane and Anna, with only Cathy and Anne, as passengers on board.

‘If this is a trap…’ Anne trails off, the threat clear even if not spelled out, as she looks around the workshop.

‘How would she even-’Anna tries to reason with her captain, as usual.

‘Let her go and I’ll consider not blowing your head up.’

Not the first words Cathy expected to hear from Kat if she ever saw her again, to be honest. The pirates seem taken by surprise too. Jane is only loosely holding her arm, and nobody has their weapons out.

‘Do it.’ Anne orders.

As soon as she is released, Cathy hurries to Kat’s side and Kat immediately wraps an arm around her, holding her close. She leans her head against hers, trying to get as much physical contact as possible, but she keeps her eyes and her pistol trained on the pirates.

‘Did they hurt you?’

Cathy shakes her head. She just had some bruises around her neck from Anne’s grabbing the necklace and pulling her along with it, but they faded away and there is no trace of them now. And they actually treated her quite well. She might have even enjoyed the trip if she had not been terrified and worried.

‘What do you want from her?’ Kat speaks again.

‘She had something that didn’t belong to her.’ Anne opens her hand, the necklace falling and dangling down.

‘Give it back!’ Kat growls, lunging.

Anne takes a step back, before calmly wrapping the chain of the necklace around her wrist and tucking the pendant into her sleeve. ‘And why should I?’ She asks, impish smirk making it clear she doesn’t feel threatened.

‘Because it’s mine, and I gave it to her!’

‘Yours?’ Anne’s attitude immediately changes. But before she can say anything- ‘What’s going on?’

This time the pirates aren’t taken by surprise. They all aim their weapons toward the new arrival.

‘Boleyn?’

‘Catalina.’

‘Cathy??’

‘Madrina.’

‘Katherine?’

‘Are you just listing all the presents? Because this is Jane and this is Anna.’ Anne chimes in, drawing back to herself Catalina’s attention…and pistol.

‘Give me one good reason why I should not shoot you on the spot.’

‘Because you’re outnumbered?’

‘She is not.’ Cathy now has a small pistol too, given by Kat, the pirates can only assume, since they are sure she had none before.

‘Parley?’ Anne breaks the silent standoff.

The other two pirates start quickly and softly talking to Anne.

‘What’s that?’ Cathy asks.

‘Pirate code.’

‘Temporary truce.’ Kat answers without hesitation at the same time as Catalina.

Cathy turns to her, surprised. ‘You know pirate code?’

‘I...don’t?’ Kat is clearly second-guessing herself. ‘I don’t think so? I just…knew it? Don't ask me why.’

‘Parley granted?’ Anne’s question reminds them of the situation.

Catalina looks at the pirates. Then at her girls. Then at Anne again. ‘Pull one of your usual dirty tricks and-’

‘Where is the trust?’ Anne brings the hand not holding the weapon to her chest. ‘I’m a pirate of my word.’

‘As if I’d ever trust a pirate’s word.’

The pirate captain looks between Catalina and Cathy. ‘That’s where you learned it?’

‘Guns away at 3?’ Anna tries to get them back on track.

They all nod warily before slowly and reluctantly lowering their weapons.

‘To what we owe the displeasure of your visit?’

‘Hurting my feelings, Lina.’ Anne quips.

‘Don’t call me that.’ Catalina snarls. ‘And answer the question.”

Anne gets serious. ‘This is what brings me here.’ She once again shows the necklace.

‘Why do you have it?’ Catalina looks between it, Anne and Katherine.

‘She took it from me.’ Cathy spits out, still upset about it.

‘You gave it to her?’ Catalina turns surprised towards Katherine. She knows how important it is to her. ‘But that’s the only thing-’ she stops. It suddenly makes sense. Kat giving Cathy the most precious and important thing she owned…the girl would give her goddaughter the world if she could.

‘Where did you get it?’ Anne turns to Kat.

‘I always had it.’ The younger girl answers reluctantly. There is no hurting doing that, right? ‘And I would appreciate having it back.’ She holds her hand out.

‘Spunky.’ Anne nods, appreciative. ‘But not yet.’

Kat huffs. ‘What?’ She grinds out.

‘Do you know what this is?’ Anne fishes out from her shirt another similar necklace, but with a K instead of an A.

The girl shakes her head.

‘I had it made because you loved mine. So I commissioned one for you. But you still insisted on wearing mine so I kept yours.’

‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’

‘The K is for Kitty.’ Anne carries on.

‘Nobody called me Kitty since-’ Kat stops in her tracks as her brain catches up with what her mouth is saying. She had honestly forgot about anyone ever using that nickname.

‘Since you used to throw tantrums about losing at cards.’

‘Jane always cheats!’ Again, Kat surprises herself as she replies without thinking.

‘I do not!’

Anne, Anna and even Cathy, look at Jane in disbelief. She had seen her playing at the tavern at the only stop they had on shore while on their way back to the island, cleaning out the locals because they needed funds...

‘Okay, maybe I do now, but not at the time!’ Jane amends.

‘I don’t understand.’ Kat repeats, her voice wobbling.

Anne explains how they grew up together, inseparable cousins until the moment their family’s ship they had been on had been attacked. In the chaos they had lost sight of the younger cousin and when they got rescued, all except Kat, they all thought that she had died in the shipwreck.

Anne, consumed by desire of vengeance, had joined a crew hoping to find out which pirate was responsible for the attack. Only to find out that it had not been pirates but government masquerading as pirates, hoping to get their families’ riches in a quicker and easier way. So Anne had decided to harass, rob and destroy government ships as revenge. Jane had joined her soon after, a life on the sea better than the prospect of a lifetime serving men at home. Anne had met Anna in her first crew and when Anne left to form her own, some of them, including Anna, Maggie and Joan, had joined her. They are the only ones, besides Jane, to know why Anne had chosen the pirate life.

‘And then we met your girl and I saw the necklace and here we are.’ Anne concludes her tale.

‘Met.’ Cathy snorts.

‘Not mine.’ Kat comments dolefully at the same time.

‘Engaged to Seymour, right?’ Anne turns to Catalina. ‘I expected better.’

‘Not my choice. Henry arranged it. Can’t refuse without a diplomatic incident. And enraging him. The Seymour family is a powerful one and I know that he will say he found the best for Cathy, and who knows what he’d do, whom he’d choose, just to spite me, if I were to refuse.’

‘What if you could do better?’

‘What do you mean?’ Catalina looks at the pirate captain, who appears deep in thought.

‘It would be reasonable to break off the engagement if a better opportunity arises, right? Even for… Henry?’ she spats out the name.

‘In theory. But in practice? Hard to find better.’ Catalina sighs. She had thought about it, of course. ‘I mean, better name. I’m sure there are lots of better people than Thomas Seymour.’

‘Definitely.’ Jane confirms.

‘What about marrying into the Howard family?’

‘Howard? Like those Howards?’ Catalina asks in confirmation. They are even more powerful and rich than the Seymour.

‘As a captain I can marry you off tomorrow.’

‘What?’ The girls had been silently resigned. Cathy knew she had no voice or choice in her marriage, and Kat knew she could not stop it. All they could do was enjoying their time together before the inevitable separation.

‘You’re a Howard, Katherine.’ Anne tells her. ‘We,’ she gestures to herself and Jane, ‘might have been disowned by the Boleyn and Seymour families, but not you.’ She adds after a bit. ‘Mostly because we thought you were dead, but you know, not important right now.’

‘Seymour?’

Jane waves at Cathy. ‘Trust me, dodging a bullet with my brother.’

Kat and Cathy get married, and once Catalina’s retire as governor, they take over albeit always unofficially. Central government can’t be bothered with that little island almost lost in the sea as long as it doesn’t cause problems.

Anne and Jane are torn because on one side they want to be with Kat after finding her again, but they also took a liking to life on the sea, so Catalina pardons Anne and her crew in exchange for them working for her, patrolling the waters around the island and keeping the ships carrying and trading goods safe from pirates...and anyone else.

_____________

Yes, I was going full fantasy with gay marriage being accepted and recognized, pirates getting pardoned, women governing islands and ship captains marrying people (looked it up, they mostly can’t unless already invested/ordained with power to do so).

