#The second I was done my brain went into hyperdrive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darry-rules · 5 months

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7:06

What is the most frightening thing you can think of? There is actually a unanimously correct response. By going into the darkest and most horrific part of the brain could one finally understand what one certain fear causes the body to go into hyperdrive and activate the “fight or flight” response. Any living being is ultimately condemned to choose fear or curiosity at this one, simple piece of knowledge: the unknown. This is why people are afraid of the dark, of monsters, of heights. The thrill is unknown to them. Their body isn’t prepared to explain what lies ahead.

The logs you are about to see have recently been re-released to the public for a few weeks in hopes of finding new leads. It has yet to be explained what exactly happened to Daniel Smith. The following videos should be viewed with caution. They contain graphic and violent material.

V-Log #1. January 13th, 2014. 6:45 PM

“Hello, my name is Daniel Smith. I’ve decided to start making a video journal of my life and upload it here to YouTube. I’ve started to wonder what would happen after I’m gone; would anyone miss me? The real me. My friends and I never really kept in touch after my freshman year of college. Zach is the only one I really keep in contact with nowadays. After the incident, I haven’t really told anyone what really happened to me; not even him.

Possibly by getting this story off my chest, after holding it in for three years, would help with the night terrors that keep happening. I have literally tried everything, so I’ll do my best to explain.”

“Daniel! It’s time for dinner!”

“Shit! Gotta cut this one short.”

Daniel leaves the screen, forgetting to turn off the webcam, leaving it in total darkness. Seconds later, his face immediately pops back on screen.

“Fuck. How do you even cut off the recording? Is it this one? No- oh, here we-”

There is a screen tear and the screen goes black. The voice heard calling Daniel is his mother.

V-Log #2. January 15th, 2014. 8:37 PM

“Alright, so I intended to finish my last V-log yesterday, but things came up. Anyways, let me try and explain how this all started.

I graduated high school in May of 2010 with a full ride to East Carolina University pursuing Computer Science. Over half of my classes were online because I just felt it easier to learn that way. I ended up acing them all and then decided to learn how to code. See, all of my friends were into playing games as much as I was. So we all decided that we wanted to make it a career. All four of us dreamed about making a huge advancement in the gaming field, and boy did we.

I was the brains of the operation. I had taken every coding class possible and even taught myself basic graphic design and video editing in my spare time. My main focus was on virtual reality. It has been pursued many times in the past, but no real breakthroughs had occurred. The Oculus Rift was still in development so we had to make our own version. Zach was the tech genius. He could take anything and make something useful out of it. Him and Joey made this ungodly mechanism that went over your eyes, but it got the job done.

So, now it was my turn to figure out what game we would create. Horror games were my personal favourite. I loved getting scared and being in control, unlike horror movies. Regardless, I had to find out what scared people, so we all decided to do a survey on campus. We found the majority were afraid of heights, the darkness, or ghosts. Clowns, roller coasters, and other things were part of the lesser majority, but one thing stood out to me. Only about two people came up with the answer that spawned the idea of my game. The unknown. After some hard thinking, I realised that “the unknown” really frightened everyone. All the answers I got fell under that category. They don’t know what lurks in the darkness, what a ghost is capable of doing to them, or even how to react during a roller coaster. When you aren’t in control, you are scared. Knowing that something else can break through the barriers of your mind and take control of your feelings is the most disturbing thought you can have.”

Daniel stares blankly at the screen for about forty seconds without moving. The video appears to be paused until we notice his chest moving as he breathes. He eventually blinks his eyes and looks away before he speaks again.

“I’ll tell more later. I’m feeling kind of tired right now.”

The audio becomes distorted when Daniel says this. It seems to play over itself twice with the second voice being a few octaves lower than his normal voice.

V-Log #3. January 18th, 2014. 9:48 PM

“Well, I’ve been sick the past few days so I haven’t really felt like doing this, but I have to finish my story.

As I said before, ‘the unknown’ was the main motive for the development of my game. I decided to make the prototype as a maze for the player to walk through. I had a creature chase after the player throughout the maze to add to the fear factor. Sounds would distort throughout to give the player a sense of excitement. The farther you got in the maze, the more the sounds would disturb you. I took the idea from the popular game, Slender, where you find pages in a dark forest. The more pages you find, the more noises would play adding to the creepy ambiance. Anything from a distant scream of a girl to the sound of your own heartbeat would be heard through the player’s headphones.

Well, after long hours of coding and researching, the prototype was ready. David was the first to test it.

Daniel looks down for a few seconds and then looks back up before speaking again.

You know, our minds are made to know everything we sense no matter what it takes. But, when the mind has used up all resources to explain certain pieces of information, all hell breaks loose. The body produces adrenaline causing you to run faster, farther, sweat, and breathe heavier. Our minds use all the energy that is supposed to explain the piece of information and injects it into all our muscles to get away, or face the abomination.

I wanted to find that abomination.

The video seems to slow down and the screen flickers back to different pieces of the clip. It shows Daniel saying the words, “fear,” “disturb,” “unknown,” and “scream” before the video finally cuts to black.

V-Log #4. January 19th, 2014 7:00 AM

This log shows an empty room. Daniel is nowhere to be seen in the footage for the first few minutes. At about 7:06 AM the door to the room opens and the outline of a figure is standing facing the webcam. The figure stands, unmoving, for two full hours before the door slams shut by an unknown force. The screen then goes black.

V-Log #5. January 19th, 2014 3:15 PM

“So I reviewed the footage from last night and I’m not really sure what happened. I think my computer overheated causing the recording software to fuck up.

Anyways, the tests went pretty normal for a while. All four of us tried it out and loved it. David couldn’t get enough of it. He was the first to suggest we get more people around campus to try it out and give us suggestions on how to improve it. We all agreed. After having dozens of kids try it out, I got to work on the suggestions. Everything from the sounds, to the monster, to the maze was all changed. The main concern was that people could memorise the layout of the maze after a few play-throughs. One boy suggested we play this game called Amnesia – The Dark Descent to help come up with a more fear-inducing gameplay. I found the game and loved the impact. It’s a first-person survival horror game where you have to navigate through a haunted castle avoiding monsters and solving puzzles. The hook of this game is when you are in darkness too long, your character starts to hallucinate.

Before using their idea, I decided to contact the developers before making my own knock-off. After explaining that I was in college, what my major was, and the project we had going, they approved. They actually wanted to send me a few of their discs and drives that had in-depth information on the game and how it was created. They just wanted most of the credit when and if it hit big.

I skipped my classes on a Friday to get an early weekend start on the game and got pretty far into it. I swapped the maze idea for an abandoned insane asylum. Also, I took out the single monster idea and had multiple deranged beings come after you or pop up in windows. I decided to take out some of the audio and make it almost completely silent. I would still put in the distant scream and the heart beat, but no other unknown background filler. Doors would creak, your footsteps, and when you were attacked, the beings screamed and clawed at you; These were the main audio pieces that were promoting the realistic feel to the game.

Again, Daniel pauses and looks down. He continues to look down as he speaks again.

Sometimes we forget the reason we feel fear. It’s just there for one simple reason: to save us from the unknown.

Daniel quickly looks back up to the screen.

I’ll get more into it tomorrow because I have to go into work.”

The screen goes black after Daniel closes his laptop.

V-Log #6. January 19th, 2014 7:00 PM

The camera shows a dark room again. Daniel is still nowhere to be seen. Although, it is unknown how the laptop was reopened. The door to the room is shut and there is no noise. At 7:06 PM, the door to the room slowly opens and the dark figure from before stands unmoving for three full minutes before entering the room. There is no movement of the figure suggesting that it is walking; it seems to glide across the floor and out of view of the camera.

It isn’t until 9:06 PM that the door shuts by an unknown force and the laptop closes, shutting off the webcam.

V-Log #7. January 20th, 2014 6:05 AM

Daniel’s eyes are bloodshot and tired-looking. He rubs them and yawns before speaking.

“Well, I couldn’t sleep for shit last night after work. I kept getting woken up by nightmares and I can’t even remember what they were about. Anyways, I guess I’ll just get today’s log out of the way.

By the time I finished up most of the new gameplay, we were all on Christmas break. I really needed the guys to help test out my new version, but everyone was busy or had plans. Well, what else would you do in this situation? I tried it myself.”

This is another point at which Daniel stares at the screen, except he wasn’t just staring blankly, he seemed to be looking at something on his screen.

“What the-”

A horrified look appears on Daniel’s face as he backs away from the screen and runs out of the room.

Twenty minutes pass before Daniel walks back into the room and sits down at the chair. His face is looking downward until he sits down. As he looks up at the screen, a screen tear happens for a split second. If you pause the video at the second Daniel looks up, his eyes are completely sunken in and black. When the video cuts back to normal, Daniel continues on with his story as if nothing happened.

“When I put the headgear and headphones on, it felt almost too real. I walked toward the asylum and looked up at it. It was raining and there were flashes of lightning every few seconds. I walked inside and found that everything was completely silent. I had the heart monitor strapped to my chest so my heartbeat was the only sound in my headphones.

As I walked through the asylum, I noticed a few unbelievable changes. The rooms and hallways were in unnaturally smooth detail. I continued through the asylum, found the flashlight, keys to rooms, and the hidden objects I had placed throughout the game as a point system. The weirdest part was, the monsters hadn’t appeared. I heard the screams, my footsteps, the general noises; nothing else. That was, until I got to the basement.

See, I made a series of tunnels and rooms in the basement that was sort of identical to the main floor. It was darker and I made the footsteps sound different, but there were other sounds as well. I would hear an extremely light scratching sound on the concrete walls if I would stand still. Sometimes, I would hear low whispering right in my ear and maniacal laughter far in the distance. This disturbed me. I made every fibre of this game and had no recollection of putting those in there.

When I found most of the objects I came to one final room. I also had no memory of making this either. It contained a tall wooden door with a giant lock on it, but no windows or even a handle. After constant searching, I found a black key that I had never seen before. I was still baffled at all of this, but I wanted to see this to the end. With no explanation of the key, I returned to the door and tried it. After a long wait in complete silence, I figured the game had crashed on me. Right before I removed the headgear, I heard a creaking sound. As I looked through the headgear once more, I found that the door was wide open.

In the game I made it so the flashlight would have a dwindling energy supply. One of the things you have to find are batteries scattered throughout the asylum. You can also find matches to help give you a short supply of light until you can hopefully find some spare batteries. Well, I was fucking out of batteries, and I had three matches left.

Daniel’s face turns horrified

But- but when I s-struck the match, it just blew out as soon as they looked up at me. Oh God, the eyes. They were everywhere…dozens of..eyes.

As soon as the video hits 7:06 AM, Daniel abruptly quiets and then starts sobbing and looks off screen to the right.

“I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t know I would let it out! He made-”

The video turns black and ends

V-Log #8. January 23rd, 2014 11:02PM

Daniel is seen standing in the middle of the room with his back turned to the screen. He is completely nude except for a bag covering his head. His arms are outstretched and he has three gashes on his back. A deep whispering sound is the only thing you hear from the video. Daniel stays silent standing in this position until 11:59 PM. The video ends at 12:00 AM the next morning.

Upon further investigation of this clip, the audio was increased intensely. The deep voice seems to repeat the phrase, “He comes”, throughout the video.

V-Log #9. February 6th, 2014 3:13 PM

Zach is the one in this log. He is silent for about thirty seconds.

“So, I heard that Daniel was making these video logs and I just wanted to come and finalise them for him by telling everyone what happened.

Daniel was found lying in his room here a couple weeks ago. He was naked, and cut up pretty bad. They took him to the hospital and found that the wounds were self inflicted and that he had tried to kill himself. I haven’t gone through these videos yet, but I know something has to be in here. I just wanted people to know that Daniel is in critical care.”

Zach pauses for a few seconds as he starts to tear up

“They say that, the wounds…they were so deep and the blood loss was so drastic, that he won’t survive. His body is rejecting all medication, and he isn’t supposed to make it through the night.”

Zach sobs for a few minutes before continuing

“Really, the hardest part about dealing with this, is that David passed away as well. About five months ago he dropped dead from a sudden brain aneurism. We tried to contact Daniel, but we couldn’t get in touch with him.

I’m gonna find out what happened to you Daniel. I swear it.”

He shuts off the camera

V-Log #10. February 7th, 2014 6:22 PM

Zach seems to be in a panic and rushing as he speaks

“Alright, so I watched all of his logs and something is fucked up. He never acted this way until he got into that game. I’ve tried to contact Joey but he won’t return my calls. The reason I’m here now is because Daniel was like a brother to me, and I’m not about to move on without knowing the truth. Something happened when he played that game and I have to find out. I don’t know what he saw or what he found, but I feel like it’s connected to his death. I need to find it and that headset.”

Zach gets up and rushes around the room. After eleven minutes, he finds the headset in the top of a closet and the game in a locked drawer. He seems to forget that the webcam is still on as we assume he starts up the game. He puts on the headset and headphones and immediately starts to scream. The webcam audio is muted, but Zach seems to be terrified and rips off the headset. As soon as he takes it off, the lights go out and the video cuts off.

V-Log #11. February 7th, 2014 7:05 PM

The room is barely visible through the darkness and Zach isn’t in sight. At 7:06 PM, the door to the room slowly opens revealing the silhouette of a young man in what seems to be a hospital gown. After about thirty seconds, the figure slowly walks over toward the bed as the room becomes flooded with light.

Daniel is now visible and he stands motionless facing the bed. As he leans over, bloodstains become visible on the back of his gown and grow larger as the minutes pass. On the bed, mangled to a point of almost no recognition, is Zach’s body. The blue and white shirt is the only indication of him. Daniel starts laughing maniacally. His body starts to contort unnaturally; his bones start breaking; he leans back and walks on his hands and feet toward the screen. His eyes are pitch black and his mouth in a devilish grin. He laughs for a few seconds before the deep voice erupts from his mouth and says only two words,

“He’s here.”

These videos have been investigated to the bone with no real explanation to what exactly happened. The only facts that have been recovered from the crime scene are:

Daniel apparently used coding and files from the information sent to him by the creators of Amnesia – The Dark Descent within the game he created.

Daniel’s mother has been put in a mental hospital after a sudden attempt of suicide regarding her son’s passing.

Zach’s body had multiple gashes similar to the ones seen on Daniel’s back

Daniel’s whereabouts are still unknown.

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my-tin-can-mans · 3 years

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Gone Too Far, Crosshair x Reader

Soooo I'm thinking about writing another part to this let me know what you think, this idea had been festering in my brain for awhile now and I finally had the patience to sit down and write it. Also I got an idea to a Rex x reader one shot so be prepared for that soon if I get the motive.

Pairings: Crosshair x Reader

Warnings: None? Kinda Angst? I'm not sure.

It was late, incredibly late. And as the pilot of the Havoc Marauder, you had to be up early to take the ship out of hyperspace and land it. That meant you needed sleep, enough to at least fly a ship, but that was sounding impossible at this hour.

Wrecker and Crosshair were still up, bouncing a ball on a wall back and forth. You knew this because on the other side of the wall happened to be your room. Granted you shared it with Echo, but this noise didn’t seem to be a bother for him as you could hear his soft snores from the bunk beneath you. Unfortunately, as the two newest members to the bad batch, you both got to share the room closest to everything. Which meant when someone was up and moving around in the hull, you two were the first to know.

You huffed, raking your hand down your face, and throwing your GAR issued blanket off yourself. You climbed down the ladder trying to make as little noise as possible as to not wake Echo, but you were sure nothing would if he couldn’t hear the loud bounce against the wall ever thirty seconds. You quietly opened the door and walked into the hull. Wrecker was laying with his back against the floor and his feet propped up on the seat in front of him while Crosshair was sitting up in the seat beside his feet, infamous toothpick wedged between his lips and ball in hand.

The look on your face was not a nice one, and the two men knew that. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” Crosshair spoke as he went to bounce the ball again against the wall in front of him.

But as it started to bounce back you swiftly came in and grabbed it. “Hey” wrecker whined, “we were having fun.”

“Well too bad” you grumbled, “I've got to land this ship in less than four hours and if I don’t get any sleep, we’ll all be crash landing.”

“What does our ball having anything to do with your sleep?” Crosshair spoke up with a rather knowing look on his face.

“Considering the fact that it's bouncing up against the room I sleep in, a lot.” You cocked you hip and put your hand on it, threating him to fight back.

But it was crosshair you were talking to, of course he was going to argue. “it's just a ball princess, ignore it. You’ll find you sleep a lot better that way.”

“Damnit Crosshair can’t you for once think about anyone other than yourself?” you raised your voice, officially becoming a little more than frustrated.

“I still don’t see how you ever made it as a slave once, all you ever do is whine.” This hit hard. It wasn’t the usual back and forth banter between you two. It was way more personal than that. You’d grown up a slave and had eventually escaped with the help of the republic, specifically Senator Amidala. You two had grown close and you felt you had a debt to pay off the republic for saving you, but it wasn’t in the same sense as before, you were gracious for this, and she took you under her wing gave you a job in the GAR and you had a place to sleep and eat and free will. You were a great pilot; you’d like to think. You spent much of your time and a slave being forced to run spice. You knew how to get out of tricky situations. So, when commander Cody had seen you in action one day, he knew just the new position for you, pilot of clone force 99 because, with all due respect, Tech was great at many things, but your specialty was flying. And they needed a good flyer with all the close calls they had.

You hadn’t thought about that part of your past in a while. You were leading a good life now and had been trying to forget. As you stood there stunned by Crosshair’s words you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t want him or Wrecker to see you cry, you weren’t that close with the bad batch to let down your guard that much, so dropped the ball that was still in your hand, and you swiftly turned to retreat to your room.

You managed to keep the tears in long enough to climb back on the top bunk above Echo and get situated. The ball had stopped bother you and it was dead silent for once, but you were never getting sleep now.

_____________________________________________________________

Your alarm went off, but it was useless. You hadn’t slept at all. You heard Echo starting to stir as well. You let out a sigh. Throwing the blanket off yourself again and climbing down the ladder. Echo was sitting up of the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his face. “Morning” he whispered.

“Morning,” you said back just as quietly, “Echo I need to change real quick do you mind?” you and Echo had gotten pretty close, but you still felt a little uncomfortable changing in front of him. It was the one thing that sucked about having to share a room, but he was always a gentleman about it, always giving you the privacy you needed.

“Of course not,” he responded laying back down and covering his face with his arm.

