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uwurakax · 4 years ago

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Hiya! I love this event <3 May I request Suna + Stolen Dance by Milky Chance? I always felt like this song was bittersweet - kind of like knowing that you love eachother but can't be together/forbidden love (hence the "stolen dance"). Not sure if that makes sense haha but thank you for the event :)

OMG I’m sorry this took forever!! Omg omg throwback! Hehe. Interesting, i can for sure do the forbidden love trope. Also made it a bit angsty (i feel like it goes w the forbidden love trope) i really enjoyed this one though tysm for sending it 💕

(i had many ideas on which way this could’ve gone - and it ended with a toss up between this and a royalty au idea i had)

♡ 200 Follower Event Here ♡

stolen dance ♡

pairing: suna x f!reader ♡

genre: angsty-ish // forbidden love // time-skip spoilers ♡

summary: he loved her, she loved him and they’d forever be by each other’s side. it’s too bad it had to be behind closed doors ♡

word count: 1.2k ♡

♡ (inspired by stolen dance by milky chance) ♡

“You want another?”

“Yes please!”

You watched as Osamu left you, making his way to get you, yet another drink for the night. You were anxious and jittery, waiting for your “boyfriend” to arrive. At least that’s what everyone who was close to both of you had said.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Suna Rintarō, you did; and he liked you. You were both made for each other - his old teammates from high school thought so anyway.

You just hated when the tabloids captured him with some famous girl, claiming the two of them started a budding new romance.

The jealousy that arose in you was unwarranted; but you couldn’t help the sadness that ached within you at seeing the two of them together. It didn’t help that the media and fans alike were gushing over how cute they looked, or how they’d be the perfect couple. The two even garnering a ‘ship name’ online; it was a hit to your pride to say the least.

After you closed off from Suna, and it had affected your relationship (friendship or otherwise), he begged to know what happened and you reluctantly told him. It didn’t take long before Suna had gone up to his coach and management, prompting discussion about his private and love life. It had shocked you none the less when he made claims of wanting to put rumours to rest, wanting to go out and parade you around. Needless to say, any and every higher up was against it. Suna being an eligible bachelor was much more desirable and marketable as a single man; or so they said.

You just weren’t good enough for Suna.

You were just some lowly waitress working part time at a lowkey restaurant. Someone like you couldn’t be seen with Suna. That fact was obvious; considering the many paparazzi photos taken of him and any new and upcoming female star. Actress, model, singer; it didn’t matter as long as they were beautiful, gorgeous and famous.

The complete opposite to you.

“Hey! What are you doing spacing out like that”

You felt an elbow jab into your rib, wincing at the shock initial impact. It didn’t hurt per-say, it just surprised you enough to bring you out of your depressing thoughts. You turned to see the blond headed twin, elbowing him back.

“Nothing! What do you want ‘Tsumu?”

He just shrugged, taking a swig out of whatever alcoholic drink was in his cup. You rolled your eyes, looking away from Atsumu.

“Hey”

You turned at the sound of a new voice. Suna smiled down at you, handing you the requested drink that Osamu was supposed to give to you.

“Hey, thanks Rin” you beamed, gently taking the offered cup and taking a sip.

“What took you so long?”

“Had to fend off the news media outlets. I keep getting bombarded with questions” he took a drink of his own, gulping down a large mouthful of burning liquid. He spared you your feelings, but you knew they were asking about the new gossip about him and someone new.

Honestly it seemed quite tragic, to like someone this much and never be able to tell the world that. Even if you did, you knew Suna was following his dreams, and if this is what you had to bear then you’d gladly do so.

You and Suna had continue to converse for a good twenty minutes. Unbeknownst to either of you, Suna’s old high school friends and current teammates looked on sadly. They knew, and couldn’t believe how unfair it was. It seemed bittersweet that only they would have the fortune of seeing Suna this happy; the photos spread online didn’t hold a candle to how he smiled when he was with you.

You both eventually got tired of talking, letting the bass of the music and alcohol thrum within you. You couldn’t remember the who, what or why in anything; all you knew was that somehow you and Suna had ended up dancing in the middle of the room, his hands on your waist and yours around his neck. You both swayed to the rhythm of the pop song blaring from the speakers, enjoying the small window of opportunity of being in each others presence.

You held onto Suna close, inhaling his scent, letting the warmth of his body envelope you, listening to the sweet nothings that fell from his lips. You were absolutely smitten with Suna and it felt cruel to hide that.

The small things that couples take for granted, you wanted.

You wanted to hold his hand, go out to eat together, cheer for him loudly while proudly wearing his jersey number. You couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t let you both be this way. Because they didn’t deem you good enough to be seen in public like that with Suna.

You’d be seen as some gold digger, only after Suna’s money and fame to get ahead in life.

You bunched up your hands in Suna’s shirt unknowingly, frustration now coursing through you. Suna took in a deep breath to steady himself. The entirety of the situation angered him too. He knew what the higher ups and his coach said about you. He was constantly arguing with them about it, furious that he had to endure whatever the tabloids had said about him and anyone else that wasn’t you.

He hated seeing his face plastered everywhere with some pretty model or actress. Hated having to deal with the rumours that online websites had circulated, only gaining relevancy due to his name.

Sometimes Suna wondered if it was even worth it anymore. He loved volleyball, this an irrefutable fact. He loved it so much he made it his career. He couldn’t see himself doing anything else.

Yes, Suna Rintarō loved volleyball, that was an irrefutable fact but...

He also loved you.

“Hey, it’s alright” Suna caressed your arms before pulling you close. He didn’t know whether he was trying to reassure you or himself.

“I know, it’s fine Rin. I’m okay don’t worry about it” the way your voice wavered slightly had his heart aching. It wasn’t fair to you. He’s sure you saw everything on social media about him, it was hard not to when it would he plastered everywhere. He couldn’t imagine how you felt when you saw dating rumours about him and another woman.

The beat if a new song boomed throughout the room, small cheers and hollering at the upbeat tempo. You smiled, letting the music mask your inner sadness for now. This was your time with Rintarō, you wouldn’t spend it down in the dumps.

“Come on let’s dance” you chuckled slightly, hoping that you could convince Suna to resume a happier feeling. He could see what you were doing, like transparent glass he always knew how to read you. He’d let this slide though, for your sake. He grinned back at you, taking the lead and spinning you around.

Even if neither of you could outright say, or display the feelings you felt for one another, being here like this and now, was enough. In each others arms, like this, you could show the love you had. Even if it was hidden from the world, it was okay, because only the two of you mattered.

#*˖ ⊹ event ⟶ 200 followers ⋅#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #suna drabble #suna x reader #suna x y/n

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anobscurename · 4 years ago

Text

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART XII — masterlist

concept: chris is hosting a charity event, and asks you to be his date. tensions come to a head in the friendship group when things get out of hand. the slowest of slow burns. part thirteen of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader // platonic!sebastian stan x reader

word count: 5,1k

warnings: tw:blood (reader breaks a glass and accidentally cuts herself), angst

author's note: the quote that is bolded in this part is a direct quote from chadwick boseman. as a south african, he, and his portrayal of the black panther, meant the world to me. i very briefly considered making the gala in this part be held in his honour, but i felt it might be insensitive, especially with everything else effectively overshadowing it. so i just included the quote as a little ode to him. rest well, king.

If scientists were ever to turn their dissecting gaze to the the phenomenon of The Third Wheel, you would be a prime specimen candidate for study.

Because in that week she stayed, your status was relegated to just that: a third wheel.

The tabloids had fun with that, too. You were becoming a national treasure of a meme. You'd even seen yourself on Twitter the other day, the caption reading "my friends vs me" attached to some sneakily taken paparazzi picture of you reading a book under a tree in the park while looking every bit as stone-faced and disinterested while Chris and Lily could barely keep their hands off each other.

In every photo that followed, it was the same. If you wanted to keep someone distracted for hours, ask them to pore over every single newly published photo of Lily and Chris, and try and find a single one where they weren't touching eachother.

They'd come up empty, because it was a waste of time. Overnight, Chrily had become the new celebrity couple of the moment.

And you'd become the patron saint of third wheels everywhere.

It wasn't like you'd forced yourself on the couple, begging to go out with them. If anything, you would've much rather been in Tibet, if not the furthest geographical location away from them and their canoodling.

But the thing about Lily was that she was so damned nice, that whenever you declined their offer, she would insist until you said yes.

The newest picture on your feed, retweeted lovingly by your friends and apparently thirty thousand people worldwide, was of you, mid-eyeroll, mouth stuffed with pizza while Chris and Lily cuddled next to you at the restaurant you had gone to earlier that week for lunch, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. The caption was the forever classic "mood."

You tried not to groan. It wasn't particularly flattering, and definitely not dignified having so many people watch you endure this.

At least the paps couldn't follow you into the house, because that was where the real magic happened. Many a night you would wait patiently for Chrily to stop whatever it was they were doing on the couch and take it back to the bedroom before you'd sneak into the kitchen, trying to stealthily drown your sorrows in Hagen Dasz.

Because once they'd take it to the bedroom... needless to say, Dodger had become a regular bunk mate of yours, and the bathroom doors remained firmly shut with music blasting on your earphones.

There were different kinds of sadness rejection could leave you with. There was the immobilizing kind, the kind that would leave you bed bound and catatonic, purely unable to move.

And then there was what you were experiencing. The kind that had you dragging yourself out of the house at any possible spare moment, just to not be in close quarters with them, but also to not be alone with your thoughts.

So that was why, when Chris found you, you were outside, sunbathing by the pool, while Dodger pranced through the sprinklers in the large lawn beside you.

"Have you seen this?" Your voice had become somewhat devoid of emotion the past few days. You knew that if you let yourself feel too much, you'd feel it all. And then you'd show your hand. "This is the greatest feeling in the world."

You passed your phone to Chris, who was chuckling at the flatness of the tone in which you had rejoiced. That chuckle morphed into full blown laughter when he saw the meme that you had been looking at earlier.

"Yeah, laugh it up," you mocked. "You're going to have to start paying me more now, you know. I'm famous."

"Would a higher salary buy me a date to tonight's benefit?" Chris asked, still laughing a little when he passed the phone back to you.

"What happened to Lily?"

You knew he wasn't asking you because he'd wanted you there with him. He was asking you because something must've happened to prevent time spent with his precious girlfriend. God, you sounded bitter. Jealousy really did not become you.

"She had to fly back to London last night," he said, forlorn. "Something came up. She said she'd try to make it, but I haven't heard from her yet and it's an eleven hour flight."

You hummed in response, your only indication to having heard him. Your eyes were closed behind your sunglasses, but you could hear the frown in his voice when he continued.

"The dinner is already paid for, and I have a dress waiting for you. I got it for Lily for tonight, but–"

"You know, in some countries, buying a date for the night is called solicitation. And I'm sorry, Chrisopher," you said, finally turning your head to look at him, "but I'm just not that kind of girl."

His last ditch effort to persuade you had your attention. "There will be an open bar."

"You really know how to make a girl swoon."

———————

The dress was waiting for you when you stepped out of the shower. It was laid out on your bed, a rich, deep, violet. Demure, but corseted, with a floor length skirt.

If it was bought to fit Lily... You swallowed thickly, self conscious in your own body for the first time since you'd been in high school.

You were comfortable in your body. So much so, you'd even danced burlesque in front of many an ogling stranger at Chris' dare on your birthday.

But Lily... She was not quite of this world. And once again, jealousy struck in the worst sense: you were drawing comparisons to her and yourself. Which was never healthy.

The dress fit you surprisingly well – but the moment of truth would only come once the zipper was done up. For all your trying, you simply could not reach it long enough to zip it fully by yourself.

You had become accustomed to Chris barging into your room unannounced, so the soft knock at your door had your heart leaping into your throat.

"Are you ready? The car should be arriving in..." There was some shuffling – Chris pulling his suit sleeve back to check his watch. "Ten minutes."

If your heart hadn't already been in your throat, it certainly was now. "Just a minute," you strangled out, a new sense of vigour in your motions as you struggled to reach the zipper.

"You alright in there?" Chris called through the door.

"I'm–" You huffed in exasperation, giving up.

Not waiting for an invitation, in case something was truly wrong – you had a habit of keeping those kinds of things to yourself, even if they tore you apart within – Chris cracked the door, peering in, eyes downcast and averted in case you were in a compromising position. "Can I come in?"

Swallowing your humility, you hummed your admission.

He slipped into your room, eyes still on the ground. His hands slid into his pockets – something you realised he tended to do if he was a little uncomfortable or if he was trying to find the right words to say. Being a man with such a vast vocabulary, he often found himself dumbfounded in your very presence.

"You could at least look at me."

It was intended as a joke, but your voice was cracked and soft, and it sounded so much... more than what you meant.

He slowly pulled his eyes towards your face, taking you in from the floor up. His raking stare landed on your bare back, and, without much of a prompt, he strode over to you, hand already inching towards the zipper.

He felt you tense – he was that close to you.

"May I?" He asked, so gently that you wouldn't have even heard it if the room hadn't been so suddenly still, and if he hadn't been standing so fucking close.

You couldn't speak, tongue thick in your mouth. So you just nodded.

His knuckle grazed up your spine as he zipped the dress, and if he didn't notice the gooseflesh that rose, he certainly did when once the dress was zipped, he absentmindedly smoothed his warm hands over your shoulderblades.

You shuddered under his touch, but found yourself pulling away. You had a habit of doing that, too. Not that it was unwarranted – he simply just wasn't yours to touch.

Slowly, you turned to face him, and the look on his face – followed by a near imperceptible sharp gasp – nearly made your heart explode.

The dress hugged your every curve, complimenting you perfectly. If you let your imagination escape you, you would almost imagine it had been made with the intention of you wearing it, and you alone.

"I'm surprised it fits," you said, only to break the stretch of silence that had gathered.

"Why?" He shrugged, reeling himself in. The moment was gone instantaneously. "It's tailored to you. It's yours."

———————

The gala was a private party, but that didn't stop the press from waiting outside the gates.

Camera flashes blinded you, even behind the tinted windows of the rented town car, and you felt yourself withdrawing from the windows altogether.

Unfortunately, that just brought you closer to Chris, who was seated with you in the back on the plush leather seats.

"Sorry," you mumbled, having pressed yourself into his shoulder.

There was tension in the car – you'd have to be well and truly inept to not notice. It was slowly dawning on you, how unusual this all was. He had a girlfriend, for fuck sakes. What were you doing there with him?

It was almost a relief getting out of the car, the cool night air caressing your skin as you inhaled deeply, steeling yourself. It had become immeasurably stuffy in the backseat, and you were just grateful that the discomfort brewing in the pit of your stomach dissipated with every new fresh breath of air.

The air was misted with ocean spray, and in the distance, you could hear the crashing of waves against rocks, churning sea perfectly mirroring your roiling emotions.