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical au #six fanfiction #parrward #six queens #mywork #six au #six the musical fic #six fic #my ideas #six writing #my posts #my six posts #six the musical fanfic #six fanfic #beheaded cousins #cousin trio #pirate au

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halfwayinlight · 4 years ago

Text

I wrote a thing today. It was supposed to be for Valentine’s Day

Title: Holding Space Fandom: Star Trek TNG Pairing: Will Riker/Deanna Troi Rating: PG Notes: set between Season 3 episodes The Bonding and The Booby Trap

Commander Will Riker would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was disappointed Deanna had not yet come to the bridge to report she was back on board. It wasn’t an official protocol, but it was a courtesy that the senior staff generally observed. It was, in fact, out of the ordinary that Deanna didn’t report to the bridge officer on duty.

He told himself he would wait a full half hour past her anticipated arrival time to call down to O’Brien. It would be a very long half hour, and he knew that at least some of the bridge crew were very aware he was antsy. So Will had dutifully read through the various daily reports sent in. And he checked the logs three times to make sure there wasn’t some mental health crisis that would’ve pulled her immediately back into work.

Eventually, he’d taken to the ready room, vacant since the captain was off duty at the moment. Catching up on reports was no help in the distraction department because the only remaining reports they were still working on were the reports over the Mintaka III duck blind. It had been an utter failure in all aspects of First Contact. Not that the Enterprise crew had been able to really help it. It was more an Act of Fate.

Privately, though, Will still felt guilty about the whole thing. Guilty for leaving Deanna behind. He knew, rationally, that there was no help for it. Palmer had needed immediate medical care. There had been no reason to think that Deanna wouldn’t be able to slip quietly away and be beamed back on board.

“You’re beating yourself up over it,” she’d observed one night in Ten Forward, about a week ago. Her fingers played with the glass containing her Sumerian sunrise, idly tracing the bands etched around the cup.

He shifted, elbow on the table to lean against it for support, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn this evening was taking. Rather than answer immediately, he took a slow inventory of the lounge. It was a slow night, and they were relatively isolated. As his gaze swept the bar, Guinan had given him a long look and a subtle nod. He wasn’t even really sure what the nod meant, except that they would be given some space. “We should’ve come up with a better plan. One that had less risk.”

“We had limited intelligence. Given what we knew at the time, the risks seemed minimal. In retrospect, I don’t see what we could’ve done any differently. And, Will, I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt.”

He shook his head. “You were almost sacrificed to a non-existent deity,” he ground out, one hand lifting to rub his beard in frustration. “Do you know what it’s like to sit in a meeting with the captain and the current expert in Mintakan culture and hear that under these extraordinary circumstances, they might actually kill someone you care about?”

Deanna was leaning in now, arms resting on the table, hands clasped. He envied her level of calm and acceptance about this. “No, I do not. But,” she quickly added, “I do know what it’s like to sit on the bridge or in meetings and hear about missions where the people that I care deeply about may die. To see you and our friends leave on away teams when there are serious risks. To coordinate evacuations and general quarters, especially sauce separations, that leave me with the low-risk group and people I care for very much on the battle bridge.”

The intensity of her words hit him like a phaser blast, and Will was left speechless for long moments. He’d never taken much time to consider what it looked like from her end of things. And given her sympathetic smile, she realized this.

“It’s the life I chose, Will,” she added quietly after giving him some time to absorb her first statements. “We all signed up for Starfleet understanding the risks. Some of us have already lost loved ones in the line of duty…”

It was the line of duty that was the hardest to absorb. That reminder that her own father had died while serving. Amplified days later when Lieutenant Aster died on the archeological dig. It had impacted the crew, shocked them all because this had seemed like such a routine exploration. Worsened because she left behind Jeremy, now parent-less.

And in the last six days since that incident, Deanna had been on duty, more or less continuously caring for the boy. Worf had wanted to accompany both her and Jeremy to Starbase 24, where they would rendezvous with the boy’s aunt and uncle, but the Enterprise couldn’t spare him long enough. As it was, Deanna would barely make the connection back before they needed to jump to high warp in order to make their next mission. If she was delayed, it would be another week or more before a shuttle or transport would cross their path to bring her back.

In the end, it was O’Brien calling. “Transporter Room 3 to Commander Riker.”

“Riker here,” he replied instantly, straightening in his seat on the couch. He never used the desk in the ready room because it felt too much like the captain’s personal space.

“The counselor is back on board. You can take us to warp now.”

“Acknowledged,” Will replied, feeling a bit silly for not realizing sooner that O’Brien would be aware they were waiting for her arrival before moving on. That he would have anticipated the need to notify the bridge so they could go to warp.

Gathering the PADD he had been using, Will made his way back to the bridge. “Counselor Troi is back on board. Warp eight, on to our next coordinates,” he called to the helm before settling into the captain’s chair. He continued to fight his eagerness to see her back on board for himself. With a few commands from his PADD, he finished the plans he’d settled on the night before in anticipation of her return.

She had sent two communiques to him in as many days. They’d spoken only once through subspace, the first night after Jeremy had fallen asleep in one of the bunks on a small thirty passenger supply ship they’d caught a ride with. Deanna had looked very tired, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep that he hadn’t seen from her in a long time. It had been a rough past few months for her-- the psychological torment on Rana IV, nearly being sacrificed on Mintaka III, and the aftermath of Aster’s death. He’d set a hot bath to run in her quarters and left out some real chocolate that he’d managed to obtain on a recent starbase and kept a secret stash for the rough days when hot chocolate from the replicator wasn’t enough. Will had the sense from their subspace call that this would be one of those days.

And yet the bridge held only the scheduled crew members on a very routine shift. Textbook even. He’d rarely been so glad to hand over command to Data when it finally did end. In reality, he should be finding his way to the mess hall or Ten Forward for a meal. But he was determined not to wait any longer.

It didn’t take long to gain her quarters, and he politely pressed the button to notify her that she had a visitor. They came and went freely from each other’s quarters. They were both visitors with full access at any time. Besides that, as First Officer, he had override access to all parts of the ship. But he was a gentleman and would announce himself.

When there was no answer, he paused for a long moment. A glance up and down the hall confirmed that he was alone for now, and he was grateful. Everyone on board knew they were close. It wouldn't have been the first time either of them had been spotted outside the other’s quarters. Besides, their roles on the ship meant they often worked closely together. But he was also acutely aware that the crew knew their relationship was much more complicated than that.

“Computer, location of Counselor Deanna Troi,” he finally decided to consult on this, instead of simply assuming she was in her quarters. It would be easy enough to gain entry, but he hesitated to simply go in. She might be sleeping. Or she might want to be alone. A few dozen less rational explanations for no answer flitted through his mind, but he dismissed the various scenarios as absurd and unlikely.

“Counselor Deanna Troi is in Commander Riker’s quarters.”

Now that was not something he had not considered. With an about-face, he moved just down the corridor and through his own door. His lounge showed no evidence of a visitor, and he frowned to himself as he scanned the room to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. He gained his room and came to a full halt at the doorway.

There was a Betazoid in his bed. Soundly asleep. In the chair in the corner, her maroon uniform was folded neatly and her boots tucked out of the walkway. He was pretty sure he’d left at least a few articles of clothing on the floor, but it had been cleared out, most likely tossed in the laundry.

But what caught his breath was how small and worn out Deanna looked under the silvery Starfleet-issued blanket. The shadows under her eyes were more pronounced in the low light seeping in from the lounge. He wondered if she had even gone to her own quarters at all, and he suspected likely not.

For now, he was too awake to sleep. So he let himself linger for several moments more, absorbing that she was back on board. That she was getting the rest she so clearly needed. There would be time to catch up later. Will finally returned to his lounge and found something in the replicator menu that sounded appetizing and was able to focus enough to wrap up his daily report and close out two older reports before his mind wound down enough that he could think about sleeping, too.

A quick sonic shower relaxed him enough that Will knew meant he could finally get some rest. When he went in search of his usual blue pajamas, he found the top missing but tugged on the trousers and eased in beside Deanna. And he quickly found his missing top, which she had appropriated for her own sleepwear.

That particular realization touched on a mix of new feelings. Attraction. It wouldn't be the first time she had swiped something of his to sleep in. Secretly, he hoped it wouldn��t be the last time, either. And it touched on something tender, which surprised him all the more. That she was tired enough to borrow something, rather than make the effort of going to her own quarters, one room away, for her own things.

“Mmmm,” she murmured now, though Will could tell she remained on the other side of sleep.

“Sssh,” Will soothed, arms banding around her and pulling her closer to him, his body warmer than usual from the sonic shower. She relaxed into the comfort, as he’d hoped she would. “Back to sleep,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss into her hair. “I’m glad you’re back,” he breathed, thumb pressing at the nape of her neck, seeking those pressure points to soothe and relax her. He rubbed small circles until her breath evened out again, familiar and soothing against the crook of his neck and he followed her into deep sleep.

