#not sure how i feel about this one
Your Obliviousness Knows No Bounds (Preath x Reader)
Never did Christen Press or Tobin Heath expect that they’d fall for someone else as they had with Y/N, now if only the couple could bypass the reader’s obliviousness to let her know how they feel.
Though they’d find that, that would be a rather daunting task.
You were completely and utterly clueless to their intentions, which annoyed Tobin and Christen to no end, though your obliviousness was actually adorable to the two of them.
The pair had been equally interested in you since you’d joined the USWNT, over a year ago, though they’d known you since their time at Manchester United, where you’d also been their teammate.
You were skilled, incredibly skilled, and had a personality much like Emily’s and Kelley’s, which meant you fit right in when it came to the USWNT.
You were prone to hilarious antics along with the other babies of the team, even though you were considerably older, but it was okay considering Kelley was also in on the antics as well, despite her age.
Both Christen and Tobin found themselves equally drawn to you when you met, and soon that interest developed into something far more, something the pair had discussed at length.
The moment you joined the USWNT, you were drawn to the two, considering you knew them more so than you did the others.
The more time you spent together, the closer you’d gotten, though Christen and Tobin’s advances had gone unnoticed, cluing them in to your utter obliviousness.
Once when Tobin put an arm around you, you’d blushed, thinking that Tobin had mistaken you for Christen and swapping seats with the forward.
The two had blatantly flirted with you, and as to be expected, it completely went over your head, which meant the two had to step up their game.
The night the team decided to go out for a night on the town and you declined, Christen and Tobin had shared a glance, the two seeing this as their chance to finally tell you how they’d felt about you and express the fact that they wanted you to join their relationship.
“Hey, we’ll stay with you.” Christen gives you a nudge and you grin.
You’d enjoyed not only her company, but Tobin’s as well, more so than you’d admit when asked.
Tobin throws an arm around you, her hand resting on your side.
“Yeah, why not?” She grins and your cheeks flush.
The others send Christen and Tobin a knowing smirk, each and every one of them knowing full-well what they had planned, it seemed as if you were the only one who didn’t know they were interested in you.
“Just try and keep it PG13.” Kelley smirks, Tobin and Christen’s eyes widening.
Again though, it completely goes over your head.
“PG13 is boring.” You snort, completely thrown off when Kelley barks out a laugh.
Alex grabs the defender’s wrist, tugging her away from the three of you, the defender still snickering.
“Come on, let’s leave these three alone.” Alex sends Tobin a wink, the forward’s cheeks flushing.
You watch the team make their way out of the hotel before you turn towards Tobin and Christen, a grin plastered on your face.
“So, what's the plan?"
The yawn you let out is lengthy as you make your way out of the bathroom and into the room where Christen and Tobin are waiting for you, the pair turning your way with matching grins.
You make your way towards the bed, about to sit beside Christen, but before you can she grabs your wrist.
“Here.” She smiles, tugging you in between the two of them, your cheeks flushing when you feel Christen’s thumb caress the back of your hand.
“Th-Thanks.” You stammer, turning to Tobin with a smile, the corners of the forward’s eyes crinkling as she grins your and Christen’s way.
“Are we smashing?” You ask, Christen and Tobin freezing, their eyes wide as they lock before they turn their attention back to you.
“Wh-What!?” Tobin stutters and your brows furrow.
“Smash?” You point towards the controllers on the bed and Tobin chuckles, her cheeks flushing bright red.
Christen bites her bottom lip, the woman sending her girlfriend a wink, letting her know, wordlessly, that she’d thought exactly the same thing she’d been thinking.
Smash had never disappointed her until this very moment, that disappointment melts away when you grab the controller, your eyes narrowed.
“Ummm, I don’t know how to...” You hold the controller up and Tobin smiles, scooting closer, the smell of her perfume clouding your senses.
“Let me teach you.”
You didn’t know teaching meant Tobin held your hand so much, you didn’t mind, but you worried Christen did, considering she kept glaring in Tobin’s direction, but that was only because she was getting to hold your hand and Christen wasn’t.
The longer the game went on, the closer the pair had gotten to you, their thighs touching your own, your shoulders bumping theirs every so often.
You surmised that meant the two wanted to be closer, so when you started to get up, the two turned to you in confusion.
“Where are you going?” Tobin asks, visibly pouting and you shrug.
“I figured you two wanted to sit closer together, I was going to-
“Ugh, for fucks sake Y/N.” Christen growls, the woman face palming.