You switched from the old, battered shirt and shorts you owned to your flight suit uniform. “Okay,” was all you had to say to let Echo know you were decent. He lifted his head up and began placing his own amour over his blacks while you fastened you harness and put your blaster and a couple of other necessities back into their rightful place. The whole while Crosshair’s words from just a few hours ago played on repeat in your mind damping your mood for the day before it had even begun.

You were tired. You hadn’t gotten a drop of sleep last night and now needed to prepare the ship to drop out of hyperspace and land it. Although it wasn’t a hard task, very mundane for being a pilot, it still took a lot of focus, which was something you weren’t good at doing without sleep.

You walked to the cockpit with Echo. Tech was already in the co-pilots seat and Hunter was sitting in the seat behind him. You took yours as the pilot and Echo sat behind you. “We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace in 6 minutes.” Tech turned to you to say.

You grunted, beginning the routine of checking the hyperdrive and stabilizers. About a minute into doing this a mug of caf was harshly placed in front of you on the dashboard. You looked up to see who had done this and were unpleasantly surprised by Crosshair standing beside you looking down at you with a scowl to his face. “What’s this?” you asked like you didn’t know what a cup of caf looked like.

“Caf” he responded, sliding it closer on the dashboard to meet your face better.

“No thanks.” You said back, sliding it away from you and trying to focus on the blinking buttons ahead of you.

“Three minutes till drop,” Tech and interjected, popping his head around crosshair to give you a questioning look, “you ready?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, trying to get back to work with Crosshair still standing there.

You were hoping he would take the hint that you were still pissed at him and just leave you be, but of course that wasn’t the case. The mug of caf was slid back in front of you and you looked up again to see an even more pissed off crosshair than before. What was his problem? He insulted you and took it too far and now he was mad you were declining his caf? It was starting to make your blood boil too; you were the one that deserved to be angry not him.

“Look,” he said, “I made it just how you like it, two sugars one cream. I even put it in your favorite mug. Just take the kriffing caf.”

If this was some sort of pathetic excuse for an apology it wasn’t going to work, you were truly upset and a cup of caf wasn’t going to fix that.

“And I said no thank you.” You told him harshly and forcefully pushed the cup back in his direction.

You could go for a cup of caf right now, but you weren’t going to let him get away with this. He was always pushing your buttons, making snarky remarks at you and this time he had gone to far.

He huffed, grabbed the cup, and walked out of the cockpit.

Right on time, Tech and began to start the countdown to drop out of hyperspace and you now need to focus the most.

_____________________________________________________________

After you had landed you stayed behind in the cockpit, while everyone else around you had started to get up. You closed your eyes, leaning back in your seat and taking a deep breath. The day had just started, and it was already going horribly.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you jumped, turning to give the perpetrator a dirty look expecting it to be Crosshair again not taking the hint that you were still very clearly upset but softening when you saw Hunter instead. The sergeant of the bad batch and you had grown close, mostly because he could read you like an open book, whereas the others tended to not pick up and any hints that your moods had changed. “Mind telling me what that all was about back there?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at you.

You signed and he went to sit in the seat across from you while you began to tell him about the incident last night.

“So he was trying to apologize to you this morning.” Hunter stated.

“Hunter, you know my past and the pain that comes along with it better than anyone else on this ship. I've reluctantly shared bits and pieces with all of you out of trust, for him to use that against me in a petty argument really hurts. A cup of caf isn’t going to make me forgive him, especially when I know he isn’t truly sorry.”

He sighed leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees to place his head in his hands. “(Y/N), I know you and Crosshair haven’t ever really gotten along but he’s not good at talking about things, I'm sure he truly is sorry, but him giving you a cup of caf is the biggest apology I've ever seen him give anyone.”

This whole situation was really one you just wanted to forget. But at this point you also just wanted an actual apology.

“Well he’s going to have to bite his tongue and do better than that.”

#the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #star wars tbb #star wars x reader #crosshair #crosshair x reader #star wars #star wars the clone wars #starwars the bad batch #angst #crosshair x you #clone force 99 #clone force 99 x reader #the clone wars #crosshair x y/n #crosshair angst #the bad batch series

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hrtiu · 4 years

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I saw your post about wanting to write for rexsoka! I love your fics btw! I would like to request some fluff involving laughter and maybe teasing someone.

Thank you so much! Here’s what I got. It gets a little sad at the end, but hopefully it still counts?? Thank you for the prompt!

Rex knocked on the durasteel door frame, announcing his presence to the ladies chatting in the Ghost’s mess beyond.

“Ahem, Ahsoka? I could use your help with something.”

“Wait a second, you’re not going to steal her away for the rest of the day, are you?” Hera said from where she sat across from Ahsoka at the table. “She was my spymaster first.”

“It’ll be quick, I promise,” Rex said.

Ahsoka chuckled as she got to her feet, waving her hands in a placating manner. “Alright, alright. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of me to go around. I’ll be right back, Hera, and we can go over those bomber schematics you somehow managed to get your hands on.”

Hera eagerly agreed, waving goodbye before getting distracted by an irate Chopper beeping something about the hyperdrive and teenage boys.

“What is it?” Ahsoka asked as she walked by Rex’s side out into the dusty, organized chaos of Chopper Base.

Rex scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Well, there’s this broadcasting beacon, see? We use it to communicate with other cells off-planet, but its motivator was damaged in a recent dust storm. I wanted to replace it but it’s really high up and hard to get to, and I figured since you’re here…”

Ahsoka stopped walking, placing a hand on her hip as her eyebrow markings rose into her headdress. “You want me to throw you?”

Rex flushed, turning away from her and shaking his head. “Never mind, it’s a stupid idea.”

“No, no, it’s just not something I ever expected you to ask me to do.”

“Well, I never really liked it, but if you could control the throw and land me on the maintenance platform I wouldn’t have to risk my neck on that sorry piece of scrap we call an extension ladder.”

“I knew it. For as much as you complained about Anakin throwing you around, you liked it when we did that.”

Rex rounded on her, unable to resist defending himself in the face of such slander. “I did not! It was terrifying, unnecessary, and demeaning!”

“But you want me to do it again. Just admit it, Rex. You’ve been missing excitement in your life,” Ahsoka said, that smug look she’d perfected in her teens on her face.

Rex couldn’t help but laugh. Since they’d been reunited she’d seemed so changed—so solemn and galaxy-weary. It was good to see her back to her cocky, impertinent self, if only for the moment.

“I’ve been missing you, that’s for sure.”

Ahsoka laughed, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. Rex could have sworn that her lekku shifted to a darker shade of blue, but that had to be his imagination.

“Alright then, where’s this maintenance platform you were talking about?”

Rex led her to the long metal pole several stories tall upon which the broadcasting beacon perched, and she waited while he went to get his repair tools. By the time he came back their little stunt had gained a small audience, Ezra, Zeb, and several pilots gathering round to witness Rex’s embarrassment.

“Now you’ll know what it feels like to be tossed about!” Zeb said, apparently still smarting from his turn as joopa bait.

“Is this even a proper use of the Force?” Ezra asked. “Isn’t it sort of… disrespectful?”

Ahsoka held her head high as she glided over to Rex, her more mature demeanor back now that she was in front of others. “The Force is a tool that is best used to help people. Nothing is beneath the Force, so long as it’s for a good purpose.”

“Hmmm, I guess that makes sense.”

Rex cinched his tool belt around his waist, a little alarmed that he had to loosen a notch further than he used to, then stood at the ready. He bent his knees and braced himself, glowering at Ahsoka as she noticed his nerves and smirked again.

“Ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Ahsoka raised her hand out to Rex, then jerked it upwards. He flew into the air much faster than he’d envisaged, though just as he feared he’d overshoot the maintenance platform his velocity slowed. He breathed a sigh of relief as, from far below, Ahsoka landed him gently onto the platform.

“All good?” she shouted up at him from the ground.

He leaned over the edge and waved down at her. “Yep! I’ll just be a minute!”

He got to work replacing the motivator, his fingers working quickly from many years of experience holding the rusting AT-TE he called home together. The hot sun beat down on him and he wiped his brow, though he could do nothing about the sweat trickling down his back. Eventually he finished his repairs, taking out his transponder to double-check that the beacon was working before leaning back over the edge and waving to get Ahsoka’s attention.

“All done up here!” he yelled. “Care to lend a hand?”

Ahsoka looked up at him, blessedly alone now that their audience had grown tired of waiting, and waved back. “Just jump down. I’ll catch you!”

Rex had known this was coming, but he still wasn’t looking forward to it. He may have only lived 27 years, but his body was well into his middle age. It wasn’t quite as forgiving to him of dangerous stunts and constant misuse.

Ahsoka kept waving from down below and Rex dismissed his fears. Ahsoka knew him and she wouldn’t let any harm come to him, even anything as minor as a twisted ankle or a sore knee. He gritted his teeth and took a leap of faith off the platform.

Air rushed past his ears and his beard flattened against his chin, but soon enough his fall slowed. By the time he reached the ground he was floating gently, his feet barely registering when they met solid ground in front of a grinning Ahsoka.

“Enjoy the ride?” she asked.

Rex laughed. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, I guess.”

“See? You can trust me, Rexter.”

Rex’s grin grew at the old nickname. He’d never really liked it, truth be told. What young man with aspirations for martial greatness wanted such a silly nickname? But after not hearing for so long, and coming from the friend he’d thought long lost? He’d take it any day.

“I knew I could trust you, I just wasn’t looking forward to getting thrown around like a rag doll in front of my colleagues. I’m trying to look good in front of them, you know?” he said with a laugh.

Ahsoka started walking back to the Ghost, no doubt to resume her conversation with Hera. She looked back over her shoulder as she walked, her burgundy lips quirked upwards in a devious smile. “I don’t know, I like a man I can toss around.”

She turned her head back around and sauntered off, and Rex’s jaw dropped.

She couldn’t… she couldn’t have meant… Was she flirting with me?

He stared after her retreating form—he could swear her hips were swaying—his brain uncomprehending. They’d known each other for so long, and there was nobody he trusted like Ahsoka. And she was obviously beautiful, and funny, and kind. Was it possible…?

Rex looked down at his hands, the wrinkles and sunspots seeming deeper and darker than normal, the callouses thick and the scars numerous. No, she was just teasing. She was young and vibrant and had her whole life ahead of her, it wouldn’t make sense for her to waste it with an old soldier like Rex. Not to mention he didn’t even know what her stance on the Jedi’s rules was anymore. Any kind of romance might not be an option for her, which was probably why she was so comfortable making silly jokes. No chance they could be misconstrued. Right?

Rex made his way back to his quarters in a daze, his surroundings registering as hyper-realistic even as he barely noticed them. It really didn’t make any difference, since he and Ahsoka would continue as friends just as they’d always been, but now Rex’s interactions with her would be colored by this new knowledge. The knowledge that, if there ever was anyone for Rex, it would be her.

#rexsoka #ask #fanfic #captain rex #ahsoka tano #the clone wars #tcw #star wars rebels #rexsoka renaissance

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jewish-space-laser · 4 years

Note

ok i have an idea for a cbl blurb? could u do a blurb from harry’s pov from the night where he got drunk and how he felt when he saw yn and stuff? ik it already happened but i think seeing it from his viewpoint would be interesting!

Could be Lethal - Part Three (Harry’s POV)

“And every time I’ve held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns, And so it goes, and so it goes, And so will you soon I suppose...”

– And So It Goes, Billie Joel

HELLO EVERYONE! It’s been months since I’ve posted anything on here, but I randomly got the motivation to pick this up last week. I apologize in advance for my rusty writing skills! This ask has literally been sitting in my inbox for 10 months, so posting it actually feels quite cleansing. Anyway, here is a (long) blurb full of angst, angst, and you guessed it, angst! I hope you love Harry’s take of that night as much as I do. I love you all muchly, thank you for your ongoing love and support <3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxooox Tile

(3.8k word)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

See the CBL masterlist here!

