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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

* * *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved. However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years ago

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Photoshoot Fantasies - Fred Weasley

Title: Photoshoot Fantasies Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!!! Dom!Fred, daddy kink, spanking, masturbation (male and female) oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, choking, begging, dirty talk Summary: Fred doesn’t like it when his girlfriend gets naughty without his permission A/N: this is….pure filth. For the anon who wanted some smut with dom!fred. this is literally like 3% plot and 97% smut lmao so I hope you enjoy!! Requests are open and feedback is always welcomed!!

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“Oi, lover boy! You’ve got a letter from your girlfriend,” George calls teasingly from the kitchen.

Fred groans as he rolls over in bed, his hands coming up to rub the last bits of sleep from his eyes. He squints as he opens his eyes, due to the bright streaks of sunlight coming in from the break in his curtains. Fred takes a moment to mentally prepare himself for the day before he heaves himself out of bed, and shuffles into the kitchen.

“Good morning dear brother of mine,” George greets far too cheerily for the early hour.

Fred grunts in response and takes a seat across from George, waving his wand so a cup of coffee lands in front of him. He usually isn’t one to need caffeine in the morning, his own natural energy is usually enough to clear the sleep induced fog from his head, but he’s been having trouble sleeping lately since Y/N hasn’t been by his side.

After graduation, Y/N landed her dream job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. Fred had been so proud of her, and he loved how excited she was each night as she told him about her day over dinner. Unfortunately, her job had one huge drawback: traveling. Every so often Y/N would travel to different parts of the UK and Europe to get updates on the population of certain magical creatures or to help develop and implement conservation plans. A week ago, she left for her longest trip yet, an entire month, and Fred hasn’t been able to sleep well since.

“Where’s this letter then?” Fred asks after he has a few sips of coffee. He can feel the caffeine working its’ magic, and his brain is finally clear enough to string a sentence together.

George rolls his eyes and tosses a thick envelope at Fred. “You two are sickening, you know that? I think she wrote you a bloody novel about how much she loves you and misses you,” George says, pretending to throw up.

Fred flips George off, trying to contain the blush forming on his face. “Don’t act like you didn’t stand in the doorway for 15 minutes last night kissing Angelina goodbye, git.” Fred can feel George’s eyes on him as he fiddles with the envelope. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he bites.

“Someone is feeling feisty,” George retorts with a laugh. “Come on then, open the damn letter. Let’s see how long it takes her to start waxing poetically about your eyes.”

Fred glares at George as his fingers quickly rip open the envelope. Normally he would wait for George to go and busy himself with something else or he’d retreat to his room so he could bask in Y/N’s words by himself, but it’s been far too long since he’s seen her and Fred thinks he might explode if he waits any longer to read her letter. “Oh,” he says softly in surprise, when he only pulls out one piece of parchment. The envelope hadn’t been bulky from the lovely letter she wrote him, but the half a dozen photographs she had included. His eyes scan over the short note, a small smile appearing on his face.

To my dearest Freddie Eddie Spaghetti,

Things are going well up in Scotland, Niffler birth rates are through the roof thanks to the plan we implemented last year. We’ve spent the last few days prepping a large cohort of them to send off to Egypt to assist the rune breakers Gringotts has out there. I’ll be off to France in a day or so to check up on some of the Thestrals we brought to a conservatory outside of Nice a few months ago, hopefully they’ve acclimated well.

I’ve been missing you like crazy, Freddie. You’re all I seem to think about these days, it’s been quite hard to focus on my work. I don’t know how I’m going to manage going three more weeks without seeing your face or being held in your arms. You better rest up, because you won’t be getting any sleep for days once I’m finally back home with you.

I’ve included a few photos that will hopefully keep you company while I’m still away.

Love you lots and lots and lots, Y/N

“That’s it? One stinky piece of parchment?” George asks, clearly annoyed. “There’s my day, ruined. Thought I’d get a nice laugh at least since you’ve been so miserable. What else is in the envelope then?”

Fred’s eyes are still scanning the letter, trying to commit the words to memory and he absentmindedly grabs the stack of photos to show George. “She sent photos,” he responds, finally putting the letter to the side. “Probably of all the baby Nifflers,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Let me see, then,” George says excitedly, reaching his hand out. “Remember when she sent those photos of the baby dragons dressed up in onesies? That was jokes. Bet she put hats on them this time.”

As Fred goes to hand George the stack of photos he gets a glimpse of the one on top. His eyes widen and he quickly pulls his arm back, cradling the photos against his chest. “Nope, sorry. You can’t see them.”

“What? Why not?” George watches as Fred starts to fidget in his seat and a red flush starts to take over his face. “Oh my god!” he says suddenly with a laugh, realization hitting him. “She sent you nudes! What a little minx. You two are far more disgusting than I ever could have imagined.”

Fred clears his throat, choosing to ignore George. “Well I’m going to go back to my room and uh, respond to this letter. See you later.” Fred tries to act as normal as possible as he heads back to his room, desperately trying to ignore George’s cackling. He breathes a sigh of relief as he shuts his door behind him, leaning on it for a moment.

Fred rids himself of his T-shirt and climbs back onto his bed in nothing but his boxers. This isn’t how he planned on spending his morning, but Fred is more than happy to change his plans. He sits up in bed, his back pressed up against his cold wall and his legs splayed out. While Fred would consider himself adventurous in the bedroom, this is the first time Y/N has ever done anything like this, and he can feel himself getting aroused already.

“Merlin,” he groans as he allows himself to look at the first photo. Y/N is laying in the middle of a bed wearing nothing but a lacy red bra and the matching pair of panties, a set Fred is all too familiar with. Her whole face isn’t visible, just her mouth, and as the photo moves her tongue comes out to lick her bottom lip and her hand lightly trails down her torso to her thigh.

He balances the stack of photos on his lap for a moment, his right hand pushing his boxers down to his thighs. Fred had planned on drawing out the experience, but he’s already rock hard from the first photo. He throws the first photo on the bed beside him as he wraps his hand around himself, and he picks the stack back up.

Fred starts to slowly stroke himself as his eyes rake over the next photograph, his mouth running dry. Y/N is laying in the same position as before, but the bra she was wearing in the first photo has been discarded, and as the photo moves her hands massage her breasts and she bites her lip.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, as he moves onto the next photo. Y/N is now completely naked, and as the photo moves one of her hands trails down her front from her breast to her core while her other hand pinches and toys with one of her nipples.

Fred starts to stroke himself faster and is unable to contain the grunts that fall from his mouth as he moves to the next photo. His thumb rubs the sensitive tip of his cock, spreading around the precum that has started to accumulate, helping his hand glide easier as he strokes. In the next photo, Y/N’s mouth is open, and Fred is sure a breathy moan is leaving her lips, as the movement of the photo shows Y/N starting to slowly rub her clit as her other hand fists in the sheets underneath her.

“Oh, fucking shit,” Fred groans as he looks at the second to last photo, his hand stilling on his cock to stop himself from finishing just yet. Y/N’s feet are now flat against the bed, her knees bent and open wide. As the photo moves Fred can clearly see Y/N sink two fingers into herself as her thumb rubs at her clit. Her other hand tugs at the sheets and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, a telltale sign that she’s on the brink of her release.

Fred starts to stroke himself again as he reveals the last photo, his orgasm quickly approaching. Y/N’s entire body is flushed red and as the photo moves her back arches, her toes curl, and her whole body trembles as she reaches her orgasm.

Fred’s thumb teases the sensitive head of his cock as his eyes wander over all of the photos. He focuses on the last one, and as Y/N once again reaches her climax Fred does as well. His head tips back and he lets out a low moan as he releases all over his stomach, his cock twitching in his hand. Fred continues to lightly stroke himself as he comes down from his high, his breath coming out in hard pants.

When he gets to be too sensitive he releases himself, letting his cock lay against his stomach. He reaches for his wand so he can clean himself off with a simple spell. But an even better idea pops into his head.

“Accio, camera,” he casts, watching as the top drawer of their dresser opens and his camera starts to fly over to him. He grips the camera and points it at himself, so his body from his torso to the tops of his thighs are in shot. Fred makes sure that his limp cock and the come on his stomach is the center of the photo, and once he’s pleased with the shot he clicks the shutter button.

Fred places the camera on his bed as the photo prints and develops, grabbing his wand and cleaning himself off with a spell. He pulls his boxers back up and gets out of bed, rummaging around for some parchment and a quill. Once he finds what he needs he writes out a quick letter to Y/N.

To my dearest Y/N,

I’m glad to hear everything is going well with work. I’m so proud of you and the things you do. Things at the shop are going well, the new range of whiz-bangs sold out in just a few days. I’m missing you like mad, I can’t wait for you to get home.

Those photos you sent me were very naughty. How dare you pleasure yourself like that without Daddy’s permission. I think Daddy’s going to have to punish you when he finally gets his hands on you. 10 spanks sounds fair, doesn’t it princess? I think you deserve it, after the mess you caused Daddy to make all over himself.

Love you lots and lots and lots and lots, Freddie Eddie Spaghetti

Fred grabs the now developed photo from his bed as he reads over the letter, a satisfied smile on his face. He folds up the letter and tucks it into an envelope along with the photo before he seals it and addresses it to Y/N. As he goes to leave his room he spots a piece of folded up parchment on his floor and he grabs it, opening it up as he heads towards the window in the kitchen.

I’m going to Angelina’s. Use a silencing charm next time you perv.

Fred laughs at George’s note as he sends their owl away with his letter, already thinking about taking advantage of his brother’s absence.

“Someone is in a good mood this morning,” George muses as Fred saunters down into the shop just before opening.

Fred adjusts his tie as he joins his brother at the till, a huge smile on his face. Just like last week, a letter had arrived from Y/N this morning with another filthy set of photos. This time she was in a lingerie set that Fred didn’t recognize, and she brought herself to her climax using one of the toys Fred had purchased for her as a Valentine’s Day present earlier in the year. Fred had just enough time to bring himself to his own orgasm and write her back before he had to get dressed and head down to work.

“And why wouldn’t I be?” Fred asks as he unlocks the door and turns the open sign on with a wave of his wand. “The sun is shining, the birds are chirping. It’s a beautiful day, Georgie.”

George looks Fred over before he scrunches his face up in disgust. “Y/N sent you another letter today didn’t she?” When Fred sends George a wink he gags. “Bloody disgusting. I hope you washed your hands.”

“And why would Fred need to be washing his hands?” Verity asks as she comes back from the storeroom with some more love potions to be stocked.

Fred’s face flushes red as George start to laugh. “No reason in particular,” he stutters out. Fred turns to George and glares at him. “You’re such an arse.” Fred moves to hit George upside the head, but he ducks his brother’s advance and heads over to help the two customers that have just walked in the door.

“You lot don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” Verity says as she chuckles and shakes her head.

Fred sighs to himself as he sits up in bed, his eyes scanning over some of his notes. He and George are in the early days of developing some new products, and he’s working out some of the initial bugs before they start production next week. At least that’s what he’s supposed to be doing, but his mind is definitely elsewhere. Y/N’s third letter had arrived a few days ago, and he can’t help but let his mind wander to the new photoset sitting in his bedside drawer. It seems that his threats of punishment have fallen on deaf ears, because the photos Y/N has sent have been dirtier each time, and he can’t help but imagine what will be waiting for him in the envelope when her final letter arrives in a few days.

“What do you want?” Fred asks dully when there’s a knock at his door, not bothering to look up at George.

“That’s an awfully rude way to greet your girlfriend after you haven’t seen her for nearly a month,” Y/N says, the smile evident in her voice.

Fred’s head snaps up immediately, a smile taking over his face. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He immediately climbs off the bed and heads over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Y/N drops her bag on the ground and wraps her arms around Fred’s neck, pulling him down so she can kiss him sweetly. “We finished everything up a few days early. Figured I’d come home and surprise you.”

Fred presses their lips together again hotly, his hands moving down to Y/N’s thighs. He lifts her up, his hands gripping her tightly and moves her over to the bed. “God I missed you,” he murmurs into their kiss, before he tosses her onto the bed.

“Couldn’t have missed me too much, not with all the photos I sent you,” Y/N giggles as she lays back on the bed.

Fred’s eyes darken and he can’t help but let out a groan as he thinks about those pictures. He can feel himself start to get aroused, and he grabs his wand, waving it so that his door slams shut, and locks and a silencing charm falls around his room.

“Such a naughty girl you were, Y/N. Taking those photos without Daddy’s permission,” he scolds, his voice low and rough.

Y/N squirms on the bed, looking up at Fred as innocent as possible. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just wanted to make you feel good while I was gone,” she explains sweetly. “And clearly it worked, that photo you sent me made me so wet, Daddy.”

Fred bites his lip as he watches her squirm on the bed, taking pride in the fact that he can see a blush forming on her cheeks. “Oh, you made Daddy feel very good, princess. But you were still being a little brat. And you know what happens to brats? Don’t you?”

Y/N can feel herself getting wet as arousal starts to build in her stomach. She’s been waiting for this moment since Fred mentioned spanking her in his first letter. “They get punished,” she responds airily, fists clenching to keep from touching herself.

“That’s right princess, they get punished.” Fred pauses, letting his eyes roam up and down Y/N’s body. “Daddy think 30 swats is good, 15 on each cheek. Don’t you think, princess?” Fred smirks when Y/N lets out a whine as she nods wildly. “What should I use, hm? My hand? Or should I get the paddle?”

“Your hand, please,” Y/N begs. As much as she loves the paddle, she craves the feeling of Fred’s hand on her ass.

Fred smirks down at her. “Normally brats don’t get what they want. But you asked so nicely, princess.” Fred tears his gaze away from Y/N and takes seat on the end of their bed. “Get naked for Daddy and come stand in front of me.”

Y/N immediately gets off of the bed and rids herself of all of her clothing. Normally when they play this game she loves to drag it out and tease Fred endlessly. But she’s been on the edge for nearly 4 weeks and Fred has already been preparing to punish her, and she doesn’t want to find out what he’ll do if she’s even more naughty now that they’re finally back together. Y/N comes to stand in front of Fred, feeling shy under his intense gaze.

“God you are so gorgeous, princess,” Fred compliments, his hand reaching out to lightly grip her hip. He rubs circles into the bare skin, reassuring her. “Come on then. Get in Daddy’s lap.” Fred helps Y/N get situated across his lap, laying on her front. “Such a good girl,” he whispers, letting his hand run down her back, over her bum and to her thigh. “Do you have anything to say to Daddy? Before he gives you your punishment,” he drawls, his hand pushing in between her legs to rub at her wet folds.

Y/N gasps at his touch, her eyes falling closed. “I’m sorry for being a naughty girl, Daddy,” she moans out as Fred rubs her clit ever so slightly.

“Thank you princess,” he says softly, removing his hand from her core. He places it on her bum instead, lightly massaging one of her cheeks. “Daddy’s not mad at you, princess. But you still have to be punished, do you understand?” When Y/N nods he smiles. “Good girl. I want you to count for me, okay?”

“Yes Daddy,” Y/N responds, getting comfortable in Fred’s lap. A squeak leaves her mouth as Fred lands the first slap to her ass. “One,” she counts breathily. Before she has a chance to recover from the first hit, Fred is landing another hit to her cheek causing her to moan. “Two.”

Fred smirks down at the writhing mess Y/N has turned into after her first 15 spanks. Her right bum cheek is bright red, and Fred resists his urge to lean down to kiss it. “Are you doing alright, Princess? Can you take 15 more?” Fred asks quietly, reaching up to stroke Y/N’s hair. As much as he loves being rough with her, he never wants to hurt her or make her uncomfortable in any way. He’s rock hard in his trousers already, and he wants to make sure she’s getting as much pleasure from this as he is.

“Yes, Daddy. Need more. ‘M a naughty girl, I need to be punished,” she responds desperately. Y/N is soaking wet and her stomach is a pool of arousal. A few tears have snuck out of her eyes from how turned on she is, and she’s basking in the warmth left behind on her bum from Fred’s hand.

“Good girl,” Fred praises, leaning down to press a few kisses to Y/N’s shoulder. “You can use your safe word at any time, you know that right?” When Y/N nods he presses another kiss to her shoulder and starts to massage the bum cheek he hasn’t hit yet. “Count for me again, princess, okay?”

Y/N nods, letting out a moan a Fred lands the first hit to her cheek. “One,” she whines, lifting her hips up to encourage him to spank her again. Fred suddenly lands three hits in a row, causing a few more tears to leak out of her eyes as she moans. “Two, three, four,” she stutters out.

By the time Fred lands the last hit to her ass, Y/N is desperate for release. She’s slowly moving her hips forward, desperate for any kind of friction against her clit. “Daddy please,” she begs.

“Look at my desperate little baby,” he coos, moving Y/N’s hair out of her face so he can see the desperation on it. “Such a good girl you were, princess. Such a good girl for Daddy. C’mere let me kiss you.”

Fred helps Y/N straddle his waist and tucks a few stray hairs behind her ear. He kisses her deeply, his tongue immediately licking into her mouth. Y/N moans into the kiss, rolling her hips against the rough fabric of Fred’s trousers. Fred groans at the contact on his clothed cock, his hips rolling up to meet hers. “God, so fucking desperate for it aren’t you, princess?” he asks as his lips start to trail kisses down her neck.

Y/N nods, tipping her head back to give Fred more room to kiss. “Need you so bad, Daddy. Missed your cock. That’s what I was thinkin’ about in all those photos. Thinkin’ about how much I love your cock and how good it feels inside of me.”

Fred groans into Y/N’s neck and pulls away so he can look at her. “That’s so fucking hot, princess. Imagining you lying in bed, touching yourself and thinking of me.” Fred kisses Y/N again. “Go on and show Daddy how you touch yourself, princess. Get in bed and pleasure yourself for me.”

Y/N crawls off of Fred’s lap and onto the bed, settling down in the middle of it. One of her hands starts to pinch and twist her nipple, while the other runs down her body and settles at her core. She watches as Fred stands up and starts to undress himself, her index finger starting to rub small circles on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she moans, tilting her head back.

Once Fred is fully nude he kneels on the bed next to Y/N’s head and takes himself in his hand. He starts to slowly stroke his cock, his eyes crawling over every inch of Y/N’s body. There’s a flush that creeps up her chest, over her neck and to her cheeks and her hips are slowly rocking as she teases her clit.

“So pretty, princess. You look so pretty touching yourself for Daddy,” Fred praises.

Y/N turns her head to look at Fred as she feels her orgasm approaching. She opens her mouth, silently asking Fred to let her suck him off. When he doesn’t immediately give in, she whines. “Please let me suck your cock, Daddy. Please.”

Fred reaches down with his free hand to cup Y/N’s cheek. “Fucking hell you’re desperate for it princess.” He pushes his hips forward just enough so Y/N can wrap her lips around the head of his cock.

Y/N whines around Fred’s cock, her head starting to move up and down. She lets her tongue wrap around the head on each pull back, wanting Fred to release into her mouth. When he starts to slowly fuck his hips forward she hums around him in encouragement. As her climax builds she starts to rub harder circles on her clit, desperate for release.

“Fuck princess, gonna make Daddy come,” Fred moans, his eyes watching his cock disappear into her mouth.