The grecian style manor in which the gala took place sat atop a cliffside, overlooking dark, inky sea. It was almost enough to take your breath away.

A long set of marble stairs led to the open double doors, and just from being their waitress, you knew how celebrities thrilled in making an entrance. And what an entrance it was.

Panting slightly from the climb – especially having done so in heels, and without the assistance of Chris' waiting arm – you stepped into the gilded foyer, guarded by marble Greek statues and busts. A crystal chandelier cast warm light, reflecting off the large pillars that held the roof like Atlas was said to have held the world.

Chris playfully chucked you under your chin to shut your open hanging mouth. Your teeth clattered together and he gave you a knowing smirk. "Has anyone ever told you that you're easy to impress?"

"Then you must be severely unimpressive, Evans," you hissed back before making your way past him and towards the doors leading to he ballroom. Judging by the chatter you could hear inside, this was where the event was being held. Perceiving that you were alone, you turned at the doorway to see Chris watching you leave, brow furrowed in thought.

"Chris?"

He snapped out of it, raising his brows in question. "Yeah?"

"Are you coming?"

"To my own event?" He smirked, striding over to join you. "Of course."

———————

The charity was held in honour of Children in Need and The Children's Trust, two charities Chris worked closely with.

As the host, he had a lot of rounds to make, and you found yourself standing a little off to the side, following him like a shadow, unsure of what to do with yourself.

Your line of charity work was more hands on, having helped rebuild houses and gather supplies following natural disasters. You were primarily a volunteer. But suddenly, to be surrounded by the wealthy benefactors – who you knew you'd never be able to do much without in the world – you were at a loss.

Wealth dripped from women's ears in the form of drooping diamond earrings, their very bodies clad in money, while the men sported it around their wrists and in their suits. You had never felt so plain, so simple in your stature before.

After the fifteenth handshake, you decided to let Chris do what he did best. His natural charisma and charm was already hard at work, and you tried to slip away without him noticing.

You had made it all of two steps when his hand found your wrist, gently pulling you back to him. His voice was low. "Where are you going?"

"Participate in the open bar, see if I can spot any familiar faces..." In all honesty, you were just uncomfortable, and the smile on your face was becoming increasingly fake. You needed a moment to yourself to gather your thoughts, organize them properly.

His other hand had found your waist, a thumb subconsciously running along the velvet coated boning of the corset as he searched your eyes. Conclusive that nothing was outwardly wrong, he let you go.

"Save me the last dance," he said, eyes bright under the golden light.

You smiled tightly. As you departed, you called over your shoulder: "no promises."

———————

The corset was feeling tighter by the passing second.

You were stood at the donations table, where guests could anonymously place their contributions to the charity of their choice. And the numbers people were dropping, casually, like it was nothing...

Of course, you understood that it was everything. These children needed it. But you had wanted to donate something too, and you felt disheartened by the ever climbing amount of money they placed.

It helped to have deep pockets, but yours were shallow. A contribution was a contribution, though, and every cent counted.

Tentatively, you picked up the engraved golden fountain pen that had probably just been discarded by Elon Musk, and shakily scrawled your number down.

A low whistle from behind you nearly made you leap out of your skin. Turning, you shot a burning glare to Sebastian, who had just arrived. He had spotted you, and promptly came over to hover over your shoulder.

"That's quite a sum of money," he commented.

"I'm sorry that not all of us fought a giant grape in the world's highest grossing film of all time, but I'm doing what I can," you growled back.

"Easy, tiger," he said, hands up in surrender. "That's not what I meant."

You had known what he meant, just given the admiration on his face. He was pleasantly surprised and appreciated your effort, even if it didn't even come close to the lowest bid the others had laid.

You supposed you were just irritated – irritated you couldn't do more, that you hadn't done more. That you were at this event that you clearly shouldn't be at. An event that Lily would've shone by Chris' side at.

"I'm sorry," you sighed. Sebastian wasn't deserving of your bark nor bite. You decided a joking remark would ease the tension. "These are meant to be done anonymously, you know."

"Yeah, but everyone drunkenly boasts about it eventually. Especially the older ones," he said, sliding easily past you to place his own money. You didn't look at the number – it felt like it would cheapen the act of charity.

He led you to the bar, where Mackie had struck up a conversation with Scarlett. It was nice to see them all again, familiar faces in a sea of unknowns.

Scarlett stunned in a subdued midnight blue – pantsuit snug on her form in suggestion of a good tailor – her hair falling around her shoulders, lips painted a red reminiscent of her name.

She brightened when she saw you, immediately roping you into a perfume scented hug. "Oh, thank God, save me from him."

You laughed softly into her hair. "I'm sorry, but once he's got his hooks in, there's no letting go."

"You got that right." Anthony pulled you into a hug of his own once Scarlett released you. "How're you doing, girl?"

You waved off his concern as he scanned your face. "I'm fine."

"You having a fun time third wheeling?" Scarlett sipped her cocktail, imprinting a perfect red stain on the rim. There was a sparkle in her eyes, and you just knew.

"Oh no..."

"Oh yes," Anthony chuckled.

"You've all seen it?" Your eyes rested on Sebastian when you asked, who had his elbows propped on the bar, waiting for his drink. He was the only one who hadn't admitted to it yet.

"It's all I can see every time I open any social media," he grinned, nodding to the bartender in thanks when the drink was served. "Congratulations, you're an overnight national treasure."

Anthony raised his glass in toast to you. "To {your name}."

The clink of Scarlett's glass against Anthony's really drove the slow embarrassment creeping across your cheeks. "Not the hero we needed."

"But the hero we deserved," finished Sebastian.

"You rehearsed this, didn't you?" You groaned. You reached for Sebastian's freshly poured drink. "What is that?"

"Bourbon... Why do you–? Hey!"

You had promptly taken the glass from him at the mention of hard liquor and threw it back, embracing the burn the alcohol consumed your throat in.

"That's the spirit," Anthony winked.

Seb was pouting, mournfully staring at the crystal tumbler you had returned to his reaching hand. "I just got that..."

While Sebastian ordered another – and a drink for you specifically, so as to prevent further robbery – Scarlett leaned closer to you. "Where are the first and second wheels anyway? I haven't seen the first, and have yet to meet the second."

"The first is over there," you pointed him out once you'd spotted him in the crowd. "And the second, well... She's–"

And in your surprise, you abruptly cut yourself short. Because gliding through the doors was a woman looking every bit as beautiful as how one would perceive a real life Disney princess, clad in sweeping pale pink chiffon that shimmered with every movement, hair coiled in perfect ringlets and held in place with jeweled flower hairpins. She was breathtaking.

"Well, she just walked in."

———————

You stood in the back garden, the scent of roses mixing with salt spray. Overlooking the sea, you were perched at the edge of the cliff, watching the water smash against the unmoving rocks.

You had endured as much as you possibly could. You watched them dance together, sweeping across the marble floors in perfect harmony. The first time, you'd admit it was beautiful. The second, you were clutching your drink a little tighter. The third dance had you finding solace on the balcony halfway through, picking idly at the rose petals that climbed up the trellis in thorny vines.

It was the speech that made you reach your tipping point.

Guilt swamped you – this was Chris' big moment, and you were guilty that you weren't there to celebrate it with him. As a friend does. As a friend should.

But it was so difficult, seeing him up there, with her by his side. She held herself perfectly, back straight, chin tilted, poised – regal.

Your suspicions were confirmed: Lily was perfectly suited to this world. To this life. She fit in.

And she was funny – interjecting lighthearted commentary into Chris' speech with witty remarks that didn't interrupt him nor detract from the sincerity of his words in the slightest, but sent light bubbling laughter scattering across the crowd, warming them to her presence. And after every comment like that, he would look at her with the softest of smiles, adoration etched on his face. And there were a lot of comments.

They were so perfectly charming together. You had to leave.

Your departure wasn't noticed, and your presence wasn't missed.

You had stopped a passing waiter for a glass of champagne, and made your way back to the balcony. It was there that you noticed the cliff edge, moonlight glinting off the ink spill sea.

Making your way down marble steps, the clicking of your heels signifying your descent, you found solace in the silence the grass granted your footsteps.

The hem of your long skirts dragged across the dew ridden grass, and for a moment, you could imagine that you, yourself, were a princess.

A princess without a prince.

You had no intention of doing anything rash. You just wanted to watch the waves.

And so you did, the repetitive crush of water against stone lulling you into a hypnotic state. It was calming – seeing something so constant in these turbulent times.

But as you so feared, time alone meant time to think. And the past week crashed on you, simultaneous with the dreadful depths below.

All the emotions that had been lurking, had been building up – all the emotions that you hadn't allowed yourself to feel; resentment, pain, jealousy, and above it all, heartaching love – began to bubble up in your throat, and from inside you could hear the beginning scatter of applause, and as it crescendoed into a thunder you let loose a gutwrenching scream.

You would have no indication of how far it would travel, that mournful wail of yours.

But you screamed, and screamed, your voice hoarse.

You screamed until you felt tears in your eyes.

You heard, faintly, a glass shatter, and you felt a sharp sting that almost immediately numbed itself, and still you screamed, until your throat was raw, and you could taste blood on your tongue.

Exhausted, you dropped to your knees. And still, inside, the applause continued, unconcerned with your traumas.

Breathing heavily, you came back to yourself. And when you did, pain flooded you.

Not emotional, no, that had already been carried away on the night air – leaving you numb in your bones.

But a searing, stinging pain in your hand.

In the darkness of the night, the blood looked black, rivalling the black sea. You had broken the glass in your hand with the fury of your cry, and when you turned to inspect it, little shards of glass were still seen to be peering through before being consumed by the champagne mixed gore.

"FUCK!" The word was drawn out in a wrenching croaked sob, and you held your hand before you, ripped out of your complacency with sheer agony.

You don't know how long you sat there, just staring at your hand, watching the blood trickle. All you knew was that you were shivering by the time Scarlett found you, crimson staining your dress – turning the violet to black. The smell of metal was heavy on the air, mingled with champagne and sea.

"{Your name?}" Scarlett called to you. Her muted steps were signalled by the rustling of grass as she drew closer. "{Your name}, are you..."

And then she saw your face. And then your hand. And she was sprinting to you, panic in her eyes, careless of her heels.

"Jesus fucking Christ, {your name}, are you okay? Holy shit, fuck, hold on, let's just get you–ANTHONY!"

She had landed on her knees beside you, cradling your hand as a slew of profanities left her lips before ultimately calling for assistance.

Anthony came running. "What? What is it?!" A sharp intake of breath. "What the fuck happened?"

You barely registered Anthony's suit jacket being wrapped around your shoulders. The shock had rendered you catatonic. "It was an accident," you said dumbly.

"Help me get her up, we need to get her some medical attention."

Scarlett did as instructed, their otherwise warm hands perceiving to your icy skin as scorching. When you stood, you noticed your knees were soaked through from dew, mud clinging to the now ruined dress. You felt sorrow, but that was quickly consumed by vacancy. You weren't sure what you preferred – feeling everything or nothing at all.

Anthony had his arm around your shoulder, Scarlett holding you up by the elbow of the arm that was uninjured as they guided you back inside, careful with their steps. It was a snail's pace, your legs barely working and them having to compensate for it.

"What happened?" The question on everyone's minds left Sebastian's lips.

"We don't know, we just found her like this," Anthony said. So often quick with a joke and smile, Anthony was grave in his delivery now. "Take her to a hospital, get her hand fixed up, get her home."

Sebastian nodded, sliding Anthony's blazer off of you to return it to its owner before replacing it with his own. He took you under his arm in a protective embrace. You were keeping to the edges of the party, not wanting to draw any attention. You kept your head ducked, just watching more and more blood pool in your cupped hand, watching, waiting for it to overflow, fascinated by it.

The commotion that began at your slow departure drew you out of your reverie.

Chris – having seen his friends clustered together, air clouding them tense – was stalking to where you all stood.

"What happened?" You heard again, and unfortunately not for the last time. The doctor would ask the same question a little later. "Fuck, {your name}. Let me take you home."

The way your shoulders stiffened was not lost on Anthony.

"I think you've done enough," he said coolly, holding up a hand to halt Chris' advances. "Sebastian is going to take her home, come talk to me when you've figured things out."

Chris was dumbstruck by the sudden change in demeanor. "Anthony–"

"No!" He snapped. "Tonight isn't about you. The Chris I know would've respected that."

"Not here," a strong voice interjected. You all turned to see Lily approaching the small circle that had formed around the unravelling drama. Guilt was thick in your throat. Tonight was in celebration of a fundraiser for children, and you'd single handedly ruined it. "Not tonight. Not here, not now."

She strode over to you, separating Anthony and Chris in the process. They still stared each other down.

She took a hold of your hand, surprisingly tender in direct opposition to the subdued fury in her voice. Concern overtook her as she addressed Sebastian. "You get her to a doctor, and you make sure she gets home safe."

And with one scathing gaze to the guests, the crowd dissipated.

"Lily–" Chris started, but was cut off when that same scathing look was turned on him.

"I don't know what's happening here, but fix it. Anthony is one of your best friends. So is {your name}. Remember that."

At her departure, Anthony summoned Chris outside onto the balcony to continue the conversation privately.

"I know how much she means to you, Chris. And I know I make my jokes, have my fun. You know what I think, I've never once tried to hide it. But you need to let her go. You can't have both."

And then Chris Evans – forever stoic – crumbled. His body wracked with sobs and tears fell freely down his face. Anthony pulled Chris to him, allowing his friend to cry into his shoulder. It was a hard thing to watch – a strong man falling apart.

"It just hurts so much," he garbled out, muffled by Anthony's dress shirt.

"I know it does."

A moment passed as Chris dissolved. Then, resolutely, he straightened.

"You're right," Chris breathed in deeply, gathering himself. "It's not about me."

He withdrew from Anthony, wiping the tears away quickly with his palm. And like a storm, the calm that settled was instantaneous. You would've never even known he had broken if not for the red rimming his eyes.

"Here's some great advice from a great man I once knew: you might have one thing in your head, but the things you're doing don't lead you down that road, necessarily. When you're young, you don't want to hear that. You think you can do everything, be all things."

It was cryptic, but the meaning was clear. Chris would have to choose. He couldn't be with Lily and keep you around. Not because he knew how you felt – he certainly didn't – but because of the way he did. You'd been an expert at masking your emotions, so much so that you'd shattered like that champagne flute, so desperately wanting him to be happy in spite of his choice.

"Who said that?" Chris asked, smiling mournfully. He already knew. "Shakespeare?"

"No. A much greater man. I like to keep him close when I can."

———————

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Sebastian finally said. The drive to the hospital was done in sombre silence, and, when you'd returned to his side in the waiting room, he had merely taken you under his arm again to guide you to the car. "But just know that I'm here to talk. If you want to."