“Wh-What?” You ask in confusion, your head on a swivel as you look between the two women.
“You’re so clueless Y/N.” Tobin pinches the bridge of her nose, the wrinkle between your brows deepening.
“What do you mean...?”
Christen stares at you for a moment, simply stares, before she lurches forwards, cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a kiss, something that catches you completely off guard, the remote in your hand falling to the bed as your hands hover in mid-air.
Tobin’s eyes widen, the woman trying to decipher the look on your face, but all she can see is your wide eyes and unmoving lips.
Christen pulls back abruptly, the forward cringing.
“I-I-I'm so sorry, I-
You stare at Christen blankly, forgetting to blink as your mind races.
Tobin was stiff, the forward’s brown orbs locking with Christen’s green, the brunette still rambling nervously.
Meanwhile you’re lost in your thoughts, thinking back to all the fleeting touches from the pair currently sitting on either side of you, the linger gazes, and soft smiles they’d direct at you and only you.
“Chris.” Tobin places a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder, trying to calm the stammering woman down.
Suddenly, you bark out a laugh, your hands moving to cover your face, which is growing redder and redder by the second.
“All this time you were trying to make a pass at me?” You ask, voice muffled by the palms of your hands, the couple glancing at one another before turning towards you.
“I think you know the answer to that question.” Christen lets out a nervous giggle and you chuckle.
Christen and Tobin share another glance, Tobin’s mouth opening and closing before she clears her throat.
“So???” She asks, looking at you nervously and your brows furrow, your hands leaving your blood red face.
“So what?” You ask, still oblivious.
“What did you uhh, think?” She asks, glancing at Christen who’s looking anywhere but at you.
“Wait.” You still, your eyes widening.
“B-Both of you, were making a pass at me...”
“Of course, you were, Christen would never cheat on you.” You shake your head, nervously rubbing the back of your neck.
You clear your throat in an attempt to keep yourself calm.
“I think that I didn’t really get a chance to enjoy that kiss.”
Christen is unable to bite back her smile as she glances Tobin’s way, the forward smirking.
“Does that mean you want a chance to?”
Your mouth falls open, your cheeks heating up as you turn away from the two.
“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it-
You’re cut off mid-sentence by a pair of familiar lips, lips belonging to Christen Press.
The kiss is soft, something that takes your breath away, Christen’s hands cupping your cheeks tenderly as your lips continue to meet again and again.
As the two of you part, Christen rests her forehead against yours, the woman’s green orbs fluttering open well before your own.
She can’t help but grin when she sees the blissed out smile on your face.
“So?” Christen whispers, her forehead reluctantly leaving yours as she turns to Tobin who’s grinning at the stunned look on your face.
Your eyes flutter open, locking with Christen’s green orbs before they dart to Tobin’s browns, the woman grinning.
You clear your throat, still unable to find your voice.
“I-I don’t know what to s-say...”
Tobin hums, the forward leaning towards you.
“And what about after this?”
Tobin’s hand slips behind your head, the woman pulling you in for a kiss, one that takes your breath away.
You could in no way compare the two kisses, because they were so vastly different that it couldn’t be described, much like Christen’s kiss, you craved for more, actually chasing Tobin’s lips to steal another kiss before you pull away, your eyes slowly fluttering open.
Tobin rests her forehead against yours, her massive grin making the corners of her eyes crinkle.
“So?” She asks, laughing when Christen’s chin rests on her shoulder, the two watching you inquisitively.
You shake your head, chuckling, as you rest your forehead against Tobin’s.
“I’m an idiot for not realizing what was happening sooner.”
“Your obliviousness is absolutely adorable.” She bumps her nose against yours and you chuckle.
“Yeah, but if I wasn’t so oblivious, I would’ve figured it out before now...” You blush, gently taking Christen and Tobin’s hand.
Christen caresses your hand with her fingertips.
“That’s the past.” She bites her bottom lip.
“Let’s focus on what you want now...”
You pull your attention away from Christen’s hand smiling when Tobin cups your face, her thumb running along your bottom lip.
Your tongue slips out of your mouth, swiping at your dry lips as your heart races in your chest.
“Wh-What do you want, Y/N?” Tobin asks.
You pause, giving their hands a squeeze.
“I want this.”
You pick your head up, looking at the two women with a grin.
“I want you.”
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“Good morning, Minamoto-kun.”
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doesn’t he know that i’ve had him memorized for so long?