WARNING: Detailed descriptions of heavy drinking

~~~

It was bullshit. It was all bullshit.

Harry was miserable. He knew it, his friends knew it, his family knew it… it seemed the only person who wasn’t picking up on his desperation was you.

You were a complete enigma to him. Sometimes, you were the warmest, most open person he’d ever met, indulging him with interesting conversations, stupid jokes, and even the occassional existential discussion. It was always difficult for Harry to truly open up to a person, having been jaded time and time again by people who weren’t able to look past his famous exterior.

That’s what makes it so much harder, he thinks. Knowing you properly, you knowing him properly. It made the moments where you were closed off harsher, colder, more difficult to read.

Since you left his house two days prior, he had done just about anything he could to take his mind off of you. He loved thinking about you, but he also hated thinking about you. It was tortuous and circular and he just wanted a brief moment of emotional respite.

No, he didn’t want respite, he needed it.

So he watched all three Lord of the Rings movies in a row, tested out a new stir fry recipe, spent way too much money online shopping, and even scrolled through the Humane Society website in a moment of weakness. But none of it mattered, because even if he could distract himself for a moment, you were still there, lingering in the peripherals of his mind like a song stuck in his head.

It was dizzying and mind-boggling, and Harry was at a loss for what to do. So when Sunday morning rolled around and it still felt like his lungs were being crushed into a ball, he started drinking.

It was only 8:00AM, but he bypassed the coffee cabinet and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of champagne. The pop of the cork was as loud as a gunshot, but Harry didn’t even flinch, hardly registering the sound of it hitting the floor across the room as he rushed the bottle to his lips.

Bubbles fizzed past his tongue and dripped down his chin, sliding down his bare chest before puddling on the floor. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly at the burn of the carbonation, but each gulp sent pleasant tingles over his skin.

For the first time in ages, his mind felt numb. He didn’t necessarily feel good, but he didn’t feel miserable anymore, and that’s what mattered. He could close his eyes without seeing your smile flash in his head, he could listen to music without immediately relating the lyrics to you, and after his second bottle of wine, he was even able to brew a cup of coffee without thinking of you.

Okay, maybe he thought of you a little.

At some point, he passed out on the couch, cartons of Vietnamese takeout sitting cold on his coffee table. When his eyes finally blinked open, the sun had already started to set.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. There was a familiar ache pulsing behind his eyes, and he groaned loudly into his empty house. It never used to feel empty, but now you’d come and gone, and it was too late. You’d left your mark on his house and his coffee and his heart… so he drank more.

There was no more wine, so he started in on his collection of hard liquor, expensive bottles lined on top of his cupboards. Normally they were reserved for when he had guests over, but this fell into the realm of desperation. His sunken eyes scanned the glass bottles before settling on the cheapest of them, an unopened Maker’s Mark. It would do.

He was pouring a healthy sized glass of the whisky, and then suddenly he wasn’t. His heavy eyes blinked in confusion as he stared across the bar at the bartender, who was raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“That’ll be thirty-five pounds, mate,” the bartender said, “got roped into buying the first round, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, glancing over his shoulder to see Thomas and Jessie watching him from a booth.

He doesn’t remember leaving his house, let alone coming to the pub with his friends. In fact, if he tried to think about it, his memory of the entire day felt fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together.

In his mind, this was a success. A full day gone without thinking about you or talking to you or seeing you. The clock behind the bar read 00:43 in red neon numbers. He took one of the shots quickly, signing the bill and taking the remaining five back to his friends.

“Harry mate, we told you we’re not getting pissed tonight,” Thomas groaned, “what’d you get six shots for?”

“What kind are they?” Jessie asked, wrinkling their nose.

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, setting the tray down directly in front of himself. His vision swayed to and fro, but he still managed to down another shot, disregarding the concerned look his friends shared. “It’s rum. If you don’t want any, that’s fine.”

“It’s a Sunday, mate,” Thomas reminded him gently.

“We’re at a pub, aren’t we?” Harry slurred. “Supposed to get drunk here.”

“You asked us to come here,” Jessie said slowly, “said you needed to talk to us about something.”

Harry blinked at them slowly, swaying slightly in his seat. He didn’t remember any of this.

“Actually, he said he needed a drink,” Thomas corrected, “I didn’t realize he meant twenty drinks.”

Another shot burned down his throat, and then everything was cold.

“Harry.”

His head was pounding. Every limb felt heavy. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes, already overwhelmed by the echo of Thomas’s voice reverberating off of the tile floors.

“Harry.”

He knew that somebody was trying to get his attention, but he just couldn’t. The alcohol had done its job for most of the day, keeping his brain muddled down and diluted just to spare him the pain of remembering. But now, it backfired, trapping him inside his own head with no way out, with nothing to do but remember. He could hear people talking in the background, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if he was underwater, slipping further and further down with each painful clench of his heart.

He felt a hand press against his arm, and jerked away, causing his stomach to twist. He didn’t want to be here anymore, and he certainly didn’t want to be bothered.

“G’way, Thomas,” he managed to grunt.

“It’s me.”

Your voice was clear as crystal to him, but he knew it couldn’t be real. You had left him, after all.

The image of you driving away from his house was burned into his memory, playing over and over again in slow motion. If he thought hard enough, he could even remember the way your body had felt beneath his, whining and squirming and gasping, just like he’d always dreamed about. He could remember the sunken expression on your face the next morning, the heavy silence of the car ride to the coffee shop. He could remember how he’d hoped, so badly, that you’d finally talk about it, this unspoken connection that could no longer be denied. Most of all, he remembers the way his heart dropped when you told him that you didn’t remember any of it.

Another gentle brush, this time along his hairline, and he managed to open his eyes just a sliver.

You looked amazing. Well, there were circles under your eyes, you were wearing your pajamas and slippers, and you were frowning in concern, but to Harry, you were the most beautiful thing.

“You’re here… y’really here….” he sighed.

You were crouched in front of him, holding a plastic cup of water, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his chest. You looked sleepy and cosy, just like you always did when you stayed over. Before he could reach out to pull you close, you were putting the rim of the cup against his bottom lip.

He took it, grateful for the relief it provided his dry mouth. For the first time since he came to, he took in his surroundings. He was in a single stall bathroom, curled on the floor next to the toilet. The walls were an ugly pale yellow, while the floors were white, making the streaks of dirt and grime more noticeable than ever. Thomas was leaning against the sink across the room, watching you as you tried to get him to finish the cup.

“Y’look so pretty, always look so good,” Harry slurred, “just wanna snuggle, like we always do.”

He loved the way your mouth dropped open. Everything about you was endearing, really. He watched as you twisted your head to say something to Thomas, water sloshing around in the cup when you nodded your head quickly. Thomas left immediately after, but Harry hardly even noticed.

When you turned back around to face him, he felt blinded. Despite the dark circles under your eyes, they’re bright and they pierce through him just like always. He loves the color of your skin and the shape of your nose and the little crease that forms between your eyebrows when you’re anxious. He thinks he could probably paint you with his eyes closed.

Warmth licked across his skin when you brushed your fingertips against his forehead, tucking a stray lock of hair back into place. Harry leaned into your touch, unwilling to let the moment pass too quickly.

“Can you try taking a sip of water, H?” You tilted your head. “For me?”

He could have laughed, had he not been so nauseated. He would do anything for you normally, but he really did feel awful. “G’na make me sick,” he insisted, wrinkling his nose at the cup in your hand. Even though he could hardly focus, his eyes zeroed in on the faded X scrawled in sharpie on the back of your hand, a souvenir from your night out at TAVERN. He had a matching mark on his hand, and he dreaded the moment the ink would wash off fully. Just another thing forgotten.

He just wanted you.

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the look on your face told him that it had slipped out. There was no way he regretted it though, not with you right in front of him. Not in this state of mind.

“It’s gonna make you feel better, and then we can go home,” you urged softly, scooting a tiny bit closer to him.

Home. When he thought of home, he thought about mornings in his house, sunlight filtering in through the blinds and leaving shadowed stripes across your skin. Home was the way you squinted your eyes tighter together right before waking up. Home was you at his kitchen table, going off at him about not doing his dishes.

“Y’coming home w’me?” He managed to say. Your eyes softened.

“Only if you drink this whole cup,” you lifted it up to him once again, gingerly tilting his head up with a finger on his chin. Even though he felt like his stomach would combust if tried to swallow anything, he allowed you to help him drink some water. Some sloshed messily onto his shirt, but it felt sobering. You met his eyes for a moment, “is that good?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

If you asked him to drink water, he would drink water. He would drink an entire ocean of water. It was achingly clear to literally everybody but you. He could tattoo your name over his heart and you still wouldn’t see.

You gulped loudly, but didn’t say a word, simply prompting him to take another sip of water. He wished more than anything that you’d say something. Make some kind of facial expression. He just wanted a signal, a sign, that you felt anything towards him; disgust, affection, pity.

He was sure you must pity him.

Harry drank the rest of the water, cheeks burning as he asked you for a refill. He was still drunk, but the fog had cleared enough for him to sit up straight without feeling like he was going to hurl. He watched you refill the cup in the sink that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in decades, but that was honestly the least of his concerns.

“Y’must think I’m pathetic,” he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back against the wall. “Can’t lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me,” he heard you say quietly.

But it felt like he had. Because even though you were friends, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fall asleep to the sound of your soft exhales. It wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t feel that rush of excitement when you sneakily texted him under the table on nights out. Having you at a distance could never be enough.

“Harry…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes, “why did you drink so much tonight?”

If your obliviousness hadn’t been so devastating, he would have laughed. How could you sit here with him, look into his eyes, and not see that his heart was entirely in your hands? How could he explain anything to you if you hadn’t already seen it?

So he wouldn’t try. Not right now.

He mustered up the strength to push up onto his knees, managing to stand up fully with your steady grip on his arms. He took one shaky step as his head spun, and felt your arms snake around his waist to keep him balanced. Without even thinking about it, he wrapped his arm over your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of having you so close as you helped him out of the toilet.

You brought him to a stop in the main room by the bar, and he couldn’t help but bury his nose into the top of your head. You smelled just like you always did. It had only been a few nights, but your scent was already fading on his bedsheets.

“Y’smell like lavender,” he hummed, squeezing your arm lightly, “s’like you’re tryin; t’torture me…. So pretty.”

It really was torture, having you hold onto him as you both walked out of the pub. You were distracting, with your warm skin and soft hands. Each step was difficult; his feet were heavy as anvils and he just wanted to curl up right here on the sidewalk.

Just as he was considering plopping down on the pavement, he heard the familiar beep of your car opening. He closed his eyes once he was sat in the passenger seat, feeling you fuss over his seatbelt. He flinched slightly when you slid a cold water bottle between his knees.

Harry blinked, and then suddenly you were buckled in behind the steering wheel, poking his arm and peering at him with tired eyes. “Can you stay awake for me, H? Just till we get to your house, okay?”

“Y’coming to my house?”

You were so good to him, all the time. By the looks of your attire, you were ready to be in bed hours ago, yet here you were, patient as ever.

“Yes, I’m taking you home,” you said through a yawn.

“Miss having you at my house,” Harry exhaled. He didn’t even know what he was saying really, just the same thoughts and memories circling through his mind like planets around the sun, all them centered on you. “My sheets don’t smell like you anymore.”

Suddenly, he felt hot all over. His trousers were too scratchy against his skin, his palms felt clammy, and the longer you stayed silent on the other side of the car, his stomach started turning. In an effort to cool off and calm down, he let his head fall against the window, the cool glass soothing his skin.

Drunk or not, he was trying to tell you how he feels, he was constantly trying to tell you how he feels… and you didn’t say a word. You never did. It was so frustrating that he found himself biting back tears.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you cleared your throat. “You can’t…” your voice cracked, “you can’t say things like that, Harry. It hurts me when you say things like that.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry managed to say. “But it’s the truth.”

He was so confused. How on earth could you be hurting when he was sitting here with his arms wide open? Was he so repulsive that the mere thought of being with him caused you pain, somehow?

He was too drunk for this.

Luckily, you seemed to be on the wavelength. “Let’s just… not talk,” you said, shoulders slumped.

Harry was feeling awfully dejected himself. He’d spent the last few days trying to cope with his complicated feelings, and now he was back at square one. Every time he thought he knew where the two of you stood, you would say something vague and he would start all over. Your relationship was like a house of cards; delicate, fragile, and knocked to the ground with the slightest shift, the tiniest gust of wind.

The headache started out small, but by the time you pulled your car into Harry’s driveway, he was feeling like he might keel over. Somehow, he was simultaneously drunk and hungover. If he was going to make it up the stairs to his room, he was going to need something in his stomach, and water that wasn’t from a pub bathroom.

It was humiliating enough that he’d needed you to help him from the car, but upon entering his house, he nearly kicked his shoe through the living room window, grumbling about toast. He knew he’d been less than impressive tonight, but perhaps this was what you needed -- seeing him at rock bottom -- to finally open up and have a real conversation about what you could be.

When he woke up in the morning, he would be sober, and he would be ready. He would make you coffee like he always does, and maybe he’d even run out and pick up fresh pastries.

“Want some toast,” he said, though he was fairly certain he’d said it once already.

You were standing in front of him, toes just inches apart, and it felt instinctive to place his hands on your waist and pull you in. The silk pajama top you were wearing was cool against his hands, but he could feel the heat of your skin underneath, the frantic thumping of your heart against your ribcage tickling his fingertips.

Your hands were on his shoulders to keep him steady, but he was suddenly feeling more sober than he had all night. All day, really.

Harry slid his hands further behind you, locking together behind your back. Having you close felt incredible. It hadn’t even been three days since he last saw you, yet every atom in his body was craving your touch.

“You, um,” he felt your shaky whale against his collar bone, “you have to let go of me if you want me to make you toast.”

Letting go of you felt physically impossible, so instead, Harry dipped his head down and rested his forehead against yours. The anticipation was excruciating as he waited for you to do what you always did: sink into his arms, wrap yourself around him, soothe him to sleep with the weight of your head on his chest.

Fissures cracked through his heart when you pushed him back, taking a single step back that may as well have been a mile. Suddenly, the air all around him felt cold, the room felt darker, the silence felt louder. He took a deep breath in, but still felt like he was suffocating.

“Do you really not remember?”

He needed to know. He had done everything in his power to think about anything else, but had somehow ended up here, standing face to face with you. He wonders if this is how it was supposed to be, if throwing you together over and over again was the universe’s ultimate plan, if all of this misery would be worth it in the end.

He’d experienced heartbreak before, but this was something else. And when you choked out, “Harry, please don’t make me say it,” in the smallest voice he’d ever heard you use, he knew that he could write millions of records about the pain of this moment, and still never do it justice.

“You remember, don’t you?”

All you did was nod your head once, but he suddenly felt drained. Maybe it was the full day of heavy, reckless drinking… or maybe it was the realization that things really might not work out. He still wanted to try, though. Even though you’d left the other day, there were countless other times you had stayed. For months you’d been coming over in secret, coming out of your shell and showing him how amazing you really were. That had to count for something; there had to be a reason.

Coffee. He would make coffee in the morning and the two of you would fix everything.

“Should we head to bed? ‘S getting kind of late, y’must be exhausted.”

You really did look tired, your eyes rimmed with red from yawning over and over, back hunched and shoulders slumped. He was feeling knackered himself, and was more than ready for this night to be over.

“Actually… I think I’m gonna head back home,” you gulped. Harry felt like he’d been slapped, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. It’s as if you’d turned to sand; there one moment and slipping through his fingers the next.

“You don’t want to stay?” Harry tried to keep his voice even, but even he could hear how it wavered. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying.

“I just… have to go home,” you said, looking everywhere but at him.

He waited for you to say something else, but instead watched as you hoisted your purse further up onto your shoulder and walked out the door. Shell shocked, he stood there frozen, even as your headlights disappeared down the street.

A long breath blew past his lips as he finally moved to lock his front door, any hope of you walking back through it dashed by the way you’d walked out for a second time.

Harry likely would have benefited from a glass of water and pain medication, but with a buzzing brain and a shattered heart, all he could manage was to pass out on the couch fully clothed, dreaming about what might have been if you had just stayed.

~~~

As always, let me know what you think! I love talking to you <3 xoxoxoxox Tile

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37-children-of-the-dreams · 3 years

Text

Day #36: Love Story (Epilogue)

The day is finally here. Korkie and Crosshair might have been just a brain worm, but these two have been fun to write. So long boys. May the Force be with you.

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

(Epilogue)

The rich deserts of Kalevala was shining through the windshield of the Katalyst and the passengers were happy to be back. Even if it wasn’t going to be for long.

Fennec had the pilot’s pit to herself. Korkie and Crosshair were far too busy at their bedroom to be the pilots. Sarad was too busy playing with her wedding bow that she tore it apart. Crosshair was smirking too much for Korkie’s sake.

“That’s my duchess!” Crosshair said. “You look better with armor anyway.”

“Cross, she’s too tiny,” Korkie groaned. “She’s the size of a two-year old. Kryze would wear armor when they’re bigger. Also, today’s our wedding.”

“Well, it’s a Mandalorian wedding. Shouldn't we have armor?”

“We have weapons. No one is going to attack our wedding if they know what’s good for them.”

Crosshair smiled and kissed his fiancee’s forehead. It was a year since they’ve met and they’ve been through so much. The fights, the target practice, the bounties and having Sarad. They grew as partners and as a couple. And now they’re getting married in Kalevala.

Which was Crosshair’s idea. He wanted Bo-Katan to watch him marry her former nephew. Though, he said it was because he wanted to marry at the place they first met.

Korkie didn’t believe his excuse, but he wanted Nanny Rana to watch his wedding. Also, he wanted to see Bo-Katan faint at the sight of him marrying Crosshair while the Bad Batch was in attendance.

The Bad Batch was already at Kalevala because of Crosshair. He wanted Rana to get them fitted for the wedding and he deathly knows how bad they were at wearing top-grade suits. Hunter and Echo were always trying to get away from wearing something they felt undeserving, Tech would be too busy talking about clothing facts to wear one, and Wrecker was just big. Yet, Rana seemed to know what to do since she sent a comm of them in their wedding outfits.

As for the Shands. Well, Luka was once a wedding officiant before Fennec was born and he did demand that he wear clothes fitting for a former officiant. Kristal wore a motherly blue gray dress that matched her husband’s clothes. Fennec wouldn’t stop beaming in happiness at the sight of her happy parents. She asked to wear a dress with leggings in case of a Bo-Katan attack.

As for the grooms and Sarad? Crosshair had a gray suit he asked Rana to prepare for his wedding. It was simple and made out of Beskar to make sure it would hold for years. Korkie wanted to wear the last outfit he ever created for his mother. A rather plain blue dress that he knows Bo-Katan would try to burn in anger. To match her fathers, Korkie made Sarad wear a gray and blue dress. With a now broken blue bow because it wasn't made with Beskar.

Fennec saw the Havoc Marauder and landed near the Bad Batch’s ship. The four exited the Katalyst with two boxes containing Fennec’s dress and Korkie’s wedding dress. Rana and the Shands greeted the four first. Then, the Bad Batch came out and hugged Crosshair.

“Congrats, Crosshair,” Hunter said. “I’m so proud to call you my brother.”

“I’m happy to know you’re the one giving me away,” Crosshair said.

They went back to the mansion to talk about the steps of the wedding. Korkie and Fennec went to their rooms to wear their dress while Crosshair was too busy cradling Sarad. Rana and the Shands went to the garden to finish up the place.

“She’ll always have bragging rights against future siblings,” Wrecker said.

“Your next children would possible ask you for a recreation of the wedding,” Tech pointed out. “ Sarad might rally them if she wants them to understand what a wedding is.”

“Wouldn’t they already understand if they teach the kids?” Echo asked.

“They might,” Crosshair said. “But, I’d be happy to recreate the best day of my life.”

Hunter laughed. Crosshair had changed from the cold sniper they all knew. HE was kinder and warmer.

“It’s time,” Kristal said when she fetched them. “The place is ready, Fennec is there, Rana is getting Korkie and my husband is trying his best not to cry. Oh, and the birds are singing like it’s the biggest wedding in the whole galaxy.”

The Bad Batch and Sarad were taken to the garden where Crosshair met Korkie. He gave Sarad to Fennec and the girls went to their designated spot. Tech, Wrecker and Echo went to the opposite side of her. Hunter took out his arm and walked Crosshair down the aisle. Hunter was not going to cry before his brother said his vows. At the aisle, Crosshair looked at the entrance and smiled. Korkie was wearing the wedding dress like a true Duke of Mandalore and had a bouquet of beautiful flowers. Rana was already crying since she was full of happiness that she couldn’t wait.

When Korkie took to his side of the aisle, Crosshair couldn’t stop laughing at the sight of his groom. He had a hard life as a defective clone, but what can he say now? He got the best man to marry him.

“Friends, Family and Guest,” Luka started. “We are gathered here to join these men as husbands in wedded life. If there is anyone who would deny this right, speak now--”

The door open and Korkie groaned in unsurpassed annoyance. Bo-Katan and her Nite Owls had arrived. They brought Amis, Lagos and Soniee with them.

“What now Lady Bo-Katan?!” Korkie screamed. “I know I’m not supposed to be here, but this place is where my husband and I met!”

Bo-Katan steeled herself as Amis, Lagos, ans Sonies said sorry to the wedding party.

“I’m not here to stop you,” she said.

Korkie and Crosshair gave her a surprised look. She had to be joking, right?

“I really am not going to ruin whatever this is. I’m just here to witness it and finally announce that Satine’s bloodline has finally ended. You’re more than open to continue. I just have to see the last of my sister leave Clan Kryze and be with someone I know might not have been the best pick, but the one that makes him happy for the rest of his life.”

Bo-Katan said nothing else and let the wedding continue by having her Nite Owls stand next to the doors as if they were going to exit the instant the wedding ended. Korkie nodded at his former aunt and her decision. It might have been more hurtful to her losing the last piece of Satine, but even they knew their relationship was not going to be the same anymore.

“Well,” Luka said. “Let’s get back to the wedding. I’ve read the entire book on Kryze weddings, and I know it’s time for the promise vows. Then after the vows, it’s the marriage vows to which they’ll be husbands for life.”

Korkie went first since he was a former Kryze.

“Crosshair,” he started. “When I first met you, I was an unhappy former duke who had his entire life destroyed and was exiled from Mandalore for whatever reasons. I initially wanted to use you to get away from Mandalore and anger my entire House because you were there in my visions getting me away from Mandalore.

Then, I realize I’m not a master manipulator and stuck myself to you because why not? I’m already away from Kalevala and you’re a bounty hunter, so what were the chances?”

The entire wedding party laughed much to Crosshair’s dismay. He really know how to end up with Korkie of all Mandalorians.

“Then, we bonded. I know I made stupid risk that day getting the carbonite unit and almost got both of us killed, but I’m grateful that you saw that I was just trying to help. Then, I forgot the fuel for the hyperdrive and we talked about our respective families. Then, Tatooine where we met Fennec...”

Korkie took a breathe and finally cried looking at his Crosshair.

“What I’m just saying is, you had multiple chances to just ditch me and leave me for dead, but you didn’t. You said I was important when I needed to hear it. I made me feel important after all the pain I had been given after my mother’s death. You gave me a family again. I will never stop loving you and I will always love hearing that I’m your husband til the day I die. I love you, Cyare.”

Crosshair smiled. He knows it’s his turn, but he needs a pause. He took a breathe and spoke.

“You’re never going to stop being important to me,” he declared. “I was angry, lonely, and I had just broke away from my brothers. I wanted to show me I was capable of being a big-time bounty hunter and it lead me to you. I’ll never forget the day I thought I had you as a bounty, you were just sitting here in this garden ready for a deal that would change my life. I didn’t believe you until you almost killed that Death Watch commander and made me realize how true your deal was.

Ans you’re right, we had a bunch of ups and downs, but you never gave up on me. I remember the day I was teaching Fennec how to shoot. We both know it was a disaster since I’m not a teacher, but instead of just leaving me in the rain, you came for me and told me I can always talk to you. Which is true because despite the fact I made you feel like we’re galaxies apart at times, you still wanted to be near me. You were patient and you did not take my words as a sign of backing off, but instead you kept telling me that I can talk to you. Then, you’re old friends came, and I really thought for one second you’d leave me for them. Yet, you never did and you made us trick them into thinking we’re already married by scarring Lagos for life with us kissing like it’s our actual wedding night.”

Lagos blushed as Bo-Katan looked at her with dismay. She never did tell Bo-Katan that Korkie and Crosshair might have done the deed before marriage. The Bad Batch had to hold their laughter as Bo-Katan looked like she was about to faint. They were betting with Fennec on this. One hundred credits on the line.

“And like you said, we have a family to ourselves because of our bond. Well, including my brothers and Fennec it’s a quite a chaotic family. Yet, it’s perfect for me. You healed me and I’d die fighting for this marriage, and this family. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, my darling Korkie. You’re forever the only one for me.”

“Now for the marriage vows!” Luka announced.

Korkie and Crosshair looked at each other’s eyes and started their vows.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde" (We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.)”

The two Keldabe kissed first and kissed on the lips afterward.