Y/N’s eyes flutter shut as she reaches her orgasm, her whole body trembling. She moans around Fred’s cock as pleasure flows through her, causing him to suddenly release into her mouth. Her motions on her clit slow down as Fred’s cock twitches in her mouth and she swallows his release. As Fred slowly pulls his cock out of her mouth Y/N stops her movement on her clit, bringing her hand up to clean off her finger.

“Holy fuck,” Fred pants, watching Y/N’s lips wrap around her finger. “You are so fucking amazing,” he says in awe. Fred’s cock which hadn’t even gone fully soft starts to harden again as Y/N looks up at him. “Look at what you do to Daddy, princess. His cock is already hard for you again.”

Y/N smiles as she gets up to her knees. She wraps one hand around his cock and starts to slowly stroke it, while her other goes to his neck so she can pull their lips together. Fred’s mouth immediately overpowers hers, and he forces his tongue into her mouth. Fred is fully hard in Y/N’s hand now, and as they kiss he maneuvers them so he’s sitting with his back up against the wall, and Y/N is sitting in his lap.

“Need your cock Daddy,” Y/N whines, pulling her mouth away from Fred’s. “Fuck me Daddy, please.”

Fred chuckles, his hands falling onto Y/N’s hips. “Go on then, princess. Fuck yourself on my cock since you’re so desperate for it.” Fred suppresses a groan as Y/N grinds down against him. Fred and Y/N have tried nearly every sexual position either of them could think of, and they both know that being on top is low on Y/N’s list of favorites; she much prefers it when Fred holds her down and fucks her into the mattress.

“Daddy,” she pouts, grinding down against him again.

Fred narrows his eyes at her and resists his urge to kiss her. “Princess,” he warns. “If you wanna be a desperate cock slut, then be a desperate cock slut and fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Maybe if you’re a good girl and you come on Daddy’s cock he’ll give you what you want.”

Y/N perks up at that, and she leans forward to kiss Fred slowly as she rises to her knees. One of her hands’ rests on his shoulder, while the other reaches back to grasp the base of his cock.

Fred breaks their kiss so he can watch as Y/N lines him up with her entrance. Y/N whines as she sinks down, her eyes fluttering shut at how full she feels. She sinks down until their hips meet and Fred is fully inside of her.

“Fuck you’re tight, princess. Always so tight for Daddy,” he praises. He groans as Y/N starts to roll her hips, his grip on her tightening. “Go on, baby,” he encourages. “Get yourself off on my cock.”

“Oh,” Y/N moans, her hands gripping Fred’s shoulders tightly. She starts to slowly pick herself up, stopping when Fred is only halfway inside her, before she slams herself back down. “So good, Daddy,” she pants.

Y/N fucks herself on Fred’s cock like that for a few minutes, growing frustrated when she fails to hit the spot inside of her that will bring her to her orgasm. “Daddy please,” she whines.

“Come on, princess. You know how to fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Come around Daddy’s cock and he’ll give you what you want,” he encourages.

Y/N leans back, placing a hand on each of Fred’s thighs and uses the leverage to lift herself up. “Oh fuck,” she gasps as she sinks back down, the tip of Fred’s cock finally brushing her sweet spot.

“You look so pretty, princess. Getting yourself off on my cock,” Fred praises, helping Y/N to lift her hips off of him. “Such a good girl.”

Y/N moans as she fucks herself on Fred’s cock, already feeling her orgasm approaching. She starts to move her hips desperately, searching for her release. “So close, Daddy. Touch me Daddy please,” she pleads.

Fred smirks before he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to Y/N’s lips. “Come on, Princess, come on Daddy’s cock,” he encourages, one of his hands leaving her hip so he can rub circles on her clit.

With one more downwards movement of her hips Y/N’s walls tighten around Fred as she comes, her body shaking as her orgasm rolls through her. “That’s it, princess. Such a good girl,” Fred coos quietly, his thumb slowing its motion and his hips rocking slightly to help her through her orgasm.

Fred kisses Y/N slowly as her breathing starts to return to normal. She shifts around on his cock as their lips move together and it takes everything in Fred to not come right there. “You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, princess. Doing so well,” he says, breaking their kiss. “Can you take more, baby? D’you want Daddy to fuck you into the mattress?” Fred pecks Y/N’s lips. “It’s okay if you don’t baby. Daddy just wants to take care of you.”

“Want you to come inside me Daddy,” Y/N tells him, looking into Fred’s eyes. “Want you to pin me down and fuck me into the mattress.”

Fred doesn’t need to be told twice. He kisses Y/N hard and flips them over so her back is on the bed and he’s hovering over her. He throws both of her legs over his shoulders, pinning her to the mattress with his hips. He braces himself with one hand as his other comes up to grip Y/N’s throat and he pulls all the way out before he slams back into her.

“Oh fuck, Daddy,” Y/N moans as Fred starts to fuck into her relentlessly. The tip of his cock is brushing the spot inside of her and she’s already so sensitive from her previous two orgasms, and with the way Fred is gripping the side of her neck she knows she won’t last long.

“God, princess,” Fred grunts as Y/N’s walls clench around him. “Such a good pussy. You always feel go good wrapped around Daddy.” Fred lands a particularly hard slam as Y/N moves to touch herself. “Hands off, princess. Want you to come just from my cock. Can you do that for Daddy?”

Y/N nods, too busy moaning and whining to answer Fred verbally. Her body feels like it’s on fire, her toes curling and her back arching as she reaches her climax. “Daddy,” she moans lowly, as she comes around Fred’s cock, a few stray tears falling from the corners of her eyes.

“Fuck princess,” Fred moans. Y/N’s walls tighten and twitch around him, bringing him to his own release. His hips still as he empties himself inside of her and he crashes their lips together. Fred slows their kiss down as they both recover, unable to stop the smirk that forms on his mouth when Y/N whines as he slowly pulls out of her. Fred collapses on the bed next to Y/N and she immediately cuddles into his side as he wraps his arm around her.

“I love you,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth.

Fred turns his head so he can kiss her properly, not pulling away until they both need to breathe. “I love you too, Y/N,” he says softly. “Are you alright? Did I go too far?”

Y/N shakes her head, chuckling at Fred’s concern. “Not at all, love. It was incredible.” She pauses so she can press a kiss to his neck. “I’m glad I have the next few days off, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

Fred laughs and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Good thing I have you all to myself because I have quite a few plans for us.”

Y/N looks up at him, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Oh yeah? What might those be?”

“Let’s just say our cameras are definitely going to need more film when I’m done with you.”

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley smut #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x y/n #fw #golden

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figonas · 4 years ago

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As Warm As The Sun-Part 1

“When he wakes there is crisp sunlight streaming through his chambers, yellow as a daffodil and nearly as warm as Jude felt in his arms. In limbo between awake and asleep Cardan thinks he might have dreamt that part of the evening as well”

Summary: Takes place during The Wicked King pretty much right before the Queen of Mirth scene and Chapter 15. This is just a soft, fluffy response to the prompt “hug me I command it”.

Words: 1623

Rating: GA

Links: Part 2-Jude POV | AO3

A/N: Tumblr user @jurdanhell brought this prompt up to me and our initial discussion that it didn’t really fit Cardan morphed into “wait yes this is exactly Cardan behavior”. This is my first work on AO3 so kudos would be greatly appreciated, if it gets enough love I might re-write the scene from Jude’s perspective!

********

Revels all tended to blend together, an endless stream of music and alcohol that somehow left Cardan feeling as desperately alone as always even when in a room bursting with folk of all shapes and sizes. This particular revel was different, if only because Jude was still hovering around him long after she would have normally retreated to her chambers or the Court of Shadows. He could feel her eyes on him, as heavy as the weight of his crown as she stared daggers at him from her position to the side of his throne.

Ordering Jude to do anything would be ordering a knife thrust into his own back, High King or no. So Cardan merely asked Jude to attend the revel in its entirety, but he did so in front of the Living Council, several members of the Low Courts, and Locke who rose to challenge and prod Jude without needing to be asked. There was no way for her to refuse that wouldn’t be seen as backing down from his challenge, so through gritted teeth, Jude graciously accepted his invitation. He didn’t know why he had asked her, perhaps he simply wanted to annoy her in a way that would require little effort from him, or perhaps he wanted to know how she would retaliate. A small part of him whispered that he just wanted her company but he made sure to drown that part of him with plenty of wine earlier in the night. Too much wine though Cardan is loath to admit it, and now as the night winds down he’s not entirely sure he can make it back to his rooms on his own. It wouldn’t be the first time one of his guards has dragged their High King to bed and dropped him on his royal ass but Cardan dislikes the idea all the same. Moving to stand he lurches too far forward and nearly falls off the raised dais before Jude’s hand closes on the back of his cloak pulling him backward where he crashes into her solid presence. “As much as it would amuse me to watch you fall after you made me stand here all night for no reason, I’m too tired to pick you up off the floor,” Jude hisses in his ear, she throws one of his arms across her shoulders as her other arm snakes around his waist. “Dearest Jude, are you trying to take me to bed?” Cardan tries his best to wiggle his eyebrows at her but he’s too focused on his feet as they descend the dais steps and begin the long trek to his rooms. “Don’t push your luck or I’ll leave you to sleep on the floor in the middle of the burgh”. He laughs despite her threat and out of the corner of his eye he sees a small smile on Jude’s lips.

Cardan’s inebriated mind is not as trained at quashing his feelings for Jude as his sober mind is. As they make their way through the palace halls he has the sudden, sickening thought that he likes this, being embraced by Jude Duarte even if it’s only to help him to his rooms. She seems to have forgotten she’s repulsed by him, letting him lean on her as much as he needs. Cardan decides that he would get mindlessly drunk every night if it meant Jude would hold him this way but, perhaps mercifully, they make it to his rooms before he can voice this out loud. The moment she releases him he misses her warmth, her feeling of life and strength, of mortality. Before he knows what he’s saying he opens his mouth to speak. “Embrace me again,” he says, drunk and foolish, he can see the shock on her face despite her desperate attempt to hide it, but even Jude master of power and control, cannot stop the flush rising across her cheeks. Is it desire? Anger? Embarrassment? Cardan doesn’t care, he likes this Jude best; off her guard, almost susceptible to his charms but not quite, she is Jude Duarte after all. She recovers quickly, her expression cooling into something like boredom. “Go to bed Cardan” she points at the monstrously empty bed and he imagines it will be just as cold and lonely as he feels now. “But I am your king, Jude I command it,” he says with what he hopes is a playful smile, but is more than likely a fool’s grin. “So I say again, embrace me and then I will concede and go to bed”. Jude opens her mouth to speak but quickly shuts it with an audible snap of teeth.

She’s at war with herself he realizes suddenly, he can nearly see the thoughts racing in her head. He expects her to push back and fight with him, or to leave him where he stands not caring if he makes it to bed or collapses on the floor right here. Impossibly she does neither, instead, she reaches for him and wraps her arms around his midsection, her cheek resting on his shoulder. Cardan is frozen for what feels like an eternity but is only a handful of seconds as her warmth seeps into his very bones. He wraps his arms around her, returning the embrace before she changes her mind. “I’m only doing this because I’m too tired to fight with you about going to bed,” Jude mumbles softly, Cardan barely hears her above his pounding heart, but he can feel her words from where she’s pressed against his chest. He wants to tighten his grip on her to ensure himself this is real. He wants to bury his face in the crook of her neck and inhale the scent that haunts his dreams; her scent, so uniquely human, so wholly Jude. Through sheer force of will, he stops himself from indulging in either of these fantasies that would most likely only shatter this tender moment or result in him getting stabbed, he is equally disappointed at the thought of either possibility.

Jude seems to forget, if only for a moment, that it’s Cardan’s arms around her, his shoulder her cheek rests on, his neck that she tickles with her soft exhales. She relaxes just a little in a way he didn’t know she could, her palms flattening against his back, the ever-present tension leached slightly from her shoulders. He indulges in the impulse of stroking her lower back with his thumbs, he’s emboldened to tighten his grip on her just a fraction when Jude doesn’t react to the small movement. They stand in silence for several moments, Cardan’s heart racing at a worrying speed. Suddenly, Jude inhales deeply which turns into a wide yawn and she steps back rubbing the heel of her hand across one eye. “Alright, Your Majesty I indulged your wishes,” she’s interrupted by another, smaller yawn which she covers with the back of her hand. Cardan’s hands are still resting lightly on Jude’s waist, she doesn’t move from his touch. “Now to bed with you so I can get in my own. One of us has to be alert enough to run the kingdom,” she points in the direction of his bed and Cardan drops his hands. He is again shocked by how cold his room feels without her pressed against him. He quashes the urge to touch her again, he knows she will not indulge him a second time. When he turns he sways slightly, Jude rolls her eyes and places her hand on the small of his back guiding him to bed. “Careful with your orders Jude or I will tell everyone that you were kind to me,” he laughs to himself though it is not at all funny. “Though I don’t think anyone would believe me”. “You won’t remember this tomorrow anyway,” they reach the bedside where she gives him a gentle shove and he drops unceremoniously onto his too-large bed. The motion sets his head swimming. He steals one last, longing look at Jude before closing his eyes; her cheeks flushed, eyes tired, impenetrable walls lowered the tiniest bit. Cardan tucks the image away to think of when she’s gone and he’s left alone in the sea of cold blankets. “Oh Jude, loveliest of afflictions, I will remember this night for years to come,” he hears her scoff as she steps away from the bed. “We’ll see about that tomorrow,” she sounds amused as she speaks and if Cardan’s head wasn’t spinning so badly he would peel his eyes open just to see one of Jude’s rare smiles. He hears her footsteps retreating toward the door where she stops, he’s nearly overtaken with sleep when he hears her voice call softly back to him. “Goodnight Cardan”. She’s gone before he can respond and Cardan succumbs to sleep only moments later.

She’s there in his dreams as she is most nights. Cardan tries to speak to dream Jude, but the only word he can say is her name; Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude. Over and over again, he calls her name like a curse, a prayer, the last desperate words of a dying man, a humble supplicant whispering the name of an honored deity. When he wakes there is crisp sunlight streaming through his chambers, yellow as a daffodil and nearly as warm as Jude felt in his arms. In limbo between awake and asleep Cardan thinks he might have dreamt that part of the evening as well, but as he shifts under the sheets her scent wafts from the fabric of his shirt into his nostrils. He clutches the fabric tightly, inhaling deeply he smiles to himself before drifting off again to a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

#my first work that isn’t for my OCs #wow it’s weird to have something finished for once #the folk of the air #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #Cardan’s POV #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #orginal work #fanfiction

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starilicious · 4 years ago

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der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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cryptiql · 4 years ago

Text

untitled god song

pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)

words: 2k

warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)

i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?

i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.

"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."

i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.

i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly. "right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"

my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.

"no." i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".

he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.

it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.

you'll never be him.

his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.

"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."

my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.

no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror. and we do meet again. it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.

i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what. i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad. i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.

i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.

we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch. then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not. why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.

one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.

mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.

my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.

"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.

"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.

i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?

the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.

so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances. i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.

so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be. but i love him, i love him, i love him. and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.

#💥.katsuki #bakugou x trans reader #bakugou x trans male reader #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugou x male reader #male reader insert #mha x male reader #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x you #trans reader

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m3kuroshirt · 3 years ago

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House of Assassins Part Three

Links to Part One, Part Two

Word Count: 2704

Warnings: None

Ichigo had a Problem. And that Problem’s name was Grimmjow. For the past two months, the strong, handsome, sometimes brash, and very, very forward man seemed to show up almost everywhere Ichigo went. And yes, Ichigo liked looking at his pretty eyes and his strong chest and his smug grin. But also, Ichigo had jobs. Dangerous jobs. How was he supposed to complete them with a civilian hanging around him all the time, and not give himself away? Whether he enjoyed Ichigo’s company or not, he was almost certain that Grimmjow would go running to the cops like a good citizen if he knew the true nature of Ichigo’s work.

Which is why, on a Thursday, Ichigo was outside perched on a park bench…at one in the morning. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands briefly. His head was fuzzy from being awake all day and then dragging himself out to the park so late…early?...but he needed to try and keep his wits about him. The man he was meeting was known for his…games. And Ichigo had no intention of getting strung along. Especially as the man was a friend of Kisuke’s. Ichigo really had to wonder at that man’s definition of friendship…did he think it just meant ‘person who hasn’t killed me yet’? Ichigo shook his head with a sigh.

“That’s a pretty dramatic sigh,” a low voice commented. Ichigo turned to look over his shoulder. In the moonlight he could see a shadow of a figure standing several feet away. “Life got you down?” The figure approached now that he knew he had Ichigo’s attention. As he stepped closer, Ichigo could make out more details. Long dark wavy hair pulled back in a low ponytail. A suit that looked slightly disheveled as if the person had taken a nap in it. Scruff around the chin and five o’ clock shadow on his cheeks. A tired-looking face with a kind expression, but with eyes as sharp as the blades he figured had to be concealed somewhere on the man’s person. After all, Shunsui Kyoraku was known for wielding dual swords.

The man was beside the bench now. He gestured to the empty space next to Ichigo. “Mind if I join you?”

Ichigo shrugged, feigning indifference. He didn’t dare let the other man see how intimidated he felt. “Do what you want.”

Shunsui eased himself onto the bench with a sigh. “You know, I was a little surprised at the time Kisuke suggested. It’s not easy for an old man like me to get out and about at all hours of the night anymore,” he spoke with the air of a man commenting on the weather, but Ichigo knew there was another meaning to his words. ‘You better be worth the effort I’m making to see you’ was the unspoken threat in the older man’s eyes when Ichigo met his gaze. Ichigo stared back at him calmly, brown eyes determined and unwavering. Shunsui must have liked what he saw there, because he smiled suddenly. He turned to face forward, observing the empty park in the silvery light of the moon and stars. “You know, there’s a new pharmaceutical company in town. Pretty interesting, actually, they say they have a new drug. One that’s supposed to enhance the user’s fitness and strength, optimize calorie use, cut down reaction time, and just overall make a person physically…better.”

“Do they?” Ichigo wasn’t stupid. He’d heard of Hueco Mundo Pharmaceuticals. He’d even seen promos for their so-called ‘miracle pill’. To the average person it probably sounded ‘too good to be true’. To those desperate enough to try it, they probably believed it was a bit embellished. To Ichigo? He figured it probably did all those things exactly as advertised. He’d been around Kisuke long enough to know things that seemed impossible were rarely actually so. But he wondered what a person had to sacrifice to reap the benefits of that ‘miracle pill’.

“They do.” Shunsui’s voice had lowered and his tone was more serious now. “Naturally, Unohana looked into it.” Ichigo felt his lips quirk upward slightly at the mention of Unohana Retsu, the number one pharmacist in the city, and Kisuke and Tessai’s personal supplier for both medications and poisons. Though, he couldn’t help the twinge of unease in his chest. If Unohana looked into it, there was most definitely something wrong. The woman didn’t get involved personally where she didn’t have to. Even with Tessai and Kisuke, she insisted they were customers and business was not to be discussed outside of work-hours when she visited for tea.

“And?”