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Echo x gn!Reader
Angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending? (depictions of physical assault, and demeaning language) Echo survives through Umbara.
The world is a cruel, unjust place, but no one ever has to go through it alone.
“He’s disembarking now.”
Dropping the files you had been holding, you rush past Thire as he calls after to you. His words float over your head in your excitement to see Echo once more, the bleak grey walls receding into space at the thought of seeing your ARC once more.
The door sliding closed behind you, you miss the tail end of Thire’s statement: “-artialled them.”
Passing clone after clone, you give brief waves as you pass by them, listening to them jest as they recognize where you must be going.
You can hear the shouting from a parsec away as you rush through the halls to the hanger, the high pitched voice of the elderly General ringing through the facility like a child's cry.
Whipping around the corner, the hulking figures of the transport ships come into view, the armoured clones in front of them but flakes of snow on ash covered ground. Steps stuttering, you try desperately to get close enough to hear what they’re saying. As you near, one of their hands shoots out from behind their backs, a quick gesture to the crates next to the ship.
A frown flitters across your face as you ponder what they mean.
After a moment of processing what they want, you rush towards the crates and duck behind them. Popping your eyes just over the top, the thick grey uniform of the offending General comes into view, his back taking up most of the view.
Trying to calm your pants, you steady your shaking hands and settle in to watch, waiting desperately to steal your soldier away for the little time he can be spared. No one outside of the clones can know you’re together; it would get you fired, and he would be reconditioned. So instead, you simply watch.
“Disappointment cannot even begin to describe the feeling I’ve got rumbling around right now, men. This was meant to be a quick in-and-out charade! What makes you think you’ve got the authority to change up the mission plan?” General Timaeus hisses out, inching forward to encroach on the men's space. To belittle them?
A scoff sounds from the right side of the group. Stepping forward, you watch as someone, Fives, boldly asserts himself before the puny human General. Holding himself tall, Fives sets his gaze forward; refusing to give Timaeus the respect of eye contact when he addresses him.
“When the plan disregards the safety of the civilians it's supposedly protecting,” he explains, his unwavering tone ringing out through the hanger.
To his right, you watch as the platoon leader fidgets his hands at his sides. He knows what happened, knows that Fives is lying, straight to their Generals face, but he does nothing.
For a moment, there is only silence.
Then, with the force of a man twice his size, a noise cracks across the hanger from the palm of Timaeus’ hand.
Flinching from behind the crates, the sharp noise echoes through your soul.
He slapped Fives.
Letting your eyes creak open, the wrinkle in your brow deepens as you catch a wince flutter across one of the shiny’s faces. He’s far too young to be in the squadron already; maybe a nat borns sixteen; a faint shadow of facial hair has not yet even graced his soft features.
At the edges of his eyes, tears are just beginning to form where they threaten to squint shut in fear of his General, the man who was supposed to lead and protect him but has instead made his life more of a living hell than it already was.
The clanking and crashing of the mechanics has faded into oblivion as blood rushes through your ears. The roar of your anger nearly overwhelms your senses, you curl your fingers into the palm of your hand in an effort to stay silent. The rational part of you knows that you have no place in this conversation, but your heart is screaming at you to go protect your boys.
As Timaeus’ foul voice begins to filter through the hanger once more, the internal screaming devolves into incomprehensible, panicked howling.
Locking his arms behind his back, Timaeus speaks with all the confidence of a man of his age.
“For your insolence and disobedience, the only path befitting the laws of both the Republic and the GAR is to have you boys court martialled,” he explains, a wolfish grin cockily displayed across the thin line of his lips.
“You don’t have the right to make these kinds of decisions, boys,” he drawled out, moving to pace around the edge of the lines, “or any decisions, really.”
Making his way down the lines of men, he jabs a finger into their chest plates as he goes by.
“At the end of the day,” he hisses out, curling his fingers underneath the top ridge of the chestplate of his current victim,
“You’re all just slaves.”
Yanking down as hard as he can, the soldier slumps over to Timaeus’ level, letting the older man pull him down to his knees.
With a grinding laugh, Timaeus watches as the soldier allows himself to be pushed down. A moment after the clinking of plastoid covered knees hitting the floor, Timaeus brings one of his knees up in a fast swing.
As it collides with the side of the troopers skull, you can hear the collective protest from the other men. No one moves to do anything yet; no one wants to be the one to make his rage worse. But they all let the crumpled over brother know that they’re there for him.