#imzadi #otp: imzadi #will riker #deanna troi #counselor troi #commander riker #my messed up space cinnamon nugget rolls

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years ago

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Since You’ve Been Gone (i’ve been falling apart)

Ao3

Summary: It’s been a week. It’s been a week and Patton’s not sure how much longer he can take this. Content: Worry, mentions of sleep deprivation + nightmares, some crying, Roman and Patton betrayed me to lip-kiss so that happens once Pairing: Royality Notes: This is the amos minific for @art-chive who requested any ship with the prompt "I've been falling apart (without you)" // "You know i'll always be there to catch you". I hope this suffices!

Patton wasn’t doing okay. Patton hadn’t been doing okay for a few days- if he was being honest, Patton hadn’t been doing okay for a week.

Because it was on Sunday that Roman had disappeared into the Imagination, off to fight some villain or find some figment, promising Patton he’d be back Monday. Patton wouldn’t even notice he’d been gone, Roman promised, to which Patton replied he always noticed when his prince was away. And Roman had laughed and kissed him and told him he’d be back soon.

And now it was Monday. Not the Monday Roman had promised he’d come back, no- the Monday after that one.

So Patton wasn’t doing okay.

At first, he had been fine. Worried, but fine. It wasn’t exactly unlike Roman to be back a day or two late, so when Roman didn’t show up when he said he would, Patton had managed to convince himself all was fine. Roman was just running a little late, that was all.

And then Tuesday had come and gone, Roman still nowhere to be found, and Patton was officially worried.

The others had tried to help and distract him, with board games and movie nights and family dinners and any other activities they could find, but it only worked so much. They couldn’t stop Patton from constantly glancing towards Roman’s room, waiting for his prince to emerge, couldn’t stop Patton from getting distracted by his own thoughts of where Roman could be, couldn’t stop Patton from missing him no matter what they were doing.

The days were hard enough, trying to stay in the moment and focus on Virgil and Logan and Janus instead of Roman and Roman’s room and Where Was Roman, but the nights were worse by a mile. His bed was empty and cold, and it was always his- normally, he and Roman would switch off who’s room they slept in night per night, but now, it was always Patton’s bed- always Patton’s Roman-less bed.

And now… it was Monday. A week since Roman should have been home, a week since Patton should’ve been able to hug Roman and hold him and kiss him, a week since Patton had last been doing anything close to okay.

Patton wasn’t sure where the others were, but he didn’t care either. He hadn’t cared about anything much since Saturday. He was tired, restless nights spent tossing and turning and looking for a warmth that wasn’t there until he woke up sweating and shaking from nightmares trying to tell him why that warmth was gone having drained him of what little energy he still had. He was tired and he was lonely and he just wanted Roman to be home.

Right then, he was curled up in an armchair, sipping at tea that had long since gone cold. He had made it in an attempt to warm himself up, but it was the wrong type of warm and it did little good against the numbness in his chest. He knew he should move, go to his room and get some work done, but he didn’t want to move. It was easier to sit and wallow and think about how the chair was made for one but it was so much nicer to sit in with two.

Before he could try and force himself to get up, however, Patton was drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of a door opening. He glanced back towards the hallway, but he couldn’t tell what door had opened. It was probably just one of the others.

But it could also be-

Flighty, useless, head-strong hope fluttered in his chest and Patton pushed himself out of the chair, dropping his cold tea on the coffee table as he headed towards the hallway. Despite the fact that he knew it was unlikely, he couldn’t help but entertain hope, entertain the thought that it was Roman, that it was Roman and he was okay and he was here and he was home and he was-

Lost in his thoughts, Patton didn’t notice the book on the floor, likely left there by Logan or Janus. His foot caught on it and he tripped, unable to catch himself as he headed for the floor…

...but he never hit it.

Instead, arms, warm arms, familiar warm arms caught him, wrapping underneath his own and giving him back the balance he had just lost. Above him, the owner of the arms chuckled, a sound that was still as musical as it was the first time Patton had heard it, even more so now. “I know that you’ve fallen for me, dearheart, but that doesn’t mean you have to do it literally.”

Though by then Patton knew who it was that was holding him- he’d know his prince anywhere and anytime- he still jerked his head up, desperate to be sure, to know this wasn’t a trick or a dream or a nightmare. But it wasn’t, and Roman was there, smiling softly and charmingly and looking a little dirty and a little tired but he was there, he was really there and holding Patton and Patton was holding him and he was there.

Patton threw himself at Roman as well as he could, arms wrapping around Roman’s chest and holding him as close as possible, burying his face against Roman’s neck and trying to take in as much of every single aspect of Roman as he could, as if letting go for even a second would cause him to vanish like a mirage. Roman returned the embrace barely a moment after Patton had initiated it, cradling Patton and allowing him to hold as close as he wanted.

“Hey, sunshine, it’s okay.” Roman murmured softly, teasing tone replaced for one that was tender and caring. He started to move his hands over Patton’s back, trying to soothe him, and Patton realized he had started shaking. “I’m here, I’m okay, we’re okay.”

“I’ve been falling apart.” Patton blurted out, meaning to make it a joke, a pun, a play on his fall, but he couldn’t do it, because it was true, he had been falling apart and he had been so worried and afraid and lonely without Roman and-

“Oh, come now, Pat,” Roman said, tone light yet sincere, “you know I’ll always be there to catch you.”

And despite the fact that Roman had clearly meant that to be comforting, Patton still started crying. Not because he was upset, of course, but because Roman was here and close and Roman was going to catch him every time he fell and really the only proper response to all the pent up fear and worry and sudden happiness was to sob into his beloved’s shoulder.

“Oh, shh, it’s okay, love, you can cry, it’s okay, come on, let’s sit down, okay? I love you, it’s okay, you’re okay, shh.” Roman said, continuing to softly reassure Patton even as he moved them over to the couch. The minute they were seated, Patton shifted so that he was in Roman’s lap, still holding tight to Roman as he continued to cry and Roman continued to comfort him.

Eventually, Patton sobs died off, and he pulled away from Roman’s shoulder. Roman smiled at him once more, all charm and soft edges. “Hey there, teddy bear.” Roman said, eliciting a small giggle from Patton. “How are you feeling?”

Patton didn’t answer at first, instead choosing to hold Roman’s face in both his hands, cupping his cheeks and looking over his face as if he was trying to memorize it forever. “I missed you.” He said, simply, knowing that Roman would hear all the hidden meaning behind those simple three words without him having to explain them.

Roman placed a hand over one of Patton’s. “I know, sweetheart.” He said apologetically. “I got caught up fighting some nightmares and lost my way. I didn’t mean to worry you so.”

“You should’ve taken someone with you.” Patton said as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss against Roman’s forehead. “Virgil would’ve been willing to go if you told him you really needed his help.” He kissed both sides of Roman’s face. “Logan still has his spear from the last time he accidentally got caught up in the Imagination.” He moved his hands so he could kiss Roman’s cheeks too. “I would’ve come if you had let me.”

“I know, I-” Roman laughed a little as Patton kissed his chin, “angel, you know I can’t think when you’re kissing me.”

Patton kissed Roman’s nose. “I have a whole week’s worth of kisses to make up for.” Patton told him, pausing for a moment so that he could tuck a stray strand of Roman’s hair behind his ear, staring into Roman’s eyes while he was at it. “No offense, honey, but I’m not going to stop so that you can think.”

“Oh, so cruel, lovebug.” Roman teased before he leaned forward, using the fact that Patton had been distracted by his eyes to steal himself a proper kiss. As soon as he realized what was happening, Patton returned the gesture, arms moving to wrap around the back of Roman’s neck as he kissed back, trying to make up for every kiss he had lost while Roman was away.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long.” Roman said when they finally broke apart, Patton resting his forehead against Roman’s, still holding him close.

“I know.” Patton told him, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Roman’s lips. “And I forgive you. Just… don’t do it again?”

Roman’s arms tightened where they were wrapped around Patton’s waist. “Never.” He promised, tone solemn, and Patton nodded, content as he turned his head and rested it against Roman’s shoulder, letting out a small yawn as he did so.

“Good.” He said, snuggling against Roman, ignoring as his prince chuckled.

“I think it’s bedtime, for you, my heart.” Roman said, shifting his hold on Patton so that he was cradling him against his chest as he stood. Patton didn’t have any protest, only snuggling in closer to Roman’s chest as he began to drift off, sleep finally willing to return peacefully to him now that Roman was safe and Patton was the right kind of warm. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to know Roman had taken them into his room, the familiarity of it not having faded in the week Roman had been gone.