The entire place erupted in cheers. Even Bo-Katan and her Nite Owls cheered for the marriage. Then, Bo-Katan went towards them.

“Please,” Bo-Katan begged. “Tell you didn’t pull a Satine. You know? As in did the deed before marriage?”

Korkie blushed and ducked his head on Crosshair’s suit. Crosshair shrugged as if to say ‘So what?’

Bo-Katan fainted to the happiness of Wrecker and Fennec. They did bet against Hunter, Tech and Echo that Bo-Katan might come and faint during the wedding. The three placed their credits to the winners as the Nite Owls grabbed her and steadied the heiress.

“You really are Satine’s son,” Bo-Katan said. “Going after the worst possible suitors and being in love with them.”

“At least I’m not a Jedi,” Crosshair pointed out.

“That kind of makes it less painful.”

Bo-Katan exited the mansion with her Nite Owls following her. Amis, Lagos, and Soniee stayed for the wedding reception. Which was minutes after the wedding. The food was great, the atmosphere was nice and the family pictures were one to remember.

As Korkie and Crosshair took their last couples photo alone. They took each other’s hand and closed their eyes. This was the best love story they had a part in. It felt like a dream come true to the both of them.

(That is my fan art of Crosshair and Korkie. It was a hard fought second place.)

#korkie kryze #crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #korkie kenobi #fennec shand #korkie x crosshair #star wars #the bad batch #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper echo #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper tech

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we-are-what-they-grow-beyond · 5 years

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some seriously self indulgent TROS thoughts that no one asked for: spoilers ahead!

(i’m gonna try tag every spoiler tag I can think of just in case anyone out there does care, but tbh this is really just for me lol)

the following is going to be a very ‘off the cuff’ series of ramblings so I apologise if it’s all over the place

Overall.. I think I liked it? I left the cinema feeling euphoric, which is honestly all I wanted from ix. While there were very few immediate things that I took offence to as I was watching it [unlike TLJ] I have a bad feeling that some doubts about certain scenes and character choices are gonna creep into my brain in the next few days. Like the longer I think about it, the worse it’s gonna get.

The beginning was a mess. I think every single person who has seen it can agree on that much. There was so much exposition and heavy handed course correction from TLJ that it felt laboured and disjointed. The pacing was at this crazy breakneck speed.. we must have visited at least six different planets in the first fifteen minutes. I think that Poe’s ‘hyperdrive jumping’ [?] sequence really set the tone for the first act - just a constant barrage of different locations and characters.

And I understand that they had to do this. The events of TLJ left them no choice, they needed to establish every main character’s position [both physically and mentally], portray the current state of the war as well as rebuild a believable rapport between our core trio all within the first fifteen minutes if they wanted to give the last act any chance of sticking the landing. And to some extent I think they achieved this. In all that running around on different planets, bickering amongst the trio and the funny asides from Threepio - it really felt like something straight out of the OT. For the first time since TFA I cared about these characters.

However. In doing this, they continually broke the cardinal rule of screenwriting; show don’t tell. While watching the first act I felt weighed down with information, like every five seconds another character would pop in with a monologue that sent them on another wild goose chase in which they had to find another hundred things that I would inevitably struggle to remember. ‘So now they need to go here, to see where Luke went, because he wanted to find this guy, who has this object, that will bring them to this other place, so that they can see Palpatine?’ It was so heavily reliant on dialogue alone that it ultimately lead to this sense of utter messiness.

Where the film thrived was in it’s action set pieces. I adored the way the force was portrayed in this film. The scene in the desert in which Ben [yes Ben, but more on that later] and Rey pulled that First Order Transport out of the sky sent shivers down my spine. We have never seen the force used like this before and the amount of power Rey held was absolutely staggering. I loved it.

The saber battle on top of the Death Star was a visual highlight. Even though I felt like I’d seen most of it in TV Spots the urgency never went away. The moodiness of the water and mist cut through by the blue and red light was beautiful.

The one shot of Poe, Finn and Chewie running through the Destroyer hallway felt like an echo back to everything that lies at the heart and soul of this saga.

We’ve been begging for more space battles and boy did we get a good one. When Lando and Chewie sauntered in on the Falcon with their thousands of rebel support ships set to the theme I was sobbing. There were so many little references in that one shot, from Rebels to Resistance to even Wedge Antilles - My heart swelled.

But where I really broke was on Ahch-To. One of my biggest gripes with TLJ was its treatment of Luke. Every time I watch it again that shot of his submerged X wing infuriates me beyond measure as Johnson never chose to do anything with it [despite there being an obvious answer]. We finally got that scene in this film, the scene I was so desperate for; a callback to perhaps my favourite moment in the whole skywalker saga entangled with an apology for TLJ’s treatment of our favourite jedi master. Set to Yoda’s Theme, I felt like for a split second like I was watching Empire, and that meant the world to me. Thank you J.J.

The characterisation is perhaps the most divisive part of the film for me. It took so many risks, it’s going to take quite some time for me to properly digest them all.

I want to start with our beloved Leia. The CGI, although perhaps not quite as seamless as some reviewers are making it out to be, worked well enough. With the knowledge of Carrie’s passing, it’s easy to poke holes in the performance - I found the beginning of her screen time particularly jarring, with her mostly addressing Rey with one word answers. I knew that there was supposed to be an emotional weight to all her scenes, as there she was, our princess, somehow miraculously on our screens for one final time. But I didn’t cry. I didn’t feel as if she was truly there in body or soul, and the emotional power of her scenes suffered as a result. Maybe in time, as we forget about the circumstances under which this film had to be made, this obvious detachment might fade away. And I sincerely hope it does, because the backstory they gave her is what truly deserves to be remembered about Leia in this film. The flashback scene of her training with Luke was glorious, the cgi really worked well here, and for the first time we saw Leia as a fully fledged jedi. This is something I could never ever have even imagined and I’m so pleased they did it, it would have meant so much to me as a young girl. As for her death, I believe they did the best they could with it. She ultimately died saving her son, protecting both the light and her family - two themes that have been so central to this entire forty two year saga. I don’t think they could have done much more.

I was shocked to see Harrison in this, surprised isn't even the right word. But this bewilderment that I felt thankfully didn’t overshadow his integral role in the so called ‘Bendemption’ arc, in fact I think it really tied the whole thing together nicely. I have hated the idea of Kylo’s possible redemption since the moment we found out his true heritage during TFA, I thought it was too simple, too obvious. But the way in which it was dealt with here was wonderful. It showed Kylo to be entirely complex and ambiguous, and at the end of it we saw Ben for what he was, a young and vulnerable young man who ultimately made some terrible choices, the conflict in him was brilliantly acted. It was ultimately his parents that pulled him back to the light, not just Rey, and that fact alone saved this story arc for me.

[I refuse to talk about the kiss. I hated it. It didn’t need to happen.]

Rey is a difficult one. Was the Palpatine bloodline convenient? Yes. Terribly so. Did it make sense story wise? Only kind of. But, I think it drew a definitive line under the nine film conflict which was ultimately at its core just Skywalker vs Palpatine, so in that sense I’m happy it happened in the way it did.

[Sheev on an aesthetic level looked dreadful I thought. Proper rubbery. And the logistics of how he survived/who all those chanting followers were/where he got all those Imperial star destroyers from is extremely questionable. I try not to dwell on it.]

My mixed feelings about Finn and Poe cannot be overstated. The film did a good job at giving them more to do, we really got to see John and Oscar bounce off each other and at the end of the day, that is my kryptonite. However, Finn had little to no character development throughout the whole trilogy. All he did was figure out that he didn’t want to be aligned with the First Order anymore, deciding he wanted to fight for what is right. But the thing is, we saw him make that decision about ten minutes into TFA. It didn’t need to be rehashed again and again in every film. We wanted more - we wanted him to be force sensitive, we wanted him to form meaningful connections with others. On some level they delivered on that, we saw a little force sensitivity, he got his own back with Hux, he found his tribe in Jannah and the other deserters.. but it felt like an afterthought. Nothing was ever dwelled upon- even his confession to Rey [whatever it was] was completely forgotten about in the end. Finn as a whole felt like an afterthought.

[Don’t even get me started on Rose, Kelly deserved so much more. I was embarrassed by the amount of screen time she had.]

As for Poe.. Oscar did a brilliant job in this, he successfully harkened back to our favourite scoundrel Han Solo stereotype and I felt that gave the trio’s dynamic a clear anchor. His interactions with both Finn, Threepio and Chewie as he kept crashing the falcon really made me laugh, it was nice to have some actual humour littered throughout, unlike the goofy slapstick stuff in TLJ. But.. the Zorii love interest and backstory made zero sense canonically. Zero. Aside from the ‘can i kiss you’ stuff being extremely contrived, there is physically no actual way Poe could have ever been a spice runner on this new planet that I can’t remember the name of. He lived on Yavin his whole life until he came of age to join the New Republic Navy, and from there Leia recruited him into the Resistance. This much has been documented in countless books and comics. J.J really decided to throw that all away so that they could what.. get that universal key thing? Did they even use it? Was there any other point of Zorii’s character other than that key? Not really. Don’t try to tell me that Kes and Shara’s son ran away from home to become a criminal for no reason. Just don’t. [He was still wearing Shara’s ring throughout and they didn’t do anything with it.. I wonder will we get more of an answer to this in the novelisation?]

[While I’m on the subject of the comics and novels, the decision to kill off Snap was brave. I really loved him in the comics and I’m sad he’s now gone and Karé is now alone. Not that any of that was mentioned but-]

Lando was used just the correct amount. I’m happy he got the ‘I have a bad feeling about this’ line, and I think any more screen time and we could have seen some holes in Billy’s performance. [sorry Billy]

Chewie had some great moments in this surprisingly. He was essentially just an extra in TLJ so it was quite refreshing to have him be a key player again. [I had forgotten about the clips from the trailer that showed him aboard the Destroyer, so when he ‘died’ I really thought he was dead for a moment and I was so angry that that was how he went lol.] But his reaction to Leia’s death was so touching and although it was a tad fan-servicey, I loved the fact that he finally got the medal he missed out on in ANH. It made me chuckle.

The same can be said of Anthony Daniels as C3PO and all of the other droids. I felt as though they really clawed them back into the mix this time - Threepio’s worrisome queries were wonderfully nostalgic and not to mention hilarious, and D-0 was a great new addition. The droids always brought a levity to star wars, it was their job, and they did this to great effect in this film. There was some questionable switching around of R2 and BB8 which I didn’t appreciate - there is absolutely no way that BB8 wouldn’t be Poe’s astromech for the battle against the Final Order but I’m willing to let it slide.. [also why was he on Tatooine with Rey at the end?]

It really sounds like I had more problems with this film than highlights, and I promise that’s not the case. In the end, it made me feel happy, like I was watching something akin to the OT again, and yes some parts of it were clumsy, but the heart of it was there. It all really comes down to whether or not you believe a film must be ‘good’ in order to be.. good. With something as big and sentimental as star wars I think it’s a lot more complicated than that. Return of the Jedi was an utter mess- but yet we all still worship it and the characters it gave us. Why can’t the same thing be said for TROS? It was clunky, but it was surprising, and powerful and fun. It gave us the characters we loved and some interesting new ones, some top-tier lightsaber battles and a conclusive ending to the saga that has defined so many lives. At the end of the day I think that’s all it needed to be.

#star wars tros #tros #tros spoilers #star wars spoilers #the rise of skywalker spoilers #spoilers #star wars the rise of skywalker #sw #sw spoilers #star wars the rise of skywalker spoilers #do you think i have enough tags lmao #i just really don't want to spoil it for people #rey #kylo #finn #poe #idk i feel like i have enough now

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tisfan · 5 years

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Take This Job (and shove it out the airlock) Chapter 3

Exit Interview

Title: Exit Interview [entire fic x] Square: K3 - alien planet Warning: Space travel, anal sex, infinity stone Pairing: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Summary: Captain America was down there, in the ice. Tony and Bucky are going to get him, or die trying. Tony’s not so keen on the dying part. Link: A03 Word Count: 2,176

“Here,” Bucky said, tapping the tiny little nav chart and blowing up the destination. Some destination, if you were interested in seas of near-frozen argon and a toxic atmosphere that could corrode most ship plating in about ten minutes.

“Yeah, well, at least you have an accurate drop-point,” Tony said. “The less time we spend here, the better.”

“How long can we spend there?”

“Theoretically, about eighteen minutes,” Tony said. “But in actual facts, you are not going anywhere. You are going to keep the pod at the lagrange point so that I can have a speedy extraction. Dive straight down, hook onto Cap’s pod, grab the Tesseract if I can find it, and haul jets out. That’s the plan, we get one chance, one attempt.”

Tony didn’t specifically say that he was trusting Bucky with both their lives, because Bucky knew it. If Bucky so much as moved the ship a mile from the extraction point, Tony was going to die.

On the plus side, it wasn’t going to hurt for long.

Steve was probably not going to die, but he was still going to be stuck down there, and so Tony was hoping that was enough leverage. Because really, the pod’s autonav wasn’t that great. The kind of Weather that came from these uninhabitable crappy little balls of incomplete rock were beyond its capacity to reason out.

Mostly because sane people didn’t come to these sorts of places, so there weren’t really a lot of records to study and emulate.

Anyway--

“Plot in the course,” he told Bucky. “The trip’ll take a few hours with this dinky little hyperdrive, so I’m going to have a last shower, a last meal, and a last nap.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “It’s gonna take four hours, you honestly think you can sleep?”

Tony had slept under worse conditions. “You have a better idea?”

“If we’re plannin’ our last Will an’ Testament, then yeah, I got a better idea.”

(More below the cut)

[smut]

Tony would never have imagined that Bucky could kiss like that. Or maybe it wasn’t that he couldn’t imagine it, it was that he hadn’t previously done so. It was deep, devouring, devoted. A lot of D words. It took Tony’s brain a second to realize what was going on, reboot into action mode, and get with the damn program, but in that time, Bucky had peeled his own shirt off and was working on the buttons to Tony’s without waiting for so much as a yes, a please, or anything.

Tony’s arms went around Bucky’s neck, running smoothly on autopilot, and his hand speared into that dark hair. It wasn’t love at first sight, Tony told himself. It wasn’t even lust at second glance. It was sheer survival instinct. Copulating either just before, or just after, a near death experience.

It was fine, it was good, and God, Bucky tasted like wine and promises, his tongue sweeping into Tony’s mouth possessively. Tony surrendered unconditionally, gave himself over to the moment. That was always his way, to leap first and look later. Sometimes you gotta run before you can crawl.

One warm hand, one chilly metal hand were on Tony’s hips, tugging him closer until he could feel the definitive pressure of Bucky’s interest. Tony’s heart was trotting along in his chest, obedient to the pace-maker and power source that kept him alive. It was always a strange feeling; he should be out of breath, he should have a racing pulse. And it seemed odd that he didn’t; but the hormone dump was happening anyway, waves of desire and eagerness coming over him in steady pulses.

“How about it, is this a better idea?”

“Maybe,” Tony whispered, because he couldn’t resist being an asshole whenever possible.

“Maybe,” Bucky repeated, grinding on Tony’s thigh and smirking when Tony answered that with a needy moan. “Maybe, he says.”

“Well, I’d just be using you for sex,” Tony explained, flippant, and possibly lying. He wasn’t sure. It’d been a long time for him, out on the Rim of Known Space, where any lover could have been an assassin.

This one, he thought, was one. Honesty. It was novel.

“Think I’ll survive,” Bucky said. “Ain’t a wilting flower.”

Tony slid his hand down the front of Bucky’s pants. “I’d say you’re not, at least.”

Bucky rocked into the touch, groaning.

“Still, this is probably a bad idea,” Tony said, which didn’t keep him from rubbing his palm against Bucky’s length, stroking and teasing and feeling himself getting hard, getting ready. “Attachment can cloud your judgement. You might make a stupid mistake, if you let yourself like me.”

Bucky found Tony’s ear, nipped at the shell, lavished it with warm breath, nipped at the lobe. “So tell me no.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Tony said. “What I’m about to tell you is more, faster, harder.”

“I can do that,” Bucky said, and Tony found himself backed up the few steps until his knees hit the tiny bunk, and then he was pushed down on it. Bucky pushed himself into the vee of Tony’s thighs, rutting down against him, rubbing. Sweet friction, with sharp nips of his teeth against Tony’s neck, shoulder. “Like that?”

“More,” Tony said, and struggled to get his pants undone. They shifted and squirmed around, cursing the lack of space, the number of snaps, the sharp corners that seemed to find elbows and knees to catch at, but eventually enough nudity happened that they could curl together in the bunk, skin to skin.

Bucky stroked his skin, licked at his body, as if he already knew everything that Tony wanted, as if he’d done this a hundred times before. He touched, rubbing with just the right amount of friction, teased with just the right amount of amused cruelty, until they were both aching for it, needy and sweating and thrusting at each other.

Tony dug around in the bedside cabinet, thinking he would curse Fury with a lifetime supply of bad food and decaf if there wasn’t-- ah, there, lube, thank the stars.

“Roll over,” Tony ordered, and Bucky was keen enough to obey. Tony ran a hand down his body, livid scars and thick muscle. Beautiful, really. Like a map of the stars. Tony straddled him, his knees bracketing Bucky’s hips, rubbing them together. “You want to do this, or let me get us ready quick?”

“You,” Bucky said, his blue eyes all but black with lust-shot dilation. “Wanna watch, you do it, baby.”

“I’m just using you for sex,” Tony reminded him, his mouth twitching up in a sardonic smirk.

“So use me already.”

Tony lubed up his fingers and reached between his legs to start the process. Wet and stretch. He wasn’t gentle with himself, he didn’t take time to build up to it. He wanted, and he wanted it now, so now was what he was getting. He was almost grateful that Bucky’d refused the offer to tease him, even if they would learn each other better that way. Or maybe not. Maybe those soft, sniper’s eyes of his were memorizing everything that Tony did, every movement he made, ever sound that came out of his throat.

Didn’t matter. Soon enough, Tony was balanced over Bucky’s hips, hands planted on his chest, lowering himself onto Bucky’s cock.

They moved together, slick and slow. The liquid sound of their lovemaking filled the small cabin. Sometimes Bucky moaned, sometimes Tony gasped, and it kept going, thrusts and slides, the way they moved together, the way they were together.

Dreamy, languid, hot and slick, Tony lost himself in it, moving as if the whole goal was to move, to belong, to be with someone else. And not just someone, but that specific person. As if he’d lived his entire life for these few precious moments.