“Shinji. Hiyori. Kensei. Hanataro. Four of her top employees are missing.”

Ice gripped Ichigo’s soul and he felt dread wash over him. His hands clenched into fists and a frown settled onto his face. “Does she know what happened?”

A light breeze stirred the night air, tugging gently at Shunsui’s long hair and making a shiver roll down Ichigo’s spine. “They were sent to find out information. Not even infiltrate, just act as customers. Each of them disappeared after receiving one shipment of the medication. We don’t even know if they ingested any. There’s no trace of them, and the only hint we even had that they managed to get the medication was the packaging found in their homes.” Shunsui paused for a moment and let the information sink in. Then he continued, “Until yesterday. Unohana received an unlabelled, unmarked package. It had a disc inside.”

Ichigo’s mouth went dry. Images of the four employees, people he might even dare to call friends, rushed through his mind. “What…what was on the disc?” he asked. His voice was strained, and he hated the emotion it gave away, but Shunsui didn’t look at him, didn’t even blink.

“You’d have to see it to believe it,” was all he answered, his voice uncharacteristically soft and saddened. He cleared his throat. “You know how Unohana is. She has her pride. There’s no way she’s letting this go. But she can’t act on her own. Four of her best are out of action, and she’s in the eye of the public as a charitable public figure, advocating for health care and all that. Isane is pulling more than triple her usual amount of work. There’s no one else. She reached out to me, but…well.”

Ichigo closed his eyes and swallowed the bile that threatened to rise up in his throat. “Well what? You’re not usually one to outsource to Kisuke,” he prompted, trying to keep his mind off the inevitable fate of his friends. Shunsui sighed.

“You’re aware that two of our squad captains…defected last year and went rogue.”

Ichigo gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re kidding. You’re not telling me they joined Hueco Mundo?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And that’s why I can’t send my people after them. Gin and Tousen know all of them. Hell, Tousen trained more than half of them. We’d get nothing but a bunch of dead spies if I sent anyone after them.” Shunsui didn’t try to hide his frustration. He clasped his hands together so tightly the knuckles turned white, and he fixed a glare at the shadows in the distance. He took a deep breath in and rolled his shoulders back, stretching his neck. “Unohana doesn’t want to just hit the company where it hurts. She wants to obliterate them. Cut off their head, so to speak.” Shunsui finally turned to face Ichigo again. Ichigo met his gaze calmly, doing his best not to give away the roiling rage, the burning fear, the sickening unease that settled into his gut. “I’m asking you to take the job. You’ll be well compensated, once the head of the company is dead.”

Ichigo took one breath. In and out. Then another. Nice and easy. His restless thoughts cleared away like clouds sailing on the wind. There was only one choice; from the moment he’d been asked to go by Kisuke he’d made up his mind. He wouldn’t back out now.

“I’ll do it.”

***

The streetlights cast a warm glow as the limousine sped to his home. Ichigo hadn’t been able to refuse Shunsui’s offer to escort him home, especially when the walk to the park had been cold enough on its own. And he trusted Nanao’s driving.

“You’ve grown a lot since I last saw you,” Shunsui commented, a fonder look on his face now that he wasn’t talking business. Ichigo shrugged.

“I was fifteen.” He kept his answers short, to the point. Regardless who he knew, or for how long, Ichigo would rather not be too trusting of Shunsui. The man ran a spy ring, after all. He had to be one of the most dangerous players in the game of life in Karakura Town. And Ichigo had been evading him for a while.

As if understanding his intentions, the older man chuckled and reached out. Ichigo tensed but didn’t move away as Shunsui ruffled his bright orange hair. “Keep your distance all you want, but I promise I’m not trying to recruit you again. Kisuke and Yoruichi both made it clear you’re not looking for a new boss. But I do have to say I miss seeing all you kids. You sure were a lively bunch whenever Kisuke brought you around.” Shunsui’s hand withdrew and Ichigo felt himself relax again.

“It’s your own fault you don’t see us,” Ichigo reminded the other man, giving him a cold glare. Shunsui blinked, eyes widening for a fraction of a second with surprise. Something flashed in his expression, but Ichigo didn’t quite catch it before Shunsui’s easy-going mask of a smile was back in place.

“Well,” he laughed, and it almost sounded genuine, “I suppose you’re right about that.” The limo pulled to a stop in front of his house. Ichigo hastily exited the vehicle, and just about slammed the door behind him, but Shunsui spoke again. “Wait. You’ve forgotten something.”

Ichigo turned around, mouth open to snap at the man, only to see him holding Ichigo’s phone, which he’d left on the seat next to him. Ichigo snapped his mouth shut and reached for the phone, but Shunsui snatched his hand back, a smile playing on his lips like it did when he used to tease the kids as he watched over them for Kisuke. Ichigo narrowed his eyes. He was in no mood to play this game.

“Give me my phone back, old man,” he grumbled.

“Ichigo?” a familiar voice called and Ichigo felt the blood drain from his face. He glanced to the side and, sure enough, there was Grimmjow, standing in his front yard in a pair of sweats and a tank top. He opened his mouth and shut it, no words coming out. Why the hell is he outside at this time of night? This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. This is why I requested the meeting time. What in the fuck?!

Seemingly realizing Ichigo was in a tough position, Shunsui decided to have mercy. He held the phone out again. Ichigo glanced at him and snatched the phone out of his hand. He gave the old man a glare, and Shunsui just smiled back at him as Ichigo slammed the door shut. The limousine pulled away. Ichigo took in a deep breath and turned around to face Grimmjow, only to find the blue-haired man standing right in front of him.

***

Grimmjow had been sleeping…not so well. Despite the announcement from Jinta two months ago, it felt less like Ichigo wanted to date him and more like he wanted to avoid him. It was weird. The other man always smiled and greeted him, but he’d seemed more and more tired and less and less enthusiastic. Maybe the kid read it wrong? Maybe Grimmjow read it wrong? Maybe they were all wrong and Ichigo was embarrassed and too polite to say so? He groaned and rubbed his hands on his face. He snuck a look at his bedside clock and groaned again. Two fourty-five? Fuck. Are you kidding me? Grimmjow scowled. His throat was dry now. With a sigh, he heaved himself up and out of bed, padding down to the kitchen for a glass of water. He was reaching for a glass when light flooded through the gaps in the curtains. Grimmjow paused and frowned. He abandoned his original objective to see who would be paused in front of his home at ass-o-clock in the morning.

He couldn’t quite see from the window, so he opened the front door and stepped outside. The car was long, a limousine, he could see now, in the light of the streetlamp and the headlights. It was parked in front of Ichigo’s house. Grimmjow waited as the door opened and a familiar figure stepped out. He squinted, but when the figure turned back toward the vehicle, he got a better look at their face.

“…Ichigo?” he called out. The figure started, and then Ichigo was meeting his gaze in the dim streetlight. He looked…afraid? There must have been a commotion from the limo, because Ichigo turned back to it, and reached in to grab something. Grimmjow frowned. His actions didn’t look natural or relaxed, but tense and on-guard. He started toward the limo, worried if he took his eyes off his neighbour for a second that he would be snatched back into the limo and disappear forever.

As if on a cue, right as he reached him Ichigo slammed the door shut and the limo sped away. Ichigo turned, as if expecting Grimmjow to be in his yard still. His wide-eyed expression told Grimmjow the other man hadn’t expected him to be right in front of him. Grimmjow stared at him. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. Ichigo’s eyes were dark in the dim light, with a lighter ring of amber around the outside of the iris. After the initial startle response, his gaze slowly softened and Grimmjow could see a sadness in his eyes. They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but stopped. Grimmjow gestured for Ichigo to continue.

Ichigo smiled at him gently. His face had a really warm glow in the soft streetlights now that the limo and its harsh lights were gone. “What are you doing out here so late?”

Grimmjow raised his eyebrows. “Could say the same to you.”

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair and tore his gaze away. “Asked you first,” he mumbled. Grimmjow pursed his lips but decided not to argue the point of who looked more out-of-place right now.

He rolled his shoulders, hairs on his arms prickling in the cold. “Couldn’t sleep. Went to get water, and I saw the light from the limo. So I came out to see who was parked out here in the middle of the night,” he replied shortly. Ichigo nodded, eyes still not meeting Grimmjow’s. “Your turn.”

Ichigo swallowed. “I was. Working.”

Grimmjow folded his arms. “Really.”

Ichigo looked at him now, brown eyes pleading. “That’s as much as I can tell you. Please. I’m sorry.” Grimmjow searched his eyes, but he found no lies in them.

“…are you alright, at least? You didn’t look too happy talking to…whoever that was.”

Ichigo’s hesitation said it all. Grimmjow kept his gaze fixed on him, staring at him intently, as if he could pull the answer out of Ichigo with only his gaze. The other man lowered his gaze, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it and closed it again. Finally, he just shook his head. “No. Not really,” he whispered, voice sounding strained. Discomfort settled in Grimmjow’s chest and he felt the urge to reach out, to touch, comfort, console…but he resisted. Instead, he dropped his arms to his sides.

“C’m ‘ere,” he directed, turning slightly toward his own home. Ichigo looked up, confusion etched into his face. Grimmjow jerked his head toward his house. “Come sit inside. I ain’t gonna be able to sleep and you look too wound up right now. We can talk, or whatever.” Ichigo blinked. Then he gave a soft smile.

“Yeah, ok. That sounds good.” And he followed Grimmjow into the house.

#grimmichi #jaegerjaquez grimmjow #kurosaki ichigo #m34gswrites #house of assassins #ch:shunsui #au #found family

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chaoticallysapphic · 4 years ago

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just a scratch

summary: You were always the hero, always the one protecting those around you. So who could be surprised by your honorable death?

a/n: I woke up this morning literally thinking "why not write a death fic," so here you guys go. Here's your Lin fic. I came up with this idea like two days into having this blog and it’s inspired by this art.

word count: 3k

When you were little your favorite books were those of heroes. Of great adventures and love so profound it would be talked about for centuries to come. The ones now collecting dust on the third to last shelf on your bookcase, the mahogany one situated between your desk and cedar bookcase, is where you place your favorites.

A recurring theme in them all is self-sacrifice. Loving someone sometimes requires that and you knew if the time ever came, you'd do it all for her. A life without her is not one you could live through, a world without her is dark and full of monsters and crime. Not only would you do it for your own selfish reasons but because she was so important to other people as well. The death of Lin Beifong is the day the heart of Republic City stops beating.

If you had to choose a way to go, it would be protecting those you love. And if Lin's life was on the line, then you knew it had to be you.

There are a million scares that have happened in the last few years, ever since Korra arrived the number of times you were jumping in front of her was too many to count. After the fourth, after you pushed her aside so Amon would take your bending, she'd all but screamed at you for hours while holding you, scared to let you go. Despite the emptiness seeming to fill you up like a ship sinking, it was worth it.

After you got it back Lin didn't let you out of her sight for weeks, suddenly you were trailing after her like a lost puppy. You understand her need to have you nearby and you didn't mind, who could mind the company of Lin?

One night sometime after the eighth time, Lin notices those books on the third to last shelf. She's read one or two and casually asks you how the others end. In your hands is a new one just as heartbreaking and morbid as the others. You don't realize the dots connecting for her whilst you happily ramble on about them, mentioning how you read your first one in the library at the age of seven.

“I mean it's what you do for love and it's so-”

“No you stay alive for love so you can live out the rest of your life with them,” her voice is firm as she grips one of those favorites of yours. You frown, slowly closing the one you're currently reading.

“Well it's not like you'd just do it for anything, it's to protect the one you love.”

Over the next few years, Lin's heart almost stops a million times as you keep protecting her. She tries to get you to stay in Republic City when she goes off to protect Korra but your stubbornness somehow beats Lin's.

That break-in at Zaofu solidifies it for you. Lin slips off with Suyin, so they can propel from the ceiling to save Korra. She makes sure you're distracted before sneakily racing off. When you turn around to check on Lin she's gone. She's gone and as you whip your head around to look for her there isn't a trace of where she went.

You know you're being selfish, that you should push this panic and fear down to help save Korra but you can't. You need to know where she is, people are yelling at you as you continuously turn, hoping to spot her. You don't notice how the combustion bender has turned to you. Your vision is blurring, you need to find her, and little do you know she's watching from above with her heart in her throat as P'li smirks before taking aim.

The sound her bending makes has you whipping around. Your eyes widen at the bolt of fire shooting towards you, frozen in place. This is not how you want to go down, you’ve had an unhealthy obsession with how you’d leave this world from a young age and this was not it. In the last second before your life ends two arms wrap around your waist as a body slams into you. You fall to the floor with a loud thud and a pained moan as your head smacks against the concrete. The bolt of fire whizzes past the two of you as it burns through a bush.

The woman above you isn’t Lin. It’s some guard with black hair and a mole under her eye and you can only half make out what she's saying, partially due to the concussion you now suffer from but also from the icy fear that has encased you. Little do either of you know that by Kuvira saving you, your fate has been placed in her hands for another day.

She’s asking if you're okay, by now Lin has saved Korra and the intruders have vanished. She knows your importance to the Beifong family. Kuvira helps pull you up into a sitting position, she watches you wince from the pain, your eyes squeezed shut. There’s a small spot of blood on the ground, and so she checks behind your head and finds a small cut.

Lin has given Korra to Suyin, bolting to where she sees you hunched over while Kuvira cleans the cut for you. You don’t hear or notice her coming, the only indication is when her arms slip around you as she pulls you against her body so tight it feels like the air is being squeezed out of you.

“What the fuck was that?” She chokes out between sobs. You slowly wrap your arms around your lover as you suddenly begin to feel tired.

“I couldn’t find you.”

After Zaheer when your life quiets down just a smidgen, Lin proposes. She found the ring at a jewelry store in Zaofu the day after you almost died and knew. You become a blubbering mess, it’s entirely unattractive as there’s snot mixing with tears but you rapidly nod as you choke out “yes.”

A year later you get married and the day is nothing short of a fairy tale. Everything is perfect as you sway to the song with your wife's arms wrapped around your waist. Everyone watches as you both lovingly stare into each other's eyes. Lin thinks that it’ll be calmer now and you’ll be safe. You're her wife and you love her and you're safe.

You think back on that day often with a fond smile, the cake you smeared across her face and the scowl she sported directly after. How she then cupped your cheeks in her hands, so she could rub the cake off onto you. There are two photo albums worth of photographs from that day and in almost every single one you both stare at each other in this way that feels so intimate. If a stranger took a look they’d be able to tell just how much you loved one another.

Lin’s been given her happily ever after, those two years that follow are blissful. You open up a bookstore near your apartment, and she forces herself to come home at a reasonable time every night, so she can enjoy your company before you head off to bed. You settle into a routine that neither of you mind, all Lin cares about is that you're safe and you're happy.

Some people (like Suyin) say it’s almost sickening how much you two love each other but Lin just thinks that’s because she's jealous of not having this kind of heartwarming, never-ending love. Everyone knows her marriage has dulled into one of convenience, and she’s never almost lost the love of her life as Lin has. It makes you cherish every moment in case it’s your last.

That peace breaks when Kuvira comes to Republic City, her change in demeanor is shocking and her inability to hand over the Earth Kingdom saddens you. She saved your life and the woman in front of you is not the same one who pushed you out of the way all those years ago. Something in her eyes has twisted, she’s become jaded over time and you seem to be the only one who holds out hope. Even Suyin gives up on her.

When Toph meets you she's nothing short of surprised. “Hi, I’m your daughter's wife, Y/n.” In the background, Bolin can see Lin rolling her eyes as she begins to walk away. You guys are on a mission, and she really doesn’t want you to make nice with her mother.

But you do because you're you and when Lin snaps while everyone is quietly eating their flameo noodles you softly calm her down. Still, you look over your shoulder at the first metal bender and say “you may have raised the love of my life but you’ve done nothing for her since the day you left Republic City. If she doesn’t want to forgive you for abandoning her then that’s perfectly fine by me.”

Your words remind Lin of the first time you met, how she was floored by your ability to bite back despite your otherwise quiet demeanor. You’d been this shy woman who bumped into her on your way out of a bookstore and when she went to scold you for not paying attention you stopped her in her tracks with one look alone. It may seem childish and stupid, cringe-worthy even, but she knew she had to marry you one day just with that look.

The next morning you save the Beifongs along with Zhu Li, you can’t help but watch Kuvira twist around as she continues to try and take Suyin down. If you go up there, will she do the same? She probably doesn’t remember you but as your savior, you remember her. Lin pulls you onto Juicy and wraps her arms around you, she thought the action was over, that her fear of losing you would lessen but it’s back in full force.

She tries to make you evacuate with the rest of Republic City and that stubbornness she loves rears its head as you put your foot down, claiming that you go wherever she does.

It’s all a blur really, there’s so much to do and such little time as you all try and try again to take her down when finally a reprieve comes in the form of Hiroshi’s sacrifice. Inside you stick with the Beifong sisters as you all work to destroy the weapon whilst Korra tries to distract Kuvira.

It’s a split second filled with too much to process. One second you succeed and destroy the ammunition and then the arm in which you're all in is being flung across the city. You push Lin and Suyin towards the wall, your wife bends metal around the two of them and tries to do the same for you but it’s flimsy as you're so far away and everything is moving so fast. The force of impact successfully knocks you out.

When you come to there're three things you notice.

Number one: You are so cold and yet you can feel sweat beading down your forehead.

Number Two: The metal wrapped around you is gone, it must have broken off from the impact.

Number three: It feels like you can’t breathe, there’s something inside you and when you try to move a pained scream scraps up your throat, it sounds gurgled and wet as something warm drips from your lips.

When you finally manage to open your eyes you notice that you aren’t in the arm anymore, with your blurry vision you can make out the faint shape of it against a broken building. There’s so much distorted noise around you. You can faintly make out your name being shouted and when you try to speak nothing comes out.

You make a mistake in your painful haze, you try to move. It’s then you finally look down as another scream rips out of you, this one slightly quieter, and notice the steel rod sticking out of the upper half of your stomach. You know it’s stupid but the only thing you can manage to think of is ‘that’s not meant to be there.’

Lifting your arm up you try to find a source of water, maybe you can heal what's around you as you slowly pull yourself off, but your call goes unanswered. Your arm gives out and falls onto the jagged pieces of concrete that cut into your skin but your brain is too focused on the pain in your stomach.

Where is she? Is she okay? Will this pain have been worth it? You don’t know, you're alone and you know what’s about to happen and you're alone. In all the visions you had of saving her, the last thing you saw was her. But now it’s the dilapidated storefront that must have been broken in the collision as you lay where a wall once used to stand. The ceiling is moldy and only half of it is still intact. You don’t even get to see the sun at the end.

Just as you're about to close your eyes to try and think of happy memories to go out on, you faintly hear someone say in a voice full of sorrow and desperation “No… No, no, no!”

This site right here is Lin’s worst nightmares all wrapped into one. There’s so much blood pooling underneath you as it drips down the broken concrete of the building. You're pale, so pale she thinks you almost look like a ghost and blood drips from your mouth.