A sharp gasp catches your attention, and you look over to see the platoon leader quietly leaning towards the distressed young clone from earlier. While the General continues abusing the fallen man, spewing words of sheer hatred at him, the leader gently knocks foreheads with the young boy, a desperate attempt to show affection in a time when they both no doubtedly need it so badly.
After a moment's touch, the leader pulls away to the noise of the shinies whimpering at the loss of contact. Of protection. Of his big brother who wants to protect him from the cruel world they’re expected to fight and die for.
To your surprise, both Fives and Echo have stayed quiet. You know that they know this is wrong, that what they did was right, that this was becoming another Krell all over again; but all you hear is silence. Whatever the two of them have gotten themselves into was Echo’s plan; if Fives was in charge, then neither of them would be this calm.
You know your Echo.
Looking back to his right, you refocus on Fives. A faint red print has been painted on his dark features, yet the storm behind his eyes brews stronger than you’ve ever seen it before. He stands tall still, triumphant in the wake of the General’s seething anger. The earlier reprimand accomplished nothing but the validation of his actions out in the field.
This fact has not slipped by Timaeus, and you watch as the realization dawns in his beetle like dark eyes. Attacking another battle hardened veteran like this would accomplish nothing.
A smirk forces its way onto his grotesque features before he shifts to stand in front of the baby faced shiny.
Horror racing through your veins, you shoot to your feet to put a stop to it, but someone outruns you.
Before you can even shout over the crates, another clone had shifted to stand in front of the boy, his towering stature emphasized in proximity to the older General. Echo.
“You dare to block the punishment of a fellow clone, boy?” Timaeus jeers demeaningly, jabbing a sharp, bony finger into the space between Echo’s helmet and chest plate. The hanger is near silent, the clanging and clattering of mechanics finally paused as they stop to watch the mind boggling scene.
Reaching up, Echo tugs off his helmet single handedly.
“And if I do?” he growls, voice deadly quiet as he dares Timaeus to act.
Timaeus’ hand is at his holster faster than you could even process.
But not faster than an ARC.
With the precision of exactly the soldier you know him to be, Echo shoves at his shoulder to disarm him, the blaster scattering across the floor after falling from Timaeus’ feeble grip. In another smooth movement, Echo has him pinned to the floor by the shoulders, Fives right along with him at the feet of the miserable old General.
Grunts and yells emerge from under the two men, orders desperately sent out to the rest of the clones standing nearby to try to SOS for relief, for help, for anything. But nothing comes.
Glancing back at the nervous platoon leader, you catch a near imperceptible series of signs. Stand down. Await orders. ARC. Silent.
Thinking, you try to decipher what it means without context. Stand down, wait for the ARC’s orders, and stay silent? Or, no, that’s not quite right, is it?-
With a quick salute, he pretty much points across the hanger. A glance up to the balcony he looks towards reveals the true recipient of the message. He wasn’t giving the order to his men to wait for the ARC’s orders; they’ve been following the ARC’s orders the whole time.
The men had already been told beforehand: Stand down. Await orders from the ARC’s as the scene unfolds. Don’t reveal any information.
He’s just explaining what’s going on to the rest of the audience.
Grinning, you internally applaud the intricacies of the clones signs’. So many ways to interpret every given word, yet they as a group are so cohesive that there’s no question what they mean.
Siblings know best, afterall.
At the edge of a loading platform stands General Kenobi and his Commander Cody. Hand gently stroking his beard, Kenobi watches as the two ARC’s steadily disarm the General and begin reciting the military laws that he had broken.
Echo’s warm voice has gone piercingly cold, and it wracks you to your core that you have to hear him like this. To hear him so formal in a place where he should be joyful, reuniting with his brothers after a successful mission, reuniting with you.
After another moment of subdued struggling, Echo stands up, yanking the much smaller General up with him. Barely steady on his feet, the General in spun around to face the two men on the loading platform.
What little color he had drains from his features, the sickly pallor of his skin worsened by his fear. A small whimper escapes him, and you catch a scoff escape Fives.
Gazing down upon the scene, you watch as Kenobi quietly explains something to his Commander. With a sharp nod, Cody turns back to the two ARC’s before firing off some more signs of his own.
Good. Arrest. Turning to face the platoon leader, he continues: Brig. Now.
Echo and Fives send back twin nods, and pass off the stuttering General to the other man. With a sharp jolt, he begins to make their way out of the hanger, flanked by two other men from the squad.
You can hear murmuring around you, the sounds of nat born workers as they try to piece together what had happened. But you don’t need to know.