When pressure built, a tingle in his hips, a clenching of his thighs, curling of his toes, Tony was almost surprised.

Like he’d forgotten where all of this could lead.

Bucky was breathing harder, hips snapping up to meet Tony’s, his hands digging in, fingers tight on Tony’s thighs, and--

Tony shuddered all over and clenched, everything building to one pinprick of white hot, molten pleasure, before he gasped, quivered, and came, spurting over Bucky’s chest, dripping along his side, spilling onto the bed.

Beneath him, Bucky thrust up, again, the tight, hot feel of it almost too much, and then he was crying out, too, their sounds and screams intermingled into a song of wanton joy.

Tony collapsed onto him, trying to pant for breath and his chest aching when the modifications to his heart and lungs wouldn’t let him.

But it was okay. They could rest here, for a while.

They could rest.

Bucky chuckled after a while, petting Tony’s hair fondly. “I’m jus’ using you for sex,” he told Tony.

Tony managed to lift his head and give Bucky a not-particularly noteworthy glare. “Best news I’ve heard all day. When do you plan to use me again?”

[end smut]

Tony hooked the space-cable up to the coffin-like sleep capsule. He’d already checked and double checked. Cap was alive, in perfect hibernation. “Rogers is ready for transport,” he reported.

“Copy that,” Bucky’s voice filtered down to him through miles of space, atmosphere, under tons of ocean. “Seven minutes, eighteen seconds remaining on my mark. And mark.”

“No sign of the tesseract. Are we sure it’s down here?”

“It’s presumed. Five minutes, Tony, that’s all we can spare.”

“I’m looking, I’m looking. You got any readings for me on unusual energy output?”

“Everything on that ice ball is a fucking unusual energy output,” Bucky complained. “This shit’s wreaking havoc with our systems. Pretty lights and sounds, but useless.”

“Going to have to do it the old fashioned way, then,” Tony said. “Grope around and hope I get lucky.”

Tony searched, even as hard as it was to move under the sea, as cold as he was -- and he knew that the liquid around him was even colder -- and as dark as it was. He was pretty sure he’d read something, somewhere, about the tesseract glowing, so he should be able to see it, if he just got close enough.

“Four minutes, Tony.”

He looked under the pilot’s chair, around Cap’s fridge unit, in corners where it might have drifted in the tide.

“Three minutes.”

“Copy that.”

He half-swam, half pushed his way into the second bay, even darker with no windows to catch the glow of the primary, so far away.

“Two minutes, Tony, go back to the capsule.”

“I hear you.”

“Tony!”

“Wait, wait, I’ve got it,” Tony said, seeing a glimmer of blue, impossibly far away. He’d never make it and make it back in time, but-- he had to try, didn’t he? If he didn’t get it, he was as good as dead in less than a month anyway, right?

“One minute, Tony, turn around!”

“I told you not to get attached.”

“Tony, please!”

Tony’s hand closed on the cube, which flared to life and awareness in his hands.

“Haul him up, Barnes,” Tony said, staring at the device in his hands, the sheer power of it shaking him all the way down to his core. “I can’t get back, you have to save one life.”

“Tony--”

Tony touched his ear, turning off the comm unit.

“Show me,” he said to the tesseract, twisting the cube and letting the stone inside it float in mid air near him. “Show me everything.”

Tony almost didn’t make it in time; the suit’s integrity was showing at less than three percent when he finally made the Space Stone take him where he needed it to, just inside the airlock.

He stepped through the portal, a rip in the fabric of space, just in time to see Bucky, standing over Cap’s pod, slam that metal fist into the reinforced wall.

“Uh, can I convince you not to compromise hull integrity?” Tony wondered, letting the helmet dissolve and gasping for air.

“Tony, you son of a bitch, what the hell?” And then Tony was being hugged too hard to explain. “Stars, you’re cold--”

Bucky pulled away, already shivering.

“Yeah, it’s not comfortable down there,” Tony said. “Luckily, I found a faster way to travel.” He held up the cube with the Space Stone tucked back neatly inside.

“Is, uh… that--”

“Yep.”

“So, now we can travel to anywhere in the universe?”

“In seconds.”

“Great. Because Steve needs a doctor,” Bucky said, nodding slowly, like he was planning out a route. “And I need a great deal of Asgardian meade. And then we need a really nice, big bed.”

“Still just using me for sex?”

“Once you warm up a bit,” Bucky said.

“Sounds like an agenda,” Tony replied. “I think I can rig this into the hyperdrive as a temporary measure.”

“I’ll get you a cup of coffee and let you get to work,” Bucky said.

“I think I might be using you for more than just sex,” Tony said, reverently.

“Best news I’ve heard all day.”

#tonystarkbingo2019 #bingo fills #lemon #tony stark x bucky barnes

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letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked · 6 years

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Words On My Skin (Part 12)

Bucky Barnes x Reader Soulmate AU

A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful feedback (even if the last part shocked a lot of you)! I love comments, replies, asks, messages, etc. They make me want to write so much more! I posted this early, since I’m going up north this weekend! (I go every weekend, basically. LOL)

Warnings: Unedited and angsty.

Main Masterlist // WOMS Masterlist

Tears streamed down your face, dripping off your nose while you scrubbed. The smell of green apple dish soap permeated the air as you furiously scrubbed the – already clean – shelf of the fridge that you’d ripped out. The food was in large coolers, so they wouldn’t go bad while you stress cleaned the entire kitchen.

Your hands trembled, stress causing your heart to race and heat your face. You quickly rinsed off the suds to lay the shelf on the drying rack, thoughts in hyperdrive. You grabbed the second shelf, shoving your hands in the scalding water to wet your scrubber and harshly scrub at a small spot where some yogurt had leaked out onto the glass. The pressure of your grip nearly snapped the glass shelf as the memories of what had just happened replayed over and over in your head.

After Bucky had stormed from the kitchen, leaving you with your mother, while you stared at where he’d rounded the corner.

Oh… god.

“I cannot believe the nerve of that man!” Your mother huffed out incredulously, breaking you from your despair. Replacing it with anger. “He should’ve never been allowed back into society. I knew he’d be nothing but trouble when he was allowed to join this team. He’s nothing but a menace.”

You stopped, ears ringing while your jaw tensed hard enough to hear a small pop. “What?” Your voice was laced with venom as you whipped around, fists clenched in fury. “Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

“Excuse me? Watch your tone with me.” She snapped, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow at you. “That man yelled at your mother, and you didn’t even defend me. You just watched, whining like a toddler, while he got in my face.”

Is she for real? Is she fucking delusional?

“While he… Are you kidding me? You got in his face and accused him of domestic violence!” You cried, voice cracking at the end. “He’s been nothing but kind to me! He’s the kindest, gentlest, and most caring person I’ve ever met in my life!”

“He has you brainwashed, darling.” She scoffed, shaking her head. Her face was soft with condescending sweetness. “You’re too naive. I knew I should’ve raised you to be more like me.”

“Thank fucking god you didn’t!” You scrubbed at your face with your hands, trying to remove all traces of tears. “You’ve done nothing but beat me down, force me on a path I didn’t want, ruin any relationship I ever had, force me into a diet I didn’t want… I never want to be like you.” You couldn’t even think. You wanted to give her a list of all the awful things she’d ever done to you, but your mind was reeling so bad that you couldn’t even comprehend what you wanted to say to her. “I had to be in fucking therapy because of how you raised me!”

“Oh, here we go!” She threw her hands up, rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, face flushing with anger. “You’re always the victim, aren’t you? God, darling, you’re so dramatic. I raised you a million times better than I was raised. You think you had it bad? I don’t ever remember you complaining when I was giving you money, a home, and proper schooling. You’re so ungrateful! I’ve done nothing but teach you-”

“Teach me?” You screamed, taking a step towards her. You’d finally snapped. Holy shit. You’d never spoken to your mother like that, before. “I knew nothing when I left! I had no money, no place to live, no knowledge of the real world… I couldn’t even fucking support myself! You made me dependent on you!” You felt the tears welling up, again, as twenty six years of anger finally bubbled over the metaphorical pot. “You were so concerned about having the perfect daughter, that you made me hate you! I fucking hate you!”

You took a breath, trying to steady your voice. “Bucky is one of the best things to ever happen to me, and you fucked it up. You had to know that there was a reason I didn’t tell you I’d met my soulmate. It’s because I knew. I fucking knew! I knew you’d ruin it, just like you ruined me!”

“You-”

“No! You’re going to shut the fuck up and let me fucking speak, now.” You cut her off, taking another step forward and pointing a finger at her. You could still feel Bucky’s residual hurt and anger, powering your own. “He’s my soulmate. He’s always going to be my soulmate, and you hurt him. I won’t fucking stand for that. You can terrorize me with your condescending tone and rude comments, but I will not let you accuse my soulmate - the man that I fucking love - of abuse!”

You watched her eyebrows raise, but you continued on. “He has tried so hard to become a better man and fight the soldier in himself. I’ve seen people stare at him, judge him, call him names… But you know what I’ve seen him do? I’ve seen him talk to children, I’ve seen him hold doors for people, donate to charities, give his food to homeless people, fight for peace… I’ve seen him do more of an effort to be good than any other human being on the planet. You think I deserve better? Well, you’re wrong. He deserves better. He has always deserved better than he got.”

She closed her eyes, pinching her nose in frustration. “I’m trying to protect you. You don’t see-”

“No, mother. You don’t see.” The tears spilled over, again. Leaving trails down your cheeks as you gulped down the lump in your throat. “You aren’t protecting me. You’re protecting your image. Just as you’ve always done. Even if it pushed me away.”

“I’ve done everything for you.” She sighed, removing her hand from her face and standing straighter, “You’ll never understand how much I’ve done for you. I am the way I am to make you better than I could ever be.”

“I don’t want you to make me better.” You wiped under your face, pain starting to numb you. “I want you to be my mom.”

She shook her head, turning to grab her purse from the table, a long exhale from her nose being the only noise in the kitchen. After a moment, she replied: “I’ll see myself out.”

“Mom.” You sagged in defeat, sliding down to the floor and leaning your back against the kitchen island. “Mom, please.”

She ignored you, heels clicking against the hard floors as she made her way around the corner – where Bucky had taken his exit minutes prior.

Fuck…

After sitting on the floor for a few moments, the stupid kettle started screaming, and sent you into ‘clean the kitchen from top to bottom’ mode.

Your life might be a mess… but at least the kitchen wouldn’t be.

You finished scrubbing the stupid shelf, attempting to transfer it to the other basin of the sink where you were rinsing, but the damn thing slipped from your fingers. A number of expletives flew from your mouth, loudly, as it fell to the tiled floor – crashing upon impact. The shards spread like droplets of water in a splash, tinkling against the stupid floor and looking impossible to clean up.

Big pieces first, then use a piece of bread to get the small shards.

You bent down, trembling hand moving too fast as you went to pick up the largest shard.

“Motherfucker.” You hissed, a sharp sting starting from the palm of your hand and radiating up your arm. “Fuck me.” You – stupidly – brought your hand up to cradle near your chest, staining your tee shirt with blood.

You slid to the floor, slipper-clad feet scraping the glass away as you fall to the tiled floor. A sob escaped before you could control yourself. Your breath came out in short gasps, as you drew your knees to your chest and cradled your hand between your thighs and chest.

Fuck… was this a breakdown?

Why the hell were you so upset? Bucky was the one who deserved to be upset. Your mother was the one who had insulted him, called him a monster, and completely rejected him… You could still feel him through the bond. Do you really want him to feel you through the bond? You need to calm the hell down.

You started working on your breathing, trying to count your inhales and exhales like you usually did. Inhale for five seconds through your nose, and out through your mouth for five seconds. Slowly. Your palm was throbbing in pain, so you decided to focus on that while steadying your breathing.

You heard the water shut off in the sink, and footsteps crunching through the glass slowly.

You ignored whoever was there, continuing your breathing and pressing your thumb against the small slash in your palm. You heard a small huff, as the person attempts to slowly lower themselves down next to you and sit.

“‘Being above the threshold of perception of a stimulus.’”

Tony?

“What?” You croaked, lifting your head slightly to wipe your face with the neck of your tee shirt. “Tony?”

“That’s my next vocab word.” He shrugged, crisscrossing his legs while avoiding glass. He held out a dark red handkerchief with a monogram of his initials in the corner. “Want to help a guy out?”

“Oh…” You take the cloth with a trembling, bloody hand. You pressed it to your hand with a sharp hiss, closing your eyes until the sting lessened. “Supraliminal.”

“Subliminal?”

“No,” You shook your head, leaning your head back against the counter. “That’s when you’re not aware of something affecting your brain. Like coloring in a movie. You don’t realize the impact of dark colors affecting your mood during a sad scene.” You sniffed, feeling much calmer than you did minutes before. “It’s unconscious.”

“Oh… makes sense.” He nodded, typing on his watch for a moment.

“Why are you on the floor?” You asked, eyebrows pulling together. “There’s glass.”

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I dropped the stupid fucking shelf from the fridge while washing it.”

He snorted, flicking a small piece of glass of his leather shoe. “Well, Natasha told me she heard the argument from the living room.” He gestured to the hall on the other side of the kitchen, “She heard the meltdown, too. She came to get me when she saw you sobbing over the sink.” He grabbed your injured hand to assess it, removing the small cloth. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” You lied, looking down to where his fingers were prodding at your cut. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve heard come from your mouth.”

“I technically work for you guys.” You sighed, shaking your head and leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling. “This is completely unprofessional.”

“You also live here.” He pointed out, not looking up at you but wrapping your hand back up with the blood-stained cloth. “Plus… I’d like to think we’re all friends. You’re a huge part of our team. You kind of made us dependent on you. You’re too good at your job.”

“Bucky said that, too.” You chuckled, the feeling of anger dissipating the longer you talked to him. “He told me that I could come to you guys with anything. That you guys would be there for me, just like I’m there for you.”

“I hate to agree with him, but I agree with him.” Tony replied, letting your hand go. “You don’t have to be worried about talking to us.” He suddenly snorted, turning to you with a small smile. “Never thought I’d be telling somebody with a bachelor’s in counseling to talk to somebody.”

“I’ve developed the bad habit of wanting to help other people face their issues, versus facing my own.” You sighed, chewing on your lip for a moment. “It’s pretty common, actually.”

“I would know.” He mimicked your position, head back against the cupboards and fingers tapping on his knees to a random rhythm. “I do it all the time.” He turned, looking at you closely, “Do you want to talk about your nightmares?”

“How do you-”

“Oh, please.” He waved you off, rolling his eyes. “We all have nightmares. We know the signs.” He bit his lip for a moment, thinking hard for a moment before continuing. “Did you know that, before my house was destroyed in L.A, I had a nightmare so vivid that one of my suits tried to attack Pepper?” He let out a long exhale, ceasing his tapping. “I wasn’t talking to anybody about my nightmares. I wasn’t letting anybody help me, even though everyone knew I needed it.”

“Accepting the fact that you need the help is the hardest part.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, headache coming on from all the previous crying. Just… tell him. He understands. “They started after the attack.”

He nodded, waiting for you to continue.

So, you did. You told him about the nightmares, and about your meltdown in the gun range. You told him about how the monster in your dream changed to the face of your father. The change had scared you, because you never hated your father. Not like your mother… You told him about how your father just… stopped being there for you. How he stopped acting like a dad, and more as a person who was just… there.

He talked about his relationship with his parents, as well, and how he reacted when his parents had died in the car accident. You knew a little about what really happened, from what Bucky had admitted once you had both started opening up to each other, but you never heard Tony talk about his parents. Ever. He would make silly little jokes – or jabs about his father’s personality – but he never actually talked about them.

It made you realize that you both had more in common than you’d initially thought.

You’d both had rough childhoods.

When you recapped the fight, you watched as Tony’s face shifted from empathetic to stony.

“She thinks he’s abusing you?” He finally asked, after you finished talking, butt starting to hurt from sitting on the hard floor, “I’ll admit that Bucky and I have our… problems… but I don’t believe that he would ever intentionally hurt you. Ever. I think that man would rather me blow off both of his arms, than ever see you hurt.” He shook his head in disappointment, exhaling slowly through his nose. “You weren’t here before, so you wouldn’t know, but he’s changed. A lot.”

“I don’t doubt that.” You agreed, hurt still lingering through the bond as you traced the intricate lettering of your tattoo. “Though he hasn’t told me everything… He’s told me about how he was after you guys found him. He told me how closed-off he was, and he blames himself for a lot of the shit that has happened.”

“It was a big fight.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Those were complicated times. The government was trying to pass The Accords, Steve found him in Bucharest, everyone was gunning for arrests and trying to take control… it was a lot of high emotions for every party involved.”

“I’m just happy that it’s all in the past and everyone was able to come to an agreement.” Your lips lifted into a small smile, “Though… it makes paperwork a bitch.”

“Why do you think we hired an assistant?” He snorted, tapping away on the screen of his watch. “We hate paperwork.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Well,” He grunted, starting to stand from the floor, “I need to get off this hard floor. My back is killing me. We should’ve had this little pow-wow in the living room, so we could sit comfortably.”

You grasped his hands as he pulled you off the floor, your back cracking in response, “I agree… though, I didn’t exactly know that I was going to be on the floor for-” You looked down at your watch, eyebrows raising in shock, “Three hours.”

“Time flies when you’re having a heart to heart.”

“Don’t I know it.” You groaned, hips screaming in protest as you stretched out. You glanced at the floor, grimacing at all the shards of glass littering the tiles. “I have to clean this up.”

“Go clean yourself up.” He gestured to your hand, which had stopped bleeding but was covered in crusted blood. “I’ll call the cleaners to fix this up and order a new shelf for the fridge.”

“Are you sure? I can do that.” You insisted, stepping away from the glass to go find a broom. “I made the mess.”

“What happened to letting people help you?”

Fuck. He was right.

“Thank you, Tony.” You smiled, clean hand grasping his forearm in thanks. “I feel a lot better.”

“No problem, kid.” He patted your hand, before tapping away on his watch, again, and heading towards the elevator. “Now, go talk to your soulmate.”

God, you needed to see him.

Part 13

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DON’T FORGET: Sunday is the last day to submit your masterlist/fic for my 2K Follower Celebration!

For those who don’t know what I’m talking about: for my 2K follower celebration, I am celebrating you guys! So send me your masterlist and/or fics via message or ask, and I will add them to the list! Also, read them!

If you’re an avid reader, like me, you can submit your favorite fics to me, too! Anything to help other writers!