She surges forward and falls to her knees, the bricks and rocks cut into her pants as pain sears through her legs, but she doesn’t care nor notice. All she notices is how your eyes are closed and how you're shivering in the middle of summer. Two warm hands cup your cheek, bringing you out of your pleasant memory of your wedding day as you open your eyes. A pair of bright green eyes stare down at you, she looks so scared.

“Lin…” You wheeze out. She shakes her head as she begins to sob. You feel so tired, so weak and if you had the energy it’d anger you but you can’t find it in you to care anymore. She’s here and you can see her eyes, her beautiful face and you know that what you’ve just done to protect her and Suyin was worth it. If not for you pushing her out of the way she would have fallen out of the arm and you’d be the to find her amongst the rubble.

“No you're fine, we’re gonna get you a heal- Korra can heal you it’s fi-” she’s stumbling over her words as she tries to wipe the blood off your face, it just smears the red liquid down your cheek and onto your neck. You shake your head.

“I love you…”

“Stop it, don’t say that you’ll be fine. You are going to live.”

“Please say it back…” You know you won’t live, no one will find you in time and you’ve lost too much blood. It’ll happen any second now and you want to hear it one more time.

“I’m not ready for this… You’re meant to grow old with me…” She sobs out. “You’re meant to live.”

“Please Lin…” you stop as you cough up more blood. It’s close. “I’m scared, please jus-”

“I love you, I-” she gently rests her forehead against your own, your skin is like ice now, “love you.” Lin feels so warm and comforting, you want to lean forward to wrap yourself around her but you can’t.

Tragedy struck within a matter of seconds. Life deemed her unworthy of a happy ending.

The shivering that let her know you were still there stops. She’s too scared to open her eyes afraid of what she might find. Maybe if she keeps them closed you’ll come back. You were like a cat with nine lives and surely you had one left. She doesn’t know how long she sits there leaning over your lifeless body with her hands cradling your face and forehead against your own, her back begins to hurt from the position, but she does not move an inch.

Everyone is looking for the two of you. They’ve won, victory is finally theirs and everyone can rest easy now with the great uniter being dragged by Suyin and Korra. Lin left the second the blast had cleared, screw victory all she cared about was you and Suyin was worried by the quietness of the streets, by the fact that neither of you came stumbling out of an alley with your hands all over each other as relief radiates from you.

It’s eerily silent as they turn down that fateful street Suyin and Lin woke up in, and she spots something out of the corner of her eye. A broken storefront that was slightly concealed by a large chunk of concrete. She sees the black of Lin’s suit and hears the faint whisper of someone murmuring something.

Tossing the injured Kuvira towards Korra to fully support her, she races over to her sister. Everyone stops as they see what's transpiring. No one says a thing, breath being held as they make out Lin leaning over something. Even Kuvira watches because what else is there for her to do?

Suyin stops a few feet behind her sister, her shoulders dropping when she sees a sight so tragic, so heartbreaking that even she begins to sob. Lin is too focused on you, she doesn’t even realize that she’s repeating something like a mantra, like some kind of prayer that will go unanswered.

“You're going to be okay.” It’s all Lin can say, eyes still squeezed shut. Hesitantly, Suyin takes a step as she tries to stifle her cries.

“Lin?...”

She stills at her sister's voice, those same four words dying in her throat. Suyin braves another step and then one more before placing her hand on her sister's shoulder. She can see the blood now and there’s so much of it. It reminds her of the rushing river right outside of Zaofu. Lin tenses at the touch.

“She’s fine.” Lin spits out and spirits it is such a useless lie. “She’s going to be fine.” Suyin grips her shoulder and pulls, in that moment of panic at being ripped from you her eyes finally open. You're so limp and without her hands to hold you, your face lulls to the side. Suyin finally spots the cause of your death with the detachment of Lin. Nothing could have saved you from that, not even if they found you immediately. Only spirit water could have fixed that and it’s too far away.

“Lin…” Suyin starts as she continues to pull her away. Fear grips her so tightly she can’t control herself as she whips around to push her away. Her younger sister catches her arms before she can try to bend her away and Lin struggles to break free. Everyone sees you now.

“Get off of me!” She screams, her voice cuts through the air like a knife and neither of the sisters notices the display of grief behind them as every person who knows you understands the gravity of the situation. You were like a second mother to Korra, you made sure Mako was fed and healthy during his brief time staying at the station. When Bolin doubted his bending in Zaofu you cheered him on.

You were everyone's ray of sunshine. No one knows what to do when the sun finally goes out.

“She’s fine!” Suyin just nods as she pulls Lin into a tight hug. The chief wails as she finally begins to realize that you aren’t fine, that you won’t wake up. It settles into her bones and drags her down until she’s collapsing. Suyin struggles to hold her sister as she gently kneels for them.

In her defeated, injured state, Kuvira remembers you. She remembers cleaning up the bit of blood from the back of your head, and she thinks ‘that’s too much for me to clean.’ The great uniter remembers the sob that left Lin when she barreled into you. The sound of her voice as she choked out “What the fuck was that?”

Lin can’t breathe, she feels her heart die with you as she wails into her sisters shoulder. The icy cold grips of grief latch onto her like a parasite and make itself a nest inside her now empty chest cavity.

That day victory is not what anyone on that street feels. The sunshine has vanished from this world and replaced it with darkness that’ll loom over everyone’s life for the rest of time.

That day is the day Lin Beifong truly dies.

#lin beifong #lin beifong x reader #lin beifong/reader #lin beifong fanfic #lok fanfic #legend of korra #yo one of you guys asked when i was gonna write more for lin #here you guy #ask and ye shall receive

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suganovakawa · 5 years ago

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , recovery from amnesia

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐗 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 .

whatever’s happening between you and hajime , tooru is not having any of it .

word count : 1.7k

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀the moment you walked into the classroom, tooru felt his chest compress with the sight of you and hajime attached to each other by the hip. everything about what he saw was wrong, in every single aspect of the word. it sickened him down to the stomach. digust could never fully cover the monstrosity he witnessed.

⠀what the living hell was his girlfriend doing with his best friend, of all people?

⠀dare he even call iwaizumi his best friend at this point? friends, even?

⠀he wanted to go up to you and greet you, to ask about your being and if there was anything you needed. that's what a good boyfriend would do, right? then again, a good boyfriend wouldn't treat you like shit. nor would a good boyfriend blame you for things you had nothing to do with.

⠀and a good boyfriend certainly wouldn't tell you to fuck off, leading up to a car crash that would most likely ruin him for the rest of the year.

⠀"oikawa, are you not going to say anything to y/n?"

⠀shook from his thoughts at the mention of your name, tooru winced as he eyed the individuals around his desk. they all had the same face; angry, disgusted scowls meant for only him. he deserved it, he really did; he had purposely turned his head to the window the moment you walked in. he wanted to keep his gaze outside too, if not for these people around him.

⠀shrugging slightly as he looked up at his unwanted company, he spotted you standing idly at your designated desk. turning his vision slightly to the right, there was iwaizumi, paging you over and over again, but you weren't listening.

⠀no, your eyes were completely on his.

⠀his heart skipped a beat as your eyes focused on him and him alone, a million thoughts ran through his head like a marathon as he tried to understand why you were looking at him, and why you were looking at him so... curiously. did you know? did you remember everything? how much did hajime really tell you? it didn't take an idiot to know he had been spending the most time with you, so there was no guessing of what he's informed you of. as far as tooru knew, he'd already told you of how shitty of a boyfriend he was, and that he'd never be worth your time again.

⠀but if that were the case, you wouldn't have looked over at him so fondly. just one second of shared eye contact was enough to brand the image of you in oikawa's head for the rest of the day, leaving him to ponder on what he should do about you, and how to make his own life less miserable than what he had already bestowed upon himself. part of him wanted to give up, to accept that he was a complete asshole unworthy of redemption.

⠀and he would've accepted it too,

⠀if hajime iwaizumi wasn't in the picture.

⠀something about the way he looked so perfect, so delighted, so content with being right next to you, at your beck and call - it was disgusting. truely, utterly humilating. the way hajime was so quick to answer to your every need; tooru noticed it all day, the way iwaizumi came to your rescue every time you needed anything. directions, assistance with assignments, even remembering names. whatever your problem was, iwa had the solution. and it sickened tooru down to the pits of his stomach.

⠀it's as if he wanted to replace oikawa as your boyfriend.

⠀he ignored it in the past, whenever he heard rumors about the ace's crush on you. makki and mattsun would constantly tease iwaizumi about it, but would stop whenever the captain enter the room. there were only a couple of times where the brunet had fully listened in to a couple of conversations, but he never thought anything of it in the past. why should oikawa care if iwa had a crush on his girlfriend? tooru knew you were completely smitten over him, so there was nothing he had to be self-conscious about.

⠀looking at the two of you now, ignoring iwa's growing feelings for you added to his list of never-ending regrets.

⠀seeing how his best friend was able to sweep you away from him so easily, it scared tooru, to say the least. had he been planning this for a while? was he always eyeing for the day you and him would finally call it quits? tooru remembered vividly how quickly iwaizumi was to act upon you running out of the gym that dreadful day, and how he himself was frozen in nothing more than confusion. his first assumption was that you were running home, since you didn't live too far from seijoh.

⠀of course, that assumption ran clear down the drain the moment iwa returned with you bleeding out in his arms. tooru didn't know where you were bleeding from - most likely the head, assuming it was a car accident. you were fluttering in and out of consciousness, which scared oikawa back into reality.

⠀you were dying in iwaizumi's arms.

⠀he... he's your boyfriend, so he has every right to see if you're okay, right?

⠀so why the fuck won't iwaizumi let him near you?

⠀who gave him the right to tell him to stay away from you? no, he should be the one staying away from you, you were oikawa's girlfriend. his significant other. not iwaizumi's.

⠀yet, he was the one treating you the way a real boyfriend should.

⠀tooru was left alone at school again after another long day, his thoughts in a scramble as he walked around the halls to think. he considered walking into the gym, but he hadn't touched a single volleyball in weeks. did he even deserve to pick up a volleyball again? it was the sport that drove him into an angry frenzy, unleashing a chain reaction leading to your accident. it was by chance you got by with just a concussion and amnesia; it could've been much, much worse - worst being you dying. and it would've been your own boyfriend's fault.

⠀tooru turned the corner to bump into none other than hajime himself, who seemed to be in a hurry before laying eyes on his former captain. the two males stood in front of each other in silence, the tension grew heavy in the air. oikawa didn't want to be in his presence, nor did iwaizumi want to be in his presence. their lips were sealed, there wasn't anything that needed to be said between them.

⠀"hajime? where are you?"

⠀tooru's posture stiffened at your voice, his eyes immediately wandering to spot your whereabouts. why were you still here? why were both of you still here?

⠀"y/n..." his decision made, tooru was going to find you. even with iwaizumi here, that shouldn't stop him. as aggressive as iwa was sometimes, oikawa wasn't really scared of him. if he was going to talk to you, then he damn well was going to talk to you. and the things you deserved to hear from him were endless. "i'm going to talk to y/n, iwa-chan." he spat out the nickname, one usually addressed out of endearment, like venom. it threw the other off guard, but not long enough for tooru to walk past him.

⠀"no, you're not going to."

⠀"excuse me? get out of my way, let me go see-"

⠀oikawa grunted as he felt iwa grab him by the blazer, slamming him against a locker with animalistic ferocity. he had never seen hajime so pissed off as he was now, his teeth visibly clenched together as he glared at his fellow third year. "no, you're not," he hissed, his fists clenching around the fabric even tighter to make sure tooru couldn't escape. "you're not fucking stepping near y/n today, tomorrow, or ever. you don't deserve to see her again, so do her a favor and stay out of her life. got it, shittykawa?"

⠀seeing how oikawa was helpless in his hold, iwaizumi waited for him to reply before letting him go. seeing how tooru decided it was better off remaining silent, all he really could do was let go anyway; you had just turned the same corner and came face to face with both boys.

⠀"hajime? what are you doing?"

⠀his name sounded horrible in your mouth. tooru felt sick as iwaizumi backed up and shrugged, faking a chuckle before focusing his attention on you again. "ah, y/n. nothing to worry about, just a small disagreement is all. have you finished collecting your homework yet? i'll take you home if you are, just meet me outside."

⠀"yeah, i'll go now." you nodded, but not before looking at oikawa once more. tooru wasn't even sure how to react, only sufficing with a half-hearted smile and a wave.

⠀"you're... oikawa, right?"

⠀his heart cracked in two when his surname escaped your lips. having been used to being addressed as tooru for so long, he should've never taken advantage of it. even so, all he could do in this present moment was bite his tongue to hold back from crying in front of the two of them. "yeah... yeah, that's me. glad to know you're alright... y/n."

⠀"thank you." unsure of how else to continue the conversation, you turned around and left, not wanting to pry into their conversation.

⠀iwaizumi waited until you turned the corner to face the other male once more, his facade for you completely gone. there he was back with his angry snarl, pointing a finger at him menacingly. "i'm warning you," he seethed, "stay away from y/n. you'll just make her life a living hell again, and i won't let you ruin her life twice."

⠀tooru hadn't even gotten a chance to reply before hajime turned the corner they originally bumped into, following your footsteps to walk you home, as promised. tooru couldn't process what had just happened, his brain not able to understand that iwazumi was going to take you home. that he was going to help you with homework.

⠀that he was going to be by your side everyday.

⠀no, fuck that. he couldn't let that happen.

⠀one way or another, tooru will prove to you that he can be the boyfriend you deserve, even with iwa as a thorn in his side.

⠀"fuck you, iwaizumi. i am worthy of redemption. i'll prove you wrong, just you wait."

a / n : and how exactly is tooru going to prove that he’s worthy of redemption? well... that’s for another chapter ;) n e ways ! some of y’all have heard of me beginning an iwaizumi smau , and that’s correct ! keeping it secret though , but expect the masterlist soon :>

taglist : @ot127 @rena0921 @karlitabi-rrito @psychicpercyjacksonfan @crescentbitch @amelimiles @damnirina @pasta-warlord @blossomingbangtan @clinomanians @i-am-kinda-in-a-lot-of-fandoms @manq-fandoms @citruss @sugar-wara @haikoo @anime-simp @kairostatue @awkwardspontaneity @iwantapoptartqwq @aquariarose @softestdreamer @plantisnotplant @avylee @froppysgirl @that-animebitch @wisepandaslimeland @samanthaa-leanne @dumplingzumispam @0hakaashi @captain-janeway @afterglowkuroo @bellabelieveme @attixca @chickenrest @tycrackculture @ynjimenez @lissa-writes-and-does-matchups @lavieenblancetnoir @dabilove27 @cuddleslut @crypto-s @keigosbitch @readeretal @shittykawaa @donghyuckster @adriloen @ella-solei @emiyummy

closed ;

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rina-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Leaked

Summary: When your nudes get leaked by your ex, you worry about how this will change Grayson’s perception of you.

Warnings: Revenge porn/manipulative ex, protective Grayson, fluff (tw marked within story)

The view was blurred as you tried to stop the tears from pouring out of your eyes. You let out another shaky breath, trying to anchor yourself despite feeling a million miles away. You could barely see the large green palm trees fluttering against the blue sky. It just looked like waves and shimmers. The Dolan household was an oasis for you. A safe place created by the twins themselves when Grayson first invited you over after your third date. When Ethan heard you lived in a studio with a roommate, he jokingly suggested that you move into Grayson’s tiny house. Grayson was half serious when he agreed to it. You hated to think that the next time you sat in this spot, you would be reminded of your dirt bag ex and the pictures that would ruin your life forever.

You let out a sigh and put down your paint brush. You were done painting for today, for sure. Your plan was to paint his backyard and give it to him to put up. He and Ethan were planning on making an office and you wanted to give him a personal gift. Your “short break” to look at social media turned into revealing the worst thing that has happened to you in a very long time. With your creativity dashed and your nerves set ablaze, you decided to focus on the real issue: how you would tell Grayson.

Grayson wasn’t exactly innocent. While he was the type of guy that liked to be in a relationship before being intimate, he had plenty of practice. You could see his experience in the way his hazel eyes with darken and a smirk tugged on his full pink lips anytime he realized you were in the mood. Sure, he had rippling abs and cut arms because he wants to be the best version of himself. However, he would be the first to admit that being able to toss his girlfriend over his shoulder and ravish her with ease was a great perk as well.

You also knew that Grayson knew that you weren’t innocent either. At the same time, you never sent him any sexy pictures or videos. The raciest text you sent was probably something like, ‘I wish you were in bed with me.’ It probably never occurred to Grayson that you would be into that kind of thing.

tw: talks about manipulation by ex-partner

To be honest, you don’t know what came over you back then. Sending naked pictures was something everyone knew was risky and dangerous. Your ex had a way of persuading you to do anything. He pried on your insecurities and desire to be loved, coaxing you into things that made you uncomfortable under the familiar, but sickening logic of “if you loved me, you’d do it.” Then, he would berate you for doing exactly what he said. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he would one day threaten to post these pictures. He often told you he would send it to your family or to your coworkers whenever you did something he didn’t like. Sometimes, you were happy he left you for someone else. You knew that he would never let you break up with him and would punish you if you ever managed to get away.

tw end

You were incredibly grateful that you met Gray about a year later. He showed you what it felt like to be cared for and loved. He helped you to push past your insecurities and help you find new things to boost your confidence, like painting! He was always in tune with your emotions. It was good and bad because it meant that sometimes he could sense something wrong before you were ready to tell him. You had a feeling this was going to be one of those issues.

As if right on cue, Grayson knocked on the door of the patio to get your attention. You glanced back to see a sheepish grin on his face. He had been filming with Ethan all day. At first, he felt bad for abandoning you on your day off. You reminded him that you enjoyed your ‘me’ time and would be happy to get some time to paint. You hadn’t told him about your surprise so, you knew he was worried that you were secretly feeling neglected. You had to shoo him from the pool area multiple times as he kept “forgetting” things he left around you.

You widened your eyes and blinked a few times to hide your tears. You smiled widely as he sat next to you. You thought you did a pretty job of looking composed.

“Have you been on Twitter all day?” He teased, gesturing at the phone in your hand as he leaned on your the top of your lawn chair.

“What, why?” You asked, alarmed, immediately clicking the button to lock your already locked phone.

Your serious expression took him by surprise and Grayson narrowed his eyes. He held your chin and analyzed your face. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that something was wrong.

“Babe, did something happen?” He asked, frowning, his thick brows making his eyes deepen. “I was just teasing you about not painting…”

“Oh…” You shifted uncomfortably, pulling away from him. You tried to discretely push your phone under your thigh. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little jumpy. You know, work has been tough. Really needed this vacation.”

“Don’t do this…” Grayson said, slumping his shoulders, letting go of your chin. “I know you’re lying. I don’t like when you hide things from me.”

“I don’t know…” You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can tell you right now.”

He smoothed your hair out of your face and kissed your forehead. “You can tell me anything, when you’re ready.” He put his arm around as he sat in the chair next to you. “I just wish I could help you now.”