He did stir, however, when Roman placed him down on his bed and retreated. Almost immediately, Patton was sitting up blinking in the dark room and reaching out blindly for Roman. “Roman? Baby? Don’t leave me please-”

Someone caught one of his hands, holding it in theirs, and Patton calmed, leaning towards Roman as he got into bed as well. “Hush, love, it’s alright, I just had to put your glasses away.”

Patton nodded a bit but, in all honesty, he didn’t care why Roman had been gone for a moment, only caring that he was there now. He once more pressed against Roman’s chest as his prince laid them both down, holding Patton and allowing him to cuddle as close as he wanted.

Although it was light, Patton could feel Roman plant a kiss against the top of his head, murmuring, “There you go, darling, it’s alright now. You can rest. I’ll still be here when you wake, I promise.”

And knowing that was one promise nothing could stop Roman from keeping, Patton relaxed against him, falling asleep surrounded by the warmth he hoped he’d never have to miss again.

#royality #ts roman #ts patton #ts sides #sanders sides #fanfic #fanfiction #the cryptid speaks #amos minific #art-chive #ren #i don't like the beginning of this that much but i think most of it is pretty good #*shakes head at the lip kiss* don't know what that eyesore is doing here tho /j

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greatworldwar2 · 4 years ago

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• Hiroyoshi Nishizawa (Japanese IJNAS Ace)

Hiroyoshi Nishizawa (西澤広義) was an ace of the Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service as a Lieutenant Junior Grade during World War 2.

Hiroyoshi Nishizawa was born January 27th, 1920 in a mountain village in the Nagano Prefecture, the fifth son of Mikiji and Miyoshi Nishizawa. His father was the manager of a sake brewery. Hiroyoshi graduated from higher elementary school and then began to work in a textile factory. In June 1936, a poster caught his eye, an appeal for volunteers to join the Yokaren (flight reserve enlistee training program). Nishizawa applied and qualified as a student pilot in Class Otsu No. 7 of the Japanese Navy Air Force (JNAF). He completed his flight training course in March 1939, graduating 16th out of a class of 71. In October 1941, he was transferred to the Chitose Kōkūtai, with the rank of petty officer 1st class.

After the outbreak of war with the Allies, Nishizawa's squadron (chutai) from the Chitose Air Group, then flying the obsolete Mitsubishi A5M, moved to Vunakanau airfield on the newly taken island of New Britain. The squadron received its first Mitsubishi Zeros (A6M2, Model 21) the same week. On February 3rd, 1942, Nishizawa, still flying an obsolete A5M, claimed his first aerial kill of the war, a PBY Catalina. On February 10, Nishizawa's squadron was transferred to the newly formed 4th Air Group. As new Zeros became available, Nishizawa was assigned an A6M2 bearing the tail code F-108.

On 1 April 1942, Nishizawa's squadron was transferred to Lae, New Guinea and assigned to the Tainan Air Group. There he flew with aces Saburō Sakai and Toshio Ōta in a chutai (squadron) led by Junichi Sasai. Sakai described his friend Nishizawa as about "5-foot-8, 140 lb (64 kg) in weight, pale and gaunt, suffering constantly from malaria and tropical skin diseases". Nishizawa's squadron mates nicknamed him the "Devil," considered him a reserved, taciturn loner. Of his performance in the air, Sakai, himself one of Japan's leading aerial aces, wrote, "Never have I seen a man with a fighter plane do what Nishizawa would do with his Zero".

They often clashed with United States Army Air Forces and Royal Australian Air Force fighters operating from Port Moresby. Nishizawa's first confirmable solo kill, of a USAAF P-39 Airacobra, was on April 11th. He claimed six more kills in a 72-hour period from May 1st-3rd, making him a confirmed fighter ace. Nishizawa was a member of the famed "Cleanup Trio" with Saburō Sakai and Toshio Ōta. On May 17th, 1942, Lieutenant Commander Tadashi "Shosa" Nakajima led the Tainan Ku on a mission to Port Moresby, with Sakai and Nishizawa as his wingmen. As the Japanese formation re-formed for the return flight, Sakai signaled Nakajima, that he was going after an enemy aircraft and peeled off. Minutes later, Sakai was over Port Moresby again, to keep his rendezvous with Nishizawa and Ōta. The trio now performed aerobatics, three tight loops in close formation. After that, a jubilant Nishizawa indicated that he wanted to repeat the performance. Diving to 6,000 ft (1,800 m), the three Zeros did three more loops, still without any AA fire from the ground. They headed then back to Lae, arriving 20 minutes after the rest of the Kōkūtai.

In early August 1942, the air group moved to Rabaul, immediately operating against the US forces on Guadalcanal. In the first clash on August 7th, Nishizawa claimed six F4F Wildcats. On August 8th, 1942, Saburō Sakai, Nishizawa's closest friend, was severely wounded in combat with U.S. Navy Grumman TBM Avenger torpedo bombers. Nishizawa noticed that Sakai was missing and went into a mad rage, he searched the area, both for signs of Sakai and for Americans to fight, presumably even if he had to ram them. Eventually, he cooled off and returned to Lakunai. Later, to everyone's amazement, the seriously wounded Sakai arrived. Nishizawa, Lieutenant Sasai and Toshio Ōta transported the obstinate but unconscious Sakai to the hospital. In frustrated concern, Nishizawa physically removed the waiting driver and personally drove Sakai, as quickly but as gently as possible, to the surgeon. Sakai was evacuated to Japan on August 12th. The extended conflict over Guadalcanal was costly for Nishizawa's air group (renamed the 251st in November) as American aircraft and tactics improved: Sasai was shot down and killed by Captain Marion E. Carl on August 26th, 1942, and Ōta was killed in October 1942.

In mid-November, the 251st was recalled to Toyohashi air base in Japan to replace its losses, with the ten surviving pilots all being made instructors, including Nishizawa. Nishizawa is believed to have had around 40 full or partial aerial victories by this time. Nishizawa, while staying in Japan, visited Saburō Sakai, who was still recuperating in the Yokosuka hospital. Nishizawa complained to Sakai of his new duty as an instructor. Nishizawa also ascribed the loss of most of their comrade pilots to the ever increasing material advantage of the Allied forces, the improved U.S. aircraft and tactics. Nishizawa could not wait to return to combat. "I want a fighter under my hands again," he said. "I simply have to get back into action. Staying home in Japan is killing me." Nishizawa publicly chafed at the months of inaction in Japan. He and the 251st returned to Rabaul in May 1943. In June 1943, Nishizawa's achievements were honored by a gift from the commander of the 11th Air Fleet, Vice Admiral Jin'ichi Kusaka. Nishizawa received a military sword inscribed "Buko Batsugun" ("For Conspicuous Military Valor"). He was then transferred to the 253rd Air Group on New Britain in September. In November, he was promoted to warrant officer and reassigned to training duties in Japan with the Oita Air Group.

In February 1944, he joined the 203rd Air Group, operating from the Kurile Islands, away from heavy action. In October, however, the 203rd was transferred to Luzon. Nishizawa and four others were detached to a smaller airfield on Cebu. On October 25th, 1944, Nishizawa led the fighter escort consisting of four A6M5s, flown by Nishizawa, Misao Sugawa, Shingo Honda and Ryoji Baba for the first major kamikaze attack of the war, targeting Vice Admiral Clifton Sprague's "Taffy 3" task force, which was protecting the landings in the Battle of Leyte Gulf. The kamikaze volunteers, led by Lieutenant Yukio Seki, piloted five bomb-armed A6M2 Model 21 Zeros, each carrying a 250 kg (550 lb) bomb. They deliberately crashed their planes into U.S. warships in the first official kamikaze attack of the Tokkōtai suicide squadron "Shikishima". They were the first kamikazes to sink an enemy ship. The attack was very successful, as four of the five kamikazes struck their targets and inflicted heavy damage. While flying fighter escort to this kamikaze mission, Nishizawa recorded at minimum, his 86th and 87th victories, the final aerial victories of his career. Nishizawa reported the sortie's success to Commander Nakajima after returning to base. He then volunteered to take part in the next day's Tokkōtai kamikaze mission. His request was refused.