Stepping around the edge of the crates, you call out to your ARC. With a flinch, Echo turns from where he had been chatting with Fives to look at you. Closing the space between you two quickly, you reach up to place a hand on his elbow gently. Gazing down at you with an air of worry, he brushes a hand against the small of your back before a noise catches his attention.
As he looks away, a sudden confusion takes hold of you. Echo just looks, well, off? His demeanour is all wrong. Maybe he’s more shaken up about all this than he’s letting on.
Looking over to investigate, you watch as Commander Cody makes his way down the staircase to come over to the men. As he nears, you pull away from Echo to allow him to greet his superior officer.
A quick shift of the men with all of its accompanying clinks of plastoid occurs, and you smile at the stern Commander as he nears. Returning the men's salute, he reaches up to tug off his helmet. Looking over at the group of men still assembled, he pauses before deciding his next step: “Dismissed. Good work, vode.”
And with a few content murmurs, the group filters out, off to go eat, rest, or catch up with brothers they rarely got to see anymore.
As they leave, you watch as Fives goes lax, cocking his hip and letting his helmet drop to the floor at his feet. With a stunning grin, he turns to face the Commander.
“Job well done as always, eh Commander?” he jests, and you watch as Cody fights the grin threatening to squirm across his lips. Clearing his throat, Cody shakes his head accusingly.
“A job well done would involve actually following the job, Fives. The two of you knowingly went out of your way to revise battle plans without consulting your superior officer, drastically changing the outcome of the mission. Just because the mission went well does not mean that you did well.”
To your side, you can practically hear Echo’s flinch at the reprimand. “Sir, his plan was crafted for max casualties. There was no reason to allow clones to die for no reason. We would never stand for that.”
Cody glances over at Echo as he speaks. “I’m aware of that, soldier. I can’t approve it though,” he mutters, glancing at the other people milling around. After a short glance at you, he continues speaking: “Even if I happen to agree.”
Cody taps at something on his vambrace. With a gruff sigh, he runs a hand through his hair. “But, I suppose that’s why Rex made you ARC’s, isn’t it? Good soldiers follow orders; the best know when to question them.”
With another dramatic sigh, Cody jams his helmet back on before spinning on his heels to leave. As he nears the door, he slows down to rest a hand against the frame.
As he starts to speak, his voice echoes amongst the massive steel frames of the transport ships.
“Get some rest, boys. Maker knows when you’ll be getting anymore.”
As Cody finally exits the hanger, you can feel the tense vibes rolling off of Echo dissipate. Turning to his twin, he rubs a gloved hand across the back of his neck. “So he’s not actually mad at us, is he?”
Fives lets out a grating chuckle as he clasps an arm around his brother's shoulders.
“Nah, vod. Just hafta look all high mighty in fronta his crush, thas’ all,” he spills, grinning as if he was sharing a secret. Everyone knows that Cody has it bad for his General; it’s never been a secret.
With a quiet laugh, Echo shoves his arm off before turning back to you. With a soft smile that wrinkles the corners of his eyes, he lifts his arms out towards you.
Rushing into them, you squeal as he entraps you in them and lifts you just off the ground to spin you.
Quiet peals of laughter ring off the sides of the transports as the two of you embrace, the locked up feelings finally making their way out after nearly a month of being apart.
Pulling back slightly to gaze up at him, you can see the worry wrinkling the corner of his eyes.
Biting at your lip, you pause. “Echo, are you feeling alright? That was pretty intense. You handled it so well though.”
Smoothing over the hair that had fallen out of place around the edges of your face, he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ll talk later, yeah? Gotta go de-kit and debrief with the General. I’ll stop by your place later?” he questions, letting out a soft sigh as you nod.
“Yeah, ‘course. See you later, then.”
Climbing the staircase to your apartment, Echo heaves out a sigh as he reaches the end of the hallway. Heading down the long hall, he passes door after door until he finally reaches yours. Reaching out, he gently taps four times in quick succession.
After a moment, the door slides open to reveal you, softly smiling up at him from the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in to fight the brutal cold of Coruscant.
A jolt of excitement rushing through his system, Echo leans down to gently press a kiss to the top of your head as he gently leads you back into your living room.
As the door slides closed behind him, you lean up to press your lips against his own. Echo lets out a soft sigh, curling his much larger figure around yours. The soft outline of his body presses into your own, his bulky, sharp armor having been discarded already.
With a bone rattling sigh, Echo pulls away from you.