The moment your nose met the crook of his neck, the tears started pouring out of you like a river. He held you tighter, his body hardening as if literally becoming his rock. He pulled you into his lap and your sobs became uncontrollable the moment your cheek hit his chest. Your tears were soaking his tank top and you were sure it was getting on his bare shoulders as well. But, Grayson never stopped holding you. Eventually, you calmed down and just rested your head on his chest. He rubbed your back and said nothing. You could hear him breathing deeply as if trying to calm himself down. He hated seeing you distraught, especially since it was rare. Like him, you tried to be cheerful around those you love. So, if you broke down, it had to be something terrible.

“Promise me that you won’t change how you see me…” You said softly, finally looking at him.

“Nothing would make me do that.” Grayson said, grabbing your chin and resting his forehead on yours. He quirked an eyebrow, “Well maybe not nothing… If you killed Ethan, it would be kinda rough.”

You gave a soft laugh. You needed that. You reached over behind Grayson, to the previous chair you were sitting in to grab your phone. You unlocked it and handed it to him.

His breath hitched as he scrolled to read the email. You closed your eyes, feeling them stinging with tears again.

The email was filled with multiple pictures of you almost completely naked. You were usually wearing underwear, but even that didn’t cover much. Most of them didn’t have your face, but someone could probably tell it was you.

“Is this from your ex?” Grayson practically growled. You opened your eyes to see his jaw set and his eyes wild.

“Gray…”

“Is that bastard blackmailing you?!” He yelled. “What the f*ck... I’ll kill him.”

“Calm down…” You said, resting your hand on his chest. “I don’t want to make him upset. We haven’t come out publicly, but I’m sure he’s sending this because he knows you and I are together. If we piss him off, he’ll post these photos and your fans will be retweeting that you’re dating a slut.”

Grayson stared at you in disbelief. He grabbed your shoulders tightly, and your wince made him loosen his grip. His eyes searched your face for a moment as though his brain was also thinking of the right thing to say.

“Y/N, I don’t give a flying f*ck right now about what anyone thinks.” His voice was deep and firm.

You could tell his blood was boiling, but he was trying not to scare you. Let’s face, Angry Grayson was definitely more fun to enjoy when the anger was not targeted at you. He knew that and often tried to be gentler around you.

Grayson continued to speak, “You have no right to feel ashamed. Everyone has taken photos to feel good about themselves. You trusted him with this. Now, he is using it to ruin your life because you decided to date someone better? F*ck that guy. I’ll kill him. NO, we’ll sue him and then I’ll kill him.”

“Grayson…” You hugged him tightly.

He hugged you back, cradling you in his arms gently. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He whispered, his voice become gently again as he nuzzled your hair. “I’ll call our lawyers at the management company. They will know what to do.”

“Thank you.” You choked out, getting emotional again at the sound of lawyers. How could you be so stupid? How did you let it get to this point?

“We have to work quickly.” Grayson said, standing up still holding you in his arms, your cellphone pressing into your back as he kept a hold of it. “I worry that if you take too long he will leak a few to scare you. We gotta loop in E and see if he can help us out too.”

You sniffled. You forgot that Ethan would know too. Ethan who viewed you like a sister. Oh god, would Grayson tell Lisa and Cameron too? Would the entire Dolan family now view you as a scamp?

“I’m so sorry, Gray.” You apologized again. “I feel so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be!” Gray said, carrying you into the house. “You’re beautiful, baby. I don’t blame you for wanting to show it off. I just wished I could have met you before that prick. Then I’d have pretty pictures and one less face to smash in.”

He gave you a grin and despite the deep, gnawing sadness in the pit of your stomach, you managed to smile back. He kissed your forehead and you closed your eyes a few more tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I love you, baby. I got this. Trust me.” Grayson said. “I won’t hurt you like he hurt you.”

You kissed his cheek. “I know.” You had always known, but this solidified it.

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan scenario #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fluff #dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins scenario #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins fluff #fic-leaked #r-writes-fic

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soyunaagente · 4 years ago

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Crossed Wires

Thank you @pridelumos for trusting me enough to write this request!

This is the first one I’ve ever done so I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count- roughly 2,200.

Warnings- mentions of murder, guns, sex, drugs. My terrible writing.

The ticking of the office clock was the only thing breaking the tense silence. Yet another day had passed and not a single tip, clue or evidence was sent in. You sighed loudly and got up from your desk. The evening sun still flooding the room in a warm glow.

‘Someone’s in a good mood,’ Agent Roger Knapp commented on your louder than normal exhale.

You shot him a look as you poured yet another cup of coffee, The third of the day. ‘It’s been weeks Roger, weeks. We still know shit.’ You’re fresh, not three years out of the academy, still chomping at the bit to make a difference; after all you’ve heard about the emerging ‘drug war’ in Mexico. The more….seasoned agents have gotten cynical over the years. Unless it falls into their lap they don’t bother to investigate.

You dropped into your comfortable office chair and slumped over the desk. Letting out a frustrated groan. Honestly? If you knew the adventure that was about to ensure you’d wish for a few more of the lazy office days.

----------

Miguel Ángel Felix Gallardo, arguably the most wanted man in Mexico, leaned back in his office chair. Specially designed with French leather. Not for the faint of heart. He too let out a frustrated sigh. The Gulf was weeks away from overtaking most of the land border into the United States. All he’d been able to do was sit back and watch it happen.

He sighed again and stood up to look out the window. The fading rays of sunlight doing nothing to ease his apprehension. The Gulf was mere weeks away from securing the majority of the land border between Mexico and the United States. It would lead to a drop in profits; and an increase in problems. As if he hadn't had enough, Tijuana and Sinaloa were in a war, Pacho had him in a vice grip and Maria was gone. Fled. Kids and all.

Miguel lit a cigarette, as he watched the ash tip onto the stone balcony he realised there was no point in wallowing. This wasn't going to sort itself. At least this may be something he could fix. Miguel caught his jacket from the coat rack and slammed the door behind him.

If he had known the events of the next few days maybe he would have gently closed the door instead.

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

You stood at the side entrance of the offices, leaning against the door frame and watching the Guadalajara streets begin to light up with nightlife and music. You glanced back at the building you called a workplace for a moment. Your eyes scanning the stonework. When you laid eyes on him, however. your jaw dropped to the floor.

Strutting up the steps to the main entrance. To the United States DEA base in Guadalajara Mexico was none other than the man that had saved your life almost two years ago.

Miguel Ángel Felix Gallardo.

*Sinaloa two years prior*

As the first female in the DEA you felt as if you had a point to prove. This was your shot to do it. The biggest night time raid the DEA was about to undertake in the city of Sinaloa. Three houses, two down, now it was your turn to show off all you had learnt. It's not an Old Boys Club anymore.

In the end it had all happened so fast. First you lead the team tactically into the premises, cleared the perimeter. You did everything by the book. After that night you learnt that rules become blurred south of the border quite often.

There was a sudden whirr of bullets, frenzied screaming.... an odd smell of smoke. Fear overtook you when you heard the order coming from your Walkie Talkie. Two words registered. 'Ambush... scatter.'

You gripped your gun so tight it was a miracle it didn't snap in two. Barely taking in your surroundings you ran. Hastily. The streets passed in a blur. Your lungs felt on fire as you slowed your steps. Slowing to a stop, leaning against a building. The panting made the footsteps approaching behind you inaudible, it was far too late by the time you noticed.

The sickening click of a gun being drawn from its holster behind you caused your face to drain of blood. Trembling you slowly turned. You were staring down the barrel of a gun.

Seconds ticked by. The masked gunman's hand trembled. In that split second a gunshot rang out.. as you were thrown to the ground. You kept your eyes squeezed tightly. A warm hand ran down your arm. Daring to open one eye was the best and worst thing you ever did. You opened both. A pair of deep brown eyes stared back. Entranced. He helped you up, how kind of him.

Once steady on your feet you got a good look at the man. Time for round two of heart attacks of the day. One of the most wanted men in Mexico had his hand in yours, his other holding your elbow to keep you steady. He looked, well, he looked concerned.

'Estas bien mija?'

Your mouth opened and closed.

He chuckled. 'We,' he gestured to the giant of a bodyguard standing over your would be killer's corpse. 'saw what happened. He was on our hit list anyway.'

You felt your cheeks heat up. His voice was like melted butter. He squeezed your hand. 'I hope I'll see you again... agente.'

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

A bunch of roses with no name attached appeared at the office two weeks later. After getting a LOT of shit from the other agents you figured it could only be Miguel who had sent them. Two days later a necklace arrived. Your internal monologue went a little like ‘Oh no Oh no Oh no no no no no no’, especially when you realised the butterflies before evening opening the little box tied with a red ribbon. He’s a goddamn Narco. You’re meant to be putting him in a prison to rot.

You threw the flowers out and hid the necklace in your wardrobe. Get rid of all keepsakes and therefore all memories. He’s not for you. It’s not right. It’s damn illegal.

Now here he was walking as calm as could be into the lion’s den. You stayed watching his cool demeanour. His cockiness. That blue suit, that jet black ha-no stop. You didn’t even notice the small smile appearing on your face as he disappeared indoors.

Realising the worst thing you could possibly do was follow him. So you waited. Hiding behind a tree. Smooth. Real smooth. He emerged from the building about twenty minutes later. You almost deflated in relief as the car turned the corner and sped off down the next street.

Naively thinking it was safe you returned to your desk. Only to have Roger and Chief Jamie Kuykendall waiting with eyebrows raised and an unreadable look on their faces. Jamie was the first to speak. ‘We-um- we had a visitor.’

You acted confused. They fell for it. ‘I- we- Felix Gallardo was here. Looking to give us information,’ he finished.

‘Wha- what? How? Why?’ you babbled.

‘We don’t know the specifics. That’s the problem, we haven’t the faintest idea why he wants to give it to us. All we know is. He’ll only give it to you.’ Roger intervened.

Your jaw hit the floor. ‘Me?’

‘No, he came all the way in here to ask for the Pope. Yes you,’ Roger snapped.

Jamie handed you a scrap piece of paper. ‘He asked to meet you for dinner. He’ll give you the information then.’

Your brow furrowed. The moral compass going into overdrive. He’s a narco. He saved your life. You’re just getting information. Pushing all the thoughts aside you nodded slowly. ‘I’ll do it. It’ll be okay.’ Whether you were convincing them or yourself is still up for debate.

You didn’t sleep at all that night. The bed was uncomfortable, the night was too humid, the pillows were uneven. All excuses you convinced yourself were the issue. Sitting straight up at dawn you stared at the wardrobe. The necklace. Sneaking up on the shelf you caught the box and pulled it down. Inside lay the most beautiful silver and diamond collar.

Slipping it on felt right, It fit like a glove. The dress you chose was a bit risqué to say the least. But you know, we have to give him something to look at. Grabbing your purse before leaving you noticed a driver and his car outside.

‘Para ti Senorita,’ He opened the door. Champagne and truffles awaited. The smell of the new leather filled you with apprehension as the streets rolled by, before long you were in an unfamiliar part of town. The filthy rich side. The driver pulled up to a villa straight out of a Hollywood movie. The old fashioned villa, complete with a football field sized yard and outdoor pool was a stark contrast to the cramped apartment you called home.

Feeling slightly out of place you followed the driver to the entrance. He pushed open the door to a beautifully ornate interior. A butler handed you a glass of champagne and led you to the outdoor terrace. A table for two was set, with a view overlooking the city. It was almost too much. Almost. You took a seat at the table. Admiring the white table cloth and, of course, the vase full of roses as a centre piece. You nervously tugged at the necklace, anxious for Miguel to arrive. Still mixed feelings on the whole deal.

‘Hola Senorita,’ that voice, It stirred something in the pit of your stomach.

‘Hola.’ There was a slight bit of tension in the air as he sat across from you. The look in his eye was mischievous, bordering cocky.

‘Antes de cenar agente. Tengo un regalo para ti.’ He pushed a brown envelope across the table. You let your fingertips touch it before he lets it go. You take another glance back at him. The cockiness is gone. This is the envelope with everything in it. Names, addresses, routes. You tapped your fingers on it for a second. Contemplating. Eventually deciding against better judgement you slipped the invaluable information into your purse. A look of relief washed over Miguel’s face.

It honestly took you by surprise how funny he could be. You felt a six pack coming on before dinner was even served. The tension disappeared. As the wine flowed you felt more at ease with your supposed arch nemesis. His shoulders slowly dropped throughout the meal. Simply enjoying the company. The butler cleared the dinner dishes away. As he did so the sound of slow classical music filled the night air. Bringing with it Miguel’s invitation for a dance. Slightly embarrassed at the prospect he put you at ease by assuring you he didn’t know the steps.

He held your hand in his. His grip around your waist was both comforting and reassuring. You simply melted into the embrace. Resting your head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat was music to your ears. That moment, nothing could ruin that picturesque moment. The smell of his expensive cologne, the feeling of his cool shirt against your skin.

You gazed up at him, his beard tickling your upper lip. You felt a smirk, his hand around your waist tightening. Oh dear, no. You place your hands on his chest where your head once lay. He looks at you, concern filling his eyes. ‘Que pasa mija hm.’

‘I-I.’ you fumble. ‘This,we,’

He stopped dead in his tracks. Moving his hands to hold your shoulders gently but firmly. ‘What are you worried about?’

You stared down at the floor. ‘I can’t be a notch on your belt Miguel. That’s not what this is, I'm a DEA agent. Of course I’ll be forever grateful for saving my life but…. But I just-’

His grip became slightly firmer. Barely noticeable but yet, you felt it. ‘I’m not going to bring you to my room mija. If you do decide to, it'll be because you want to. Not to, what, thank me for the information? That’s not what this is.’ His tone was reaffirming. Yet Calming. His juxtapositions were almost overpowering. How could one man be so much Ying and yet, so much Yang?

You held his hand. Entwining your fingers with his. ‘This is the way it has to stay Miguel,’ your voice cracking slightly. This is the way it has to stay.

You quickly wiped a tear from your cheek. With mascara threatening to run you turned to leave. Picking up your purse you took the first steps. Before bidding adieu to the glorious villa you glanced back at the Narco standing in front of you. ‘If you have any more information you know where I am.’

With that, you bid the man that firmly held your heart farewell.

#miguel angel felix gallardo #miguel angel #miguel angel felix gallardo x reader #narcos mexico #narcos mexico imagine #narcos

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carpsurprise · 4 years ago

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sorry for my absence but... i bring pirate!sam.... this is also posted on ao3, if you’d rather read there..... but yes this is gender neutral “farmer”.. not beta read bc ive been losing sleep over this... under a read more because it’s long as hell. and thank you to the discord for fueling me many late nights to write this!!

the teasing nature of the ocean, and those in tune with it:

word count: 7.8k

summary: after wishing to become one with the sea for as long as the mind had allowed it, the newest shipmate had taken longer than usual to become accustomed to the physical ailments of being at sea, soon learning that their mental state would become the worst affected. the only pirate that had given them any mind was sam, an immature yet charming pirate in the higher ranks. his closeness to them unfolds as his attempt for some type of distraction from his own loss of self at sea.

warnings: allusions to s//cide, drowning, and not beta read.

PART I, INTRODUCTION

It was only supposed to take a couple days to stop their seasickness, hearing from the few ship mates they had encountered in their bedridden, infant days onboard that the body would become acclimated in no time. Never underestimate the human body’s quickness to adapt! the captain cried out soon after allowing them their rest time before their expected labor. This was an amazing opportunity no one could pass up, no one like the newest recruit, who had dreamed of days at sea since childhood, and longed for the nights of open starscape and the wail of the wind at full speed.

Yet, even with this wonderful expectation, they lay bedridden in their hammock, deep below the wooden deck that creaked with each step. The ship would groan with each bob in the water, the sounds of horrible screeches that came from deep within the ship furthered their nausea. Even if they had a few moments of solace between sick spells, anything would be better than the quiet squeals of the wood beneath the water. Despite that notion, that repeated itself in their mind, the back of their head had allowed no movement. Their head would turn to vomit every so often, scrambling out of their bunk and to the wood pail beneath them. The only company to be had before nightfall was a woman with strange, blue hair, decorated with gold jewelry and piercings—and a bird that sat on her shoulder, he seemed to have an injured wing, but in their sickness it was hard to tell— who would bring a wet cloth to dab on their head every so often.

In their loneliness their acceptance aboard rang through their head alongside their migraine. Excited jitters fizzled through their body as jolts of pain replaced them, making it known to the newest mariner: the sea was not one to mess with. Yet, even in sickness, this was the opportunity they had dreamed of. Perfect scenarios replaced thoughts of pain, the wondrous look of joy wrinkling the captain’s face as he had met his newest recruit etching itself deep into their mind.

“Welcome aboard!” He grinned, shaking their hand with a firm grip. The stumbled, losing their footing with the slight movement of the ship and the strength of his hands, the sheer roughness against their palm scratching at the skin. “Gonna need to toughen up if you want to make it out here at sea!”

With a nervous laugh, they responded with his honorific, keeping their eyes off of the few gold teeth that lined his mouth. The crew had already begun their preparations to set sail. Shipmates ran to their posts as maps made their way to the captain’s quarters to begin navigation. Snapping themselves out of their dreamlike trance, they ran to their assigned post, readying for departure before their sickness had hit.

Hit, it had. The joly of the ships movement had thrown them off their feet, the nausea of first-day-anxieties and the never ending cycle of waves flooded from their stomach up straight to the back of their head. The sea had claimed another victim within an instant, but showed its mercy for the first and last time to them. They had finally regained consciousness where they lie now, eyes trained on the flimsy roped hammock above them, a leg draped over the side as they clutched their stomach between gasps. After one last sleep, they decided they would start their duties on the ship. No matter the cost of their health, their goal of becoming one with the sea would be achieved.

A full night of rocking, being woken every so often by the shipmates’ chatter in the dead of night, and the lingering pit in their stomach had made the attempt at rest useless. But, by sheer willpower, they had managed their feet to land securely on the floor by dawn. Their grip on their hammock lingered for a moment, bracing themselves for sickness. At long last, their connection to the physical land would be forgotten for a life at sea, with its eternity of waves and comforting wind.

PART II, THE TEASING NATURE OF THE OCEAN, AND THOSE IN TUNE WITH IT:

Finally able to enjoy the asylum of the sea, the comforting kiss of its mist and the heat of the sun’s rays, they had finally made their way out onto the boat, far from the confinement of the ship. After three sickening days aboard, they could finally muster to keep their head up. Throwing themselves against the rails of the ship carefully, they gazed over the side of the ship with a frown. Their reflection was not there, not like in a river or lake. A puff of air had escaped them, uselessly searching for any ounce of their own face. Chatter had ensued behind them, pulling them from their questioning looks to a faceless being and back to the people of the ship.

They were docked at some seaside town, mates running on and off the ramp of the ship as the town’s commotion sparked up. A few pirates they had recognized, some that stayed in their rest quarters, others that had walked past their bunk in frenzied states. Almost no one had introduced themselves, a kind face far in between indifferent ones. It wasn’t too big of a matter to them, just a bit odd from their days on the coast back home. But, this wouldn’t break them, or their pursuit of one's truest connection to the sea. Walking with haste to the side of the ship, they braced themselves against the wood rails, carefully tipping themselves to see the movement of water the best they could. It had seemed so inviting; the playful lap of water seeming almost childish in a strange way, beckoning them forward to indulge in its coolness.