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chrryjin · 6 years

Text

skz ghost ! au

“ Do You Believe In Ghosts ?”

prologue

pairing: skz x gn ! reader.

(choose a member after prologue)

genre: comedy, horror, angst, fluff

It was the beginning of October, and your friends decided to throw a party to celebrate. Why? Because your friends absolutely adored this month. The spookiness, all of the Halloween movies, Inktober, they loved it all. You would have loved it too, if you weren’t scared so easily.

Ghosts, demons, and monsters scared you. Even if they were fake, some decorations seemed far too real. Scary stories made your imagination go into hyperdrive, being startled and suspicious of everyone and everything.

“Hey, you’re still coming to the party, right?” Your friend asked you on the phone. “Do I honestly have a choice? I’m already dressed anyway,” Was your reply.

“Great! Just making sure that you aren’t backing out. Yeong-Suk found this really old looking book in her shed, and it seems like a guide to summon something? Anyway, everyone’s here already. We’re just waiting for you to come before we try it out.”

That … that raised so many red flags on so many levels. It was practically how horror movies started! Find random book. Read random book. Get haunted and your life’s ruined.

But nonetheless, you still went. You didn’t want to be a downer or anything. So taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the “party”.

“Yo~ You’re finally here! Now we can actually start!” The first thing that you saw were your friends, sitting in a circle. They were surrounding nine black candles, unlit for now. In the middle of the circle was some pentagram looking thing, and it looked like someone used black paint or something.

Overall, this looked like you just stepped into a cult gathering or something.

“Guys, this doesn’t seem like a good idea.” Your voice cracked a bit at the end, but you were pulled down to sit next to your friends.

“Come on, this is all fake anyway. What are the chances that ghosts actually exist, or that the book actually works?” Hei-Ran reassured, patting your shoulder.

Giving a defeated sigh, you motioned them to go forth with whatever ritual they chose.

“Here. You can light up the candles.” You gave Min-Jae a look, as if asking it was really you.

“Me? As in, me me? You want me to light up the candles?” You didn’t want any part of this, but the expectant looks you got from your friends was your downfall.

Going around the circle, you bent down to light each candle. While you were lighting the last one, you slightly lost your balance, putting your hand on the ground to save yourself from falling into the candles.

“Ew!” You pulled yourself up, seeing that your hand had smeared the pentagram, black paint on your palm and fingers. “I’m going to go wash my hands, be right back.” You said, walking to the bathroom.

‘Geez, whatever paint they used has a lot of dye in it!’ You thought, since your hand was practically tinted in the black paint. Giving up, you went back to the circle of friends.

“Should we, you know, fix that pentagram you drew?” You asked, worried that something would go wrong since you ruined it. “Nah, I just painted that too make it look legit.”

Wow, so legit. Drawing fake satanic pentagrams and trying to summon something from the depths of hell. What else could be more legit?

The next few minutes were kind of a blur. Honestly? You didn’t pay attention due to fear. Scenarios of demonic possession going through your brain, your sweaty palms, you would rather not pay attention when a monster comes out.

Your attention was brought back when two of your friend took each of your hand, linking everyone. “Oh Hell no.” You shook your head, but their grips were really strong??

“Okay. Now we say, ‘I Summon Thee’ three times.” Yeong-Suk instructed. Yeah, there was no way you were doing this. But your friends were faster. They already chanted those three words three times. Just as they finished, all of the candles went out.

The room was pitch black. All was silent besides someone screaming, followed by laughter.

It took you a good few seconds to realize that it was you who was screaming. The laughter was from your friends.

“You should have seen the look on your face! That was hilarious!” “Yeah, those trick candles worked so well!” “And this is just an old textbook.”

Huh? You were dumbfounded. Looks like you were pranked on by people who you thought were your friends. You thought someone was going to die!

Fueled by anger, you grabbed your things and stormed out of the house. You heard your friends calling your name, but you knew that they wouldn’t come. They were having far too much fun after plotting against you anyway.

Once yoy were home, you went straight to your room, ignoring your mom who asked how the party was. The bitter feelings got the best of you, as hot and salty tears started to roll down your face.

Suddenly, you felt something cold touch your face, wiping away your tears. Looking up, you saw a transparent looking boy. “Are you alright?” He asked.

You did the only thing you knew how to do at that moment.

Scream.

[ Hi hi~ so since I’m done with the disney aus, i’m starting a ghost au now for october! Each week, I will publish one or two members for this au, each with an aesthetic/moodboard and drabble. The length of the drabble will be longer than the disney au, don’r worry. I’ll do the members according to age, so Woojin is first and I.N. is last. Hope you will enjoy this series, see ya ~ ]

#stray kids #kim woojin #bang chan #lee minho #leeknow #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #I.N.#skz ghost au #stray kids imagine

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musicandmusing · 6 years

Text

Metanoia - Chapter 5

Description: Namjoon lives a double life, if you will. He teaches high school Literature and enjoys it. But in the safety of his apartment, he has his hobby, creating music under the pseudonym RM. His meddlesome friends push him where he stubbornly refuses to believe he can go and clings to the safety net he has created. But how strong can a safety net be when it’s full of holes?

Genre: Fluff and Angsty

Pairing: none, (Namjoon and his self-esteem?)

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Swearing and drinking.

He could barely keep his hands from shaking in his adrenaline-induced craze to bring his broken dam of thoughts out before one of them could be lost in the flood of too much and not enough. Tae leaned so close now that he had pressed himself into Namjoon’s shoulder. Yet Namjoon still couldn’t feel bothered by the lack of personal space, so intent on tearing down his half completed work to rebuild it stronger than before.

A/N: This chapter has been sitting and waiting for a good day to post. It’s been done for months and I just haven’t hopped on a computer to get it posted and I apologize. TBH I’ve had a cursed week (car died, phone’s dying, hit my head at work) so it felt right to show myself all the hard work I’ve put into this story. It’s a bit of a technical chapter but it felt right. Enjoy! - Cinder

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

I sit in darkness waiting for your storm

The flash of lightning quick as it fills the black that consumes me

I keep my eyes closed to keep me tethered to the reality of you

All shadows and bruises, cuts and rough edges, words sunk deep in my back

A broken rumble shakes my bones out of their slumber

Waking me up to a new view I can’t recognize

Your hands covered my eyes, blindly led by you

Your soft words rattled my heart and tilted my world

Chasing the white rabbit your fictitious words created, I fell through your looking glass

Missed the signs that shouted at me to turn back and listen to the reasons why I shouldn’t

He listened carefully to the sample he’d just added behind the first verse. Feeling unsure about the necessity of it, he muted the track and listened again. Half way through the verse he unmuted it so that the heavy synth beat loop came in on “a broken rumble” and Namjoon smiled. But now that he was building on the bass line with the synth, it felt a little... like he could add more. He went into a folder of his preferred samples and found some hi-hat options and a few snare effects he liked. If he spliced the snare and hi-hat options together, cutting the sound off in the middle and creating an off beat rhythm maybe it would give that sense of off-balance the verse needed. He caught his tongue in between his teeth as he set his plan into motion.

He was nearly done carefully crafting the somewhat complex concept in his editing software when his mattress dipped unexpectedly causing him to let out a less than manly squeal and lean harshly to the right. He whipped his head around to see what had caused the movement and his heart rate immediately began slowing back towards normal. He could only send his best withering stare at his asshole of a roommate who grinned wildly at him while Namjoon continued to clutch his laptop for dear life. Tae had already settled into his pillows like it was his own bed, propped against the headboard next to Namjoon and legs casually crossed in front of him with his left arm thrown across his stomach. Namjoon stared at Taehyung, not having quite recovered from the shock he’d received while Tae had the gall to just take his headphones wordlessly from him. He couldn't even bring himself to react when Tae slid the laptop from his lap and started clicking around, clearly starting the track in its incomplete state. Namjoon couldn’t bring himself to get upset at Tae’s absolute disrespect for his privacy and work preferences as he watched his roommate carefully listen to the track. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he sank into his pillows and stared at the ceiling in resignation.

The whole situation really wasn’t even that unusual. Taehyung had interrupted his work on songs before so it’s not exactly a problem that he was listening to the track unfinished. But he could’ve at least found another way of barging in rather than startling him some like horrible jumpscare in a B-list horror movie. Outside of his already reducing frustration for his friend, he patiently waited for the verdict. As he slowed his breathing into a rhythmic pattern, counting slowly while he waited, Tae began to hum. What surprised him was that the snippets were a melody separate from any existing part of the song. Tae seemed to search for the notes as he paused and Namjoon heard him click the trackpad, to presumably back up the track and try the line again.

Namjoon immediately wanted to pick Tae’s brain on his thoughts but he patiently waited out Tae’s own creative process as he worked his way through the song. He had an idea of what Tae might say though, a backing vocal line or even a duet would maybe add some additional emotional depth. He could already imagine it. Tae’s husky tone could compliment the lyrics in a way Namjoon couldn’t quite capture alone. When Tae finally pulled the headphones down around his neck, Namjoon wasn’t surprised by his first words since he’d crashed into the room.

“I think I can add some vocals to the track.” Namjoon turned his head to see Taehyung’s eyes were shining with barely contained excitement, looking the same as he had just hours before while secondhand shopping. Humming, Namjoon nodded in understanding of the rush of creative possibilities.

“I figured that’s what you were working out.” Tae scooted closer to Namjoon and pulled the laptop to sit more in between them. He started clicking around the trackbar, one headphone pulled over his left ear, clearly looking for a specific part of the song.

“Well I was thinking about adding a chorus-like sound here if you think that could work and maybe a doubling here...” Tae played the song and gestured to the portions of the sound waves displayed on the screen as he described his ideas.

Although Namjoon could just almost make out the music coming through the neglected right side of the headphones, he couldn’t hear the song and so Tae’s words made little sense. In these moments he needed the song in his ear, listening for the potential hidden within the notes already laid out. Namjoon stopped the track and unplugged the headphones, forcing Tae to remove them with a slight look of confusion. He plunged his hand under the pillows beneath his back until he felt the tangle of earbuds he was searching for and pulled them out. Gently, he placed one half of the earbuds into Tae’s right ear as he took the other and scrubbed back to the beginning of the track on the computer. At least he hadn’t added any panning yet so the sound would be completely balanced between the two of them.

“Show me.” He looked at Taehyung with a seriousness that had Tae sitting up straighter, losing the slouch he’d until then been sitting with and adjusting his earbud to sit just so. Tae’s eyes glazed into complete focus on the screen full of soundwaves as Namjoon started the song again. They listened through the song again and Tae sang the parts he had pointed out before. It was just a skeleton of the sound, no words yet, and no additional voices to fill the chorus sound he talked about but Namjoon heard the idea. His brain was filling in the sounds he knew he needed to round out the arrangement and the wheels began to turn.

It dawned on him this could be a full-fledged duet and pulled his notebook out from under the pillow Tae was leaned against and started analyzing the lyrics. He ignored the look Tae gave him for probably his questionable storage technique while he worked, judging by the timing. It was effective and sort of weird but who was he to judge. Tae certainly had plenty of weird habits that Namjoon was privy to but he let slide on an almost daily basis.

His first instinct was to begin by sectioning off the second verse, a possible echo, bouncing the words from himself to Tae. His brain had gone into complete hyperdrive, imagining the possibilities of different breakdowns to include a vocal part, determined to include it now that Tae had convinced him. How will the lyrics change with the vocals. Should the verse slow down to give Tae more time to sing the lines. If he did slow down the verse, would he extend the loops or add new material. On second thought no adding more material. Relooping what was already there should work. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered Tae having crowded his space, leaning into his left shoulder with his head clearly in his peripheral but not enough in the way to disrupt the notes he made to accommodate the changes.

It was an adrenaline rush as he reworked and considered the changes in sound. The familiar heavy thrumming of his pulse took over the longer he dove into his work. He eventually decided to just give Tae the whole second verse and he would take the first verse. Then Tae would double him on the first chorus and they would split the second chorus into the bridge and then back into the repetition of the chorus with Tae backing while Namjoon covers the chorus alone.

You came through like a thunderstorm

You took me over and ran, ran, ran me down

Your symphony of sounds

Drowning out my reason

Gonna go take my shelter and weather your storm

He scribbled over all the original notes for the second verse and started noting his final ideas in bold strokes, solidifying his intention. Tae made a small noise of surprise but nothing that could shake Namjoon’s focus. It had only taken maybe five or so minutes to work it all out and he brought his laptop forward so he could start manipulating the track again. He began clicking around his recording program, sectioning off the areas of his recording where he needed to mute his raps in place of where Tae would sing. He could barely keep his hands from shaking in his adrenaline-induced craze to bring his broken dam of thoughts out before one of them could be lost in the flood of too much and not enough. Tae leaned so close now that he had pressed himself into Namjoon’s shoulder. Yet Namjoon still couldn’t feel bothered by the lack of personal space, so intent on tearing down his half completed work to rebuild it stronger than before.

“Tae grab me my MIDI controller.” Namjoon pointed blindly in the direction of the mini MIDI controller he knew sat on his desk to Tae’s left. Even in the chaos of his desk cluttered with loose papers, empty cans of various drinks, a few mugs of various rounds of coffee or tea, he knew the mini MIDI controller would be easy to spot. Namjoon could perfectly picture it sitting in it’s usual nearly neat nook where it barely managed to keep from tangling with a charging cable for his phone, his charging cable for his laptop, and another pair of earbuds. Tae clearly had no difficulty finding it as he was back on the bed in less than 30 seconds, navigating the disaster zone of his desk easily. He even had the forethought to wrap the cord around it.

Plugging it in, Namjoon started setting up as quickly as he could, wanting to continue running on his creative high with Tae’s now seemingly ever-present weight against his shoulder. His roommate continued to silently watch and, normally, Namjoon didn’t let Tae in when he was in the throes of writing and composing but as he was an integral part of the inspiration it felt too trivial to force him leave while he edited the song to fit the new structure.

He started adjusting the settings in his software, trying to find a synth tone to that would suit Tae’s somewhat rough timbre. It needed to be easy for Tae to hear so probably an alto range to double his baritone as his guide. They'd just make a first draft recording with his cheaper microphone that sat on the shelf above his desk. They could really get fancy another time when it wasn't possibly already the next day.

Recording at home was less than ideal but he didn't have the expendable income to go and rent a studio full time. Just a couple hours here or there was the best he could do for recording any audio clips he needed. Besides for the purposes of a rough draft he had enough cloth in his room to help dampen any reverb anyway, what with the thick carpet and long window curtains. The mic was good enough it wouldn't pick up too much else outside of whatever was directly in front of it anyway. He'd gotten it second hand so it hadn't even been too out of his budget.

Namjoon spent 30 minutes, give or take because he didn't really pay attention to the time while he was composing or producing, experimenting with the melody. Occasionally he would wait for Taehyung to give some input, a slight shake or nod of his head if he liked the changes made.

“Taehyung can you grab the mic?” While his roommate grabbed the microphone from his desk shelf, he swapped the earbuds back for the headphones so Tae could hear the song better. They swapped microphone for headphones and Tae settled into a cross-legged position next to the laptop while Namjoon set up the microphone quickly. He didn't have to tell Tae what was happening next. It was clear it was time to record. He didn't even ask for Tae's permission but if Tae hadn't wanted to be a part of this he should've said something when he saw the notes scribbled all around the pages of lyrics. To Tae’s credit, he took everything Namjoon threw at him with ease, not even slightly flustered as he was pushed into the metaphorical spotlight in the privacy of Namjoon’s bedroom.

He pressed play and waited. Namjoon could just hear the song playing as Tae kept one ear of the headphones cocked partially off his ear in order to hear himself better. A technique Namjoon had taught him which he had learned through trial and error. He held his breath as he watched his roommate inhale and focus on the guide Namjoon had just carefully crafted for him. He began to sing, his voice a little rough from the day but it gave grit to the lyrics. Namjoon slid his eyes shut and let the rough yet smooth timbre wash over him. He couldn’t stop the goosebumps and pounding of his heart if he tried.

The world a tinted yellow

The rain hits my face and I think it feels like you

It’s hard and soft, soothes and frustrates

It slides over my skin like your fingers trying to pull me closer

But I’m not sure I want to stand in this rain anymore

To be broken into an unfamiliar form, just the way you wanted

Melted into your desired shape, cracked and glued back into place

Nothing quite the same as before, I won’t be rearranged no more

Want to recognize myself when I look in the mirror

His voice perfectly captured the shattered kind of feeling Namjoon was trying to describe, the loss of your own self due to the destructive power of another. Although he hadn’t truly felt that loss but the feeling of losing himself was always on the precipice of his thoughts, always a worry that never quite let go, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. Confronting it meant facing choices he didn’t want to second guess.

Taehyung had just finished the last line of the verse when his phone started vibrating angrily from his pocket, light shining through the thin fabric of his old sweats. He paused the recording and pulled out his noisy phone. Namjoon could see that Jimin was trying to FaceTime, a photo of him with Yeontan covering the lower half of his face filling the screen. Even with the poor lighting in the room, just the bedside table lamp and laptop filling the room with battling warm and cool tones, Tae answered. He angled the phone so that Jimin would get an unflatteringly close view of his nostrils as Jimin’s pixelated face filled the screen. Jimin was clearly in his own apartment, possibly in his bedroom judging by the multiple pillows he seemed to be leaning on.

“Hey Jiminie what’s up?” Tae repositioned the phone into a slightly more flattering angle as he moved back towards the bedside table lamp so he wasn’t washed in near darkness. Namjoon noted that Jimin had completely ignored the strange way Tae had answered the call, his face neutral as he spoke.

“You’re not in your room.” Jimin frowned at the screen, clearly confused. “Where are you? Are you busy?”

“I’m in Namjoon-hyung’s room.” Namjoon leaned in onto his roommate’s shoulder so that he came into frame and gave a little wave that Jimin returned. “We were working on a song.”

“Oh! Can I listen to it?” The screen blurred as Jimin seemed to shoot up from his relaxed position and the volume at which Jimin had exclaimed startled both Tae and Namjoon into knocking their heads together. As the video refocused, he was clearly waiting like an excitable puppy for a treat and sat in anticipation against the wall he’d been casually leaned against previously. Namjoon glared at Jimin while rubbing the top of his head, although he was pretty sure he wasn’t in shot anymore as Tae settled back against the headboard again. He grabbed the phone to pull himself into frame again to respond to Jimin’s over-enthusiastic question.

“It’s still in the works. We just made some major changes.”