The following day, his own Zero having been destroyed, Nishizawa and other pilots of the 201st Kōkūtai boarded a Nakajima Ki-49 Donryu ("Helen") transport aircraft and left Mabalacat on Pampanga in the morning, to ferry replacement Zeros from Clark Field on Luzon. Over Calapan on Mindoro Island, the Ki-49 transport was attacked by two F6F Hellcats of VF-14 squadron from the fleet carrier USS Wasp and was shot down in flames. Nishizawa died as a passenger, probably the victim of Lt. j.g. Harold P. Newell, who was credited with a "Helen" northeast of Mindoro that morning.

Upon learning of Nishizawa's death, the commander of the Combined Fleet, Admiral Soemu Toyoda, honored Nishizawa with a mention in an all-units bulletin and posthumously promoted him to the rank of lieutenant junior-grade. Nishizawa was also given the posthumous name Bukai-in Kohan Giko Kyoshi, a Zen Buddhist phrase that translates: "In the ocean of the military, reflective of all distinguished pilots, an honored Buddhist person." Because of the confusion towards the end of the Pacific war, the bulletin's publication was delayed and funeral services were not held until December 2nd, 1947.

#second world war #world war 2 #biography #ww2 #japanese navy #imperial japan #japanese history #japan #military history #aviation #japanese air force #kamikaze #japanese zero

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bluebellhairpin · 4 years ago

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Fight or Flight, Rider [6]

Poe Dameron X Pilot!Reader

A/N: This took me too long to write, and it’s got the word count of Kylo Ren’s body count; so get ready for the long haul because I’ve got a bad feeling about this *evil laugh* - Nemo

Summary: (y/n) doesn’t seem to like to make things easy for herself. Her mouth might give her about as much grief as if does blessings.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

[Gif was sourced on Pinterest. Credit to thee maker!]

“How does it feel?”

“The collar is too tight, and the fabric is itchy.” Rey tugged on the hem of the jacket, trying to make it less itchy, stepping back to observe how you looked.

“You’d ought to be thankful you’re not actually part of the First Order, and have to wear their uniform everyday.” she said, smiling at you as you moved over to the nearby mirror fragment. You mimicked her actions, tugging the jacket’s hem down, and then ran a finger around it’s collar.

“They’ll notice it’s not mine.”

“No they won't.” She came up behind you, placing her hands on your shoulders, and looking at your reflection over your shoulder. “They’ll be too stunned at the pretty new Officer to notice your pant legs at a centimeter too short.”

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow before shaking her off your shoulders.

“If they manage to see me at all.” you added, bumping Z2 lightly with your foot, before continuing, “Let’s just get this over with, huh?”

“Couldn't agree more Rider.”

__________

“- Any questions, Major?” Gareth said, stepping aside from the ship, after trying to explain whatever he thought was necessary to explain.

“Um, yes? Where on earth did you get a First Order ship from?” You were stuck between feelings of awe and confusion at the ship in front of you. How you’d never noticed it before - considering it was sleek and black and First Order all over - was beyond your thinking right now, all you did know was that you were going to be lucky enough to fly it.

“Here or there. I can’t remember.” you looked over at Gareth, now uncertain.

“You, one of the most informed people here, don’t know where this came from?”

“I said I didn’t remember. There’s a difference.” he shrugged. Running a hand along the ship’s hull, he looked over at you. “Excuse the pun, but a lot is riding on you now. Whether you’re ready for it or not, what you do in the next twelve hours will change how the war ends.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel less nervous, it’s not really working Commander.” You flicked the collar of the uniform up, keeping it un-creased as you ducked around the ship to the door. “I appreciate the sentiment though.” you said, shooting him a wink and climbed into the cockpit.

“Wait! Don’t go yet!” Poe yelled, practically sprinting out of the base and into the hanger, trying to make sure he caught you before you left.

You’d already managed to say goodbye to the greater half of the base, including Rey, Finn, and Joon. Even BB, but no Poe until now.

You had spoken to Poe again last night - after Rey rudely interrupted you - but it wasn’t for long, and it wasn’t about the almost-kiss. Honestly you couldn’t quite remember what it was about, Poe had fallen asleep not too long into the conversation, and you followed suit - leaving him in his dorm to retreat to your own.

A single once-over of Poe told you he hadn’t bothered changing out of the clothes he fell asleep in.

“Jeez, I’ve been trying to hunt you down all morning.” Poe said, climbing the side of the ship to bring his face level to yours. “You don’t like staying in one place long, huh sweetheart?”

“You just woke up Poe.” you laughed, and your chest tightened. What if this was the last time you laughed with him?

“You can’t prove that.” his said, words as soft as his smile.

Did he hear your unspoken question?

“Oh I can - whether anyone believes me or not, that’d be where the problem lies.” A beat passed before you spoke again. “What were you looking for me for?”

“I felt I had a missed opportunity last night.” You quirked an eyebrow up at that. A smile tugging at your lips.

“Really?”

“Yes. I need to clock-in that opportunity.” You learnt over to the ship’s control panel, flicking a switch and pressing a couple buttons to warm up the engine.

“Sure you do Dameron.”

“Does that mean I don’t get a kiss?” He said, his voice was joking, but one look and you could tell he was a little disappointed. He always spoke more with his eyes than his actual voice.

“Oh whatever.” you said, leaning over the space created by the ship to grab the back of his neck and pull his lips flush to yours. It was clumsy, and slightly rushed, but when you both pulled away your breath was taken away just the same.

You both waited for a moment, your fingers toying with his curls ever-so-slightly, before you pulled away further.

“Thank you.” Poe said, smiling from ear to ear. You frowned, even though your smile mirrored his.

“What’re you thanking me for?”

“Well now I know what to look forward to more of once you get back.”

____________

It wasn’t until about halfway through the hyperjump that your nerves settled in again. Z2 was no help. He kept beeping and buzzing as if he was nervous too, and that only unsettled you. You swore the day Z2 was open about his droid-feelings was the day you died.

In this situation it didn’t fill you with your much needed confidence.

Back when you were on Nephimm you almost dared to dream you’d go up against the First Order one day. As a child your parents would occasionally tell you stories about the heroics of old, and that only spurred you on.

When you were a teenager and reached the age set by your planet’s authorities to move out of your parent’s home, they gave you a book to take with you. It was filled with stories and drawings of all those stories they’d told you.

Space and the stars.

Cities and the people in them.

Life and humanity.

Death and war.

You ship jolted, and you prepared yourself to exit hyperspace. You shot a glance at Z2, looking into his camera where the Resistance was looking back.

You might’ve been going into this mission on your own, but you weren’t alone.

__________

Never in his life was Poe as anxious as he was now.

Finn had noticed by the time they saw you’d exited hyperspace, and had tried to treasure Poe by placing a hand on his shoulder. That only worked so much.

Through Z2, they could see both inside your ship, and the scraps of the one being built before you. The thing was huge, even if it was still unfictional, and Poe saw you shiver.

“Since this thing is theirs, how about we do a little recon first Zee?” your voice came through clipped and fuzzy, but at least they could still hear you. The droid beeped at you, and you pushed the ship forward into the construction.

Poe could just make out the ship’s fame though the screen, and he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit that it was a bit foreboding. Even for him.

After a lap of the ship, you pulled into a completed hanger, landing as if you’d done it a million times before, and stepped out. Poe squirmed where he stood. It was almost eerie watching you like this.

Not because it was through a droid’s perspective, but because of how easily you seemed to fit in as a First Order Officer.

Watching you go from a gittery, nervous wreck to emotionless and completely straight-faced sent a shiver through half the people that were watching. It was like you just slipped from one reality to another. Poe almost wondered if he'd been wrong to trust you, to get you into the inderworkings of the Resistance, but looking up at your friend - Joon - told him half of what he needed to know.

The real you was with the Resistance. This you that was on the projection, that was you back on Nephimm.

Each step you took, timed and precise, only made Poe remember. It made him finally piece together what you’d spoken about that night on your X-Wing’s wing - and everything after that.

Children being taught how to fly like professionals.

Teenagers being kicked out of their homes once they’d reached ‘the age’.

Being out of bed or your dorm past ‘bedtime’ wasn’t accepted.

You never having a nickname before you got here.

He concluded Nephimm wasn’t a nice place, as much as you gawked about the greenery and sunsets. It was beautiful, but only if you followed the rules.

Much like the First Order.

__________

Saying your heart was now sunken to the pits of your stomach was a slight exaggeration. It felt more like it was down in your womb with how heavy it was. You had a phrase, a mantra, running through the back of your mind.

‘Act like you belong, they won’t think any different.’