The talking behind them had taken them out of their thoughts, passers by noting that there were only ten minutes more until departure. Their heart beat with nervous excitement, feeling that if everything in their life were to fall into place, now would be it. Helping with mundane tasks around the ship, traveling far across the horizon, and exploration of new lands untouched by others for decades sounded like heaven, the crash of waves against the ship and harbor echoing as a sort of applause for their accomplishment. It should have been the perfect sign that the wind was picking up, and that they were due to set sail.

The ship jolted against the waves, the wind whipping their hair from them and tearing at the skin. Without the painful headache pooling at the back of their skull, the ride of the waves would have made them feel nearly weightless. Their legs shook from the motion, a familiar feeling of unease settling in their stomach. Sea air had always calmed them as a kid, but the sudden jolts of the boat left a sharp pain of unease within them.

“Gotta get your sea legs sometime, dear!”

The teasing remark had come from above, unfamiliar kind eyes paired with a teasing smile from inside the crow’s nest. He grabbed at the rope blowing by the nest, sliding down and switching hands every so often in a futile attempt to avoid discomfort. The ship’s shaking hadn’t stopped, yet he had no issue. His feet planted firmly on the wood deck. His confidence radiated off of him, well accompanied by his bright smile.

Their legs had still felt as if they were going to give out, whether it be from the choppy movement or the bold quirk of his eyebrow. He had a confident air to him, mindless flipping a gold coin off of his thumb every couple seconds. “So you’re the newcomer the captain allowed onto the ship, huh? Guess I won’t say anything, if he thinks it’s the right thing to do.”

With little clue what the man had meant, and wanting to avoid any conflict with a man that had a sword tucked to his side, they had decided to ignore his last comment. Despite his words, his tone was happy and unbothered, while his expression was distant, but content. The commotion to their side had signaled that the anchors had been raised, and that they were due to set sail soon. He returned his attention to the newest shipmate in front of him, asking their name with visible interest.

Humming, he flipped his coin once more before putting it back into a bag tied to his belt. “Sam,” he introduced, “your fellow shipmate— one of the higher ranking ones, mind you.” He bowed with his words, clearly proud of his title. He readjusted the chains across his chest, flipping them inside and out before pulling his hand away. “Y’know I used to be just a cabin boy when I was younger, but my past captain told me I deserved better.”

“Oh,” they responded, “interested in becoming a captain of your own ship?”

“Not in a million years! He has no fun! He’s one of the better captains I’ve been with, but even then, I’d never do something so serious. I don’t want the fun sucked out of me. It’s so easy to lose every bit of yourself out here.”

“It couldn’t be that bad.”

He laughed, “Ya haven’t spent more than fifteen minutes on the main deck, dear, just wait it out. I hope you don’t end up like the others, it’d be a shame.”

For the second time in their short interaction, the newcomer was at a loss for words at his cryptic nature. At the sound of a battle cry-like sound, Sam had turned himself around, pulling on the ropes of the mast to raise the ship’s flag high atop the mast. Soon enough, their departure had started, signaling the truest start of their adventure. Talk had ensued behind them, catching the tail end of a conversation about the next two weeks at sea. Perhaps, with good luck, their sea legs would come with the waves and the moon’s cycle.

Mumbling to themselves, they returned to their post, eager to rid themselves of their headache. Their sea legs would come with time, they had hoped, but thinking that the best plan of action was to fulfill their duties, they had involved themselves in the art of a pirate’s life the best they could. A week of smooth sailing had passed, their body sore from its arduous work on deck. A few shipmates had become at the very least, acquaintances. Not many had opened up or given the newest addition the time of day— all but one pirate, who had seemed almost too elated by their presence.

There was a slight pressure at the top of their head, before the unwelcoming feeling of rope had begun against the body. The frayed cord had permeated through their clothes, sticking into the skin like thorns. Their head turned quickly, a muffled giggle giving away the culprit almost immediately. Sam stood, his knees bent and hands still gripping the edges of the fishnet, with a devilish grin decorating his face. Between the diamond shaped holes of the net, despite their vision somewhat covered, his rosy cheeks were still evident even from their distance.

His playful look persisted as he dropped the net dramatically, hopping down from his placement on the ship’s wooden cargo boxes. “Whoops, sorry, darling! Must’ve mistaken you for a mermaid. Thought I finally got my hands on one.”

With an exasperated huff, they grabbed the edge of the fishing net, pulling it back over their head and throwing it to their side. “Don’t you have anything else to do?”

Sam positioned himself near the stacks of cargo boxes, resting his chin lazily on his hand as he looked in all directions. The newest pirate mirrored his actions, met with nothing but blue, cloudless skies and a color matching ocean. With no land in sight, their eyes returned to Sam’s— interested and ready to respond, as always.

“Not really,” he replied slowly, looking around once again in an almost mocking manner. “Not much to do at sea, you should know that by now! I know it’s only been a little bit, but come on.”

After his reply, the ship shook, jolting itself after a clunking sound of metal echoed over the ocean. They had been thrown off their own footing once more, eliciting a loud laugh from Sam. His gaze was steady on the unsteady frame of his newest crewmate, still lazily perched against one of the many looted crates. He twirled his finger along the lining of metals up his ear, playing with the hanging chains as he allowed them to regain their composure before speaking again.

He nodded to them, then motioned lazily up to the open sky. “Just wait ‘til we hit a storm, darling. If you can’t stand on your own two feet now, just wait ‘til then,” he laughed, keeping an amused smirk stretched across his face. With a roll of their eyes they walked away, retreating back to the lower decks of the ship in pursuit of their blue-haired friend, and their friendly, injured parrot that gossiped with them.

PART III, THE STORM THAT FOLLOWED AFTER LANDING ON THE BEACH:

A quick side mission was at hand, a small island abandoned by its inhabitants and rumored to have treasure had made an attractive stop. The ship had anchored far from shore, splitting the ship’s crew into designated teams to make a quick, but successful mission before returning to sea for weeks. The captain had assigned them the simple task to forage for anything edible, afraid of running too low on rations in their extended time. They saluted him, thanking him for the opportunity before heading off.

The trip to the island had been painful, the soreness of their arms from days of pulling and heavy lifting had led the rowing to be searing up their biceps. In little time they had hit sandbars, jolting with the bottom of the dinghy as it collided with sporadic mounds of shells and sand. The leader of this mission, a young woman with purple hair tied up with a bow, cried out from their collisions, commanding that it was time to bring the boat up by hand. Readying themselves, the group tightened their belts and prepared to jump overboard.

“Ah, you do know how to swim, right?” Sam teased, shooting a boyish grin their way.

“Of course I know how to swim!” They cried back, jumping off the dinghy and into the water. The group had trudged through the knee deep water, cringing at the cold water filling their boots and wetting their clothes. Sam had laughed, pulling the boat up to the sand with him and a few fellow pirates, running up to meet the new pirate once they had secured it to the shore.

“You’d be surprised,” he added, moving his head to look down at their face. They shook their head in response, focused on the group of trees and brush settled on the island. The rest of the group had dispersed along the beach with maps in hand, talking amongst themselves before splitting up. It had gone unspoken that Sam had ended up paired with them, slightly irritating, but nothing the newest recruit couldn’t handle.

His smirk had made one of their eyes twitch, the cocky look in his eye making them bite back an annoyed sigh as he unsheathed his sword. He slashed away at the brush with a few grunts, standing back to admire his skill. His shipmate rolled their eyes at his proud smile, his demeanor annoying, but still upsettingly charming. The rest of the crew had branched off to find the rumored island treasure, while they were stuck foraging for anything edible. Their next stop, some foreign land across the Gem Sea, could take weeks or months, leaving the captain desperate to stock up.

Sam opened his mouth yet again, the newest pirate immediately tuning him out to focus their eyes on the ground. Few sights of berries, herbs, and dandelions covered in rough patches. Just as they had raised their head to tell their partner they gasped, craning their neck to follow Sam’s lithe body. He had, miraculously, climbed himself up a tree in no time and with little sound, already pawing at the hanging fruits. His reckless nature, the instability of his legs wrapped around the trunk and his shifting imbalance as he reached for fruits made them cry out in fear.

He looked down at them, calm as can be before shooting them a teasing wink. “Can’t be that worried about me, can you, dear?”

“Well,” they stuttered, eyes still glued to the shakiness of the tree from his weight. “It’d be a shame if you splattered on the ground.”

Shaking his head, he shimmied himself up further, the top of the trunk beginning to bend with his weight as he tossed down a few fruits to his partner. “Nah, I’m not afraid of this. There’s solid ground to land on, what more could ya ask for?”

They scrunched their eyebrows, looking up to him as if there were a more obvious choice. “Water?” They questioned, watching him shake his head once again with both hands grasped onto the rough bark of the tree.

Plucking the fruit from the top of the tree, Sam turned himself back down to throw it at his partner, watching them struggle to keep all of them in their hands. “No, no, no! I’d rather break my back than lose everything. There’s one thing I am afraid of, and it’s the ocean.”

“That makes no sense, Sam—” They interrupted themself, watching as he stood to full attention the best he could, his eyes obviously caught on something from his tree top view. Fearing it was another group of pirates, a dangerous animal, or anything else that could prove almost immediate death, they gripped the fruits closer to the chest, already repositioning them in preparation to flee. They couldn’t hear the stumped hum from Sam’s lips over the sound of the rustling leaves, but watched as he flawlessly dismounted from the tree tops with a grunt, his head still turned west.

Motioning them to follow behind him, Sam led the way deeper into the jungle, slashing away with his sword to clear the way for himself and his partner. He was mumbling on his way, a concentrated decoration of face covering his usual boyish and playful expressions. Without further words, the newcomer followed Sam’s trail, trusting his judgement and following at his heels. He did a wonderful job of clearing their walkway, looking back every few moments to make sure there were no branches in his partner’s face and warning of any roots or dips in the ground. In only a couple minutes the two had reached a clearing of sand, an odd formation of rocks and foreign symbols slashed into the surrounding trees.

“Holy shit!” He cried, dropping his sword and dropping to his knees around the clearing, immediately digging through the sand. “There has to be something in here.”

“But,” the newest pirate interjected, still messily holding their foraged goods in their arms, “the map said it would be on the east side of the island.” Carefully shifting their fruit, they pulled their compass out of their pocket just far enough to see the point of the arrow. “We’re in the west.”

He shrugged, an excited look overcoming his face. “Maps aren’t always right! We would’ve never found this if I wasn’t up in the trees, the rest of the party is still south!” He sounded giddy, but the newest issue of lugging around a treasure chest, just the two of them, and also carrying their forages at the same time gave a slight pang of aggravation to the newest pirate. Sam had instructed them to put the fruit down and help him, causing them to groan and drop to his opposite. They had dug with him, using their weapons in between bruising their hands.

He sighed as they dug. “Man, wish there was a way to tell the rest of the group the treasure’s here so we could get some help.”

“I can go run back and try to find them if you’d like,” they offered, already feeling their hands sore.

“Hell no! You’re gonna get lost, and I’m not leavin’ ya here either. Something’s gonna come and hurt ya, I gotta be here to protect ya.” He struggled out, focusing all of his strength onto the hands full of sand and dirt he pulled from the earth. They groaned inwardly, silently continuing at half his force, but still doing a demanding worth otherwise. There was little indication that much time had passed, the sun still stood high above them and shone with unbearable heat, adding the stickiness of humidity to the ocean breeze.

After a couple feet of sand thrown to the sides of the jungle, daylight had finally shone a glimmer of gold lining, attached to some wood corners submerged beneath the earth. Both had cried out in happiness, knowing that their efforts had not been for naught, and giving new drive to dig out the buried treasure. Once it had been taken out of the dirt, after extraneous work and gasps for strangled air, they both stood in the hole, suspending their bodies against the edge of the sand for support. They turned to each other, proud smiles upon their faces before Sam turned and broke the lock of the chest.

They let out a small gasp at his action, leading him to turn back and give them a lopsided grin. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he huffed, “throw the lock back in this hole, the captain won’t know it was ever locked.” Their chest still rose and fell in time with his, panting from the heat and physical work as he cracked open the chest. Both of their eyes widened at the assortments of beautiful jewels and gold coins, jewelry and rolled papers all assorted messily with traces of sand caked on them. One piece had got their eye, unknowingly bringing their shaking hand up to it before holding it between their fingers.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” they whispered in awe. Sam poked his head closer to them, eyeing up the pendant with them with a grin. The amulet held some weight to it, its bold cerulean color would knowingly attract attention from anyone who would find themselves near it. The turret shell was attached to a thin, gold chain, hanging at the bottom at gravity’s mercy. It was an odd pendant, but the beautiful blue of the shell mirrored that of the ocean in sunlight. Sam looked at the newcomer, without them knowing, grinning at their awed expression. “It’s so special,” they commented, “I mean, look at the rest of this jewelry, clearly belonging to royals or aristocrats… and it all looks the same. This is so different from the rest, looks like it came from the ocean itself.”

The wonderful aquamarine coloring mirrored the water of the island’s shore, just before hitting deep water. They had snapped themselves out of their fantasy, setting it back into the chest and closing it. “Let’s get this back to the group,” they said, placing their hands flat on their thighs before standing up. Sam followed, already beginning to drag the chest towards the direction they came. Turning their back from Sam for just a moment, they wrapped their foraged fruits and berries in a fishing net, turning back around to see Sam with a suspiciously innocent smile.

Deciding not to comment on what was likely another childish jest, they set the bag atop the chest and heaved the chest back to the beach. The treetops challenged their eyesight of the sky, but the island’s shift from bright to a darkening gray had given them all the information they needed. Sam walked backwards, as he said a gentleman like himself should, crying out in glee once they had finally hit where their dinghy was anchored, the group already together upon their arrival. They had interrupted their cries of lament while waiting for the two with an impending storm, but quickly shut themselves up to run over upon seeing the chest lugged between the two.

Upon seeing the open sky, and the choppy waters that they would soon be met with, the newest pirate’s stomach dropped. Within no time that fear was pushed over by others, too infatuated with the treasure they had nearly left. It was wildly easier to lug the chest with four others helping. They couldn’t keep their eyes off of the far, black skies and the ocean’s matching color, the white of breaking waves proving as the only contrast that could be possible.

The sands of time were nearing their end to return to the ship, the waves becoming rough with wind against the dinghy. It was already at the ocean’s mercy, moving with the waves as spouts of water overflowed onto the boat. Each member of the captain’s crew assigned to this mission struggled past the crash of waves to the boat, slinking in legs heavy with the weight of water. The current dragged at their clothes as if it had claws of its own, begging for company beneath the heaving waves. Their experience dealing with the ocean in their life had only proved to help little, feeling their feet yanked by watery hands as they toppled over into the boat.

Even though they had clambered onto the boat in time, their heartbeat had still rung in the center of their head. Sam had noticed, along with the rest of the crew. A friendly smile crossed his face as he rubbed their back, reassuring them that the ocean’s storms will bring calmness to both the mind and body. They scrunched their nose at his words in disgust. How each storm would become a test of survival was sickening, thinking that the inhumanness of its strength would only prove it’s danger to its inhabitants. Each war waged against would be futile. Yet, it had spared them once again.

The crew began rowing back, the newcomer pulling their own weight through the incessant bullets of pain down their arm, and the soreness of the back of their knees. They had felt a hole in their chest from their anxieties, working nearly the strength of two in desperation to return to the ship. Land was no longer an option, and they knew that all but one pirate would have no issue with abandoning them on the island. It was their hope, more than a fact, but the resolution had saddened them nonetheless. Though they had worked together in the moment, approaching the side of the ship to board once again, there was no true personable connection on the ship. The only connections the pirates had was between them and the sea, with little room for others in between.

Dark clouds dissipated into the air within hours, teasing the ship with danger before laughing in its face with smooth seas. The soft splashes of water against the hull of the ship sounded like gentle coos, as the wind blew giggles by their ears as it took the hair from their faces. The captain had stayed on high alert still, expressing his distrust of the sea with a firm click of his jaw. His rosy cheeks stayed the same, despite the hard expression of his furrowed brow in his standoff with the sea. He hobbled back to his quarters, cabin boys disappearing below deck as the captain’s crew followed his heels. Few had been left in the open air, cleaning or reorganizing looted crates from seaside towns.

“Oh, darling!” A voice had sung out, tapping the newest recruit on the shoulder before appearing on the opposite side of them. Sam had stepped in front of them, his back to the ship and his companion trapped just before the bowsprit’s beginning. They couldn’t dissect his expression, some odd combination of the slyness of a fox with the curiosity of a cat. “Or should I call you treasure?”

They rolled their eyes at his newest pet name, still asking him to call them by their given name with an exacerbated sigh. He mirrored the action of their eyes, joking about their mission removed from others and the time they spent foraging before coming across the wanted treasure chest. He had stepped closer to them, leading them to take a step back, their foot slipping off the edge of the bowsprit in anxious nature. Why Sam had cornered them to near death was beyond them, but no fellow pirate seemed to mind any bit of this unnerving interaction.

He cracked a smirk. “Got you this.”

They reached out their hand to his, letting him open and release the small item into their open palm. The small weight of a seashell had little pressure to their palm, but had their head raised with a questioning look in no time. His interested expression stayed, almost as if he were playing a joke. After asking why, he shrugged and mumbled, clearly amused by their confusion and, in turn, their own lack of amusement. Their expression had stayed, only faltering when Sam had turned himself around at the beckoning of another mate, where they quickly, but safely, shoved the seashell deep into their pocket to ensure it stayed. He turned back around with a distant smile. He brought his face close to the mariner’s, heat erupting over their cheeks and nose at his quick action.

“And I also grabbed something else for you!” He whispered, shuffling around his pockets before digging into the small cloth bag tied to his waist. Quietly crying out once he had felt it, he pulled his hand from his pouch, still concealing his gift. Expecting another seashell, or perhaps an already fired bullet at this point, his shipmate opened their hand once more.

This weight had been more than before. The texture had also been peculiar, but the slow movement of their head had proved to be more of the mind than the body upon seeing his gift. In their hand sat the gold and aquamarine pendant from the treasure chest, it’s cone shape fitting perfectly in between the lines of their hand. A quiet gasp had escaped on instinct just before clutching it to their chest and looking around nervously.

“Sam! You can’t steal from the chests yourself! The captain gets every bit of it!”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve been doin’ this longer than you— and you said you liked it. Besides, I don’t think anyone noticed it but us. It won’t be an issue, just keep it hidden,” he paused, throwing a look over his shoulder before returning back and winking, “It’ll be our secret, darling.”

Releasing their death-like grip on the pendant, they pulled their hand back to hold it between them and Sam’s chests, both admiring the beautiful blue shell of the pendant and the strange glow attached to it. Sam’s hushed giggles filled their senses, mingling with the intoxicating smell of sea air. A smile had crept onto the shipmate’s face at the beautiful piece of jewelry that was now in their possession, from a pirate with a heart the size of the ocean.

PART IV, A CONVERSATION UNDER SUNSET AND WITH THE CYCLE OF WAVES:

“You never seem to be anywhere else.”