"It was an accident," you said simply. And it was. Of that, you were certain. You had just gotten carried away with your release, and unfortunately, the glass was a casualty.

You watched as the lights flew past the window against which your head leaned. Sebastian didn't speak again until you were pulling up the long driveway of Chris' house. Forever Chris' house, never quite yours.

"Okay."

And that was the end of the conversation.

When you entered, Dodger immediately sensed the mood. He pushed his head into your hand, whining softly. His large, brown eyes even asked it. "What happened?"

"Hey, Dodge," you croaked. You wouldn't be surprised if your voice was gone by morning.

Sebastian helped you remove your dress, and turned his back to you while you dressed. You harshly tugged the makeup from your face single handedly with a wipe, your other hand secured in a bandage.

It wasn't until Sebastian had tucked you into bed that you asked him to stay.

You sounded so small, so childlike just then. He stared at you for the longest time, hovering between rejection and acceptance. There must've been something in your expression, a small plea reaching out for him, and he softened, a tender smile on his face.

He was reluctant, you knew that. But you selfishly didn't want to be alone, and he was there.

He kicked his shoes off, removing his tie before sliding into bed beside you.

"Tell me a story."

"I don't know many stories. I know some in Romanian from my childhood, but–"

"Tell me those."

So he did. You didn't understand a single word, but that was fine. You drifted off to sleep, Sebastian's melodic tale guiding you to rest.

And when Chris returned home later that night, he came to check on you – only to find you sleeping peacefully beside another man.

He knew then that he didn't need to make a choice; you'd already made it for him.

#dina writes #chris evans/you #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x you #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #ocean eyes #anthony mackie #sebastian stan #scarlett johansson

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princekoo · 4 years ago

Text

dusk till dawn | kth.

pairing. taehyung x female! reader

genre/prompt. misunderstandings, marriage! au, angst

word count. 1.2k

content. none questionable, maybe hinted cheating? but it’s a misunderstanding so not entirely

synopsis. You trusted him with your heart, but after seeing him with another, could you again?

writer’s note. written for the BTS Ghostie Writers Net’s writing bingo! It’s not based off the song of the same name but I did listen to it while writing. This is my last square in the row I chose :) Everything flowed out surprisingly quickly for this one. Like it took one hour at most, but I’m proud of it.

The flickering of lights showed little solace to the broken heart which you nursed. As you clutched your body, shaking with the sobs which consumed it, the broken pieces of your heart before you seemed to mock your naïveté. You’d placed the entirety of your trust on his palm only for him to close it and crush it. It’s not as though you could deny yourself of his blatant infidelity. You’d watched it happen after all. The Louboutin stilettos you’d picked for today which were once on your feet laid at the door of your shared bedroom with the one which you though was your beloved. You’d dressed up to surprise him and yet, all you’d found once you neared his office was your heart cracking. The journey home was filled with questions of superficial concern uttered by those which served your husband, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but nod and send a watery fake smile. Every minute you’d spent replaying the scene you walked into caused your heart to shatter just a bit more, making it so by the time you walked numbly into the bedroom, your knees buckled and your face gave out. Your face of pretense was unable to be kept any longer than it already had been put up. No, everything was not okay.

You weren’t meant to walk into that, that much you were aware. After all, why would it be intended for you to find your husband with his shareholder’s mouth on his? No, you hadn’t stayed long enough to watch as he pushed her forcibly away from himself and break their contract. How could you stay that long? Your weakened heart didn’t allow it. You’d read too much about this, all of your friends had gone through this, everyone had told you of the possibility of this. An affair. Your vehement refusal of the fact that your husband, sweet and lovesick Kim Taehyung, would partake in such a vile thing. He was always similar to a lost puppy when it came to you after all. He’d worked so hard to get you, it was almost laughable how it’d never popped into your mind. The biggest question in your mind as you laid on the floor of the darkened bedroom who’s only light was that of a candle was ‘what do I do now?’. A fairly simple question which would garner several answers with which you, however, did not want to partake in. As much as it devastated you, you couldn’t bring yourself to loathe him. As much as every breath with his betrayal in your mind hurt, you didn’t want to end things with him. Even if it hurt, you wanted him by your side. You wanted—no, needed— to forget what you saw. Your body and mind craved for him reassurance, his warmth. If he denied and was not truthful, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The soft thumping of sock clad feet resounded, nearing the door you had shut in haste to hide yourself to the world. The soft knocking went not unnoticed, but ignored by you. It wasn’t until you felt the familiar warmth of your lover pressed to your back and his soft lips meeting your cold skin in comfort that you reacted at all. Your sobs had subsided, but as his broad frame embraced your smaller one, you’d started to let out cries of despair. He whispered simple words of comfort, attempting to subdue your audible grief. It had worked. After what seemed like a couple minutes, you’d be reduced to sniffling.

“I know you saw. I saw you run in those... towers by the door.” You made no attempt to respond at his attempt of a joke. You didn’t know what would be acceptable in a situation like this for your well-being.

“I’m going to be truthful, as I always am with you, my love. Please don’t doubt me, I beg you. I love you too much to let you go like this. Please... please look at me, my love.” You’d zoned into how his chest tumbled as he spoke. His words were gentle and full of genuine sencerity. You’d trusted him all these years, it’s not like you can’t bring yourself to again. Still, you’d graced him with nothing but silence. He sighed, knowing he couldn’t do anything but wait. Slowly, his words registered into your brain and just as slowly you attempted to face him from your kneeling position on the floor. He looked just like when you’d both met at the coffee shop you worked at. He would come in every morning despite having several assistants which would break their back to do anything he asked of them. Yet, he’d always make time to pick up his order every morning. He’d never pick up coffee, which you found peculiar for someone who looked like a businessman. He’d always pick something sweet paired with some pastry you offered at the location. Every day for two years he’d never failed to show up every morning until he, finally, asked you out. One could only guess the chain of events that happened before this moment. It was nothing short of sickeningly sweet and fairy-tale raquel days. This, however, was the first and biggest hurdle your relationship decided to encounter. How cruel could life be? He looked nearly the same, just a few minimal wrinkles of age here and there which would show as he did different expressions. He was still the same, however, and that hurt. How could the same Taehyung you knew all this time do such a thing to you?

His expression was that of soft panic, his fear of losing you outshining any other emotion. You both looked at eachother for a few more seconds or minutes, maybe, before he continued.

“i’m not going to say it was an accident.” The scattered pieces of your heart showed new cracks within them. They’d be nothing but dust by the end, you figured. You looked down at the floor.

“I knew she was intending to kiss me. I didn’t think she’d try to, though. You have to believe me when I tell you it wasn’t something i wanted. I’ve done everything I can to keep things professional between us, but she doesn’t get tired of trying. I didn’t know she would do this. Ple—please look at me.” Could you believe him? You closed your eyes and inhaled a heavy breath, laden with your insecurities. Looking into his eyes, maybe it was wishful thinking, you saw they held the only emotion he’d retained throughout his his entire ordeal: sincerity. You could see even remorse. His brain was filled with ‘If only’ and ‘I should’ve’ thoughts. He hoped—desperately—you could believe him. He’d heard many in his position talk of this situation happening and he didn’t want the end they described to happen.

“I know I should’ve pushed her off as soon as she neared me, but she always flirts with me and never steps over the line. I should’ve done it immediately, but I was stunned. If checking the cameras will make you happy then I’ll arrange so that you can look at the footage.” He suggested his voice softening and lifting into what sounded like a question. You took his cheeks in your warming hands and softly pecked him. You’d believe him, even if your brain screamed that he wasn’t being truthful. Even if your body didn’t want to believe the truth he spoke, you trusted him with your life.

-o-

#btsghostiebingo #v imagine #taehyung imagine #taehyung angst #v angst #bts imagine #bts angst #v fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #v scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #taehyung x reader #marriage! au #misunderstandings #angst #short

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nolongerwrites · 4 years ago

Note

RANDOM prompt #29 for Chuuya, please? I love your stories!

Thank you anon 😣 I love you

Chuuya was a port mafia executive and you were the top commander of black lizard, within the mafia you two were well known lovers. You both had worked as a team after Dazai had disappeared, and eventually it led to you two becoming a couple. One thing led to another and by the time you were 20 and he was 22, you were married.

The wedding was over the top and filled with very expensive decorations. Only certain people were invited, mostly port mafia members and close friends. The ceremony was beautiful, and everyone congratulated you both on a happy marriage as they showed up for the reception.

Although being such high members of the mafia, that meant you both were constantly targeted or put in danger with no acception for it being your big day either. You and chuuya were in the middle of sharing your special slow dance alone on the dance floor as everyone watched, only for a group of strangers in heavy gear to show up and interrupt. They shouted nonsense about being a dangerous organization new to yokohama.

One of the men came up an pointed and pointed a semi-automatic rifle to both of your heads demanding one of you to show you the boss. As if on cue, you and chuuya both looked at eachother with blank expressions.

A wicked smile spread across your cheeks as you squeezed his hand tighter. Chuuya let out a long sigh before twirling you close to his chest, placing a small kiss on your lips, and twirled you out. Your creamy white dress glided gracefully through the air as you leapt up, landing a swift kick to the mans head knocking him out.

the rest of your squad joined in and soon gunshots started to ring out, No one was hurt too badly thanks to chuuyas ability keeping you shielded as you and black lizard took everyone out. Chuuya and mori stood side by side, chuuya couldn’t help but feel his heart leap in his chest while he watched you fight

“how is my wife more badass than me?”

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #chuuya x wife!reader #anonymous

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writingjoycebyers · 4 years ago

Note

Could you write a small drabble about jopper being protective of eachother 🥺

Joyce Byers x Jim Hopper - Friend, old friend - a song fic

(this fic is based on the prompt above (I hope this counts as protective) and the song slow mover by Angie McMahon. Comments and reblogs make my writing heart go boom boom - you know how it works. love feedback and suggestion on how to do it better. or ideas. or thoughts. or whatever <3)

Warnings: contains mature topics like a hint of cheating, alcohol consumption, very light nsfw (superficial) and angst. 18+ as always

Friend, old friend, it's 4 AM

What are we doing in the street?

They walk through the empty streets of Hawkins, a cold february night in 1969, snow falling onto them, and they don‘t even notice the small, cold drops on their heads, shoulders and hands - they‘re far too gone to notice, too drunk to freeze and too sober to dance in the snow the way they used to when they were kids in Jim‘s parents backyard. They‘d left the bar an hour ago, to roam the empty streets at night, talking and walking like old friends do.

„Yeah, he‘s with my mother tonight. Jon loves it there.“, Joyce adds as Jim asks her where she‘s left her son - a reasonable question considering Joyce seemed to have time and space to get wasted all on her own on a saturday night. „She lets him have chocolate before dinner and all.“

„And...“, Jim adds, unable to finish his questioning words when Joyce interrupts him. „I‘ve got no clue, and I kind of don‘t want to know.“, Joyce finishes his sentence, anticipating the question underlying the small word „and“ and the tone of her friend‘s voice. No clue, he might aswell be screwing some girl in her very own wedding bed. Lonnie.

„Joyce, does he even care for the kid?“, Hopper suddenly blurts out, without warning, and boy — he does sound angry. He stops, and grabs her by the shoulders. It‘s a sudden move for him, impulsive and way more serious than she had experienced him at the bar, in their heavy, drunken laughter above the tears behind her brown eyes.

„He... even asked me if I want to try for another one.“, Joyce confessed, a whisper in the cold as she tried to avoid locking eyes with Jim. She had become bad at eye contact lately. Her hand found his on her shoulder. He had not actually asked, had rather joked around that if they tried for another boy, then maybe he‘d finally have a kid that liked what he‘d call boys stuff. Joyce swallowed hard. Lonnie didn‘t want to make another baby for love. No, he was being selfish. And still that idea had sparked a tiny bit of hope inside of her, a hope that he‘d maybe change? Change for the sake of another kid? But she couldn‘t tell Hopper. So she told him some kind of half hearted truth.

„Are you hungry?“, she suddenly asked as his grip on her shoulders began to losen. She nodded into the direction of a 24 hour diner, the neon lights behind them illuminating his silhouette from behind. She loved his silhouette.

I don't want to buy fried chicken

I wish that I was going to sleep

„Nah...I just... Joyce.“, he mumbled, his articulation heavy and sloppy from the drinks he had drowned. The „Joyce“ said it all. He knew she was trying to distract him, knew she did not want to talk about Lonnie, that she did not want to stay with that man and neither would want to leave him. He‘d take her with him, he thinks, take her with him into his small apartment in NYC, around the corner of his police training station, and hold her tight every night in his way too small bed, and never let go again. He‘d done that once too often already. But then, his mind flashes to the woman he‘s dating, Diane, tall and blonde, a woman he hasn‘t thought of much during his visit home, if he was honest with himself. A small bundle of guilt starts to form in his gut, and he isn‘t sure if he‘s sick from the alcohol, or if it really is his conscience.

„Just tired.“, he mumbles then, and none of his thoughts were said.

So they start to make their way towards Jim‘s parents‘ house, the way they had done it so often as teenagers just a couple of years ago. A lifetime ago. Joyce keeps on walking next to him although she lives on the opposite side of town now, that small house on the edge of the woods. Where was home?

Quietly she follows Jim up to the corner of the street, because walking next to him feels a lot like home to her, so familar with his warmth, his unique scent, his height towering above her. He was home, after all.

They stop by the STOP-sign, a flashing one that stands across the streets of Jim‘s birth place, and as if the stop sign was meant for them, they don‘t go any further. It‘s quiet, a winter night, and Joyce feels like she can hear the snow flakes falling. Jim‘s presence feels warm, and life feels cold - and she does not know where to go. She‘s got a house to live in, but no home to go to sleep at. No peace within her own four walls.

„So, when are you heading back to the city?“, she asks shyly after some moments of silence.

„Tomorrow night.“, he replies, staring down on the floor, and then back up to the sign as a car goes by and it starts blinking.

„So.. last night here, huh?“, Joyce whispers, her face turned to the side because for some reason, for some damn reason she can‘t look him in the eye again.

The silence gets louder, the blinking feels harsher, the cold gets colder. She wraps her arms around herself as she feels the dizziness of the alcohol get washed away by the bleak midwinter air and her thoughts. The last night - their last chance?

Her thoughts drift off as she feels his gaze on her, feels him get closer and wrap his arms around her. They stand there in a deep, intimate hug and she asks herself what if - what if she was married to him, what if the house on the other side of the street was theirs, their home? What if they entered the living room, warmed themselves up with a deep, long kiss? God, she wanted to kiss him. His breath is warming the side of her face while he still hugged her, and she turns her head a bit, looking up. The last time they had been this close to kissing had been another lifetime ago. His eyes look dark and warm in contrast to the cold wind around them.