Confused, you look up at him. With a pained smile, Echo reaches over to gently take your jaw into his hand. “You know I love you, right love?”
You smile. “Of course.”
“Good. ‘sbeen a long mission, love.” Tears begin to leak out of the corners of his eyes, and he quickly collapses into your arms. Bewildered, you let him let it all out before you try to dig for more info.
“Echo, what happened while you were away?”
With a shuddering breath, Echo finally begins to retell the tale: “Timaeus found out that Tips had gotten involved with one of the civvie medics. He had her deployed with the front line men, against typical protocol. She didn’t make it back,” he whispers out.
Nodding quietly, you smooth away the tears running down his cheeks. Trying to collect your thoughts, you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.
“And you’re worried about it happening to other brothers?” you try to piece out, watching as he shakes his head.
“I just worry about something happening to you. I just don’t want to lose you too.”
Nodding, you pull him closer and make the decision to do everything you could in the next few days to make him feel assured: “You won’t.”
Pulling you towards the couch, Echo voices his assent into your hair before letting your intertwined figure fall onto the cushions.
Life might be hard, but it’s even harder when you try to do it yourself.
No one ever fights alone.
Does the author like this? Abso-fucking-lutely not, but I need to get back in the writing game. I wanted this to be much fluffier, but I guess I’m just not in a fluff mental space.
As always, feedback is appreciated, and any other interactions adored. If you want to be on my tag list, lmk
tags: @halzore @leias-left-hair-bun @readeity @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @parsupport @lightning-wolffe @nelba @notquitecandid @peacefulwizardfox @that-one-hetalia-fan @pinkiemme @just-some-girl-92 @thirsty-void
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fukase's a bad influence on her
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Pro tip: you can stare at the pretty man’s face for three hours straight if it’s in the name of art (☉‿☉✿)
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Day 4: “Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed
Read below or on A03.
At the sound of her voice, Anakin turned to look at her, his expression terrified as they both shifted along the rapidly shrinking platform. A wave of nausea passed through her at the panicked look, if even her Master was scared, then they really were in trouble.
Ahsoka heaved in a desperate breath and shifted her lightsaber into another defensive position, multiple blaster fire reverberating off the green blade with a familiar hiss.
There was a flash of heat as a stray bolt clipped her on the shoulder. She tried to stifle her pained cry, but knew that she had failed when her Master sounded a protective growl of anger.
“Ahsoka,” he cried, panicked. “You need to jump.”
“What?” she yelled, fighting past the agonising throb of her arm. “We still need to set up the final bombs.”
Anakin moved in front of her, guarding her as her defenses started slipping, his lightsaber an impressive blur as he expertly swerved and diverted multiple shots. “There’s not enough room for the both of us, they’re pushing us too far back.”
Ahsoka grit her teeth, refusing to concede. “There is, give me the bom—”
“No,” her Master interrupted, unusually stern. “You need to jump, Ahsoka.”
In the distance, she heard a crashing noise, followed by the sound of renewed blasters firing. Backup for the Separatist's dwindling forces. She and Anakin couldn’t leave this factory in the hands of the Separatists, but each passing moment drove them further away from the site. They had to think fast.
“If you pass them to me I can get to the left there,” she said, pointing with her good arm towards a brief opening in the Separatist's defenses.
“You are not going into the middle of that,” Anakin grunted, breathing heavily. “Will you listen to me, just once, and jump. There’s water below, you’ll be okay.”
Ahsoka deflected another bolt, the pain in her shoulder somewhat abating due to the rush of adrenaline coursing through her body. She felt invigorated, ready to take on anything and everything, but distantly, something also felt off.
And she knew why.
“I’m not leaving you,” she finally admitted.
The blaster bolts were coming faster, and though her Master would never say so, Ahsoka could tell he was getting tired. His breath came in heavy pants and sweat trickled down his face.
They were nearly out of time.
She blinked quickly, urgently trying to come up with a plan, when it happened.
A bolt slipped past Anakin’s lightsaber and hit him in his chest. He stumbled backwards and into her, a surprised gasp of pain escaping his lips before that familiar scowl of determination settled upon his face. His shoulders tensed with both purpose and exertion as he took a deep breath, closed his eyes in concentration, and flung both of his hands forward. A platoon of droids flew back into a wall, hurtling against it and crumpling to the ground in sizzling scraps of metal.
“Ahsoka,” he panted, and Ahsoka could see him trembling. “Please, you need to jump.”