Perhaps, it wasn’t the best greeting, but it was better than nothing. They kept their head held high as they spoke to him. Sunset had arrived the same time as always, akin to the never changing scape of water. The soft lull of the ship felt like a rocking crib fit for an infant, comforting for the mind, but hell on the body. That, paired with a fair breeze, had made the journey above the lower workings of the ship more bearable.

Sam shrugged, turning his attention back to the infinity of blue beneath the ship. “Can’t keep myself away from it.” A smile, genuine and kind, crossed his face, eyes flitting back and forth between his companion and the ocean. “It’s the ancient art of knowing the ocean as if it were yourself.”

Their eyebrows furrowed in thought, bating themselves with a breath. “How do you do it?”

“Good question— wish I could answer it for ya, dear. That might be a question more fit for the captain than me.”

With no verbal response from them, Sam returned his eyes back to the ocean, traveling the horizon in search of nothing. His attention directed elsewhere had allowed them to get a good look at his face, the scar over his left eye, and the bits of salt collected at the roots of his windswept hair. He must have caught them staring, a quick flicker of his eyes met theirs before he erupted into laughter, turning himself to them with the usual hint of mischief in them. The newcomer moved their eyes from his, feigning an aloof look that failed miserably in his face.

“How did you get that scar?”

He gave a short laugh, tilting his head to nearly touch their shoulder before popping back up. “I’m not the smartest,” he shrugged, resting his cheek on his palm and craning his neck to look at his newest interest at sea. Silence had ensued, leading him to point towards a real answer, rather than his usual avoidant dance around sore subjects. “Fishhook. I was a bit too close to my father when he was fishing. He was a soldier so I didn’t see him often, but anytime he was home he’d take me and my brother to the beach and fish.”

His face lit up for a moment. He straightened his back, moving his hands up to his chest where he pulled his already loose shirt further open exposing his chest and abdomen. Finding themselves flustered, the shipmate turned their head quickly, in both an attempt to hide themselves and to give Sam an ounce of respect. His laugh rang through their ears, syncing for just a moment with their quickened heartbeat.

“You can look, you can look,” he reassured, beginning once they had turned to his bare chest and abdomen, gasping at the scar gashed across him. It was akin to someone messily attempting to gut a fish, the scar still slightly raised over the skin, giving them a good idea of how long he had been cursed with it. “Got this in a fight in a saloon in some valley! Lots of drinkers there, might've gotten a bit too childish with one of them.”

Despite the scars he had shown them, his face was still happy. He hummed to himself, clearly forcing a more pleasant conversation— or mood, for that matter— upon them. Each of his hums was melodic, a clear indication that he had some type of musical talent gifted to him. Yet, once again, his gaze had returned to the infinity on all sides of them, moving himself with the waves. They listened to him for a few more minutes. Their curiosity was gnawing at them, eating away at their skin with the gusts of wind.

“A musician as well?”

Sam laughed, lulling his head around before shrugging with a smug grin. “I would say so, but that might be up to opinion. But, of course, I love music. It’s one of the greatest gifts! The ocean makes its own music just like I do.” The pirate’s silence to his response had allowed him some thought time, mumbling an old shanty to himself in their comforting stillness. Rhythmic like the waves, Sam continued, tapping his fingers on the wooden side of the ship with his quiet song, shutting his eyes with deep breaths.

They pursed their lips in thought, turning to him in a moment of silence. “Never heard that one before. Though, I’ve only been at sea for a little bit, so maybe I’m not the one to talk about it.”

He shook his head. “Nah, ‘s alright— learned it on one of my old captain’s ships.”

They nodded, resting their heavy head into their hands, crouching to lean their elbows against the railing of the ship with a deep sigh. Sam noticed, opening one eye to peek at their hidden expression. His head cocked to the side as his hand slid down the rope. “What draws you out here? You’re too headstrong, and I’m afraid it’s going to get you killed.”

Their hand slammed against a wooden crate, garnering attention from the few pirates that lingered beside them. “I want— I want to become one with the sea. I’ve always wanted to travel, and the ocean is the best way for it. I’ve always wanted to see the stars, to be far from home, and to see new things. I want to know the ocean—”

“You don’t,” he interrupted, his expression blank. It was the closest to a serious expression they had seen out of him, but despite this obvious warning, they continued on.

They shook their head. “I do! You don’t understand, Sam. You always talk like you know everything, you’ve latched onto me to do nothing but aggravate me.”

Sam stayed silent, watching the slight shake of their body and the way they consistently had to reposition their feet in tune with the rocking of the ship. Despite his happy tune, the mood had remained somber. He hadn’t spoken again, clearly understanding his mate’s feelings and having, at least, the maturity to know not to continue the conversation in teasing. It nearly drove them deeper into anger, finally realizing that Sam did, in fact, have the capacity to know the sea as one would know family they so desperately chased after. They were left miserable at sea, far from the expectations of the heavens among the waves.

PART V, THE SEA WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME:

Stuck two months at sea, the newcomer had sat out under the stars, admiring the tempting call of the murky water beneath them. What was once dreamt of had now become dread; eating away at their psyche. The ocean had never offered their reflection, only a distorted pit of nothing in return. In fact, they hadn’t seen their reflection since on land, safe in the warmth of a home and in the comfort of people. People that were smiling and warm, unlike those on the ship, who had each lost their humanity and souls to the crashing of waves and the unknown of the masses. At the very least, the rocking of the ship on safe seas had begun to lull them to sleep each night, the only action of love the ocean would give.

A friendly voice had rang out from behind them. “Mm, still not used to being at sea?”

“No,” they answered, keeping their gaze level with the horizon. Ocean wind had whipped past them, taking their hair from their face and pulling the ropes and sails of the ship with each gust.

“Just something you gotta live with,” he shrugged, walking up beside them and placing his hands along the wood railing. “It’s not too bad once ya get used to it, promise.”

His smile had tried its best to reassure, but left them with nothing but dread. Their eyes had lost the horizon, meeting just below the two, where the water met the side of the ship. The rough movement had made their stomach sink to their feet. Nothing was certain out at sea; nothing sacred, and nothing safe. Sam sighed, matching their gaze at the black water beneath them.

“You’ll get used to it,” he repeated.

They finally raised their gaze up to him. “How long have you been at sea?”

He shrugged, pushing himself from the rail and turning to rest his back against it. “Maybe four years or so? I don’t really know. There’s not much that goes on most of the time, so I’ve just sorta tuned everything out.”

“How can you possibly live like this?” Shaking their head, they returned their gaze back to the sea, and the hypnotic movement of black waves crashing against the hull of the ship. Each movement of the waves splattered against the side of the ship, dissipating and falling back into the water which it had come from. The wind whipped the waves against the side of the ship, a loud smack each time it collided unnaturally with the old wood.

The ship wasn’t natural, was the conclusion they had come to. The wood of it came from far away lands, unimaginable to them, but had not come from the sea. People weren’t supposed to be at sea. Like the trees that had been sacrificed for the ship, everything at odds with the great ocean was not meant to be there. The few times they had seen fish in the sunlight water, or a pod of dolphins that rode by their side in the morning, it had become clear: they were the only ones who belonged.

Sam had noticed their dead stare into the water, knowing what epiphany was unfolding in their psyche. With a sigh he threw his head back, looking up at the moon and surrounding stars. “Don’t think too hard about it,” he sighed again, bringing his head back down to look at their worried expression. He’d seen it with his fellow shipmates, and he had seen it in himself. “It’s going to kill you if you don’t learn to live with it.”

“I refuse. How could anyone enjoy this? We sit and look at nothing for days, weeks, on end. Then, we finally get to our destination, then we’re back on the water for another unknown amount of time?”

He nodded slowly. Before speaking, he walked over to the bottom of the mast, twirling the rope between his fingers. “This isn’t for everyone. Just hop off the ship next time we land on a beach, start a new life, do whatever.”

His words had stung them, mentally cursing themselves for thinking that he had some ounce of care for them. Perhaps it was how everyone was able to live at sea, cut all connections and ties to those that are not the ocean. How childish of them to think otherwise, and that Sam would have been any different. He could not fare against the ocean, certainly no stronger than them in a power of wits or will. They would have to stoop down to his level, full acceptance of death at any moment and that there is no true control when it comes to the great ocean.

It would only be a matter of time before they found themselves overboard, gasping for breath in their last moments once the sea decides their time abroad is over. “But there is no true safety!” They cried, turning themselves back around to see Sam’s confused expression. “Even if, even if, even if I decided to leave— which, despite your words, I don’t believe you would enjoy— I will never be safe from the sea! An earthquake that would trigger a tsunami, a hurricane, anything! I would never be able to escape it’s hauntings.”

“Of course I wouldn’t enjoy you leaving the ship. It’s sad to see anyone go,” he shrugged, clearly ignoring their last musings, “you were the only person on board that hadn’t lost their soul yet, of course it was fun to mess around with you.”

Their mouth was left open at his words and flippant attitude. “You’re speaking in the past tense,” they spoke, tone almost matching that of a warning.

He shrugged again, lulling his head from it’s transfixed gaze over the night ocean to them. “Isn’t it obvious yet?”

“I refuse,” they repeated.

Their attitude was clearly a front of denial, knowing deep down they have already become the worst of what they had once been. The ocean had thrown them to their extremes— the true mirror of the ocean’s reflection. Sam sat, hand lazily tapping a rhythm on his thigh as he watched the newcomer unfold before him, as he had watched plenty of times before. He sighed, knowing the outcome of this would be to render themself soulless, and lose the light behind their eyes, or to simply jump overboard and let the ocean have it’s way. A win-win for the sea, as Sam knew, and the newcomer had learned, the ocean never loses a game.

That’s what it is, the newcomer thought, nothing but a game of life and death for its own enjoyment. Each member of the ship, each pirate, or mariner, or fisher, that decided to take their chance from gambling their own life would inevitably find themselves face to face with nothing of themselves. With one last hit to the crate, clattering the treasures inside of it, they raised their head again and turned to Sam fervently, grasping at his arms in desperation.

“I never thought I would lose my soul, Sam!” They cried out, finally allowing themselves to cry. His face softened, shrugging their grip off of one of his arms and pulling them close to his chest. “There’s nothing out here to look forward to,” they choked out, allowing their hands to grip at the woven fabric of his shirt. He stayed silent for a few minutes, thinking of different things to say to them; something that had never worked with the others that he held and consoled over the same thing.

He sighed again, struggling to speak. “You just have to accept it.”

They sniffed, pushing themselves from his chest to look up at him. “How are you not like this? Why is it me? I’ve dreamt of this since I’ve been able to dream, and now that I’m hearing, I’ve just become a shell of myself. How are you still alive?”

Thinking of his answer, he looked over the sea as if for any hint of what to say. No discernible answer, but he had admired how different the sea can look within a moment’s difference. “Couldn’t tell ya. I go with the flow of the water, but— as long as you stay on ship, I will always make sure you’re safe.”

The call to the bottom of the ocean was tempting. Sam’s hand had moved from their back to cup the back of their head against his chest. Even if they had decided to wait it out towards morning, Sam would always have to live in fear that at a moment’s notice, the tide would take them from the ship and pull them under in the ocean’s horrifying mixture of mercy and murder. This sort of connection was exactly what he had always spoken against, knowing that once the ocean is aware of something precious, it will be ripped from its safety and holiness. Against his better judgement, he kept them in his hold, resting his cheek against the crown of their head as he looked out over the dismal water, knowing from experience what was bound to happen to his dearest pirate.

#stardew valley #sam stardew valley #sam #pirate au #ask to tag please

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infernalshadowtheif · 4 years ago

Text

Synthetic Blood

After taking over her father's company, Lena Luthor spends her time trying to develop a safe man made synthetic blood for medical science and maybe for herself and her kind too of course. You see, Lena is technically human but she is also technically a vampire, well more of a half vampire that's more or less human except for her extra abilities and vitality. As she tries to develop a Blood substitute her brother Lex attempts to steer her away from the light and back down a dark path that has always beckoned her to walk down.

[Look, vampires are kinda cool and I've been meaning to finish this idea that I literally dreamed about last year so let me know if you guys like it, hate it, or have ideas for it yeah? I'll post it on Ao3 later.] Words: 3,036K 🙃

Lillian took the cold metal brush handle in her hand, making it up to her hair, and started to brush through the already smooth tresses of hair on Lena's head.

"On to more pressing matters, it seems we won't be hunting for a while, seeing that the humans are now more aware of our kind since your brother started his little war with the Kryptonians." The aimless brushing continued a bit rougher than before but not painful.

"How are we to feed then mother, how are you going to feed? I am obviously already prepared but I know you prefer straight from the source." There was a slight hesitation in the last stroke of the cold brush.

Lillian set it down slowly almost methodically as she turned away and towards the moonlit window behind them.

Lena looked after the older woman cautiously.

"Mother?" Wearily she stood from the vanity mirror and closer to Lillian’s side.

She received a click of a tongue as an answer before she sighed.

"I hated how it reeked on his body, your father I mean, I hated how the smell of artificial blood was always stuck to him, it reminded me of that awful white meat substitute that some humans love in place of real meat."

"Tofu mother," Lena added helpfully as Lillian sneered further at the window and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance.

"Yes, that was it. He always smelled of his fake blood, you already adopted his tendencies to not want to drink from the source of what we need to survive, which is fine but I’ll never understand it." She turned her head to Lena almost puzzled.

“Well mother I know that this situation will be harder but I’ll try and figure something out for us. I'm sure I can maybe synthesize something more to your preferences if need be."

Lillian wasn't the warmest parent compared to most others but after Lex went on with his blood-war with the aliens, she saw that Lena was more stable than she originally thought, especially compared to her son. So through great effort and shattered pride, she tried her best to bridge the gap between her and her daughter as best as she could, trying to make up for years of neglect and misplaced scorn.

With a defeated sigh Lillian finally turned to look at her youngest,

"Thank you, dear, I know you'll try no matter how many times I say I'll be fine. I just want you to use that brilliant brain of yours for more than just little old me, I'm content with the choices and endless amount of repenting I have waiting for me when it's time." Lillian never smiled at Lena, at least not often, especially as a child, but the one she gave her at that moment was the best one she'd ever seen.

“I think we all do mother. Thank you for taking care of me and letting me wait out the sun for today, I lost track of time again.” Lena lightly skims her thumb over the still healing blemish on her arm, if she were a full vampire like the rest of the Luthors in her family she would have lost it or simply turned to dust as her father did.

“Any time dear, this is still your home too, no matter what your brother claims.”

Lena almost cries, such simple words that her past self would have never dreamed of hearing from the woman before her, Lena simply nods in acknowledgment and heads back out to her car to get back to her apartment.

The drive back to National City is quiet, the long highway back lets her mind playback the hellish day she had, to say she’s dreading the minute she has to see the cities resident Super would be an understatement.

She saw me, I know she saw what I’m capable of. Or at least that I'm definitely NOT human.

Lena’s thoughts turn darker as she imagines the red-caped hero’s look of repulsion and utter hate when she does truly figure out that she’s a creature of the dark, or, at least half of one.

Her mind spirals further down the dark hole of fear of what she will do with her, so much so that she missed the new set of headlights quickly coming closer in her side-view mirror.

When it finally caught enough to slam into her back bumper she quickly snaps out of it and tries to keep her own car on the road and away from the sheer drop of the mountainside to her right.

“Fuck! Now, what!?” The vehicle sways again as the car behind her clashes into hers, she took one of her more pedestrian cars today so her usual horsepower she’d use to escape is severely lacking this time as another hit on her life is in motion again this week.

So much for going incognito.

The shattering of her rear window makes her jump, the side of her car slamming right into the metal railing, seeing the lack of ground on the other side has her heart drop right into her stomach as she tries to get control again.

Big nope to that.

Another pop was registered in Lena’s brain as she finally lost control of her car, her vision spinning just as quickly as the car itself.

“Fuckfuckfuck! I swear, I'm going to stake you myself when I deal with your pets, Lex!” Sweating out of panic, Lena decides that trying to outspeed them won’t happen while in her brick ford car, she figures that she just might have to use some of her power for this one.

Her car makes a sudden stop as the front end crashes through the metal railing at the edge of the road, she was lucky the car became wedged into the twisted metal otherwise she would have had a very unfortunate freefall over the cliff.

Dizzyingly, Lena pries her hands from the steering wheel, her death grip making her bones ache as she tried for her seatbelt next. The sound of car doors slamming shut jumpstarts her heartrate, flooding her system with adrenaline.

The shadows in the headlights get closer, the sound of a gun reloading, four sets of boots crunching on gravel as they round her car on both sides.

She is actually scared now, her right shoulder twinges painfully as she tries to rip out the buckle of her seatbelt, “Ah, shit.” They actually hit her it seems, her white blouse is starting to bleed red down her arm the more she struggles on the belt.

A balding man crouches down into her window, his eyes are glazed over, his face is twisted into a sickening grin. “Hello halfy,” He sneers. “Your big brother wanted us to check in on you this fine night, he was deathly worried for your health as of late.”

His gaze snaps to her bloody shoulder fixated on it for a second or so as he takes a deep breath of warm fresh blood, his dull eyes start to pool red as he takes another lung full of bloody air.

Lena shudders in disgust tilting her face away from his, he reeks of death and rot, ghouls were her least favorite creature that her brother had in his employ.

“Enjoying ourselves are we?” She mutters as his eyes roll open again.

He hums in delight. “He did say your blood was more or less mortal, it's almost humanly sweet.” his smile widens, some kind of old meat seemingly stuck in his teeth and gums as he appraises the state of her and her battered car. “Shame you didn't drive your nicer car, we could have stripped it for parts, but ah, oh well. We’re only here for you tonight then sadly.”

A creaking noise shook the car as he ripped her driver’s door clean off its hinges, Lenas heightened smell was shocked by a wall of death the bald man oozed when he leaned in to free her of her seatbelt and dragged her out of the car by the scruff of her blouse.

Still dazed and newly freed from the metal deathtrap, Lena saw this as her last chance to try and escape from her brother’s lackeys. “I may smell human but by no means does that mean that I’m weak like one.” Latching onto the ghoul’s arm with shaking hands, Lena uses his own weight to counterbalance them both into the loose dirt and flipped herself over again to grab for his throat. She hates to use it but her power has to be used now before what little blood she does drink wears off and leaves her completely defenseless, she’ll have to kill him quickly.

His body starts to convulse as she uses her hand to tear into his fragile throat, black rotten blood oozing over her fingers as his body finally stops thrashing about. She’s still aware of the three heartbeats of the other goons as she finally stands up, her glowing eyes lock onto a man with mousy brown hair, his own eyes are terrified. They all are.

These ones are all human, two are just boys compared to her own age, and they’re all frozen stock still like rabbits to a fox.

Lena is shaking, she doesn’t kill humans, she won’t stoop to her brother’s level. “Leave, go home and forget about this whole night, I don't want to kill any of you. This man was not human, he likely would have eaten you all after my death so take this as an act of mercy. Please.”

The youngest is seems to want no part so he tossed down his weapon and dragged the other two back to their vehicle, the older ones still frozen and staring at the rapidly decaying body of the now-dead ghoul. “Let’s get the hell out of here guys!”