„You wanna come inside with me?“, he suddenly suggests. She answers with a small nod.

And I don't want to kiss you

Underneath that flashing sign

They enter his parents‘ place and although it is huge and empty, it is welcoming and cozy. The furniture hasn‘t changed. The atmosphere hasn‘t changed. There‘s a small light on the table by the sofa, and the room looks so large without Jim‘s family in it. She looks at him, and he looks sad. „It is okay to miss them.“, she whispers softly, her small hand on his back as they stand in the middle of the living room. The tension they had shared under the flashing light is gone for a second. They‘re old friends again. She rubs his back, and feels like she was wrong, feels as if she had interpreted it all the wrong way. Maybe he needed a friend, not a lover. Or maybe he needed time?

She can sense his tension underneath her hand, and she‘s glad she can be close to him in some way, somehow. Joyce looks around the familiar room, the old clock on the wall telling her the night might soon be coming to an end, and she gets sad herself. Their last chance - gone?

But then, suddenly, Jim wakes up from his short, griefing trance. Without a warning he pulls her close by the hand that had just comforted him, and as he leans down his lips find hers. There‘s no time to lose. They kiss and it feels both wrong and right, both hot and cold. She‘s overwhelmed by the passion behind his kiss, the force behind his touch as he scoops her up into his arms and her legs wrap around his waist like they belong there. „Jim...slow down. I want to feel this.“, she suddenly whispers. Suddenly, the night feels still young as he takes her by the hand and they walk up the stairs to his childhood bedroom

What's the hurry? We're not ready

We've got plenty of time

Some time later, minutes, hours, moments, they‘re a mess of limbs and words and kisses and Joyce could swear to God she has never felt like this before. He‘s rushed, but gentle, as if he‘s trying to make up for the lost time, and she‘s the other side of the magnet, slow and sensual and they make the perfect mixture. It takes a bit of talking, a bit of trust, and then they arrive - arrive at home.

For the rest of the night, Jim holds her tight in his way too small bed for once and he never wants to let her go again. They look into each other‘s eyes as they lay entangled, none of them daring to losen the grip, and Joyce feels tired, but she does not want to miss a second of this. Their last chance, remember?

„Get some sleep.“, he murmurs with a soft kiss onto the top of her head. „I‘m not leaving your side tonight.“, he adds as he strokes her hair, caresses it gently, stroking away the thoughts of guilt that come creeping up in Joyce‘s mind as she lays in the arms of another man, indulging in the afterglow of a forbidden rush of passion and confusion. What about him, she thinks, is there someone he should feel guilty for now?

Joyce couldn‘t know what the future would hold for him, a wife, a marriage and a daughter. She could only guess. Neither could she know what the future would hold for her, that she would indeed try for another baby with Lonnie and that, in two years or three, she‘d sometimes find herself lying awake late at night, counting the weeks between their little adventure and her blood results from the doctor‘s pregnancy test. It‘d be wishful thinking, maybe, that she wanted her second son to be more like Hopper than Lonnie. Wishful thinking, and a stupid, unprotected adventure.

Maybe you will get married

Maybe fall in love

Could you make me fall asleep

When you're holding me?

Try set me on fire

The morning after, Joyce awakes with her head on his chest and his arms neatly placed around his torso. Jim is fast asleep. Memories of the night come flashing back in front of her inner eye. She‘s Lonnie Byers wife. She is Lonnie Byers god damn wife in another man‘s bed. And she‘d always thought she was better than Lonnie.

Quietly, she leaves the bed and tiptoes to her clothes lying on the floor on the other side of the room. For the first time, she catches a glance of Jim‘s old room. Nothing has changed. She gets dressed as silently as possible, staring at a picture on the wall - him and her during Prom Night, in front of the Gym. She should have known earlier that this was more than friendship. She had known earlier, actually, and they had always danced around it, danced like it was prom night - until yesterday.

There's someone else but I twist all of

His words and he twists mine

At last, Joyce puts on her jacket, slips into her shoes and opens the old wooden door as carefully as she can. One last look towards the bed with a peacefully sleeping Jim in it, and she‘s out the door. He had promised last night he wouldn‘t leave her side, but this was a promise she herself could not make. In this moment, she felt as if they had to go backt to the separate paths they had chosen at some point, whether they were right or wrong, drunk or sober.

She waves him goodbye as the front door of Jim‘s parent‘s house closes behind her. A wave he doesn’t see.

Joyce would never return to that place again — She‘d not return home for more than 10 years after that. And when she, in 1983, finally does return home, entering the Chief of Police‘s office one morning, she‘ll be too panicked to notice that it‘s home, too broken to see that he‘s still there beneath the flashing sign. Waiting.

So I'll have to let him go

We sometimes fit, but we always lie

And he thinks we could make it work

But only when he's drunk

You think you could help me swim

But I've already sunk

_____________

Thanks for reading. Please drop me a line if you‘ve got thoughts on this. Or if you wanna chat about joyce/st/jopper. My inbox is open.<3

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chaoticchickadee · 4 years ago

Note

Heya, I have an idea for your bingo card writing for next week or whenever. Junk Food with Rex and Cody would be really fun. Tysm for all of your writing!

Thank you for the prompt!

Sweet and Salty Interlude

“As is their tradition, Cody and Rex spend their first day on leave swapping war stories and weird junk food from across the galaxy.”

Show your support— reblog!

Read it here on AO3

Data work always dragged, but it was especially difficult this shift. Cody had half an hour left, but it was the longest thirty minutes of his life. Starting tomorrow morning, the 212th would be on a week long leave on Coruscant. It would be one of the rare leaves they got with the 501st, and Cody planned to make the most of it. As soon as all the men were planetside and accounted for, he’d be making a beeline for their usual meeting spot and waiting for Rex. Cody looked up to where a plain brown flimsi package sat on the floor of his bunk. He smiled, looking forward to seeing his brother's face when he revealed the contents. Cody just had to get the reports on his desk filed and prepare the transports for tomorrow and he’d be that much closer to their reunion. Glancing at the chrono, he sighed when it showed that only two minutes had passed. Twenty eight more minutes to go, he reminded himself before burying himself in his work once more.

Rex was legendary within the company for his ability to remain calm and stoic in the heat of battle, but the night before shore leave with the 212th? Forget it. He might as well be a shiny on his first trip to 79’s with the way he was fidgeting and anxiously checking his chrono. Luckily, the rest of his men were just as eager to go as he was, so they mercifully did not mention his unusual behavior.

Only years of training kept Cody from running to the barracks as soon as the transport touched down. Ensuring that his men were accounted for and not about to anything too stupid was his first priority, but as soon as the task was done, Cody turned on his heel and began his search for Rex. In his excitement to find Rex, Cody forgot to grab the parcel he’d stashed in his planetside quarters that morning. Cursing, he turned around and jogged back to retrieve it before continuing his journey, making sure to let Rex know he was on his way.

As usual, Torrent was overjoyed to be on leave and made sure everyone knew. Their raucous laughter was infectious, but their antics left Rex exhausted. He was doing his best to mitigate any damage they might accidentally cause and keep the barracks in some semblance of order, but as always it was a losing battle. Once he was sure they weren’t going to hurt themselves or land in the Corrie Guard holding cells with Commander Fox, he retired to his quarters. It was barely noon, but Rex was already worn out. He checked his commlink, frowning when he saw no new messages. He’d seen the 212th arrive that morning, but it was odd that Cody hadn’t finished getting the men settled yet. Rex sat on his bunk, setting the commlink aside and grabbing the bag on the side table. He smiled fondly as he thought back to how he got the coveted Kashyyk treat. After liberating their village, the local Wookiee children had run around, climbing troopers and stuffing sweets into their hands. Rex’s favorite had been the gummy wasaka berries, and after some complicated pantomiming and a desperate search for a translator droid, Rex finally got his hands on a bag of them.

Rex’s trip down memory lane is interrupted by the shrill tone of his comm. Swiping it off the table, he quickly checks the message, relieved to see that it’s Cody saying he’s on his way. Rex quickly shucks off his armor, stacking it neatly in the small closet before moving on to his blacks. Throwing on some civvies, he snatches the forgotten sweets back up before leaving to meet Cody at their usual spot.

Even with his minor setback, Cody made it to the Clarennora public gardens in record time and, as usual, before Rex. He found a shady bench within view of the entrance of the small, almost unknown park and sat back, enjoying the pleasant day as he waited for his brother. He set his package on his lap, passing the time by thinking about just how he’d acquired it.

It’d been a tough campaign on Batuu, but in the end the 212th had managed to squeak out a victory. Before returning to the Negotiator for the next campaign, the men had a little time to relax in Black Spire Outpost, and Cody had used it well. He scoured the shops, jingling the meager credits he had and keeping his eye out for one thing in particular. It didn’t take long for Cody to find what he was looking for— a bag of puffer pig rinds. Puffer pigs were known for their value in the mining industry and their skittish nature, but here on Batuu they were a staple food. The locals had many ways of preparing them, but an almost universal favorite was a cheap treat usually available in any general store on the planet. Savory, salty, greasy goodness for only a couple credits. He hastily grabbed two bags off of the shelf and brought them to the register before making his way to the transports, finally ready to leave the planet.

Cody was jolted out of his thoughts when someone slid onto the bench next to him. “About time you showed up kih’vod, I was about to send a search party for you,” Cody said, not having to look to know who had joined him. Rex lightly punched his arm, “I’m late, huh? I wasn’t sure you were even going to comm, did Ghost need that much babysitting?” he replied, with no real heat behind it. Cody shook his head before changing the subject, knowing that if he let it continue they could bicker all day. “Yeah yeah, just be glad I did, I was tempted to just eat these all by myself.” He shoved a bag of puffer pig rinds at Rex before tearing into the other. Cody had never had them before, but he knew that salty, greasy snacks were his brother’s weakness, so he figured he’d get a good reaction. Rex did not disappoint, groaning loudly after popping a rind in his mouth. “Ka’ra, Cody, where did you get these?” he asked, before stuffing a handful in his face. Cody cackled, finding his brother’s reaction both hilarious and adorable. “Batuu. Puffer pigs are a big food source there. You can find a bag of those“--he pointed to the bag in Rex’s hand--“just about everywhere. Not sure it’d be worth stepping foot on that planet though,” Cody explained. They sat in silence, munching on their snacks.

When Rex finished his bag, he grabbed his haul next to him and dropped it in Cody’s lap. Cody rolled up the top of his unfinished bag of puffer pig rinds and gently opened the bag, curiosity evident in his expression. “‘Wasaka berries?’ What are those?” he asked, plucking one out and bringing it up to his face to examine it. Rex snorted at Cody’s careful inspection, so unlike Rex’s method of diving right in and asking questions later. “They’re from Kashyyk, Mostly used for desserts. The kids from one of the villages we freed gave them to us. Try it, you’ll like it,” Rex said, snatching one out of the bag and tossing it in his mouth. Cody gave him a look, but ate the candy he had been holding without another comment. Rex watched as Cody’s face lit up. He had a secret sweet tooth only his closest brothers knew about that Rex took great joy in exploiting. “I wouldn’t mind being stationed on Kashyyk for a while if this is the thanks we get,” Cody said after a moment, savoring the delicate taste of the candy. “Yeah,” Rex chuckled, “the wookiees were really kind to us. The Seps are throwing everything they got at the planet, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did get stationed there at some point.” Cody hummed, attention still on the candy he was chewing on.

Cody and Rex didn't move for hours, content to sit beside each other and catch up. As the war raged on, they worried more and more that there may be a day when they wouldn’t see eachother again, that the war would rip them away from one another. For now, they were happy to be alive, sitting on a worn out bench watching the sun set. Here in Clarennora Gardens, they could pretend that the war was long past and they were free, and Cody and Rex enjoyed every moment of their temporary peace.

#pls reblog #star wars #star wars fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #the clone wars fanfiction #commander cody #captain rex #cc 2224 #ct 7567 #sw #tcw #chick fic #original content #letters in my mailbox

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thethreemages · 4 years ago

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W O O, so I'm back a bit from the art-grave to finally upload this piece I had completed a lil while ago... the pic in question being some slight redesign/touchups for two of my central side characters of TTM, Noira and Raider Crane~ 💙 Just to keep things a lil fresh and reflecting a bit better of their current character portrayals, so I hope you all enjoy! ^^

More info about both characters can be found below (and here on DA too)~

-Noira Crane (age 16) is Raider's younger sister, Princess Zia's best friend and currently enrolled at St. Ravilda's Mage Academy. A generally stoic and poised young lady with a rather sharp tongue than many would expect... often expressed through well-placed snark at those trying to interrupt her and Zia's "fun" (aka: sneaking around and setting up pranks around the school). When she's not busy hanging with Zia and keeping up their rather limited cheer squad these days, Noira could often be seen competing heavily for maintaining her place up above the top ranked students (of which a certain white-haired prince keeps trying to secure that spot for himself). Underneath her "well-to-do" exterior, however... lies a deep-down insecure girl who often feels pressured to bottle up her feelings, especially with the amount of pressure her parents (Lachlan & Vinia) put on both her and her brother Raider growing up. Combined with the strain put on from Raider's falling out with their parents a few years back... it's left Noira rather scared to delve too much into her own natural Water Mage abilities for fear she can't measure up (even with her folks trying their best to "dial back" for her sake, since she's their only remaining child living with them now). The few things in life that can truly bring a sense of peace and smiles to her face are Zia's company, the success of beating her rivals, and the never-ending bond she and Raider share between eachother... no matter the distance, no matter what. (Fun Facts about Noira): -She's usually never seen walking around without her beloved dog companion, "Misty Belle" (courtesy to my pal @littlechaoticwitch for helping to come up with the name :3 ). The fluffy pup given to her as a gift from her folks a few years back, Misty is quite a sweet lil lady for most who are allowed to be near her. Always eager to follow her mistress around faithfully, snuggling and goofing around the room when left idle, and occasionally chewing at the ankles of those who try to mess with Noira (like, again, a certain white-paired prince who never ceases to push his luck lol). -She was named after one of the earlier Crane family ancestors, "Noira the Victress". Said to have been quite a powerful blood pirate, the present-day Noira Crane has... always been a bit unsure of how to feel about her namesake, despite her father and some other distant relatives seeming rather proud of it. She's still a lil curious to try and research more about her ancestor though, given how popular she was as a subject for numerous campfire stories. -Noira has been diagnosed as nearsighted from the time she was in elementary school, and thus is never seen without her favorite pair of horn-rimmed glasses (an aesthetic picked up from her favorite aunt, Freya). -While her parents have officially stated for Noira to be the heir to their Crane Corp Industries business, Noira is still conflicted in herself of what she wants to do in life by the time she graduates. Whether it'd be to try out being a traveling Mage, or join more of Zia's royal court down in Asteria... its hard for her to decide atm. -Being born a rather tiny and frail baby, Noira was always watched like a hawk by the family-hired medical professionals to keep her safe and protected. She's required to carry a couple EpiPens with her on the day-to-day with how many allergies she has, and Zia always tries to remember to keep a nice lil bag of snacks with her too in case her friend's blood sugar dips too low (as does Raider when he and Noira get to hang out on their own). ============= -Raider Crane (age 21) is Noira's older brother, one of Kain's old school friends and currently making it big as an extreme stunt performer/traveling Electric mage. A bright, cheerful and fun-loving young man who lives to make others smile... whether it'd be for his own friend group or the crowds of audiences who clamor to come see his shows. Yet even with so much going well for him now... it wasn't always the easiest for him growing up before. Living under the roof of his folks who