“I have a great idea then.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow and Tae leaned closer to the phone, as if he’d be able to hear Jimin. Even though the only thing that could possibly cover the sound of Jimin’s clear voice was the low hum of the heating in his room and the muffled sounds of the occasional car driving by their apartment building. “I was going to suggest it before. I’ve been playing some of your stuff to the producer I usually work with. He’s co-written a bunch of my stuff and I really like working with him. He’s super talented.”

Namjoon would say that Jimin is super talented too because he co-wrote a lot of his own music and can dance the pants off a koala but he kept his mouth shut. Jimin was clearly on a verbal roll and he didn’t want to interrupt him or turn down his plans, yet. Although he’d have to hold his tongue about playing his music for everyone and their cousin like some proud parent.

“I have a session with him tomorrow and you should come and get his opinion. Might have some interesting suggestions.” Jimin finished excitedly, beginning to slowly rock side to side and causing the video to sway. Namjoon opened his mouth to ask more questions about what he meant by ‘get his opinion’ and ‘interesting suggestions’ but his roommate butted in.

“Is that the grumpy guy you work with?”

“He’s not grumpy!” Jimin pouted at the screen, thankfully stopping his swaying in his effort to look put out. “He’s just tired most of the time. He pulls a lot of extra hours.”

Namjoon turned to Tae with a look that hopefully portrayed his distinct lack of understanding where this conversation had just made a sharp left. Tae just rolled his eyes and clarified his statement to Namjoon, pointedly ignoring Jimin’s pouting face. “I’ve met him a few times while sitting in on Jimin’s recording sessions. He’s like a cranky cat. Should have a sign saying ‘Do not touch.’”

“He’s nice.” At Tae’s incredulous expression to his boss, Jimin huffed. “I think I’m making progress befriending him.”

“Jimin. You call him your friend but he pretends he doesn’t hear you.” Namjoon raised both eyebrows at this and watched the exchange unfold like a tennis match, eyes shifting from Jimin on the screen to Taehyung next to him.

“Yeah but he always gives me appropriate breaks before I even say I need one and his constructive feedback is always helpful. He’s never rude when I make mistakes. He always has the mini fridge stocked with bottled water.” Jimin defended, clearly offended with Tae’s brush with the truth. At least Namjoon, assumed it must’ve been the truth since Jimin didn’t deny it.

“Sounds normal to me.” Tae said flatly while inspecting the fingernails of his unoccupied left hand while Jimin scoffed in retort. Namjoon felt like they had definitely forgotten he was even there. The experience was turning out to be incredibly enlightening though. He’d seen them interact in person quite a few times now but didn’t usually hear much of their conversations over FaceTime because he was not a nosy friend. Well, okay, a little nosy but he never went out of his way to be nosy. It was like they’d been friends for as long as he and Tae had known each other, the way they bickered. He let them forget his existence for the sake of his curiosity.

“Right! That’s progress! He used to not make eye contact at all!” Well that’s a bit strange, Namjoon thought. Not making eye contact at all? If he went in to meet this guy, he hoped he’d actually get some feedback, which sounded dubious from what he was hearing so far.

“Yes.” Tae just rolled his eyes. “Progress.”

“You do not roll your eyes at me young man!” Jimin’s voice hitched up a few pitches in his indignation at Taehyung’s antics. This was fairly familiar territory for Namjoon, scooting slightly further away from the phone for the impending shouting that was coming. He hoped his neighbors slept like the dead.

“You are only a FEW MONTHS OLDER.”

“You will NOT DISRESPECT ME, KIM TAEHYUNG!”

Namjoon could only see this going downhill from here if he didn’t intervene soon. He had to say that they certainly didn’t let the separation of a screen stop them from squabbling like two angry parakeets. Better to cut them off before there could be any serious repercussions. Like noise complaints. He’d like to keep his clear track record with the landlord.

“So what time should I show up tomorrow?” He plopped his head onto Tae’s stiff shoulder and whatever the two had been ready to throw at each other evidently died in their throats. Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise seeing Namjoon suddenly appear in frame and sat still for about ten seconds before he seemed to register Namjoon’s question. Namjoon had been planning to ask a few more questions about this producer but this would be a once in a lifetime opportunity to get an unbiased opinion on his music. Until… Unless he was signed. And if that happened, then he’d probably get a lot more opinions than he needed.

Jimin’s face turned from ready to kick ass to delighted so fast it gave Namjoon mental whiplash. “Tae will be able to bring you along. He’s supposed to come work on sketches for the music video while I’m recording. You can sit in while I work and see what he’s like.” The swaying of the screen started again and Namjoon tried not to feel motion sick from Jimin’s inability to control his physical manifestation of his emotions. Jimin looked at Namjoon expectantly as he leaned from one side to the other, head tilted slightly to follow his body’s momentum as he waited.

“Are you going to let him know I’m coming?” Namjoon questioned slowly when Jimin didn’t say anymore. If the guy was like a cranky cat, Namjoon would rather not make a negative first impression by crashing a recording session. He didn’t need any scratches.

“I guess I should do that shouldn’t I.” Jimin mumbled as his video cut out and the artificial sound of quick keyboard clicks crowded the small speaker of Taehyung’s phone. Tae had yet to make any comment, his frustration with Jimin apparently deflated from the reminder of the original purpose of the conversation about the producer. The two of them waited, holding very still when the clicking suddenly paused but Jimin didn’t come back. Tae shifted his legs from their crossed position to stretch them out and wiggle his toes and Namjoon continued to lean against him, staying as quiet as possible to not miss anything. Finally they hear a distorted buzz but the idol still didn’t say anything and Namjoon deflated, hoping this wouldn’t take too much longer. To pass the stretching time, he fiddled with the knobs on his MIDI controller, twisting one back and forth around the original position before moving on to another. The sharp sound of clicking filled the silence again and Namjoon couldn’t help but release a sigh, settling in to wait for a while.

They both startled when Jimin’s face finally popped back up on the screen, a big smile on his face. At least this time they hadn’t hit their heads together. “He’s cool with it.”

Namjoon smiled and gave a silent thumbs up, deciding to hold off on any other questions for now. He’d rather mentally prepare for presenting his stuff to a real producer. With a wave and a brief goodbye, he ducked out of Tae’s personal space and opened up a document on his laptop to begin a checklist. His creative high had definitely disappeared by this point but now was replaced with a simmering nervous energy as he typed out what he would want to bring tomorrow. Focus renewed, he didn’t even manage to acknowledge Tae as he left his room to wrap up his conversation with Jimin, only half hearing something about what they wanted to cover tomorrow but tuning out any more than that.

In his effort to make sure nothing would be accidentally left behind as he tended to do when packing, he didn’t register Tae’s sign off with Jimin. The next thing Namjoon picked up was the thundering footsteps towards him and looked up in time to see Tae mid-leap, throwing himself at the space he had just recently vacated. Namjoon quickly pulled his laptop and MIDI controller to his right so Tae couldn’t possibly break them but with his hasty movements meant his phone launched across the bed and at his dresser. All he could do was watch as the corner of his phone case smacked the front of a dresser drawer and land on the floor with a dull thunk. Tae bounced into the bed and Namjoon couldn’t even face him but he knew that his roommate was fully aware of the potentially destructive scene he’d just caused.

After a few beats of silence, he slowly turned towards his still frozen roommate, his frustration taking over his nerves. Tae refused to make eye contact as he looked to where the phone had landed. Eventually he hesitantly met Namjoon’s eyes and flinched because Tae may be many things - hyperactive, nosy, meddling, spoiled, air-headed, brilliant - but destructive was usually not an adjective attached to him.

“Go get it.” Namjoon demanded, not willing to look at the state of his phone, and Taehyung had the sense to not question him and rushed over to go pick up the phone. This phone had yet to sustain any damage to the screen, with the help of some heavy duty screen protectors, and Namjoon was not having his new record ruined from his best friend’s stupidity.

Tae cautiously and slowly turned over the phone, clearly just as worried that something may have happened. Namjoon almost felt the need to cover his eyes so as not to see the damage from the bed but his morbid curiosity kept his hands firmly planted on either side of his body, palms pushed against the mattress. When Tae had crouched with the phone for a good 15 seconds, Namjoon decided to clear his throat and snap him out of whatever daze he was in. His roommate finally clicked the power button to light up the lock screen. A triumphant smile spread across his face as he proudly showed off the phone.

“No cracks!” The air Namjoon had been subconsciously holding in released all at once like a popped balloon.

“You are incredibly lucky, you excuse of a friend.” He glared at Taehyung but there was no heat behind it, more relieved that he wouldn’t be replacing his phone yet. But Tae suddenly moved like he was going to chuck Namjoon’s phone at him, frowning, and Namjoon shielded his face in fear. Only seconds later Taehyung was full out laughing, making Namjoon glare at his roommate as he came back and sat next to Namjoon once more. He dropped the phone safely into the space between them. Namjoon could only manage to smack Tae’s arm in a half-hearted attempt at a silent reprimand as they sank back into a comfortable quiet.

“This is really happening.” Namjoon stared at the wall in front of him, photos of his family and friends, mostly Tae and Jin, covering a large portion of it. He lingered on the ones from his college graduation, the one of his parents grinning as he stood between them with his diploma proudly displayed. Next he looked at one of Jin, Tae, and himself all crowded in a photobooth making the most ridiculous faces they could, aegyo and just general silliness, from the time they had gone to the beach together. Namjoon remembered breaking his sunglasses thirty minutes into the road trip and neither of his friends would let him hold anything of value for the rest of the trip. He’d also almost lost his wallet and frantically had turned over the hotel room they’d stayed in only to find it sitting in his shoe. He was pretty sure Tae had done that just to get back at him for stealing his earbuds and then promptly losing them. He’d later found them in a pants pocket but only after they’d gone through the washing machine.

Tae nudged his shoulder and Namjoon looked at his friend, sure he was unable to hide the uncertainty he felt.

“Yup. You’re really meeting a producer tomorrow. You’re getting professional advice on your demo tomorrow. And I’ll be there with you. And Jimin too.” His small smile helped soothe some of the nerves that sat next to his uncertainty, the two trying to create a monster of anxiety. “You’ve got this. Wanna finish the song?”

A glance at the clock on his laptop read half past midnight but Namjoon couldn’t help but smile back. He looked back at the wall of photos, settling on two he’d recently added. A selfie of his closest friends and himself at karaoke, clearly in the middle of belting whatever song had been on, sat taped next to another from Jimin of the three of them, all crowded on the couch just out in the living room together laughing as Jimin gave the camera a less than impressed look.

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

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melanoradrood · 6 years

Note

5. Angry kiss (please make my cry)

in honor of rebelcaptainsmutweekend

Cassian is going through the pre-flight checklist, starting the engines, comming into the control tower, checking that everything on the old U-Wing is functioning, when Jyn climbs in. She settles into the co-pilot seat, and he barely glances over, instead finishing the list. When he gets the all clear to take off, he glances to make certain that Jyn is strapped in, and she gives a nod, the headset firmly into place.

“Rogue Two, pulling away,” she says, and she leans forward, flipping off auto-pilot for Cassian so that he can take the controls, taking them out of the base, through the atmosphere, and out into the vastness of space.

A few minutes of waiting, as they simply fly, and then, Jyn reaches over to switch off their connection with the base comm. Everything from here on out will be scattered, bouncing all over the system. It’s just them, for now, and a long flight to gather up Baze and Chirrut from where they have been searching for more Guardians of the old ways. They have to fly halfway across the galaxy, it would seem.

Cassian is just about to push them into hyperdrive, and then he pauses, his eyes flicking towards Jyn. Her fingers are messing around with a few of the various switches, getting ready to set them to auto-pilot once they’re actually in the hyperspace lane, and she looks up at him, waiting for him to push them forward.

“Major?” she asks, and that… that hurts. That almost burns in his chest.

The silent treatment, it’s been killing him. It’s not that they’re fighting. There would have to be an argument for them to fight. Instead, it’s just complete silence, her shutting him away, building a wall between them, and he doesn’t know why.

The fact that she’s calling him his rank, rather than by his name? Something inside of him falls out, and every bit of happiness seems to leave him, the only thing left a bottomless pit of sorrow.

“What happened?” he asks, and his voice sounds so broken, when she looks up at him, she looks shocked. He can hear it, in the back of his throat, a near sob. He wants to cry, to scream, to-

“What?” she asks, and her eyes are suddenly filled with fear. What do you mean-”

“With us?” he corrects. “What happened to us?”

She stares at him for the longest time, and then shakes her head.

“There is no us,” she finally answers.

Whatever’s left of Cassian, it dies, and he hits the hyperdrive, reaches over to flick on autopilot, and then gets up, leaving Jyn in the cockpit, because he can’t even look at her. It hurts too much to even try.

It takes five minutes, and then Jyn is sliding down the ladder into the cargo hold, hand raised, finger pointed at him.

“No,” she snaps, and he looks away from her, back at their gear that he’s repacking. “You don’t get to pull that bantha shit with me. You asked me what happened, and the truth is, nothing. Nothing happened, Cassian. What more do you want me to say?”

He whirls on her, fists clenched at his sides, and he tries to look larger than he feels, because suddenly, he feels tiny. “Something had to have happened. One moment, everything is fine, we’re friend, we’re partners, and the next, you just… you shut me out!”

She’s staring at him in shock, then shakes her head, taking a step back for a moment, then another step forward, like she won’t let him bully her out of her own personal space. “Nothing was ever fine, Cassian! You asked me to stay, asked me to stay for you, and then what?”

He’s wracking his brain, trying to figure out what she means, but he doesn’t… nothing happened. Everything was fine! He doesn’t get where everything went wrong.

“I asked you to stay, yes, and you stayed! I quit my position, so that we could work together. I fought for you, to get you a rank, to make you one of us. I vouched for you. We work together! What am I missing here?”

He wants to ask, wants to hope, but-

“I didn’t stay for the karking job!” she snaps at him, and suddenly, he feels two inches tall when he sees what looks like tears in her eyes. “I stayed for you!”

He feels it hit him, suddenly, what she meant by nothing. Nothing had happened, meaning nothing had changed, meaning he hadn’t made a move, meaning he… she had stayed for him and he had done nothing.

“Jyn, I-”

It happens so fast, he almost isn’t ready for it, her fist swinging at him, and he grabs it, grabs hold. She’s angry, and he knows that, and he knows she lashes out when she’s angry, when she’s hurt. She swings at him again, and it’s halfhearted, because she could easily get out of his hold, but instead, she just struggles against him, trying to pull away, to shove him, to-

“Stop it!” she screams, and she finally jerks away, leaving him standing there, staring at her. “Nothing happened! Nothing changed! I get it, now. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

It’s not enough. It’s not enough for her to just be here, for her to just exist. He’s stuck in her orbit, unable to pull away, and he… he loves her. He should have said something should have done something, should have-

“Hold up,” he says, and suddenly, he’s no longer feeling so defensive. If it mattered, this much, then- “Why didn’t you do anything, say anything? I asked you to stay. I welcomed you home.”

He had laid his heart out for her, had followed her into battle, had followed her towards death. He had placed not only his life in her hands, but the lives of men that he trusted, men that were like him, that needed the redemption she could offer them. He had reached out, had asked her to stay…

“You don’t get to turn this around!” she snaps, and Cassian… he understands, now, why she had swung at him. It was fight or flight with them, always, and there was no way to get away from this.

“I asked you to stay!” he repeats. “I asked you to stay, I followed you out there, and I’ll follow you every time! I follow you into battle every time you throw yourself out there, so how can you possibly say that it’s nothing? You’re my home, you’re my-”

“Shut up!” she snaps, and he realizes the tears in her eyes are from the anger, building inside of her. “You don’t get to just throw yourself into the thick of it, nearly killing yourself, and then later claim that you did it for me. You don’t get to die for me! That’s just as bad as leaving, that’s-”

“I will never leave you,” he snaps, and he surges forward, grabbing her waist, tugging her to him. In seconds, he has her pinned against the wall, and she shoves at his chest. Instead, his hands go to her wrists, and he pins them on either side of her head. “I’m trapped, Jyn. I’m trapped in your orbit. I can never escape you. You’re in my blood, in my veins-”

She kisses him, hard, and he shoves her back harder into the wall, his knee going between her legs, pinning her there, his mouth pressing back against her lips. They’re both shoving at one another, almost a fight, but the kiss… neither of them wins, not even when they pull away, suck in a breath, then dive back in.

She shoves at him, suddenly, as soon as he lets go of her wrists, and he takes a few steps back, still staring at her. The anger is still there in her eyes, but it’s fading, much like it is in her own.

“Figure out what we’re doing,” she says, and she still sounds pissed, but her hand is going to her lips, touching them softly, like there’s a memory of a kiss. “You don’t get to just… kiss me and then die like some bantha brains.”

He gulps, nodding, and he can still feel her body pressing to his, and for a moment, it almost feels like a dream.

“So are we an us?” he asks, and she glares at him for a moment, eyes thinning.

“Ask me when I no longer what to shoot you,” she says, and she starts climbing up the ladder, then pauses, looking over at him. “Or don’t, if you want to fuck on the shitty mattress in the sleeping quarters.”

He watches her climb up the ladder, eyes caught on her ass, and then he grins, climbing up after her, two rungs at a time.

Find the Prompt List here!

#rebelcaptainsmutweekend #rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain smut ficlets #Anonymous #Answered Ask #[ no tears i'm sorry but i had this idea and couldn't kick it ]

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braindamageforbeginners · 6 years

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Q: Can I pray for you?

Yes, Godsdammit, go ahead and pray for me. I get that people don’t want to be weird, and, for some inexplicable internet reason, I’m rapidly becoming some weird brain cancer idol/shrine on Facebook and Instagram (which would explain the creepy robo-prayer calls I occasionally get from :prayer centers” (I’m also old enough to remember when “prayer centers” were called “churches” and/or “temples”). So, here’s the deal: even though I consider myself resourceful, lucky (in a weird way), and cunning, there is literally no way I would know whether you’re praying for me unless you specifically ask or tell me. I appreciate consent, but, really, just go ahead and pray. Unless God is like a special delivery by UPS, and I have to be home at a certain hour to take delivery (again, theologically, that would explain an awful lot). My apologies for running roughshod over a good-hearted request and all that, but your own Holy Book* actually has something applicable: “ And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites. are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and. in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men “ One almost feels a screenwriting possibility...