The car ripped out and back onto the highway leaving a wobbly and drained Lena in the dust, “Ugh!” She shrieks in anger as she kicks the rotten body in her rage.

Before she can take out more of her frustration on the dead ghoul she hears a familiar chime of her phone’s ringtone, or more specifically, Karas ringtone.

“Shit. Movie night, I was supposed to be at Karas tonight.” Grumbling as she whipped her bloody hand on her jeans, she bent over to pick up her cracked phone to answer her friend.

“Lena?” Lena sighed, “Hi Kara, I'm sorry for not calling you back, I seem to have run into some car trouble on my way to yours.” Glancing over to her clearly totaled car she winced at the sight of it, “Well more like it's completely totaled now.”

On Karas’s end of the line, she heard a crash and rushing of footsteps, “Ohmygosh! Are you okay Lena?? Where are you, I can come to get you or send my friend to help? Please tell me you’re okay..”

The brunette felt her eyes well up with tears, she really didn't deserve this human known as Kara Danvers, she really didn't.

“I'm off of creek falls and the main highway near the cliff drop, I'm no worse for wear sort of, I'm standing on my own two feet at the moment so I’d say ok, for now anyway, I definitely need a shower and a lot of sleep after this though.” Lena tried to joke but didn't hear Kara anymore, just a rush of air against the microphone.

Confused Lena checks the line, “Kara? Are you still there?”

“Y-yeah Lena I'm still here, um, please don't be mad." Now that made Lena pause. "What? Why would I be mad at you?"

The wind in the earpiece lighted up a bit, "I'm almost there, I'm picking you up, I called Alex she'll be on her way too okay? Was there another car involved or an animal run across the road?" Panic gripped at Lena, Kara can't see this mess! Let alone the rotting ghoul body at her feet, she wouldn't understand!

"Kara, wait, it’s alright I already called the authorities and everything, it'll take a bit but I'm fine right now, also don't drive while on the phone! I don't want to be the cause of yet another accident tonight." Lena hear Kara scoff into the phone, "Thank you for the concern, but I'm definitely not driving, I don't even have a permit." She chuckled at her own expense.

Another pause.

"I'll be fine, just promise not to be mad when you see me? Yelling is fine but don't hate me, please." Anxiety wasn't a common thing for Lena but right now she can feel it clawing up her throat and she swallowed down her guilt of having her sweet fragile Kara seeing what her own monstrous hands are capable of.

She trusts Kara with her life, she'll have to trust her with her dark secret now. "Only if you promise me the same, it’s a mess over here and I'm certain that it'll be horrific for you to see why."

Kara hummed in thought for a second, "Well duh, I could never hate you Lena, or any other bad emotion towards you really." She said carefully like if she said it louder Lena wouldn't believe her.

"Ah wait, I think I see you? Oh." Kara whispered then the line went dead.

Lena was sitting hunched against her busted car, looking around confused at the lack of vehicle, Kara nowhere in sight. Letting out a ragged breath Lena let her head fall back with her eyes closed, praying that Kara would listen to her explain the scene before her.

The brunette’s eyes snapped open when she felt a warm hand on her good shoulder, to say she almost shit a brick would be putting it very lightly because right before her was Supergirl, but in Kara Danvers' sweats, T-shirt, and a very red cape with no socks or shoes to top it all off. Being shocked would be a very light word for how Lena is at that moment.

Super- uh, Kara is pretty much herself while she looks Lena over, making soft cooing noises as she checks over each scrape and bruise, she all but balls her eyes out when she shifts Lena's shirt to check the gunshot wound.

"Lena, Rao, I should have listened further out for you, if I was listening I could have stopped this." Lena was a bit slow to process her words but she quickly bounced back and stupidly asked, “Kara? You’re not human?” Kara stilled her hands, “Yeah. I'm sorry I kept it from you ‘till now, I just could never find the right moment to tell you. I was going to try again tonight if that’s worth anything.”

Kara did look nervous, wary that Lena was angry about her lying for so long, but instead of being angry Lena just full body laughed at their predicament.

As light tears started to form in Lena's eyes Kara nervously held the brunette's hand. "Lena? I don't know if laughing should make me feel nervous or happy right now."

Lena chuckled a couple more times and pulled the blonde into a relieved hug. "I've been an idiot, I've been trying to bring up the fact that I'm not human either for the past year Kara, so right now I think it's a bit ridiculous that you've been worrying about the same thing." Lena definitely didn't miss the full bodied twitch Kara did after hearing her say this, she understood though, Lena is technically human but only partially. It was briefly a one sided embrace until Kara hugged her back with almost all her strength, leaving Lena only mildly squished but overall content.

Their little bubble was immediately burst when a black SUV pulled up to blind the two of them, a bedraggled Alex dressed in her own pajamas and combat boots holding a shovel, "Kara. Tell me why did you text me 911 please bring a shovel! At 1 am Kara- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT??"

Alex is out of her car and right by Kara's side almost instantly when the once thought to be dead ghoul flips onto its side to drag its to Lena, grossly gurgling its black blood as it crawls over to the trio.

"That would be what's left of my brother's newest hit and sent to check in on me. He's a ghoul so I probably should have made sure to take the whole head off inside of ripping her throat out." Lena extracts herself from an equally shocked Kara and tugs the shovel out of Alex's limp fingers, "Please pardon me, I'll give it right back."

Alex looks at her dumbfounded, Lena shrugs as she turns back to the ghoul clearly annoyed beyond belief. "I would say have a nice trip given that you're going straight to hell but I really don't appreciate what you did to my car, " she glances over at the once upon a time pristine white paint job and cringes at the many bullet holes and scratches.

"Actually I'm more pissed that I had to meet you at all, so, bye now."

She raised the shovel as high as she could with her good arm and swung down with all of her might, the ghoul let out one last hiss as the head fell from his body.

Exhausted Lena looks back at the gawking Danvers sisters, "Help me clean this up and I'll get you both whatever food you want and could eat for a month?" She was almost certain Alex was going to shoot her up until that offer was in play, both sisters bolted up and came over to help.

"You're also going to fill us in about whatever the hell that thing was and why he worked for your brother." Alex stated as she waved her hand in Lena's direction in an almost protective voice.

"And about the not human thing." Kara mumbled as she grabbed the creatures legs over to the deepening hold Alex was currently working on.

With a big sigh of relief Lena nodded, vowing to answer whatever her two friends asked her.

"Deal."

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francostrider · 3 years ago

Text

Video Games Do Not Need Oscars

For the first and likely only time, I decided to look at the Oscar Nominees for their 2022 snooze-fest. As many commentators have said, there are only maybe two or three titles I (or most people) recognize. Who will win? Who’s going to get their gold T-1000 to collect dust in their living room for the rest of their lives?

In case I was somehow too subtle during that paragraph, I never felt award shows hold any real relevance to the culture at large. And the Oscars show specifically has been notorious for acknowledging only one genre and, mostly, one country of the grand rainbow of film culture. A genre that they seemed to carve out for themselves, due to creators aiming at their specific Rubric of How To Film. Great films get ignored, overrated films get awards and the rest of the world moves on, back to Stranger Things, the Witcher, Avengers and so many other works and projects.

And video games companies want to mimic this for some reason.

Ever since the first cutscene, many video games took cues from films, using cinematography to set up a scene, and better ease into a level beyond a title card. There are benefits to this, using subtle cues as to where the eyes should be looking, and there are things are very difficult to portray in gameplay that might as well be a short work of cinema. Do I think these are overused? Very often, in fact, but there’s a reason these methods are being used in video games.

But I fear that in trying to imitate film, developers lose grip on their own medium. The Last of Us, for example, is praised for its story, but there is no narrative weight in its own gameplay. You’re never forced to protect Ellie, nor are you working with her. The main praise is its use of cinematic language, and little to do with the defining trait of video games: interactivity.

When people say “The Gaming Equivalent to Oscar Bait”, that is admitting to the idea that video gaming is a lesser medium. That games will not be relevent or important unless it takes more and more from film. And films based on games, when they first started doing that, was treated as a sign of relevance to the cultural zeitgeist.

And game award shows have fallen into a similar trap as the Oscars. Only big budget games seem to be treated with any respect, while indy games, that are actually experimental, are often stuck at the special award kids’ table. The medium has grown considerably over the course of forty years, and you are never going to acknowledge every deserving game in one award show.

But as a medium, I would argue that gaming had transcended film a long time ago. Video games have led us through every genre of fiction since the beginning. They have done so much more with fantasy and sci fi genres than films ever will. There’s even a compelling argument that games do so much better with horror than film.

To name an example... Divinity Original Sin II deals with genocide, demogogues, inquisitions, slavery, torture and how your past can try to control how you live. It’s a story about a group of characters getting caught in the middle of a power vacuum, as several corrupted factions fight for the throne. The combat is bloody and leaves you rather sickened. But it also allows itself to have humor, and does so without it being jarring. It was heart wrenching, dark, and violent, but there is also heart and humor to remind you that there is more than just bloodshed in the world. This game reached me more than the Lord of the Rings films ever had, using fantasy above and beyond anything you see in film.

This is, of course, subjective, but that is also the point. Award shows have this assumption of objective truth, as though the value of art can be measured and priced like bread. But, ultimately, art is not something you just mass produce. Sequels often fail due to studios just wanting to play it safe, to just produce “more” of it. That’s not how art works, that is not how films work, and that is not how games work. You can everything “right” and still not reach someone. It’s the risk you take when you pour resources into art. Whether or not something is good or bad really depends on who is absorbing it.

Award shows are just not relevant to this day and age, when the internet opens you to a whole world of art forms and cultures. Oscars never improved my enjoyment of films, nor did Majora’s Mask need an award to make me tear up at the skull kid’s redemption in the end.

Games are not films. They share common traits, but they are not the same. And with growing antipathy for the Oscars, perhaps it’s time for gaming to let go of their own Oscar bait and move on. Maybe they’ll pour money into another genre for a change.

#Oscars #the game awards #majoras mask #divinity original sin 2 #oscar bait

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starksvixen · 4 years ago

Text

Shattered

Summary: A Jedi and a Mandalorian. Impossible right? Not for Satine and Obi - Wan. Hell, he even said he would leave the Jedi Order for her. But you wished it was you...

A/N - I have only watched a few episodes of Clone Wars so I am not overall familar with Satine and Obi - Wan’s romance. I just thought it would be a spicy fanfiction hehe. This story is also not based on any specific Clone Wars episode, but rather an imaginary situation.

-~-

You watch Obi-Wan and Duchess Satine walk ahead of you, escorting her onto a ship that would take her to clan negotiations. With each flirtatious laugh passed between them, your grip on your blaster becomes tighter and tighter. The only thing running through your mind was that she was the wrong Mandalorian, you wanted it to be you.

Obi-Wan was in the deepest parts of your memory. Ever since Satine needed protecting from the Death Watch, the Jedi hadn’t left your life nor your thoughts. Many nights protecting the Duchess were spent over drinks and long talks of battles you both had faced...

“So you’re telling me that Anakin really jumped out of speeder to chase after a changeling?” you say in between bursts of laughter.

“Yes!” Obi - Wan says, exasperation evident in his voice. “He was lucky he wasn’t killed in his attempt.”

“Stars! You must have had the time of your life training that whirlwind,”

As your laughs settle, you bring the small glass to your lips, sipping the burning liquid the Jedi had brought to your room to share. Obi - Wan shakes his head from his seat in front of you, the amber liquid softly shaking with the movement. You let the intoxicating substance slip down your throat, a soft smirk etching it’s way across your face.

“Got any other stories in you tonight, General?” you say to tease.

“Not any that come to mind, but tonight is definitely going into my list.” he replies, taking a soft sip from his thin glass.

“I feel honored, but why?”

“It’s not many times I can say I have laughed this hard with someone. Also, it was awfully comedic when you were cleaning your blaster while trying to eye me from the side,” he gestures to the blast on your wall.

“And who says I was checking you out? Maybe there was something on your cheek.”

“Possibly, but there was most likely nothing on my lips,”

He had you caught. Damn his wit. You shake it off quickly, reminding yourself of the situation as to why he was here. To protect your best friend once again, the very woman he was beginning to draw close too.

“I’ll take it as a compliment that tonight was memorable, Obi,” you say, finishing your drink.

“Have you seen how Anakin looks at Senator Amidala?” you quickly add, changing subjects from the topic that left your heart full of pain.

He was one of the few that ever saw your face beneath the helmet, besides the Duchess of course. In the end, the connection you were sure was true was nothing but an imaginary one. A plea to be more then friends that had been harshly ignored.

Standing at the doors to the ship, you scan the clones as they enter, ensuring that all of them were authorized to travel with the Duchess. However, your focus is broken by a Scottish accent.

“You seem tense today, (Y/N). Are you sure everything is alright?” he asks.

“Just that ex Padawan of yours getting on my nerves once again,”

“Hey!” you heard Anakin exclaim from inside the ship, causing you to chuckle beneath your helmet.

“Now there’s that chuckle I missed,”

“Yeah, sure, Kenobi,” you mumble quiet enough that your modulator couldn’t echo it into the real world.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, General Kenobi, just get in the ship. It’s time to take off,”

His face quickly contorted into one of confusion at not only your shortness with him but the backwards step in name. You had always called him Obi - Wan, Obi more specifically when you were alone. It was obvious to him something more pressing was on your mind, but he couldn’t figure out why. All of his worries were put on the back burner as he boarded the ship, enjoying Satine’s company once again.

You step into the ship after he has put space between the two of you, letting a soft sigh release from your lips. The door slams shut under your force, leaning your helmet clad head against it as you dread the day to come.

“You know,” you hear Anakin say, “my master can be quite blind.”

“What are you talking about, Anakin?” you turn to the black robed Jedi.

“He’s blind to your love towards him. Anyone can see it, I certainly can,”

“And I see your love for Senator Amidala,”

With that, his cheeks glow pink, making you chuckle softly and gently pat his shoulder.

“You got your love, Mandalorian’s like me don’t get that,”

Picking up your blaster again, you give Anakin a curt nod before walking to the door that lead to Duchess Satine’s room. You guard it’s doorway, listening to their sickening laughs as you travel through hyperspace.

-~-

The night you had arrived on the planet had been eventful...

At the meeting with the senators, there of course was an attack on the Duchess’ life. Multiple deadly drones had sneaked into the room, ready to inject the deadly poison directly into Satine herself. You could tell that from the ever so stoic Obi - Wan standing beside you that he sensed a disturbance in the Force. But you had caught the deadly machines first.

With your usual accuracy, you killed multiple of the droids that had already surrounded the Duchess. Soon after, Obi - Wan took care of the rest, ensuring that none of the intended poison was delivered. Once you turned around after radioing the clones to meet you at the meeting room, you saw Satine safe in Obi - Wan’s arms.

You were grateful for the mask, but never as much as you were now. It felt like your heart had shattered like glass, its sharp corners ripping the walls of your chest as they fell. Tears formed in your eyes, you had never seem them this close before. It was the conformation you needed that you had absolutely no chance.

After bidding a farewell to the senators, you and Obi - Wan followed her to her room to ensure her safety. You remained an outsider to their conversation as you walked her down the hall. The tears threatening to fall would leave a block in your voice, an obvious tell that you couldn’t afford. With a large swallow, you let out a deep breath and entered the Duchess’ room and scanned it for any possible danger.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright alone tonight?” you heard Obi - Wan question.

“Yes, I promise Obi - Wan, I’ll be quite safe. I trust (Y/N), she’s been protecting me for years. I trust her with my life.”

There was the other kicker. You and Satine had always been close. Behind closed doors, the two of you used to be inseparable. Your united belief in leaving the barbaric Mandalorian ways behind and your youth was the cord that tied you together. Only for it to be severed by your feelings for the Jedi. Over everything, you wanted your best friend to be happy. That obviously meant with Obi - Wan and because of your strong feelings, you kept your distance.

“Everything seems safe in her, Satine,” you say.

“Goodnight, Obi - Wan,” she says with a soft smile.

With a soft smile and a bow, the Jedi left and you knew you were screwed.

“So are we going to talk about your avoidance of me?” Satine questions.

“I’ve just been busy,” you try to lie.

“You’ve been busy protecting the person you’re actively avoiding,”

You sigh, taking off your helmet and laying it on her bed before looking towards your friend.

“With everything going on, from the Death Watch to rebuilding Mandalore, I’ve just been overwhelmed,” you try to lie again.

“I would believe that,” she comments, walking to her small bag and pulling out some casual clothes that contrasted to your engraved armor. “If I knew that Obi - Wan wasn’t nearby.”

You knew you couldn’t lie to her. There was no way, Satine knew you like the back of her hand. With a deep sigh, you look away dejectedly, the weight of your love making your armor seem heavier then before.

“Sit,” she whispers softly, gracefully sitting on the bed in front of you.

Of course, you listen to your sister in arms, sitting beside her as you cautiously lay your helmet to the side. Gently, you pull your hair to your side, the long braid that was once tightly knit into a bun coming undone, the frizz apparent from the helmet’s friction. Satine’s careful fingers remove your armor with grace and respect as your tradition says too. As she does your work, you unbraid your hair, your thoughts filled with the bearded Jedi.

“I’m happy you’re happy, Satine.” you blurt out, feeling a part of the weight you had been carrying around suddenly lift.

Once your armor was removed, you strip from your under garments that hold it in place, left in nothing but your underwear. Satine had seen you like this many times before, it was never awkward.

“As glad I am hearing you say that, why do you say this?” she replies softly.

“You and Obi - Wan,” you choke on the tears of heartbreak, quickly swallowing them down. “He ma-”

Before you could finish, the door to her room flies open to reveal a very flustered looking Obi - Wan. He runs a hand through his long hair, softly shaking his head that wasn’t pointed towards you quite yet.

“Satine, you’re driving me cra-” Obi - Wan’s gaze turns upwards and he quickly panics.

You were in the same boat, using the clothes in your hands to quickly cover up as soon as he had entered.

“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know you and the Duchess were busy,” he says, quickly trying to back out.

By the time the stuttering man had spit out his sentence, you were already dressed and your armor plus helmet in hand.

“Don’t worry, General. I wasn’t sleeping with your girlfriend.” you quickly say out of embarrassment, a bitter taste in your mouth to what his previous sentence would have finished at.

As fast as you can, you quickly exit from Satine’s room and make your way quickly down the hall before letting tears fill your eyes.

“(Y/N)!” you heard him yell, but you didn’t answer.

Quickly, you open the door to your small sleeping quarters, locking the door fast. With a shaky breath, you lay out your armor like you did every night, your helmet in the middle of it all. That’s when you gave in.

When you gave in to the deep wounds, scratched and embedded pieces of your hear bursting after it’s shatter. The pieces pierce you over and over as your quiet sobs rack your chest from embarrassment and hurt.

He was there to make love to your best friend, the one thing you saw coming. From what you had heard earlier on the ship, in between the loud bursts of the engine below you. Satine had convinced him to leave the Order for her. It was official.

The heartbreak set in. Your heart was left shattered.

Tag List: (leave a comment to be added)

#obi #wan #kenobi #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #ben #ben kenobi #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #clone wars #mandalorian reader

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