She swallowed thickly, tears stinging her eyes. “We can both jump—”
Anakin shook his head. “We need to destroy this factory.”
“Master,” she begged, voice tight. “It’s not worth it, please, let’s both jump.”
They were nearly out of room now, the edge of the ledge catching on her heels, causing her to balance precariously on the border. She sighed in relief when Anakin moved to stand beside her, the both of them still continuously parrying round after round of blaster fire.
Suddenly, he turned to face her, his expression heartbreakingly sad.
“I’m sorry, Snips,” he breathed.
Then pushed her off the edge.
Ahsoka cried as she fell, helplessly watching as her Master somersaulted backwards and directly into the fray of the shooting droids.
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Next up we have Sanguine!!!
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CLARA OSWALD IN EVERY EPISODE; THE TIME OF THE DOCTOR (7.X)
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Josephine "Jo" Johar for the @samefacesdifferentstories challenge.
Josephine works as a secretary at the FBI office in Quantico. She has always been kind, reserved, and honest. She has always done her best to help others and believes in kindness and integrity. That is why she is shocked to find her out her best friend since childhood, the person who is practically her sister, is a cold-blood criminal. A serial killer. Confused, scared, and desperate she has to make a difficult decision. Should she turn in her best friend who has done so much for her, or should she turn a blind-eye to her friend's behavior and her own conscience. Luckily, she finds solace and support in SSA Jennifer Jareau. As their friendship grows, so does Jo's strength - and she decides maybe there is more that she was destined to do than be a secretary.
I forgot the taglist again
@raging-violets, @foxesandmagic, @farfallasunicas @witchofinterest
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Fictober Day 15
Prompt #15: “I like that in you”
Fandom: Spider-Man (MCU)
Rating: General Audiences
Characters: May Parker/Happy Hogan
Summary: May and Happy bond over lunch.
A Summer Fling
“Love you too, Peter. Bye.”
May hangs up her call and sits across the table from Happy.
“Sorry,” he says, gesturing to her lunch he’d unwittingly started eating, “want me to order you a new one?”
“It’s okay,” she laughs, “I’ll take your order.”
He passes it over. “Kid’s okay, then?”
“He’s alright. I guess they’re all a little shaken by the water monster, but they’re still going ahead with the trip.”
“He’s not Spider-Man-ing over there, is he?” Happy’s speaking more quietly now, eyes watching for any ears that could listen in on their conversation. “I mean, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I just happened to overhear—you said something about a plan?”
“Oh, no, he’s just planning to ask his friend MJ out,” she answers without thinking, “it’s nothing to do with Spider-Man.”
She winces, then sets her chopsticks down and rests the side of her head in her hand. “I shouldn’t have told you that—forget I said anything.”
Happy is, to use a phrase Peter might, “a bit of a dork.” But he’s also kind of cute, and somewhat sweet, and even though he acts flustered around her from time to time, he has a steady sureness about him that she appreciates.
“He has his suit, though? If he needs it?”
May nods. “He does, yeah. I don’t think he wanted to bring it, but I packed it for him last minute, because—well.” She fiddles with her chopsticks. “I’m scared. He deserves this break, but trouble seems to follow him, and if it does—like it’s already doing—I want him to have something that lets him help safely, you know? So if he fights, he’s got Karen, and a mask, and a system, and not just his own strength and his own face.”
“Yeah.” Happy’s stopped eating and is giving her his full attention. “I agree with that completely. I’m not sure he can avoid superhero-ing altogether even if he tried.”
“He can’t help but help,” May says. “That’s what started all of this Spider-Man stuff in the first place.”
“Crazy to think he’s on a high school trip after all he’s done. Sometimes I forget he’s just a kid, but when Tony first recruited him I couldn’t believe it—tried to talk him out of it, actually, when I realized how young he is.” He looks thoughtful. “I’ve always wondered—if you don’t mind me asking, I mean—I’ve wondered how you got to a point where you’re okay with this?”
May laughs a little. “How I’m okay with Spider-Man?”
She thinks on it a moment. “I guess when I first found out I figured…that I don’t really have a choice but to be okay with it. He was already doing it, and I knew he’d keep doing it whether I gave him permission or not—you can’t control your kids when they’re five, let alone when they’re fifteen.”
“Mm. Must’ve been hard.”
“It was, but it’s become easier now that I’ve seen what he’s really capable of—and now that I know people like you have had his back.”
Happy chuckles. “Kid says I’m overprotective.”
“Maybe,” she smiles, “but I like that in you.”