always kept a tight grip

on him being "the best" (especially by his father), and even facing it worse with some bullying by Kaz's crew at school... it left Raider pretty timid and reclusive for the longest time. Only once others like Kain, Lyra, Briar and a few others taking the time to approach him did his true loveable goofball nature started to sprout for good... but at the same time, something just felt "missing" within Raider that didn't really sit right with him. Knowing how much of a rut he'd be bound to stay in if he kept up things how they were now... he decided by his last few years of Ravilda's to "change" himself for the better. From getting a new "bolder" punk look, working out and bulking over the summer, and taking some social sessions with fellow popular girl Dyani to gain some confidence in himself... Raider returned to the halls of the academy with a brighter, more-outgoing outlook on life now. He started gaining popularity left and right, taught Kaz's crew a thing or two when they tried one last chance to mess with him, and by graduation he was already on his way to make it big after getting signed on by an aspiring tv crew. All was going fine for once... yet back at home, things escalated between his parents (who still didn't seem understanding of Raider's personal dreams over their family business) to where Raider just... couldn't take it anymore. Many words were exchanged that night that prompted the young man to up and leave the family home for good... and never turning back except to now and then check up on his baby sister Noira. As the few years passed up until now, things are still going good for Raider in terms of his work and bond with Noira... though things remain relatively strained and awkward in regards to him and his parents. Whether things will ever truly improve or not with them is unclear as of now... but for the time being, Raider is at least content with himself on being able to finally shape his life the way it should be; fun, free, and fulfilling in its own way~. (Fun Facts about Raider): -Back at his own personal trailer, Raider has a trio of cats he adopted awhile back named "Sprocket", "Buzz", and "Zipps". Having always been a strong cat person since he was a boy (but never getting the chance to own one growing up, given his mom's allergy to them), it was a big dream of Raider's to get his own feline companion by the time he moved out of the house. He went to the shelter to find three kitten siblings who were tossed aside and overlooked among some other animals... and being the big sweetie as he was, Raider was all too eager to scoop them up to adopt them all together. They're quite a funny bunch who tend to get into some trouble if left unsupervised, but are very much loyal to Raider either way with how often they'll form some "snuggle piles" with him once he's off-of-work. -Raider gained his name from his paternal great-grandfather, Raider "The Swiftest" Crane. Originally was going to be named "Odin" (after Lachlan's own father, as was the old man's request many years ago)... but due to a falling out between the two not long before his son's birth, Lachlan decided against that and gave his boy "an even prouder name" to look up to instead. As for the present-day Raider himself, he's always been curious to know more about his great-grandfather given some accounts about him being a "commander of the skies" (via-riding dragons). -From birth, Raider has carried an eye condition known as "Anisocoria"... in which one of his pupils is permanently smaller than the other eye and thus leaving him with some partially-blurred vision. For certain shows of his that take place in some heavy-weather conditions, Raider is required to wear some specialized goggles to help him see through his performance. -His current neon/cyan blue hair isn't his natural haircolor, as Raider was actually born with darker/blackish-blue hair instead. Used to grow it out pretty shaggy and long up until his teens (in where he often hid his face behind his locks at times when he was down on himself)... but by the time his last

few highschool years rolled around, he cut most of it off and styled it to the look its at now as a nice change of pace. Got quite a few compliments on it's initial debut, so Raider has long since kept it around as his own lil "brand". -As most of his friends have all long since went their separate ways after Ravilda's, Raider is the main one who likes to keep arranging for them to meet up on the few downtimes they're able to take off from their schedules. Often likes to greet any of his buddies with the biggest, crushing hugs imaginable (being lowkey touch-starved as he is)... and while not always the most logical thinker in terms of planning, he's the main heart to keep the group afloat in times they start bickering or feeling lost with one another.

#the three mages #the crane family #my art #raider crane #noira crane #my ocs #oc art #side mages #side characters

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sylver-drawer · 3 years ago

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A prompt in class had made me realize something deep within me—my hate for physical books.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate books because they’re physical. I’d actually love it, but rather what I despise…

Is what is contained within those books.

Where I live, physical books you can only get when visiting libraries or book stores unless specially ordered online. Yet I am never satisfied with what is offered to me, simply because, I’m tired of it.

I am so absolutely tired of seeing the same exact things over and over again.

To give an example, my tastes aren’t that condensed nor diverse. I love thriller, I love Mystery, but what I find the most interest in, is Fantasy Romance.

And saying that should already tell you exactly what I’m talking about.

I am so tired of seeing the exact same tropes over and over again. This is a problem in all stories, physical or online, in general—however, it appears to me that published and physical books are almost always having these qualities. When searching online, I can always somehow find at least a handful of stories that is different from the others and gives at least a fraction of what I need. But in libraries? Book stores? I can’t do that, because they all follow the same pattern one way or another because those tropes are what people only ever seem to want, which is why a lot of authors who stray from those tropes aren’t as well known.

Frankly, I’m tired of everything being reused or rebranded.

I wouldn’t mind the wizards and demons, the werewolves and vampires, if ONLY they weren’t just there to be there.

Let me explain. Witches and Wizards tend to follow the same pattern. People who use magic, which is simple enough. But the problem is, is that it ends with just that. In most stories I come across, wizards are included in a very weak magic system in which they can use magic to do basically anything they want. Something fell and broke? Use magic to fix it. There’s a fire? Summon water to put it out.

It’s simple. But that repeated simplicity is what makes me tired.

There is never any depth. There is no expansion or lore that explains the nitty gritty details, nor makes it important. Magic in fantasy stories, is most commonly, cause and effect. Problem, and fix. Something bad, changed to good. Hurt, then to heal.

In fantasy, magic is simply one layer—magic people can use magic to do anything. There’s no limit, there’s no depth, there’s nothing that makes it unique. Magic in fantasy, all falls under the broad topic of just ‘magic’. Shooting fireballs, summoning a river, causing a storm to drive away your enemies, lightning bolts to fend them off—all can fall under just magic. Using this, it might be controversial to say, but Harry Potter is an extremely soft magic system. Wizards can cast magic through words, yes, but it’s exactly that. They can cast ‘magic’, and that magic is an umbrella term that essentially means, “With enough training, they can look up the words in a magic dictionary and use whatever magic they want to do anything they want”.

There is no depth. There is no extra layer, it’s simply ‘magic’.

And I’m not even done rambling. I haven’t even touched magical races in fantasy, which I’ll actually transition right into.

I am tired of race conflict in fantasy. Not because its bad, but because they’re more often than not, poorly written. Let’s take Twilight as an example.

Werewolves hate vampires. Vampires hate werewolves. Why? Because werewolves bad, and vampires bad. That’s literally it. No deeper meaning, no actual societal issues, just “ew, icky vampire/werewolf”. In fact, in twilight it doesn’t even appear they hate eachother. If Bella didn’t even exist, what would Edward and Jacob fight about? If you notice, they only use eachother’s race to appeal to Bella and put down the other rival. “Bella, you can’t love him because he’s a dirty vampire”, or, “Bella, you can’t love him because he’s a mangy wolf pup”. Setting aside the obvious racist undertones that’s never important nor addressed critically within the story, the only time dislike about the others’ race is talked about, is only ever addressed not because they hate that specific race, but as a petty remark to bad talk their love rival.

So, in theory, the two races aren’t even… against eachother. Thinking back, all the times it was vampire vs werewolf in twilight, it was all because of Bella wasn’t it. And not because of general dislike of the others’ race, but over a human girl…

I’ve trailed off from my original point, but basically, race vs race within fantasy plots aren’t actually because of the race. I think the only fantasy series I’ve seen that remotely does racial societal conflict well is Lord of the Rings. Elves hate dwarves because they’re greedy, crude, and brutish. Dwarves hate elves because they view them as selfish and always seemingly on their high horse. They stereotype one another, and when they look beyond those stereotypes is when they start bonding and actually forming friendships. They then realize that those stereotypes didn’t matter and were harmful.

That’s an example I would love to see more in fantasy in general. Make the magical races dislike and judge eachother because of their race, and then overcome it while addressing it. Don’t add in races that hate eachother when they’re all literally just the exact same. And also, make the races different! Even humans practice different cultures, and that’s what makes us diverse. In the LOTR franchise, racial bias and hate isn’t simply because, “they’re x race”. It’s because they stereotype people within that race, a stereotype that’s just an exaggerated version of qualities they all just happened to have. In Twilight, I’d argue that there isn’t anything that sets the werewolves and vampires apart other than their superhuman abilities. In LOTR, taking their races away the qualities the characters had were still eminent. Legolas was a bit proud and calm demeanor ed under pressure because he was naturally like that, as well as how he was raised as an elven prince. Gimley fights violently with an axe, and puts his whole body into his fighting style. His words also come off as rough and unfiltered, while Legolas’ voice is smoother and speech well spoken due to his background. The traits they found in eachother due to racial stereotypes still linger and remain. While yes, werewolves were heavily based off of indigenous people, there wasn’t any clear examples of them practicing it that was essential to the conflict and characters other than reminding the audience every once and a while. If Jacob were the only werewolf shown, the Jacob-Bella-Edward conflict could easily just be seen as two roleplaying white boys fighting over a girl. That’s how important their racial identities of vampire and werewolf mattered.

(And please!!! Remember lore. Generations and generations of racism impacts people who grew up with it. Some people change and break away from that stigma of unadultered hate, some can only partly break away even while educated with unconscious internal bias, and some continue to nurture themselves in it and even spread it. Not every person under one umbrella ends up the same, and that applies to characters too. Taking inspiration from real life, look at the time we live in now. Hundreds of years gone by, and while things are certainly better, the dark stains haven’t even gone away and most likely won’t even in the distant future. The past two years are proof of that.)

There’s no point in writing racial conflict in your story if there’s nothing that sets them apart from one another (I’m not saying people need a reason for real life racism because there are so many people who hate certain races just because they’re that race, but story wise, it’s easier to show what’s commonly hate due to stereotypes and stigma that people make for that race). It’s like the spider man pointing meme. How are you supposed to be antagonistic with someone who’s literally the same as you? “I guess you’re not like other spider men” coming from a spider man???

Prefacing, I’m not saying racism is good. I’m saying including race conflict for the sake of race conflict is very empty and purposeless, which is what I often find in fantasy or romance-fantasy. Racial conflict apparently doesn’t matter until the main character is directly involved, in which only then does it affect them that it’s brought up and only because it affects them. A similar example is including LGBTQ+ characters just for the sake of sexual diversity, in which—

That actually leads into my next topic.

Romance.

How many. How many published books must there be of romance that completely overrides the plot as well as the characters’ other relationships? How many stories must be made in which the fantasy aspect is completely pushed aside and no longer included in the plot because the story wants to entirely focus on the romance drama between the main character, love interest, and best friend? Or not even best friend, miscommunication in general!

How hard, is it to write a story where the couple is healthy, and love and don’t doubt eachother, who trust eachother entirely? Like really.

And! And!

The moment when romance is introduced, everything else doesn’t. seem. to. matter! At that point, it’s not even fantasy even more. It’s just a rom com, because watching the couple fight over nothing is hilarious because they’re in the middle of a war. And the other characters don’t seem to matter anymore either. I am so tired of plots being thrown away to focus on the drama between the two leads, and for once just want a fantasy boom of stories depicting healthy relationships with actually unique magic systems and logical well written conflicts.

And diversity! In Relationships! I am so tired of only ever seeing poorly written drama filled heterosexual relationships in romances. In fantasy romances. Give me my wlw wizards who explore their war torn world and have to defend the people they love with intricate, costly, magic systems.

Can we just have. A literary revolution, in which a rise of stories where characters can have relationships—non romantic relationships—with other characters. Can male and female characters finally love eachother to the ends of the world without romance. It’s so easy to write. Love is so easy to write between any gender or sex. So why does it seem to be there can only be one kind predominantly in media? In published media?

Occasionally I can find diverse stories like this on the internet, but never can I find these in libraries.

Like it’s. It’s so, so easy to write love and companionship between characters of diverse identities and cultures. Even in heterosexual fantasy romance stories, I want to be able to see relationships outside the romance being as strong as the main romance. Between the girls, between the boys, and those in between. Men can be in love with men, women in love with women, and men in love with women without needing to force their loves against eachother. A man and woman can be written to love eachother dearly without any romance ever between them, because that’s how it’s like in real life as well. So often do main characters in fantasy stories have some sort of dark past that rid them of any familial love, which in turn ruins them for the capacity of platonic love, which makes people believe the only way for them to find love is romantically. Even in children’s books, there’s always the princess abandoned or overly protected by her parents who eventually finds solace in the pressence of a dry, brooding knight or charming prince. They fall in love, and that’s the only thing that’s ever positively shown. The love between the main character and the love interest. Because to society, romance is seen as the strongest form of affection.

But, it isn’t.

People are different, and to a lot of people who do and don’t have romance in their lives, it doesn’t mean they can’t love anyone else. In society, the only love that seems to exist is romance. It’s the only thing people tend to promote, and yet, people forget what love is. It’s care, it’s worry. Love is painful and happy. It’s sometimes angry and frustrating, but sometimes its something you need. Love is stubborn, yet so easily broken. Love was never just romance, and it feels like the world forgets that.

It’s frustrating, because it feels like anything published at your local library follows the opposite pattern. Because it’s what people believe the public wants, and what the public will only ever accept. Sometimes, it’s all people only know how to write. Sometimes, its all editors and publishers will ever approve of. And sometimes, its all people ever look for. Because either they’re afraid, stigmatize and despise it, or just don’t care for it.

At some point, this had turned from a ramble about how physical books lack diversity, to how media in general lacks diversity.

I do believe that one day in the future, media will change. Literary media will change. But as of now? The majority of published and physical books haven’t diverted from that pattern, and most likely won’t for a long time. I know so many stories are beginning to change online now that the new generation has informed themselves and become interested in new ideas and topics, but as far as physical publication goes? The world won’t accept these changes, not for a long time.