It was a new base. It had new crew and new faces. All you needed to do was find a master board, get the plans, get out and destroy the ship. It was simple. The two Star Destroyers outside would just have to wait until later. Mainly because they were much less simple.

Turning down another corridor, you were faced with a duo of Storm Trooper. You almost froze in your stride, but brushed passed them without so much as a glace. They didn’t pull you aside for it, so you figured you did something right.

As you passed another doorway, you realized you had no way to get in anywhere if it was locked. But then again, you could always pickpocket. You’d slipped cards in and out of Joon’s pockets since you met him, how different could that be?

Ahead two Officials turned into the hallway, flanked by two more Troopers. You have to make this quick. So you kept it casual, paying as little attention to Z2 as you could, and brushed past the left Officer just enough to stumble both you and him.

But the Officer caught you instead of the other way around. He fired questions at you, and your resolve cracked. It was slight, only the hesitation of a moment, but he saw it. And just like that it shattered completely.

You guessed nothing was ever really that easy.

___________

The Officers pulled you between them, and the only thing stopping you from completely lashing out at them was the bonds on your wrists and the two Troopers with their blasters behind you.

At least Z2 still wasn’t detected. He’d been behaving himself, unlike you.

Despite the Troopers behind you, it didn’t stop you from sending your worst and most venomous glares to anyone that dared look your way. It also didn’t stop you from making yourself the most inconvenient prisoner they’d ever have.

As if you’d just go with them without a fight.

Apparently a lowly Rebel was too unimportant to have the five-star treatment, and yet He had come all the way from one of the Destroyers to see you.

The Mr. Evil Overlord, and Supreme Leader of the First Order himself -

“- You. Kyline Raymond.”

“Kylo Ren.” the Officer corrected, holding onto your arm even tighter.

“Kylie Reed?”

“Kylo. Ren.” You almost considered ceasing the sass. But you would never fail Leia like that.

“Kyle Rey?”

“This rebel is defective. I don’t think she can hear you sir.” the Officer hissed, joliting your arm harshly in his grip. The Sith tiled his helmet down at you. Only slightly. It was as if you weren’t even worth that.

“She’s not defective,” he said, “Just like the rest of those Rebels, she just needs to be broken.”

The Officer looked from you back to Ren.

“Well what are you standing here for?” Ren growled. “Break her.”

__________

Series Taglist: @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @writefightandflightclub @robindoesntloveme @kiaralein @danicalifxrnia @americasass-romanoff @morgannope @smolpeachees @afootnoteinyourhappiness @lonelydarlings @rae-rae-patcha @oakleyves @grincheveryday @seninjakitey @fanfin-glutton

Poe Dameron Taglist: @p3nny4urth0ught5 @m1rkw00dpr1ncess

#fight or flight rider #poe dameron x reader #poe damerson one shot #poe dameron imagine #star wars x reader #star wars oneshot #star wars imagine

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newstfionline · 3 years ago

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Sunday, August 15, 2021

Canada to require air travelers to be vaccinated (AP) The Canadian government will soon require all air travelers and passengers on interprovincial trains to be vaccinated against COVID-19. Transport Minister Omar Alghabra said Friday that includes all commercial air travelers, passengers on trains between provinces and cruise ship passengers. “As soon as possible in the Fall and no later than the end of October, the Government of Canada will require employees in the federally regulated air, rail, and marine transportation sectors to be vaccinated. The vaccination requirement will also extend to certain travelers. This includes all commercial air travelers,” his office said in a statement. France announced this week that it will require people have a special virus pass before they can travel by plane, train or bus across the country.

Debt: So long to the savings glut (The Week) “Americans are borrowing again,” said AnnaMaria Andriotis at The Wall Street Journal. After a year in which many consumers reduced spending, stashed savings, and used stimulus checks to pay down debt, more people have gone back to “splurging on cars, vacations, and eating out”—and seeking loans to pay for it. “Lenders originated some 3 million auto loans and leases in March, the highest monthly figure on record,” with the balances for those new originations topping a record $73 billion. A record 6 million new general-purpose credit cards were also issued the same month. The balances on our cards are still “about $140 billion lower than at the end of 2019,” said Alexandre Tanzi and Katia Dmitrieva at Bloomberg. But household debt—which includes mortgages, credit cards, and other consumer loans—rose in the second quarter “at the fastest pace since 2013.” Much of that was driven by the hot housing market—and Americans scrambling to refinance while mortgage rates remained low.

More US cities requiring proof of vaccination to go places (AP) Hold on to that vaccination card. A rapidly growing number of places across the U.S. are requiring people to show proof they have been inoculated against COVID-19 to teach school, work at a hospital, see a concert or eat inside a restaurant. Following New York City’s lead, New Orleans and San Francisco will impose such rules at many businesses starting next week, while Los Angeles is looking into the idea. The new measures are an attempt to stem the rising tide of COVID-19 cases that has pushed hospitals to the breaking point, including in the Dallas area, where top officials warned they are running out of beds in their pediatric intensive care units.

Western fires threaten thousands of homes, strain resources (AP) A month-old wildfire burning through forestlands in Northern California lurched toward a small lumber town as blazes across the U.S. Western states strained resources and threatened thousands of homes with destruction. Crews were cutting back brush and using bulldozers to build lines to keep the Dixie Fire from reaching Westwood east of Lake Almanor, not far from where the lightning-caused blaze destroyed much of the town of Greenville last week. To the northwest, the Monument Fire continued to grow after destroying a dozen homes and threatened about 2,500 homes in a sparsely populated region. They were among more than 100 large wildfires burning in a dozen Western states seared by drought and hot, bone-dry weather that has turned forests, brushlands, meadows and pastures into tinder. The U.S. Forest Service said Friday it’s operating in crisis mode, fully deploying firefighters and maxing out its support system.

500 years later, Mexico recalls Spanish conquest (Los Angeles Times) The final resting place of one of Mexico’s signature historical figures is easy to miss. A simple red plaque—just a name and the years he lived—marks the spot where his tomb is embedded in a wall to the side of the altar in a dilapidated downtown church. The name alone, however, recalls centuries of conflict and a never-ending debate about the essential identity of Mexico: HERNAN CORTES 1485-1547. The legendary Spanish military commander may be hidden away in death, but a few blocks away, authorities are readying a remembrance of his momentous triumph—the conquest of the Aztec Empire. Friday marks the 500th anniversary of the fall in 1521 of the Aztec capital, Tenochtitlán, now the site of Mexico City. The bloody siege culminating in its surrender launched three centuries of Spanish dominion in Mexico. “We were all born from the conquest, no longer Aztecs, no longer Spanish, but Indian-Hispanic-Americans, mestizos,” wrote Carlos Fuentes, the late Mexican author. “We are what we are because Hernán Cortés, for good or for bad, did what he did.”

7.2 magnitude earthquake hits Haiti; at least 304 killed (AP) A powerful magnitude 7.2 earthquake struck southwestern Haiti on Saturday, killing at least 304 people and injuring at least 1,800 others as buildings tumbled into rubble. Prime Minister Ariel Henry said he was rushing aid to areas where towns were destroyed and hospitals overwhelmed with incoming patients. The epicenter of the quake was about 125 kilometers (78 miles) west of the capital of Port-au-Prince, the U.S. Geological Survey said, and widespread damage was reported in the hemisphere's poorest nations as a tropical storm also bore down. Henry declared a one-month state of emergency for the whole country and said some towns were almost completely razed.

Belarus floods the European Union with migrants (CNN) Desperate, frightened and begging for help, they emerge from the darkness: a group of Yazidi migrants, lost in the forests of eastern Europe. It’s a surreal sight—and one that has been repeated over many recent nights. Having survived persecution by ISIS at home in Iraq, here on the Belarus-Lithuania border the Yazidis find themselves caught up in a breathtakingly cynical plot. Belarus’s authoritarian leader, Alexander Lukashenko, has been accused of using these desperate souls as pawns in his high-stakes game with the European Union. Over the course of 24 hours from July 27 to 28, a record 171 people were caught on the border—many of them Iraqis. A total of more than 4,000 have been caught so far this year. European officials say Lukashenko’s bureaucracy is extracting thousands of euros from each traveler then “weaponizing” them—according to Lithuanian Foreign Minister Gabrielius Landsbergis—in order to burden Belarus’s neighbor Lithuania. Officials say the migrants are flown from the Middle East to Minsk, and then guided to the Belarus-Lithuania border by unspecified facilitators, where they are allowed to cross, unimpeded by Belarusian border police. Lithuania has called it “petty”—“mass revenge” for sanctions imposed by the EU after Belarus forced a Ryanair plane to land in Minsk so they could arrest an opposition blogger on board. A Western intelligence official told CNN the scheme could not function without the permission of the Belarusian state, and that Lukashenko was likely using the migrants as a way to pressurize the EU into negotiations on lifting the sanctions against him.