EXT. GOLGOTHA - DAY - In the background, the followers of Brian are singing an unorthodox but merry song. A crowd gathers around one of the crosses. CHRIST: Why hast thou forsaken me?! CHRISTIAN 1: We haven’t forsaken you, dude. We’re just waiting for the “Kickstarter”pledges to reach the stretch goals before we save you. You okay, Jesus? CHRIST: Oh, rather.** I was wondering, if it wouldn’t be too much to ask for some pliers and a step-stool. CHRISTIAN 1: Yes, since they haven’t been invented, yet. But you seem like you got this. CHRIST: Hang on... CHRISTIAN: See you in three days, dude

I mean, I get that the LDS got into trouble for baptizing Anne Frank, and I’m not advocating that anyone do a post-mortem baptism, unless they can rig me up like “Weekend at Bernie’s,” but, at the same time, Anne probably has bigger, more pressing issues than what is or isn’t being done in her name (especially since we’re still hostile, as a nation, toward refugees and immigrants, which is what the Frank family hoped to be... before the US denied them travel visas). i can only base that on my own experience, but I feel it’d be faster and easier to get forgiveness than permission. I could be wrong, but I’ve never heard of anyone in dire straits getting angry, post-facto, at being prayed for.

So, today marks the second-to-last infusion before, in an ideal world, the Warlocks cut me loose for observation. Again, it’s been an utterly miserable year, but, at the same time, I do feel almost as if I’ll be adrift. When you put every last scrap of energy and potential into a task like this (not dying a horrible death), suddenly having time or energy to do things like carve out a career (or at least make some sort of money on this blog)(again, you guys are only getting a thin dribble of output; there was literally a brief time in my life where had three modes: writing, sleeping, and library).. At the same time, not aggressively and preemptively treating a cancer that is infamous for coming back, is somewhat scary, although I know unending chemo will eventually kill me.

Which brings me to today’s topic, body horror. This is the broad trope/genre of biology horror, usually best-seen in David Croenenberg’s films. It’s not an uncommon sensation for cancer patients to have some distal clump of cells come alive and attack. For most patients, however, that story usually ends with, “And then me arse fell off, and the doctors knew what it was!”(Reminder to self: schedule colonoscopy and/or other recommended preventive/screening procedures, ASAP). For neurosurgery patients - those lucky enough to end the story with, “And then I had neurosurgery,” It’s a slightly different story. For the first few months post-surgery, your sutures hurt like hell - like any major surgery would, I’d imagine. Then comes the longer phase, when they have an odd, itching/stinging sensation. For everyone keeping track, that’s not a continuous sensation - it’ll be maybe a minute or two out of every week, and, when you reach up to scratch, the pain receptors in your scalp will slap you away. After that, you enter the body horror part of neurosurgery, the itchy phase. This is the shortest of the three, and I will admit, horrifying dander is one of the less-offputting aspects of it (you don’t know what relief is until you scratch out self-dissolving stitches). I apologize for that graphic description, but it’s important. So, on November 1 of last year - er, 2017 - I had my most recent neurosurgery (that’s #3, for those keeping track at home). And then, as expected (There’s a reason I started the blog well before any treatment), everything in my life went into hyperdrive, and I didn’t have time to keep track of my new scars (and, really, once handfuls of hair start coming out in the shower, you’re disinclined to investigate further). So, it wasn’t until very, very recently that I realized how very itchy the right side of my head is. Which bodes well for the time frame of entering the recovery period shortly.

I mentioned in a previous post that I never got a PICC or CVS - which are semi-permanent venous access devices - because I had a shunt in my skull last year (2017), and one opening for opportunistic infections every election cycle seems a more-than-generous opportunity. In a year of chemo, that’s generally seemed like the better bet (for me, anyway), even though I have a blood draw every week. Today was the one time I’ve faltered in that decision. I have mentioned that I am notoriously hard to install in IV in - it’s a horrible feeling when you’re on a first-name basis with all the nurses in the chemo ward; it’s dwarfed when not only can you recognise everyone, but the nurse at your station not only recognizes you, she literally ducks out on-sight and calls Alex over)(the nurse on shift today gets full marks for listening to me complain about Alex - “He’s not terribly affable or gentle, and way too fast” - and retorting, “Well, that’s men.”). My previous find-a-vein record is seven. I don’t know if that record was achieved today, I stopped counting after four However, eventually an IV was installed and Keith Richards’ essence distilled into my circulatory system. Then, the second hour, we all waited for my heart to explode (yes, that is exactly what they do, although they have an automated blood pressure cuff to aid their measurements). Then, oddly enough, I encountered a friend from a support group, Which wouldn’t normally be worthy of comment, except she’s a fan (hey, Sarah!), and, based the latest data, the folks who actually use social media and/or social publishing to keep tabs on me/read my stuff are: 1. Close friends and family that are legally obligated to do so

2. Distant friends and family that I probably haven’t thought about in years (hey guys)(if you’re worried that you’re “distant friends and family,” I’ll pray for you)

3. Inhabitants of Narnia or the Hundred-Acre Wood (or wherever people on the Internet live

4. Racing in or out of parking lots as I am leaving

The bad news for today - hopefully - is that this infusion is going to be a bad one, based on how sore I already am, just 3 hours post-infusion. The good news is, I’ve got an Advent Calendar of assorted mostly-legal substances to help my battered psyche onward, I mean, drugs are bad, kids, unless directly monitored and prescribed by a physician.*** Anyway, next week will be the last infusion, hopefully, and, even more hopefully it’ll be followed by a long, uneventful life. That would be ideal, for me; however, since my life is run on the principle of, “What would make the most interesting narrative” I’m going with, “Even odds I’ll come down with Ebola before Monday.”

*My Holy Book is, of course, Dolly Parton’s autobiography. **In this adaptation, Jesus is played by Hugh Laurie, circa 1993 ***Odd final thought of the day: gateway drugs are real, and they serve as the way out of some amazingly awful other drugs.

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ashlynncoy-blog · 6 years

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Misfire: Critical Condition Part XVIII

Just when you thought it was safe to come back to the Misfire Verse....

Han wasn’t in her apartment when Leia woke up the next morning. He’d left her a message saying he’d stayed until he was sure the second dose of narcotic was wearing off but that he’d had an early morning appointment he couldn’t postpone. He said she should call him if she needed anything.

She did not.

The message also said he’d be checking on her.

He did not.

A few times she was tempted to go by the Falcon again, but she decided she’d better not. It was one thing to stop by with a thoughtful gift but another thing altogether to drop by for no reason.

The burn on her hand had been well healed for three weeks when an opportunity presented itself.

Luke had dropped by unexpectedly, his search for the things of the Jedi having once again brought him close enough to Coruscant that it seemed unreasonable not to stop in for a visit. He came by her office just after breakfast and seemed possibly more excited than he should have been.

He wanted to go help Han work on the Falcon.

“If you want to go,” Leia said, “go.”

“Only if you’ll come with me.”

“I think if Han wanted me to come by his ship, he’d have said so.”

“But he did say so,” Luke insisted.

Leia was dubious.

“Han said that?” she asked. “Han Solo? The same Han Solo I used to be involved with—he said he wanted me to come by and see him?”

“Well, not exactly,” Luke answered her, “not in so many words, but…”

“What were his words?” she asked, “exactly?”

“He said, um,” Luke paused and shook his head. “He said, ‘Heya, kid, glad to hear you’re gonna be in town. The Falcon’s got flight trials comin’ up and there’s a whole lot of work to do and I’d really appreciate havin’ your help. Bring your sister with you if she’ll come.”

“Wow,” Leia said back. That sounded a whole lot more like an invitation than she’d expected. “Okay.”

She was impressed at the condition of the freighter when they arrived. A lot had been accomplished since the last time she’d been in the hangar bay. The hull was all back in one piece with no obvious signs of having been recently welded back together. A brand new hyperdrive had been installed in the aft cavity they’d last used for ingress, and a working boarding ramp had replaced the crude ladder at the ship’s usual entrance.

Chewie waved from a perch on top of the ship, a polishing rag in one hand and his safety goggles still on his face. Leia waved back with a smile. Han had told her that Chewie was primarily responsible for the reconstruction of the old ship, and she was more than a little impressed with the progress he’d made since her last visit.

“Luke!” Han called out as he bounded down the ramp toward where Leia had parked the speeder. “Great to see ya, buddy! Thanks for comin’. And, your highness,” he said, turning to Leia as she walked around to join them, “boy, am I glad to see you!”

“Really?” Leia asked.

“How’s the hand?” he asked her, ignoring her remark entirely.

“It’s good,” she replied, showing him her fully-healed palm and trying to figure out why he was suddenly so happy to have her around.

“Good,” he said, “Look,” he began then, his demeanor becoming much more grim and serious than it had been a moment before, “I’ve got an inspector coming tomorrow. They’re either gonna certify the ship can fly or they’re not. Now, I got ahold of one of those diagnostic computers—the same kind they’re gonna use on the Falcon tomorrow morning. And… and I don’t know if it’s my brain injury or just my nerves—probably a little bit of both, to be honest—but every time I start in on the procedures my eyes start to cross. And I don’t know anybody who’s better at fine detail stuff than you. Do you think you could…”

“Say no more,” Leia interrupted. “Is it all in the cockpit?”

Han grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her firmly on the forehead.

“You’re the greatest, princess,” he said. “Everything’s set up in there.” Then he turned and grabbed Luke by his shoulder. “And you,” he said, leading him by the shoulders toward the boarding ramp, “Boy have I got a job for you.”

Luke went with Han into the crew lounge while Leia headed for the cockpit.

“So what’ve you got for me, General?” Luke asked.

“I’m getting ready to wire in the last few components,” Han answered, “but the only cabinets we’ve got left are salvaged from the crash, and they’ve all got some damage or another keeping them from being usable. You and me are gonna clean ‘em all out and get those last pieces hooked up so I can bring the rest of the old girl online before tomorrow.”

Han hadn’t been exaggerating about the damage to the console cabinets. He explained that Chewie had sourced a few new ones, and how they’d started the installations with those. But the new pieces hadn’t been enough, and not all of them had fit into the Falcon’s unique configuration.

The few cabinets that had survived the crash relatively unscathed had been put to use next, leaving only a few pieces of radio equipment and a very fancy multiband code converter that was either a gift from the New Republic or the Royal House of Organa—from Han’s description of its origin, Luke couldn’t really tell. Although, when he’d suggested to Han it was perhaps a gift to him from Leia personally, Han had been quick to change the subject back to de-scoring electrics racks.

It had taken Luke a good hour to get through the first one, but Han had been more than pleased at its condition when he took it to begin the installation of his new rectenna displays. The second cabinet had seemed more damaged on the surface, with coal-black scoring on all sides and twisted metal covering the slot rails. But the carbon had proven itself quickly to be totally cosmetic, and the metal appeared to be pieces of something else—blown to pieces and wedged into the cabinet by force and heat. Luke had an easier time than he figured getting it into shape.

He was nearly done, save for one stray bit of metal wedged firmly into the rear of the main cavity.

“How’s it comin’?” Han asked.

“Good,” Luke replied, “almost done. It’s just this last piece, it’s wedged in here real good.”

Han crossed to stand behind Luke, who was continuing to work with a hot iron and pliers to try and pry loose the offending item.

“Let me see,” Han said. Luke nodded and got up from his seat. Han slid onto the bench and stuck his hands inside the cabinet. With a liberal application of the heat tool and a final, mighty tug on the flotsam, he pulled it loose. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “here ya go.” He turned in his seat to show the hunk of metal to his friend.

And felt his heart jump into his throat when he realized what he was looking at.

“Wow, Han,” Luke said. “What do you think it is? It kind of looks like…”

“Yeah,” Han interrupted. “That’s exactly what it is.” He looked closely at the battered ring of gold. It had a fracture in the band and was definitely missing one of the opalescent gemstones that had once graced its head, but it was otherwise intact.

“How did it…?”

“I carried this thing around in my pocket the whole time I was away on campaign,” Han explained. “I wanted to come home and propose to your sister. But I got here just in time to see that someone else had beat me to it. Not long after Leia left with the royal son-of-a-Hutt,” he continued, “I found it—still in my pocket. I got mad and I threw it; it fell between the deck plates and I thought I’d be done with it forever. Of all the blasted things to have survived the explosion…. I lose my avionics and my hyperdrive and my radio and my tactical computer—but thank the Force I got back this kriffing engagement ring!”

Han stood up and threw the ring with all his might, aiming for the open hatch he couldn’t see but knew was there. He hoped that this time the damned thing would stay gone.

#misfire verse #sw au #ashlynn's fic #more angst #angstily ever after #I never said this was going to be easy #it hurts #but I'm not sorry #just wait until the next chapter #i am kinda mean

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riajade01 · 7 years

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“S-Stop looking at me like that! You’re making me blush…” for Mara and Quinn - cuz we need ALLLLL THE FLUFF YES

HAVE A FRIDAY FLUFF YOU GUYS. My brain has decided it is Done with being a person but at least we have this. I was inspired by the post that went round about Quinn blowing all his credits on upgrades to the male warrior’s ship.

A mug of tea in hand, Mara took the final steps through thehatch to the Fury’s bridge. The silence of her empty ship seemed an exquisiteluxury after weeks of dealing with Thul nobles and assorted other Alderaanianheadaches.

She stopped short at the sight of a pair of well-shaped legssticking out of the maintenance crawlspace on the far side of the bridge.

“Captain?”

Quinn jerked at the sound of her voice. She heard the clankof a spanner or some other tool hitting the bottom of the crawlspace.

“My lord!”

He scrambled to his feet and gave her a bow. He was wearinghis uniform pants, but his jacket and utility belt had been discarded, hungneatly over the back of the pilot’s chair. There was a smudge of grease on one toned bicep.

“I see I’m not the only one who needed to escape thehospitality of House Thul.”

“Not at all, my lord, I merely took the opportunity topurchase upgrades to your hyperdrive relays. Thul has access to excellentmanufacturers, as you must know, and I thought it prudent to install themnow.”

The words were rushed and sheepish, as if he expected her tosee through the excuse. Mara smiled knowingly and sat down at the edge of thecrawlspace.

“I assure you your secret is safe with me, Quinn. Truthbe told I had to spend some time away from those people if I am to enduretonight’s ball without murdering someone.” She picked up one of therelays. “So what makes these special?”

Quinn sat down next to her and took the device from herhands.

“It’s quite ingenious, really,” he began, launchinginto a detailed explanation of this particular type of relay and how much moreengine efficiency could be achieved by installing it.

His eyes seemed to glow as he spoke, clearly animated by thetopic, and she leaned back to listen, sipping her tea slowly. At length hetrailed off, feeling her eyes on him. He looked up at her and blushed.

“My lord,” he protested, his eyes sliding awayfrom hers.

“Captain?” she replied, smiling at him over her mug.

“Please, the way you’re looking at me, Icannot…” he trailed off, his blush somehow intensifying, spreading tothe tips of his ears.

“My apologies,” she replied, trying to smooth her featuresback to a neutral expression. “Your enthusiasm is catching, is all.”

“Would you like me to teach you to install them?”

“Of course.”

He dropped into the crawlspace and she followed, nowsurrounded to chest height by the guts of her ship. He led her to the spot he’dbeen leaning over before and opened the housing of one of the existing relays.She bumped into him gently when he stopped moving and wedged herself betweenhim and a conduit. The space was not strictly built for two.

Mara watched his fingers deftly sort through the variouswires connecting to the device and detach them in a specific sequence.

“You won’t be disappointed, my lord,” he said absently asworked. “These set me back a month’s pay each but they’re worth every credit,mark my words.”

Mara frowned.

“You paid for these out of your own funds?”

“Indeed,” he replied without looking up. “I ran an analysisand found there is truly no better way for me to spend my credits than on you.”

Mara’s browstalks climbed into her hairline, her breathimmediately becoming shallow. It took him a moment to realize the import of hiswords, and then he jerked upright to face her.

“That is, I meant to say, there is no better way to spend mycredits than on your ship,” heamended hurriedly.

She barely heard him; in that split second she weighed heroptions, played through every flirtatious interaction they’d had, and came to adecision.

She pressed her lips to his.

It was gentle and chaste. His stubble rasped against herface but his lips were soft and warm.

She felt him panic and pulled back in a rush, cursingherself for misjudging the situation.

“Forgive me, Captain, I-”

He pulled her to him, a hand on the small of her back andthe other at her neck, and kissed her in return, demanding and desperate as hepressed her mouth open. She groaned and opened herself to him eagerly, leaninginto his body.

“Mara, I’ve had just- Oh shit.”

Quinn tore himself away from her at the sound of Vette’svoice, turning away so his back was to them both. Mara grimaced and looked upto see her friend standing in the doorway to the bridge.

“Did you need something, Vette?” She was proud of how steadyher voice was despite her labored breathing.

“Just complaining about the locals,” Vette replied, herviolet eyes round and her lips starting to twitch into a grin. “These Thulcreeps are the worst. Do I have to go to their stupid party tonight?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Good. I’ve got big plans.”

“Let me guess, half a kilogram of dark chocolate and trashyholofilms?”

Vette grinned fully now.

“Jealous?”

“Of course.”

“You could ditch the party, too; I’m sure you both can thinkof better ways to spend your time, clothes optional.”

“Vette!” That was Quinn, having recovered his voiceslightly, if not his dignity.

“Bye!” Vette giggled and practically skipped off the bridge.

Mara clapped a hand over her mouth to cover a giggle of herown and looked back at Quinn.

“Pain that she is, Vette’s intrusion illustrates why wecannot continue this,” he said firmly.

“I’m sorry?”

He took a deep breath and met her gaze.

“My lord, I am drawn to you, make no mistake. But this isimproper; what if it had been Moff Sarek or one of his lieutenants?”

“Then I would remind them of the consequences of entering aSith’s domain uninvited.”

He opened his mouth to argue and Mara put a gentle hand onhis chest, trying very hard not to notice how warm his flesh was through thethin undershirt.

“As ever, I will not ask you to do anything that makes youuncomfortable, Captain Quinn. Think on it and let me know if you change yourmind.”

She hopped out of the crawlspace and turned back to him.

“You are free to decline this evening’s invitation; anescort is standard for women at an Alderaanian gathering, but I believe I shallbe forgiven, being Sith.”

“That is not necessary, my lord,” he replied, his faceearnest. “I would be honored to escort you.”

Mara studied him for a moment; he was sincere, she couldtell. She nodded.

“Thank you, Captain. Please be ready by 21:00.”

#swtor #malavai quinn #sith warrior #malavai quinn/sith warrior #ria answers things #my writing #otp: fire and ice #first! kiss!#slightly different from how I first imagined it but you can't take this from me

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