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a-life-lesson-in-submission · 3 years ago

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Inside a Submissives Soul

Dear Diary -

There was a possibility I wouldn't see Sir this week. Life keeps him busy and as much as I was ready to accept this happens, I did feel my spirits were dampened purely because I always want to see and spend time with him.

He messages me pretty much everyday, by midweek I received a message asking if I was available to play the following day, hell yes I was! I am always available for him to the point I am prepared to drop everything for him anyway, which I know he would probably give me what for if he felt it was more important that I do whatever may be planned. I wouldn't cancel anything that is considered important i.e. appointments, work etc, just the things I know can wait. Needless to say I will always be available to and for him.

We really didn't have long, a couple of hours at best and I'm thrilled we got at least that. It's cold and miserable outside, I get in the vehicle when he pulls up, straight away he takes my hand that's closest to him, him so warm encasing my cold, he says he will warm me up real soon, I give alittle 'woop' in celebration, he is amused already.

We get to our destination, very quickly Sir says hello with a kiss, I respond in the same way, damn he smells sensational, his body against mine feels amazing. Due to our limited time frame, I was asked to get undressed, everything came off without hesitation, I joked if only I could do it Bruce Almighty style, he finds this amusing.

Instructed to get on the bed, I did, he followed in the same manner. When he gets undressed I know its about to get real intimate, I can't help but smile, secretly in my head everytime I'm saying 'phwoar yes please'. We snuggle in close, laid on our sides facing eachother, he pulls the duvet over us, I felt his member press against me. I joked again that anyone would think he has missed me, he smiled but stayed silent so I also joked I'll take that as a yes too. Our lips press together, our tongues meet caressing one another, he takes my hand and sends it below, I feel him, he's stood to attention, rigid and responding to my fingers groping him. He moves to adjust slightly taking me by the head and prompting to move down, so I do, I take him between my lips, he always tastes so good. He is clearly excited, I can taste the sweetness of his droplets on my tongue already as I mouth him. As I pull back, him almost about to leave my lips, I suck just enough to get that devine leg jerking twitch he does, he gives a cheeky laugh and taps me on my peaches. I will never stop doing it whilst I receive such responses, I hope I never have to, its one of those little 'things' that gives me a entertained satisfied grin, it makes me feel I have him as much as he has me. I feel his hands over me, light, spreading over me before I feel his hands moving my hair then taking hold to issue some control over my actions. Pushing all the way back blocking my airways briefly, pulling back then pushing all the way back again. I can't wait to find the right angle to have him really enter my throat, for now the intermittent blockage is exciting enough. I am happy giving, I am in a place where I feel I am able to relax, I just wish I had full confidence to bring myself to a point where he will really see my inner harlot come out to play. I will get there, I know I will.

He pulls me away so I am on my back, making his way over me, an arm each side of my head, his hips in line with mine. A quick thought crosses my mind that she has not been touched yet, I may not be quite ready to accommodate him, this thought is just as quick to be taken back as his tip sits at my opening for a split second only to slowly enters and disappear within me. My containment slips out with a breath filled gasp. He looks happy with my response as he creates a slow paced rhythm. My breathing quickens almost immediately, my kisses become lustful, I can't keep my hands off him, he is so much man, I can't get enough of him. Asking me if I want him deeper, which I feel was rhetorical, however, I insisted, he sits up to lift my legs over his shoulders and he sinks as deep as our bodies will allow. Changing speeds and depths, sometimes slow and wholesome, sometimes hard and forceful, I want it every way possible, I know I can take it. Watching him move in and out of me, it's hot, he then adds further sensation with circling a thumb around my sensitives. The noises escaping me are varied but all a confirmation of enjoyment. I have always been one to close my eyes throughout activities over the years and there are moments with Sir where I fall behind my eyelids, but it's different with him and most of the time, my eyes are locked on him, it's like I am showing him I am with him at all times and allowing him to see everything there is within me. It's immensely liberating.

He gives indication he is building, he often says 'slow down' when it's getting close, I beat him to it. My legs come down, he comes in real close, his body firmly pressed against mine giving me himself over and over, kissing at my neck, that's it, he's got me, I'm ready, I tell Sir he's going to make me release and thats exactly what he wants, he doesn't stop. I hop, skip and jump over the edge as my release floods through my insides, it's intensely fulfilling as I crave more at the same time. As it eases, I don't feel overwhelmed with sensitivity, I just want him over and over again, I have another that I know will come to the surface at some point.

He breaks away briefly, back over me again I reach for his him, pumping him with my hand infront of my hole, he says to put him back inside me, as I guide, he pushes. He is getting close, he has been ready a while but he holds back which is pretty impressive, he carries strong self restraint. Its time, it's coming, feeling his warm filled fluids line my inners, I am so close, I know this feeling will trigger my release in response, it doesn't but that's quite alright, I am more than smug to know I have him within me and he will be there for some time.

I squirm as we pull away, it's pleasantly teasing. Sir lays on his back, I lay on my side, both entwined, hands soothingly gracing bodies, silently calm and content. I think about nothing other than how peaceful I feel and every single moment leading up to this, its my sense of sheer bliss. Yes we have literally kept today quite vanilla, once or twice a playful tap spank, it's not always about 'whips and chains', sometimes it's just about the passion between two souls learning and exploring one another, reinforcing that connection, accepting and embracing the chemistry.

We talk for a little while, lots of different things in a short space of time, it's very general but gives huge insight to our characteristics, I absolutely adore his.

He was happy I released, as was I, I didn't expect myself to without foreplay first, I can see his gloating without him actually saying anything, it's quite cute. A second was close too, he can have that one next time. Whilst I could spend forever in everyway with Sir, the reality arrives to inform us we need to get back to it. Both stalling for a few more moments, I move over him, he keeps me on top as he massages up my spine, it's pretty clear this could go even further but we are already delayed. I move to get down from the bed but not without his lips chasing and planting on my body. Sorting ourselves out, dressed and ready to make moves, we are momentarily intimate one last time then off we go, as much as it is mutual, I'm sure it's his way of keeping me keen. Works like a charm.

I only dislike goodbyes because I know it results in not seeing him for another week but there is some truth in absence makes the heart grow fonder. We're always almost talking, mainly general conversation with some sass from me as Sir calls it, and some comedy from him too. Yes there is serious and educational talk, this is a given. Leaving it on a 'be good, if you can't be good, be safe' with a kiss, he often rolls his eyes at me in amusement. This time I cross the road, I clap for myself that I made it, he gives me the double thumbs up, got to laugh at personal jokes between us, shows we pay attention as well as knowing how to have a laugh together.

I seem to have a knack at giving him some form of laughable entertainment which has to be good thing surely. There is often much detail I do not write about, not because I don't want to, I just feel you have to be there to appreciate the sentiment of it all from the hellos and goodbyes, the conversations we have, what we talk about, the giggles, to the intimacy and physical activity as well as the moments of care and compassion with eachother. It's all there, kept safe within my heart, my soul and its all mine.

Until next time, I will keep having those little smiles across my face and beam filled sighs when I am reminded of him and the memories we share.

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dxrkvibez · 4 years ago

Note

hey can you do something where the reader is bobby’s girlfriend and they’re on a double date with tommy and susan

Requested: yes, @iwasfeeling-epic

Warnings: none

Word count: 1080

Of course! Here it is!

Y/N rolled her eyes as she looked at herself in the mirror. No matter what she did, she couldn’t seem to get her hair the way she wanted it to be. She was sitting on a bench in her room, her vanity mirror in front of her.

“Your hair looks fine, Y/N, Cmon.” Susan said, grabbing Y/N’s hand. Trying to convince her to leave. “We’ve been sitting here forever. Besides your beautiful enough as is, Bobby will think so, let’s just go.” The two girls had helped eachother get ready for their double date. Planning what outfits they should wear, what jewelry would best help bring out their eye color, etc.

Tommy and Bobby had invited their girlfriends out for a date together , to celebrate the fact that they all passed final tests. And they also just wanted an excuse to go out.

“It doesn’t though.” Y/N said. Running a brush through her hair again. She then decided to just let it fall down her shoulders, with a contempt look on her face.

“Finally.” Susan said over dramatically before waking out of Y/N’s bedroom. Y/N followed quickly behind her (well, as quickly as she could in the heels that she was wearing) and smiled when she saw Bobby standing in the doorway.

The two girls walked over, Y/N hugging Bobby and Susan hugging Tommy. “Wow. It’s like you haven’t seen me in the past four hours.” Bobby joked. The pair saw eachother all the time, but Y/N was just as excited every time she saw him. Whether it was the 1st, time the 10th time , or the 100th time.

The group of four then walked out together, Bobby had drove his car, so him and Y/N got in the front seat, while Tommy and Susan got in the back.

“So where are we going anyways?” Susan asked as she leaned into Tommy’s side, prompting him to wrap his arm around her.

Bobby cleared his throat, before answering. “We’re gonna go up to the mountain. Have a picnic. Look at the stars.” He said. “Oh by the way, we already got the food. We just ordered what we thought you would like.”

“Sounds good to me.” Y/N said, smiling as she reached across the car to hold her boyfriends hand. “Hey, your gonna make him get in a car accident. Would you like to get there alive? He’s already a bad enough driver.” Tommy teased, causing Susan to playfully smack his arm. “Oh whatever.” She said and smiled

Bobby laughed a little as he took Y/N’s hand. “See Tommy? We’re just fine.” He said, interlacing his and Y/N’s fingers together, she smiled, bringing their hands up to her face, so she could kiss his knuckles.

———————————————————-

It wasn’t too long before they reached their destination. Conversations about how school was going, how karate was going, jokes, and singing along to radio songs helped them pass the time.

Once they got there, Susan and Y/N got out of the car. Grabbing the blankets and stuff from the back, while Bobby and Tommy grabbed the food.

Y/N and Susan walked a bit to find a good place to set up. “Your totally gonna kiss him, right?” Susan said. Despite the fact that Y/N and Bobby had been dating for a couple weeks, they had never shared their first kiss, wanting it to be special. And not just something quick and easy like they had done with previous partners.

“I don’t know. I want too… but it’s just gotta be at the right moment.” She said, helping Susan set up the blanket on the ground. “Girl, you just need to do it. Me and Tommy kissed within the first 5 minutes of knowing eachother.”

Y/N laughed, hiding a blush that had crept onto her cheeks. “I know. But you guys were meant for eachother.” “And so were you guys.” Susan countered, before going back to the boys, to the show them where they had set up at.

Y/N smiled, waiting for them, and took a seat next to Bobby when he returned with the food. “Alright. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I just got something for us to share.” He said, grabbing the food out of the bag. He handed it to her before running a hand through his hair.

“Oh. That’s fine. This will be great.” She said, handing her boyfriend a fork so they could start eating. The four of them sat and ate and talked, enjoying just being together, until Y/N stood up, saying that she wanted to talk to Bobby.

Both Tommy and Susan looked at her, grinning, as they knew what she was planning on doing. She took his hand, leading him far enough away that she couldn’t hear Tommy and Susan talking to eachother.

“So, what did you want to tell me?” Bobby asked, taking both of Y/N’s hands and looking her into the eyes. “Nothing-.. I just-...” she was nervously rambling, but was forced to stop, when Bobby leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. It took Y/N a second to realize what was happened, figuring she would have needed to be the one to make the first move.

But after a second, she kissed him back. Her eyes fluttering shut, and her hand coming up to lightly cup his cheek. After a seconds, they pulled away from eachother. Both wearing smiles that could light up the room.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” Bobby asked. Y/N rolled her eyes, as she took his hand in hers again. “Pretty close, yeah.” She said, lightly bumping his shoulder with her own. They then walked back to their friends together, taking their seats from before on the blanket.

“So? How was your guys’ conversation?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Y/N said sarcastically as she reached over and flicked Tommy on the arm. “I think you know exactly how it went.” Y/N added.

“Yeah. We do.” Susan said, giving Y/N a suggestive smirk, causing her to roll her eyes. “Whatever.” Y/N said, as she leaned against her boyfriend, resting her head on his shoulder.

As the night went on, and the two couples stayed up talking, they eventually just fell asleep in eachothers arms. That wasn’t the original plan. But hey, things happen.

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dragonofthedepths · 3 years ago

Text

29/100 (29th of June 2021)

(29/100) Written/posted for the #100daysofwriting challenge by @the-wip-project

I spent several hours today filling out a survey on my fanfiction reading habits! This was not supposed to take several hours, but my inability to answer any free form question without writing multiple paragraphs dragged it out much longer than it was supposed to be! Considering that this was done around baking, having a friend over, and finishing a drawing that according to the timer on my art program took me a cumulative 22.5 hours to complete, I figured I would just copy and paste some of my more interesting answers here for today!

Here’s the link to the survey if you want to take it yourself, apparently it’s part of some kind of collage study:

https://robertgordonuniversity.onlinesurveys.ac.uk/fanfiction-questionnaire

Question:

What type(s) of library/libraries do you use? What activities or purposes do you use them for?

Answer:

The local library. I go there every now and then when I’m looking for an actual book to read, I usually have what I want already in mind, but might end up picking up something new from the same section if anything particularly catches my interest. Very occasionally I grab a few reference books, usually on things like religions that are harder to find a comprehensive reference for online beneath all the sensationalism and opinions.

I almost always spend at last a couple hours there, looking through my selection and reading a chapter or two. the only reason I’ll leave without sitting down and beginning at least one book is if I’m already late for something somewhere else.

Tldr: I use my local library, I do not go very often but I take my time when I do.

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Question (fanfiction.net):

If possible, please explain your typical process for finding fanfiction to read.

Answer:

Whenever I get interested in a new show I’ll latch on to a concept or particular character interaction eg. Villain!hero, ensemble finds out secret, character A needs a hug, character A adopted by character B, character C & character D friendship & hurt/comfort. Sometimes (especially if it’s a lesser known thing/has a small fandom) I’ll be as vague as favorite character, timetravel, wingfic, or soulmate AU. Whatever it is that I’ve latched onto, I’ll enter it into the search bar on whatever browser I’m using, and open whatever links look most appealing in a new tab, giving preference to stories from any website except Wattpad* over any king of collection, and links to Ao3 preference over links to anything else.

From there I work my way through everything that was offered, and as I do so I eventually come across new things that capture my interest, and —in general terms— follow them.