Heat wave edges higher in southern Europe (AP) Intense heat baking Italy pushed northward towards the popular tourist destination of Florence Friday while wildfires charred the country’s south, and Spain appeared headed for an all-time record high temperature as a heat wave kept southern Europe in a fiery hold. Italy saw temperatures in places upwards of 40 C (104 F), and Rome broiled. By late afternoon Friday, the heat in Florence reached 39 C (102 F). That city and Bologna also were issued alerts for Saturday by the health ministry. Many southern European countries have suffered days of intense heat, accompanied by deadly wildfires in Algeria, Turkey, Italy and Greece. Wildfires on the Italian island of Sardinia were reported largely contained, but a blaze early Friday near Tivoli in the countryside east of Rome forced the evacuation of 25 families.

At least 40 killed in Turkey flood as search for missing continues (Reuters) Families of those missing after Turkey’s worst floods in years anxiously watched rescue teams search buildings on Saturday, fearing the death toll from the raging torrents could rise further. At least 40 people have died from the floods in the northern Black Sea region, the second natural disaster to strike the country this month. Drone footage by Reuters showed massive damage in the flood-hit Black Sea town of Bozkurt, where emergency workers were searching demolished buildings.

Marine vanguard lands in Kabul as US speeds up evacuations (AP) The first forces of a Marine battalion arrived in Kabul at week’s end to stand guard as the U.S. speeds up evacuation flights for some American diplomats and thousands of Afghans, spurred by a lightning Taliban offensive that increasingly is isolating Afghanistan’s capital. Pentagon spokesman John Kirby said “elements” of a battalion were now in Kabul, the vanguard of three Marine and Army battalions that the U.S. was sending to the city by the end of the weekend to help more Americans and their Afghan colleagues get out quickly. The Taliban, emboldened by the imminent end of the U.S. combat mission in the country, took four more provincial capitals Friday, heightening fears they would move soon on the capital, which is home to millions of Afghans.

‘Why did my friend get blown up? For what?’ (Washington Post) After enlisting in the U.S. military against his family’s wishes, Chicago native Tom Amenta said he found himself in “middle-of-nowhere,” Afghanistan, in 2002 as an Army Ranger in a remote area some 15 minutes from the border with Pakistan. He was fighting the initial battles of a war that few knew would stretch on for 20 years. Now 40 and retired from the military, he felt anger foam inside as he watched the evening news. Headline after headline broadcast the latest gains by Taliban fighters, who have seized control of more than a dozen of the country’s provincial capitals as the Afghan government inches closer to collapse in the final days of the U.S. withdrawal. Friends who had been killed there came to mind, including NFL star Pat Tillman. Fond memories of former Afghan colleagues, such as interpreters, who remained in the country and whose fates he didn’t know, also resurfaced. “It makes me angry, really angry,” Amenta said of the U.S. withdrawal, lamenting the billions upon billions of dollars spent on the war effort—not to mention the emotional, financial and human toll suffered by thousands of Americans who served or sent their loved ones to fight in Afghanistan. “I mean, why did my friend get blown up? For what?” said Amenta. “No one’s saying, ‘Hey, you know, at least we did something.’ There’s just nothing to really show for it,” former Army medic Frank Scott Novak said. “And so, everyone’s kind of angry and wondering, why? Why were we even there?”

Nobody running Lebanon, says central bank boss (Reuters) Lebanon’s central bank governor said nobody was running the country as he defended his decision to halt fuel subsidies that have drained currency reserves, saying the government could resolve the problem by passing necessary legislation. In an interview broadcast on Saturday, governor Riad Salameh pressed back against government accusations that he had acted alone in declaring an end to the subsidies on Wednesday, saying everyone knew the decision was coming. The move is the latest turn in a crippling financial crisis that has sunk the Lebanese pound by 90% in less than two years and pushed more than half the population into poverty. Salameh said Lebanon could recover but it was not possible to say how many years that would take. “So far you have nobody running the country,” he said in the interview with Radio Free Lebanon. Lebanon’s sectarian politicians have failed to agree on a new government since Prime Minister Hassan Diab quit last August after the catastrophic Beirut port blast.

#headlines #news

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starlightsearches · 5 years ago

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Office Romance: Ch. 15 Secrets

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: The reader smokes in this one (I do not condone smoking, lol, I’m an asthmatic)

You were holding your head in your hands, trying to gather some strength, before you leaned back and took a deep breath. Ren was anxious to hear what you had to say, and more than a little annoyed that you had asked the general to be present. He had lost his chance to get rid of Hux, but he would undoubtedly be presented with another one sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.

“I’d kill for a cigarette,” you said with a small chuckle, and immediately the general reached into his greatcoat, pulling out his pack and a lighter. A look of surprise crossed your face, but you took the offered cigarette from his fingers. Hux leaned in close to you, reaching forward to light it, and your hands shook, but you smirked at him as you took a drag before letting the smoke curl out of your parted lips.

“I didn’t know you smoked, General.”

“There’s probably a lot of things you don’t know about me, Lieutenant,” Hux responded, an inside joke apparently—and a weak attempt to lighten the mood—because your face became shadowed, the focus of your gaze burning a whole in the floor.

“Not for long, General,” you said, and there was a deep and fathomless sadness evident on your face as the general leaned away from you, looking pained. Ren shifted with impatience, and you picked up on his restlessness, clearing your throat before you began.

“My mother worked for the Prydes before I was born, first as a maid, but later she became the head of the household. After she found out she was pregnant, she told the Prydes that she would have to leave. They said no.” You breathed deeply through your words, staring alternately at the floor, then the ceiling, but avoiding eye contact, instead taking another drag off the cigarette.

“Why would they do that?” Hux asked, trying to prompt you through your pause.

“She was an indentured servant. They owned her. I think she owed them something like 7,000 credits for room and board? She never could have paid it. They offered to take care of her until I was born, and they promised that they would allow both of us to stay with them after.”

“Seems generous,” Hux said, skeptically. The small space had filled with a smoky haze, but your hands had stopped shaking, and you had fallen into a rhythm as you talked. Still, Ren was growing impatient; what did all of this have to do with force suppression?

“Mira, Pryde’s wife, had always wanted a child, but she couldn’t have any of her own. It was a source of tension for her and Enric. I think he saw my mother’s situation as a solution to their problems. They essentially owned her, and he believed that they owned me too. After I was born, Mira took care of me while my parents worked. I saw her more than I saw my own mother. She must have sensed that they were . . . planning something. To get me away from Mira, she started to send me to work with my father once I was a little older.” For the first time since you began, tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you blinked them away.

“He worked for the neighboring estate: a caff plantation, as a farmhand and mechanic. He was a good man. I hardly remember my mother now, but my father . . . he was everything to me. During those years, I was away from the Pryde house so often that I hardly saw my mother. I didn’t even notice when she started to get sick.

“I don’t really remember much of what happened after she died. I still lived with the Pryde’s, and I saw my father sometimes, but it was always very strange. One of them was in the room at all times, and my father made a lot of vague statements about ‘taking me away.’ I didn’t understand any of it; I had just lost my mother and I liked living with the Prydes. I didn’t know any better.

“One night, I was sleeping in my bedroom when I heard . . . something outside my window. I remember that one of the worker boys had told me stories about monsters that wandered the grounds at night trying to scare me, and I wanted to see if they were real. I went to check and,” now you were crying in earnest, your cigarette discarded on the floor of the ship, “it was awful. There were so many of them, their faces covered, and my father on the ground, Pryde standing over him with a blaster in his hand. I screamed, and Mira came in, I tried to get her to stop him but she placed her hand over my mouth to quiet me instead. . . She didn’t pull me away from the window, and I couldn’t look away.” Your head fell into your hands, and when you looked back up your eyes were rimmed with dark circles, the makeup that had been so carefully applied earlier spilling down your cheeks in thick black lines.

“You can’t imagine what it was like, living with them after that. But I was a child; I had nowhere to go. The only family I had was dead, and the Prydes . . . I knew I had to be careful around them.” Ren had known that you were frightened of the allegiant general, but he had never imagined something like this. A morbid kind of nausea found its way into the back of his throat.