On ff.net I’ll follow the link back to the page for whatever franchise this is, then open the filter menu, select "all ratings" and begin using the filters to look for whatever character or pair of characters (seeing as looking for idea is not really possible on ff.net) interests me most in either the family, hurt/comfort, or angst genre depending on which has the most stories, unless one of them has stories in excess of 3 or 4 hundred, in which case I’ll pick whichever has the least stories. I’ll then go through the offerings, opening any story that look is interesting in a new tab. If I make it through all of that and somehow haven’t found something better to do on Ao3, then when I’m done I’ll go back to the genre filter and pick whichever had the middling number of stories, then after that the one on the opposite end of the spectrum from most to least. If at any point I’m offered more than 1,000 stories I’ll add additional filters until the results drop below 1,000, because I am not dealing with slogging through that much ff.net at once. If there is that much written for whatever I’m looking for, then either there’s some on Ao3 and I can leave, or I’m actually looking for something more specific and was just over-estimating how vague I’d need to be to get results at all. This is very methodical probably because I do not like this site and am putting up with it only to find what I’m currently looking for, I never get new ideas prompted to me or am enticed to wander off the beaten track. I don’t use ff.net very often, though still more often then I go to the library.

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Question:

Are there any search features or filters you wish fanfiction.net had for readers and searchers?

Answer:

Fanfiction.net is not a functional website, it’s a particularly shitty ghost town that is actively crumbling to pieces around its few remaining inhabitants. I it’s a hassle to read on and I only do so because I’m a fan of rare pairs, and have to take anything I can get, and because I’m a fan of a particular kind of low-brow overpowered-hero fanfiction that tends to be more common there then on Ao3 or Tumblr.

I wish it didn’t have adds in the middle of a page, every time I hit next chapter, ect.

I wish it didn’t have pointless captchas every time I start a new session.

I wish it had a visually pleasant format for presenting the stories for you to select from. Whether they’re search bar results, the results of a filter search, stories in a collection, or stories on an author’s page. It’s the same aggressively bad format and makes it hard to tell them apart from eachother and hard to pick which one(s) I want.

I wish stories could have longer summaries. They are so short that it forces everyone to sound same-y and rushed, and if an author want to include trigger warnings they have to be even shorter.

I wish there was a way to exclude/search/mark trigger warnings.

I wish you could select more than four characters in the filters, I wish authors could TAG more than four characters.

I wish there was a way to search/mark platonic relationships instead of only romantic.

I wish there was a way to search/mark a single character in multiple separate relationships eg. [A/B] and [A/C]

I wish there was a way to search for certain tropes or cliches without relying on pure hope that either the author used part of their limited summary space to mention it, or that someone else already made a collection for that trope and managed to find at least a few (they never have all) of the fics containing it.

I wish you could copy and paste the text without having to switch to the mobile version of the website. I don’t personally know why you can’t do this on desktop but I’ve heard other people say it’s because it’s actually generated as a pdf instead of genuine text.

I wish there was a way to open the whole story in one tab instead of being forced to go through it other by chapter.

I wish there was a way for authors to include author’s notes without it being part of the chapter.

I wish there was a way for authors to respond to comments without doing so in the author’s notes.

I wish the formatting wasn’t so aggressively bad as to be actively harming the quality of the story. I have found stories that were posted on both Ao3 and ff.net and read them on both websites, no differences in text, in punctuation, in anything at all, but on Ao3 it flowed much better, was much easier to read, and I’d have given a higher estimation of the author’s skill level if asked. All because it wasn’t actively being dragged down by ff.net’s formatting.

There are probably a fair few more things that I’m just not managing to think of at the moment, but considering there’s no way ff.net will ever be fixed and is in fact very likely to completely implode and die in the near future, I think this is good enough.

Sorry for the essays every time I’m allowed to write an answer but you’re asking loaded questions.

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Question (Ao3):

If possible, please explain your typical process for finding fanfiction to read.

Answer:

From there I work my way through everything that was offered, and as I do so I eventually come across new things that capture my interest, and —in general terms— follow them.

On Ao3 I’ll head back up to the top of a fic I really enjoyed and click on the tag for whatever little bit of it I enjoyed the most, and begin browsing again from there, refining with filters and following links and tags from new stories.

I will filter out reader inserts, original characters, y/n, or notps if I keep seeing too many of them in my results, but otherwise I’ll just scroll past them. Sometimes if I’ve been reading for a specific idea for a while I’ll sort by word count and begin going through it from least to most to see if there’s anything I’ve been missing because it’s not been updated recently. And sometimes if I feel like reading fanfiction but don’t have anything particular in mind I’ll just head to the Ao3 page for the main character (more reliable then a fandom tag, if a franchise exists in multiple forms of media they’ll usually each have their own tag the fanfiction will be scattered accordingly) of one of the bigger fandoms I’m in and start trawling the page for anything that looks interesting.

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Question:

Please use the box below to write any thoughts or opinions on this questionnaire or the subjects within it that you did not get the chance to share.

Answer:

On how I find fanfiction to read on websites that are not ff.net or Ao3, copy-pasted from the original all-encompassing answer I wrote before I realized you were looking for answers only about the website you’d just been talking about:

Wattpad (which I did not select when asked what websites I search for fanfiction on because I never willingly go looking there I just end up on it sometimes to my great frustration.):

Whatever idea it is that I’ve latched onto, I’ll enter it into the search bar on whatever browser I’m using, and open whatever links look most appealing in a new tab, giving preference to stories from any website except Wattpad* preference over tags or other collections, and links to Ao3 preference over links to anything else.

(*If links to Wattpad make it onto the first page of results, I’ll take whatever meager scrapings I was offer from other websites, then give up the search as a lost cause and pick a new idea as a I mourn the lack of the content I want to read. Only if I am already very attached to an idea and very desperate will I follow a link to wattpad. That website is the only one I have ever encountered worse then ff.net and it is an absolute unnavigable MESS.)

Tumblr:

If I’m on tumblr (mobile, I’ve never used tumblr on the computer but I don’t think it works the same) then once I find one thing to read that I like, I’ll begin tapping my way through the suggested posts on the bottom based on whatever looks the most interesting from what little I get to see of it. Sometimes I’ll end up on a specific blog or a specific tag, and I’ll just scroll through reading anything that looks even mildly cool regardless of whether it has anything to do with what I was originally searching for or not, until I click on a specific post for some reason (usually a “read more“), and then I’m back to navigating by suggested posts again. I tend to wander through fandoms and subfandoms a lot faster here, trading one interesting idea for the next as they’re presented to me. It’s a lot of fun and I sometimes discover completely new stuff! I’ll often end up following Authors I really like so that their stuff will end up in my feed, and this is really the only site on which I do that.

Just another couple comments on my general media consumption habits that I didn’t really see anywhere else to put:

Everything I stated about my fanfiction habits when getting into a new show applied if it’s a movie or book or game too, it’s just that 90% of the time it’s a show. My favorite movies are documentaries so I’m not sure what fanfiction for them would even look like, I prefer video essays and theories for games, and I just don’t read as many books as I used to. About half of the remaining 10% of the time is actually probably musicals.

It’s not unusual for me to have seen only three or so episodes of a show, but to have read insane amounts of fanfiction for it. I have difficulty sitting down to actually watch a show, and I usually only expend the effort for my absolute favorite series, so most of my interaction with most shows ends up being fanfiction. Getting into a new show because I came across some really good fanfiction for it is not uncommon either.

#100daysofwriting #how do I tag this #scribblings from the deep #I guess #fix tags later

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scruffyhappaboreherder · 5 years ago

Text

This is for @thereigning-lorelai, who supplied this prompt:

When your soul finds the soul it was waiting for When someone walks into your heart through an open door When your hand finds the hand it was meant to hold Don't let go

(from Demi Lovato's "Heart by Heart")

Content and other warnings

soulmate AU, with soulmarks caused by a virus

author knows very little about virology

among other issues the reasons for the creation of the virus were eugenicist and so there is some of that rhetoric

allusions to unethical medical experimentation

author quotes some canon dialogue and rewrites other parts

mention of characters from Rebel Rising

minor reliance on the novelization

~2k words.

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

Whatever I Do

At first, it seemed like a mild, ordinary skin condition.

The index case appeared on Coruscant. A few senators and some members of their staff reported an itching sensation, followed by a rash, usually appearing on the arms. Physicians and med-droids examined them, but the tests they ran were negative for all known pathogens.

After a few days, the rash healed. In most cases, there was nothing left to show that it had ever been there. In one out of a hundred cases, however, vividly contrasting marks remained even after the itching subsided. It was only when one of the doctors attached to the Senate noticed that two of her patients had identically-shaped marks that it attracted any particular attention outside the medical community.

The two patients, a senator and a diplomat from planets in the Mid Rim, were married within a year. Others found that they developed marks after months or years, and a few other such matches were made.

As the phenomenon spread to other communities on other worlds, some wondered if it was a manifestation of the Force. Others argued against it: the marks only appeared on the arms of human couples. Invariably, the couples comprised a male-assigned and a female-assigned member. While there were no Jedi left to consult, the lore of most sects held that the Force acted upon beings of all races.

Still, those who ended up with identical marks on their arms seemed to share a romantic compatibility. The marks were dubbed soulmarks, the couples who bore them were popularly referred to as soulmates, and the speculation about the cause of the phenomenon continued.

Almost no one noticed the disappearance of research scientist Galen Erso and his family shortly after the first soulmarks appeared. Those who did knew better than to speak of it.

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

As the child of a project member, Jyn Erso had been infected with the virus shortly after laboratory testing indicated that the latest version was stable and would behave as expected. This had been done without her parents' knowledge, but soon after she was infected, her parents had fled Coruscant. He wondered, as he had before, if they had absconded to keep their child out of the reach of the project, or because Galen Erso no longer wished to participate, and knew that resignation was not an option.

It didn't really matter, in the end. It had taken years, but Jyn Erso was available to the project again. They could question and study her. They had questioned and studied the young man they had captured with her, but it seemed that there was nothing special about him; for Jyn Erso, he was the sort of partner choice that the virus had been designed to prevent.

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

"What have you heard?" Cassian tried to keep his voice soothing.

"It's a virus." Tivik's steps sped up. "I have to leave."

"What kind of virus?"

"I don't know! A cargo pilot defected. He says it has to do with soulmarks. That it's a virus that makes them."

"Soulmarks?" What did soulmarks have to do with anything?

"The pilot said Galen Erso sent him. An old friend of Saw's."

The sound of stormtroopers' boots approached, then paused outside the alleyway he'd drawn Tivik into. "What's all this?"

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

Jyn slumped on the bench in her cell. The light was glaring, as it almost always was. She'd lost track of how many days it had been since Hadder had disappeared from the cell across from hers. Akshaya had been taken away weeks before that.

The door beeped as its reader granted someone access. She didn't bother looking up.

"Stand up."

"You can take my blood without that."

"I'm not here for blood. You need to come with me."

Jyn looked up. It was a man she hadn't seen before, wearing an ill-fitting orderly's outfit. "Fine." She stood and let him steer her out of the cell. When they were in the main hallway, she broke out of his hold easily and elbowed him in the face, and ran away, toward the emergency evacuation door.

She'd just flung open the door when something grabbed her by the throat and flung her to the ground.

"This is an extraction. Please do not resist."

She stared up at the droid, unable to speak.

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

The man looked at her like she was something he'd stepped in and needed to scrape from his boots. "Jyn Erso. Daughter of Galen Erso, known collaborator in Imperial biomedical research."

"Who are you?" Jyn asked warily.

"The Alliance to Restore the Republic," said the woman in white. "We hope that we can help eachother." Mon Mothma. That was Mon Mothma.

Jyn snorted. "Are you looking for some blood samples? There are more of you than there are of me. You'll get what you want eventually, one way or another."

The woman left her place at the table; Jyn watched her approach with narrowed eyes. She pushed up the sleeve of her gown, and Jyn saw a mark shaped like a rough quarter-circle with three spiky rays issuing from it. "The exposure of my connection to the Alliance wasn't the only reason I fled Coruscant." She put her sleeve back into place, and glanced away. No: toward the man who stepped from the shadows where she'd been looking.

"We want to make contact with your father," said the man from the shadows.

"This is Captain Cassian Andor, Alliance Intelligence," Mon Mothma explained.

"I haven't seen him in fifteen years. As far as I'm concerned, he might as well be dead."

"Better dead than an Imperial collaborator?" He paused. "When was the last time you had contact with Saw Gerrera?"

"Years ago."

"But he would remember you, speak with you. If you came as a friend."

"We don't have time to chase stray nerfs, girl, so if you won't cooperate, we'll put you in another cell." That was the disdainful man who'd spoken first.

"I don't know where to find Saw."

"We know where he is," said the captain. "We need someone who he'll talk to, and not shoot out of hand."

"You're all rebels, aren't you?"

"Saw has refused to work with the Alliance since it was formed. His extremism has rendered the Alliance illegitimate in the eyes of many. But we have no choice, now. He has crucial information about your father, and we need to find him." Mon Mothma looked at her gravely.

"What does my father have to do with anything?"

"There's an Imperial pilot in Jedha who was captured by Saw Gerrera. He claims the Empire is creating a virus that has something to do with the soulmarks. The pilot says he was sent by your father." The captain's sharp eyes watched her for reactions; she held herself still.

"We don't have a clear picture the Empire's motivations in creating the virus, but we know that it reduces freedom of choice in many areas. We can't allow it to spread throughout the galaxy, especially if they've developed a more effective version." Mon Mothma rubbed her arm.

"Captain Andor's mission is to confirm the pilot's story, and to trace your father, if possible." As if I care, you sneering creep.

"Our intelligence suggests that your father is the chief designer of this virus. We hope that you can persuade Saw to help us locate your father, and bring him before my colleagues in the Senate to testify."

"Why should I do it?"

Mon Mothma rubbed her arm again. "We'll make sure you go free."

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

Cassian shook his head as they took off. He had Kay for backup, but he was going into a war zone with a woman who was clearly traumatized by medical torture.

He would treat her like any other informant: try to put her at ease and make her feel like she could trust him. He brushed the thought of Tivik away.

He turned to look at her and saw that she was sleeping. Well, if she needed rest, it was best that she get it.

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

Once they were walking toward Jedha, he decided to start a conversation.

"I'm glad you can use a blaster," he allowed. "You're right that we're heading into a war zone."

She shrugged.

"Thank you for proving Kay-Too wrong and not using it against me."

"I wouldn't have gotten very far if I did. Your droid demonstrated that when your guy showed up to break me out."

"Kay has been good backup ever since I reprogrammed him. I hope he didn't hurt you."

"I've had worse."

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

Jyn shuddered involuntarily as the hologram of her father appeared. She was frozen, immobile, as he talked about loving her and missing her.

"There is a countervirus," he was saying. "And a vaccine. Krennic's superiors insisted that I make one, just in case the virus was transmitted to someone who they thought was unworthy, or to someone who could insist on their freedom of choice. The records exist, in the Citadel Tower on Scarif."

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

"We can stop this," Jyn Erso insisted. "They call it the Choice Virus. But they have no idea that my father is telling the Alliance how to stop it. You're wrong about him."

"He did create the virus."

"He knew they'd do it without him. He made a choice. He sent Bodhi with the information that there's a vaccine and a countervirus."

"Give me the message."

"It was a hologram," she said desperately.

"You don't have it."

"You don't believe me." Her voice was flat.

"I'm not the one who decides." He's going to have to follow orders and kill her father.

"You said there was a countervirus," Baze Malbus observed.

"A countervirus and a vaccine. The records are on Scarif. You need to send word to the Alliance."

"I have."

"They have to know there's a way to stop the virus. They have to go to Scarif."

"I can't send that. We're in the heart of Imperial territory."

"Then we'll find my father. And bring him back, and he can tell them himself."

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

Jyn clambered up on the platform and ran to the motionless man. "Papa. Papa, it's me. It's Jyn."

"Stardust."

"I've seen your message. The hologram, I've seen it."

"The virus must be stopped. For you ... for everyone."

"I know. I know. We will."

"Jyn. Stardust. I have so much to tell you." He reached up, and his hand touched her cheek weakly, and then fell away.

"Papa? Papa. No!" She shook him, but he remained still and mute.

A hand gripped her shoulder. "Jyn. Come on. We've got to go." It was Andor.

"I can't leave him."

"Listen to me. He's gone. There's nothing you can do. Come on." He pulled her to her feet, and she stumbled away from her father's body, following the rebel even though she didn't know where he was leading.

My father is dead. My father is dead. The volume of the thought gradually decreased, and her mind ground into motion, and she turned on Andor.

He tried to tell her that he'd been fighting and following orders since she was a child, as if she hadn't done the same thing and learned exactly what happened when you did.

Suddenly the Rebellion is real for you.

But was it?

It had always been real. It had been a long time since it mattered.

She took a deep breath, and prepared to address the Council.

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

"They prefer to surrender," she told Baze and Chirrut. A remark that "The Empire has the means of biological warfare; the Rebellion does not" and Mon Mothma's hollow apology still echoed in her mind.

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She and Cassian exchanged glances as they went up the ramp to the stolen shuttle. We're going to die doing this. But we're going to do it.

Some of them do die. But she and Cassian make it out. They have the process for the countervirus, and the vaccine, and the virus itself.

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

Cassian sat next to Jyn in the makeshift isolation room. They'd both been cleared to leave their individual cells once Too-Onebee and Harter Kalonia determined that he and Jyn had been unharmed by the vaccine and the treatment respectively, but it was fascinating to watch the little trickle of Council members stream in to receive their injections, starting with Mon Mothma. The Alliance is synthesizing and stockpiling the vaccine and the treatment, in case of future need.

"Imagine if all the people who think that soulmates are romantic could see this."

Her hand closed around his. "Oh, I think romance is still out there in the galaxy." She brushed his shoulder with hers, closing the distance between them, and he leaned against her. "And soulmates, too."

#rebelcaptainsecretsanta #thereigning lorelai #my posts #fan events #rebelcaptain #i don't know if i exactly adhered to your prompt but i hope you like it #scheduled

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corruptedxbartemius · 5 years ago

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Roots; Family Tree Prompt Barty Crouch Jr; Maternal Tree + Barty sr [[ Bio ]]

From left to right; Albert Yaxley; Maternal Grandfather, [[Deceased]] Margaret Yaxley Maternal Grandmother Nee; MacMillian [[Alive]], Victoria Crouch; Mother, Nee; Yaxley [[Alive]], Bartemius Crouch Sr; Father [[Alive]]

In my mind, Barty’s mother was always closer to the darker side of the war, even before she gave birth to Barty. Her father Albert, in his day was a well respected and somewhat feared wizard. The circumstances surrounding his death have always been somewhat of a mystery. Had he been around now, he would without question bare the mark, and proudly at that. He died when Victoria was only nine years old, and Margaret never remarried. The couple had been betrothed to one and other, and in her mind, she must honour that until the day they meet eachother again.

Victoria and Barty Crouch Sr were not betrothed, however to say they loved one and other is somewhat of a stretch. For her, it was getting a taste of the other side of the war, and deciding too late that she didn’t care for it, and for him it was a sense of freedom to start his own family. What he wanted above all else was a son, which he got, perhaps not quite the one he wanted though. It struck Victoria that her son was certainly similar to her in mannerisms even from a young age. If one were to pry even slightly into Barty’s bloodline on his mothers side, it would become clear very quickly exactly where his dark streak originated. Victoria has always seen so much of her father in Barty, which is one of the many reasons she loves him so. She knows how dark Barty is, and she always knew, but it only made her love him more. (She sometimes attends Inner circle meetings, which Barty Crouch Sr knows nothing about, though its the only reason he survives the first war. Victoria hasn’t loved him for a long time, she just knows Barty Sr dying would raise too much suspicion in the direction of her son.)

In terms of Barty Crouch Sr, he was not so accepting. He too knew where his son had gained his darkness from and hated his son for it. Behind Victoria’s back, he placed Barty under imperio for much of his childhood, hoping that if he could control him, it would keep him from trouble. And as far as he was concerned it worked. Barty left Hogwarts with exceptionally good grades and now holds a position within the ministry itself. Though, as far as their family goes, Barty Crouch Sr is the only one who doesnt see the real reason his son is working there, and it certainly isn’t to follow in his footsteps. Barty Sr did once use Crucio on Barty in the Crouch manor, when Barty was around 10 years old, a punishment for stealing, which Victoria walked in on, and from that day she has vowed she will always put her son before any and all things, even herself and her marriage. That event is something that has never been discussed since, though it was the event that pushed Barty Jr over the edge and closer to what he will become.

[[ Albert Yaxley - Marlon Brando

Margaret Yaxley - Shirley MacLaine

Victoria Crouch - Miranda Otto

Barty Crouch Sr - Greg Wise

Barty Crouch Jr - Max Irons ]]

#morsmordre: prompts #family tree #[[I Was Not Born From Love So I love To Hate]]

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loridrabbles · 5 years ago

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Imprisoned | Dogma x Reader (Part 2)

Morning broke, as indicated by the light just inside the cell which turned blue during the day. There was no way of knowing exactly what time it was until imates were let out for meals or a shower. (Y/n) sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes, noticing that the cell was empty and the barrier open.

This prison was different than others she's seen. It was made for people who should have lived honorable lives. Clones, admirals, politicians, Republic nobles, and other people of the sort. It was run differently, more efficiently. It was cleaned daily, cells had enclosed refreshers and padding on the beds, there were fewer guards than other prisons due to the nature of people held inside. Occasionally, however, some other scoundrel would wind up in here for a period of time if a more suitable prison was too full for another inmate, but those criminals never lasted more than a couple weeks. Imates were allowed to wander the prison, either in the mess hall where they could eat or hang out and talk with others or the yard where they could work out, go for a walk, or get some fresh air.

She'd never say she cared about him, but her first order of business was finding Dogma. Talking to others was uncomfortable. Some were hostile or just didn't give a shit, so she couldn't ask just anyone if they had seen him. Of course most of them would just give the smart ass answer of "a clone? Yeah they're everywhere. Every guard in here" then laugh with his friends.

After intensely searching the mess and the yard and finding no sign of Dogma, (y/n) decided to return to the cell, in case she missed him when he headed back. As she navigated the halls, she heard grunting and sounds of punches being thrown echoing down the corridor. As nosy as she is, she had to check it out.

"Dogma!" She said, seeing two clone guards pinning him to the wall, one throwing punches and the other holding an electric stun rod.

"This doesn't concern you." The one holding the rod said.

"Stop it what are you doing?" She ignored him. Dogma looked worse for wear. Bruises on his cheek and collar bone, blood dripping from his nose, a burn on his neck from the stun rod, and a sizable gash in his forehead.

"Bring her back go the cell. I'll get back up and finish with this one." The other said, pausing between punches.

"Stop it! Let me go!" (Y/n) screamed as the guard took her into his arms, holding her tightly. She struggled to get away from him. He threw her to the ground and gave her a taste of electricity through her side before yanking her back to her feet by her arm and dragging her away. In no time, she found herself on the floor of her cell, still aching from the electric shock.

Shortly after, Dogma was dragged to the cell, limp, held up by two guards on either side of him. They shoved him inside and he stumbled before landing on his knees. He stayed there as (y/n) watched from the bench. When the guards left, he got up with a sigh and slouched on the bench, turning his body to face away from her. She cautiously approached him.

"What happened?" She asked quietly.

"Nothing." He said bluntly.

"Nothing? Dogma, what happened?"

"I-" He sighed, ignoring the blood dripping from his nose. "I would have done the same thing. Regardless of right or wrong I would follow orders, follow the manual."

"I- what? I don't understand." (Y/n) said.

"The guards overheard me talking to some inmates about what happened. I was telling them about how Krell was a traitor to the republic. I guess they don't want that information getting around. Some sort of en elaborate coverup to hide any weaknesses from the separatists. Political propaganda is their newest Avenue to winning the war."

"Oh." The two of you were silent for a minute.

"Was I really like that?" He turned to face her. "Was I really that foolish. I'm exactly the type of clone Krell thought we all should be. Blind. Indoctrinated. Mindless." He said, pathetically. She didn't exactly know how to answer, but she had to say something.

"I mean... You followed orders and protocol to a t, but it's not because you were built to be like that. It's just your personality. It makes you the opposite of what Krell thinks you are. You obey because you think it's your duty and honorable and you think it's right. Its something you choose."

"I would always choose the wrong thing. I finally did was was right, the others told me it was the right thing to do, but I ended up here." He said. (Y/n) didn't know how to answer, so she stood and went to the refresher to grab some towels, one wet with water.

"Here." She handed him one to clean the blood from his nose and used the wet towel to blot the gash on his head. He flinched and pulled away.

"Don't do that!" He said, sucking air through his teeth.

"Stop. Let me clean it." She said holding his jaw with her other hand. Painfully, she patted away the drying blood around the wound.

"It doesn't look horrible, but there's a lot of blood. Hopefully it will scab up by tomorrow." She said giving him a dry towel, prompting him to hold it against the still bleeding laceration.

"Thanks." He said dryly.

"It's only around noon. Did you eat?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't you take a cold shower to help with those bruises."

"Its not the bruises that hurt very bad. It's this damm burn on my neck. Its killing me." He said, tilting his neck so she could better see the mark.

"Well, here's a cool cloth. I'll see if I can snag some ice water from the cafeteria."

She cleaned up the bloody rags they had been working with before. She cracked the faucet and rinsed her hands, rubbing her fingertips along the creases of her nails, freeing up the blood that had dried there. When it was gone, she fixed her hair after her squabble with the guard who dragged her back to the cell. By the time she left the refresher, the timer at the door had ticked down, opening the cell up again. She left to get herself something to eat, and hopefully a cup of ice water. Dogma watched her go, cracking a small smile as she dissapeared

She made her way to the cafeteria and spotted a familiar face. Well, the face of a clone, but someone she knew.

"Slick." She said, approaching him. He looked at her, a little puzzled, wondering what pm earth she could have done to be in the same position he was.

"(Y/n). What are you doing here?"

"Uhg. It's s a long story." She said. "But, now I'm beginning to understand why you took up that offer from Ventress."

"Oh?" He asked cocking his eyebrow. "Walk with me." He said, walking away from her. She caught up to him and they walked side by side. "Where are you heading."

"The cafeteria." She answered.

"Then we'll take the long way. So, what happened?"

"Well, we were fighting for the planet of Umbara when General Skywalker was ordered back to Coruscant by the chancellor. General Krell took his place."

"Uhg. I've heard of him. Bad numbers."

"Yeah well they got even worse. You should have heard the way he talked about clones and saw how he treated you guys. It was horrible. I didn't know in this day and age that someone could be so prejudice." She said, frustrated. "He tried to have Fives and Jesse executed for following orders given to them by Rex that he didn't approve of. Insteadje wanted a full forward assault that would've cost hundreds of lives."

"Jeez."

"That's not even the worst of it. He was also in charge of the 212th. He told both battalions that the enemy was stealing armor and disguising themselves as the other battalion and ordered them to fire on eachother. It was all a lie. They never disguised themselves."

"He made them kill eachother?" He asked angrily.

"Yeah. Rex arrested him and was going to execute him. Before he could, Dogma took Fives' pistol and did it himself. During his trial, I defended him, so that's why I'm here."

"Oh Dogma's here too. Where is he?"

"The cell. Guards beat the shit out of him for telling others what I just told you. I guess the Republic is covering up any weakness within it since the new tactic to winning the war is going political. The two of us are trying to tell many as we can so the truth gets back to a senator with a head on their shoulders."

"Hmm." He hummed as they approached the cafeteria. "I'll keep it on the down low, but I could help spread the word too."

"That'd help a lot. Thanks."

"Now, get away from me before the guards see us."

Some time later she returned, a paper cup filled with ice in hand. She got a clean cloth and folded it up, then filled it with ice to fashion a makeshift cold compress.

"Here. Try that." She said handing it to her cellmate.

"Thanks." He took it and pressed it against his neck, breathing a sigh of relief as the itchy, burning pain dissipated.

"Hey, so I was thinking."

"Oh no." He interrupted.

"What?" She asked laughing a little.

"Oh I just remember every time you used to say that, you would come up with a bad plan. Granted, most of them were successful, but bad plans nonetheless."

"Hey! Ok...well this might be a bad plan, but if word got around that guards were beating inmates for telling the truth about this situation, how do you think it would be recieved? A lot of people in here are only in for a short period of time."

"What do you mean?

"The guards here are clones, right? They can't all disagree with the truth. It has to make them angry that you're in here."

"And?"

"And, when word gets around that they're being ordered to beat one of their own..."

"They'd be enraged." Dogma said, finally understanding where she was going.

"Exactly."

"But where would that get us?'

"I don't know. Maybe they'd rally to free you? I mean you have the opportunity for parole."

"Do you think we should really do this?"

"Uh yeah." (Y/n) answered excitedly.

"It's bad plan." He said, matching her energy."

"If it's anything like my other bad plans theres a 90% chance it'll work." They shared a laugh. When there laughed died down, (y/n) looked down, playing with the hem of her pinafore again. She looked up and met Dogma's gaze. They locked eyes for a minute and she swore she saw him smile. But not a normal smile, like a longing smile.

"Umm. Im... I'm gonna go grab a shower." She said awkwardly, continuing to fidget as she stood up. "I'll be back around lights out."

"Ok." He said softly, a tone of voice she didn't know he had.

The water poured down her back and shoulders as (y/n) closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the wall of the shower. His longing gaze and smile confused her to no extent. It's all she could think about. She hoped he was just feeling that way because of how she took care of his injuries. Once they're healed, it'll be over with. She hoped.

#dogma #the clone wars #clone trooper x reader #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper dogma x reader #clone trooper slick #the clone wars imagine #the clone wars fanfiction #swtcw #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars #imprisoned part 2

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