“What does this have to do with your connection to the force?” The general asked gently, and you wiped the tears away with the back of your hand before Hux continued, “I want you to know that I believe you, Lieutenant. But if Pryde really is cutting off your connection to the force, we need to figure out how. It would be helpful to know why.”

“You don’t know Pryde like I do, General. He didn’t need a reason; it was always about control, with him. When I lived there . . .” you whispered, and Ren could feel you remembering—so many instances flooding your mind that had seemed inconsequential or innocuous that suddenly held a greater weight. “When I lived there, he kept me on a tight leash. I did what I could to try and get away, but none of my attempts really worked, not until the Order.”

“Why do you think that is?” the general asked. Ren knew he was hoping to solve the puzzle, hoping to figure out the plot in order to gain your favor. Please, he had accused Ren of hoping to save you, but Hux was no better.

“Because he has eyes here,” you said it so matter-of-factly, and Ren paused. What had he been missing?

“Eyes? Who?” Hux was skeptical once again, already trying to figure out which of his men had split loyalties.

“I’m not sure, but it should be easy enough to find out now,” you brushed off the general’s concerns before turning to Ren, pulling your knees into your chest, “now, tell us what you know about force suppression.”

“There isn’t much to say,” Ren started, keenly aware of your attention on him, and Hux’s as well. This was not information he wanted the general to have. “It’s a power that some force users exercise against others to cut off their connection to the force. It’s difficult to accomplish, and can be deadly.”

“Deadly?” You were concerned, for obvious reasons.

“Once you become reliant on the force, losing that connection is devastating.”

“But Pryde isn’t force sensitive,” you said, “and my connection to the force has nothing to do with proximity to him.” The three of you sat in silence for a moment, trying to work around the problem.

“Wait,” Hux said, then, breaking the silence, “I think I might know how Pryde did it. Where are your things, Lieutenant?” You stood, moving to your feet quickly and out the door, propelled by the sound of urgency in the general’s voice.

“What’s this about, General?” Ren asked, trying to find answers in the general’s mind, but Hux had put up barriers to Ren’s power, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to break them down before you returned.

“I have it here,” you said, walking back in through the door, “why do you need it?”

“Your necklace, the one from the Prydes, is it in here?” You began digging through the pockets, before finding it and placing it in the general’s gloved palm.

“A very long time ago, my father was part of a division of the Directorate—a secret taskforce working to limit the powers of force sensitives, as a failsafe.”

“I’ve never heard about anything like that,” Ren said, and Hux looked up smugly.

“You wouldn’t have, it was kept very private so that the information wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“How does it work, then?” You asked, looking at the necklace.

“It didn’t,” Hux responded. He was studying the item too: a simple chain with a small stone in the center. It looked worthless, in Ren’s opinion, less than worthless. Could it be true that something so inconsequential could make someone like him . . . powerless? “They found an element that they believed could dampen the powers of force sensitives, but everything they tried had little effect on those trained with the force and the group disbanded as soon as the Supreme Leader came into power.”

“But I was untrained when Pryde found me,” you said, “any connection to the force wouldn’t have manifested for me until later. Maybe that’s what made the difference. How long ago did your father work on this?”

“I don’t remember, exactly, but it was before I officially joined the Order,” Hux responded, “I would sometimes listen in on my father’s meetings, when I thought he wouldn’t notice.” You flinched away from the general, your eyes filling with disbelief and sadness at the mention of his childhood. You had been right before, it seemed; the general could no longer keep secrets from you.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake away the general’s memories before speaking, “It’s possible that they were working on this around the same time that I moved in with the Prydes.” The information was fitting together now rapidly, and Ren looked up; he had found the last piece.

“You were the failsafe,” he said, and you understood him, taking the thoughts straight from his head.

“That’s why Pryde wanted me so badly, not some other child. He must have known about my mother’s force sensitivity, and he wanted someone with that same power loyal to him in case his position was threatened. But how could I be useful to him without training?”

“You do have training, though,” Hux said, “you’re a soldier. That’s why Pryde let go to the Academy. If you couldn’t be trained in the force without his knowledge, at least you could be trained in combat.” A silence fell over the room, the weight of the truth heavy on each of your shoulders.

“So then where does that leave us?” You took the necklace from the general’s hands twisting it between your fingers.

“We’ll continue with your training,” Ren said, “if the Allegiant General tries to use you against me or the Supreme Leader, then you’ll be ready.”

“We know his plan,” Hux said, hoping to give you some assurance, “so we’ll know if he decides to move. But for now, there’s not much we can do. You said Pryde has eyes here, which means that we’ll need to act as if everything is normal.”

“We should start with getting out of this damn closet,” you said with a small chuckle, and then, unexpectedly, “Ren, why don’t you leave first?”

Hux was surprised at this turn of events, but grateful as well. After the confrontation with Ren in the alley, he was glad to have a few moments alone with you. “Hey, come here,” you said as the door closed, pulling him closer.

“Give me your wrist,” you took his hand in yours and then rolled up the sleeve of his uniform, wrapping the necklace twice around his wrist before securing the clasp.

“I want you to have this,” you said, holding his hand in yours, “it won’t keep Ren out of your head, but this way you can have some privacy while I learn to control myself.” Your smile was sad, and Hux couldn’t move, afraid to do or say the wrong thing. No one had ever given him a gift before.

“What if I don’t want privacy?” he whispered.

“Then I guess you’ll have to talk to me, like a normal person would.” You adjust his sleeve back down, the back of your thumb running across the inside of his wrist. You moved, heading for the door, but Hux wasn’t ready to be alone just yet.

“I’m sorry about your father.” He said, and you paused, turning back to him.

“And I’m sorry about yours, General. You deserved better.”

Walking out of the storage room and back into the main area of the ship was like running into a wall, and you stumbled back for a moment, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions and thoughts that came at you rapid-fire from all angles. In the closet, with Ren and the general, you could almost shut it out, but now the hum of other peoples’ thoughts in your mind was disorienting.

“Hey,” Mitaka appeared at your side, “what did the general want, and the commander?” You had to think of something quick, but it was so damn hard with the noise inside your head. You reached out to Mitaka, steadying yourself on his shoulder, and for a moment, the emotional buzz quieted as you tuned into him directly. A flood of concern rushed through you: Mitaka’s own concern for your well-being.

“Are you alright?” he asked, holding you steady, and the increased contact gave you extra focus.

“I’m fine, Doe, just a little dizzy,” you said. Mitaka tried to pull you to a seat, but you stayed in place. At least on the edge of the transport you had a little relief—moving between the others on the ship would be overwhelming in your current state. Maybe you should have kept the necklace.

“The general reprimanded me for disobeying orders, and for taking Soar on by myself,” you said, forming the lie on the spot, “and the commander wanted information on Dameron. He’s planning on hunting the pilot down.”

The ship jolted as it touched down in the hangar of the Finalizer, and Mitaka kept his arm around you as he prepared to disembark, your bag over his other shoulder. You let him lead you off the ship, vaguely aware that Ren and Hux were close behind. You closed your eyes against the bright lights of the hangar and leaned more heavily on Mitaka. Today had been exhausting, and it was to have someone take care of you.

“What the hell?” The question was mumbled, and you felt it in your head more than in your body as the general brushed past you.

“Oh my god,” Mitaka shook you gently, and you opened your eyes to see what the commotion was, “what are they doing here?”

The six dark clad figures stood in the middle of the hangar, their faces masked, their hands resting idly on their various weapons. The general approached, followed closely by Ren, and you pulled Mitaka to a halt, curious to see what would happen.

“What are you doing here?” the general asked, but the figures ignored him, each falling to one knee as Ren approached.

“Master,” one of them spoke, but you couldn’t identify which of them it was, “the Supreme Leader sent for us. We are here to aid you in your training.”

“Rise,” Ren commanded, and they obeyed, each standing to their full height. They were conversing silently, through the force, but you could hear it clearly as if they were speaking aloud, each mind focused on one question: who?

Your stomach rolled. They weren’t here just to help Ren train, they were here to help Ren train you. Ren’s thoughts moved to you with a little reluctance, and you watched as the six black masks turned in unison, their invisible gazes burning into you. You flinched, keenly aware of how you must look: still in your costume from the club, tear tracks running down your face, barely able to stand on your own. This was not an ideal first impression.

Tags: @acunningstargazer, @itsa-pseudonym, @ddaeing, @dark-night-sky-99, @i-jus-wanna-writehappy, @fresa-luna, @leiadelreyy, @averillian

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #armitage hux fanfiction #kylo ren fanfic #star wars fanfic #office romance #my writing

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