Happy’s lips twitch.
A bunch of coworkers congregate at the copy machine, and they get back to their lunches.
Here’s the thing about Happy—May doesn’t know where this is going. Currently, she’s not planning on it going anywhere. If it does go somewhere, she’ll have to tell Peter, and she really doesn’t want to do that while he’s got so many other things on his plate.
But May’s never been able to talk to someone about Peter being Spider-Man before, so talking with Happy is genuinely more relaxing than any of the dates she’s had since Ben passed. Not having to lie and make excuses for her kid’s weird behavior is a huge game changer.
And besides. This is fun.
Happy looks up from his takeout.
“So which one is MJ—the tall girl?”
May nods with a mouth full of food, then scrunches her face at her own violation of the cool mom code, thinking how appalled Peter would be if he knew what she’d inadvertently shared.
“Never mind,” Happy says, “forget I asked.”
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Justice Department officials had prepared a secret “contingency plan” to arrest former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin on federal police brutality charges if a jury found him not guilty of the murder of George Floyd, according to a new report.
Sources familiar with planning discussions told the Star Tribune that if Chauvin had been acquitted on all charges, or if a mistrial had been declared, he would have been arrested at the courthouse.
The Minnesota US Attorney’s Office would have reportedly hit Chauvin with a criminal complaint, arrested him immediately, and then asked a grand jury for an indictment, according to the anonymous sources.
However, Chauvin was in fact found guilty on all three counts of murder and manslaughter and the former Minneapolis police officer was immediately taken into custody and transferred to a max-security prison to await sentencing.
According to the Star Tribune, federal officials spent months gathering evidence against Chauvin and are planning to ask a grand jury to indict him and the other three ex-officers involved in Floyd’s killing on civil rights violations.
The three other police officers, Tou Thao, 35; Thomas Lane, 38; and J Alexander Kueng, 27, were present when Floyd died following his arrest in the city last year. The officers all face charges of aiding and abetting Chauvin.
TheStar Tribune said that prosecutors also want to indict Chauvin on charges relating to a 2017 incident when the officer was said to have pinned a 14-year-old Black boy to the ground with his knee for 17 minutes.
Prosecutors wanted to use the past case as evidence in the Floyd case but the plan was ultimately rejected. Chauvin’s defence attorney, Eric Nelson, argued that the force used was in keeping with the department’s then-policy on dealing with uncooperative suspects.
The other three ex-officers would be charged only in connection with Floyd’s murder. The federal case will be prosecuted by Justice Department attorneys in Minnesota and Washington, DC, the Star Tribune reported.
The Minnesota US Attorney’s Office and the US Department of Justice declined to comment when contacted by The Independent.
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im reading wolfsong by tj klune and oh my god…
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erik looks and sounds very similar to my math teacher and I don’t know how to feel
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Small Luca Fic
It had been a few months in their relationship, and Luca had actually moved in with Nancy. Things were going great. She’d already made sure to tell him that they were going to just go with things, and go at Luca’s speed. He had never been so sure he was so in love as he was in that moment. Here he was, playing on their, now, shared xbox as Nancy showered in the bathroom.
He was enjoying it, too, until he heard the cry of pain and string of swearing that followed as Nancy shut the water off and he heard a thump not long after. He chuckled a little, before getting up off the couch and walking towards the bathroom.
“Are you okay, baby?” He asked, turning the corner to see her on the floor.
“Not really, babe.” She huffed. “Why am I like this? Why did my parents have me?”
“What happened?” He sniggered, approaching her.
“I was trying to reach for the body wash, and I slipped and my arm caught the bloody razor - look.” She groaned, showing her elbow that had a rather good few lines on it from the razor. “And then, I wanted to come out to get it sorted, when I just had to slip. Obviously, there was no way I was saving myself whilst I am this wet, so I just committed to the fall. I hate myself.”
“Don’t say that. You’re perfect. Now, let me see that arm.” He shook his head, helping her to stand, and he inspected the rather bloody lines. “I imagine this is a kick in my ass to put the razor away properly when I am finished with it.”
“I may still find a way.” She huffed.
“Let’s get this wiped, dried and patched.” He spoke, before looking around the rest of her body.
“What you doing, stud?” She smirked.
“I’m trying to check the rest of you for injuries.” He grinned, his demeanour chaning at the use of the name.
“Oh, sure. For injuries.” Nancy mused.
“Looks like you may need help getting to the bedroom.” He rasped, picking her up with one arm, as he grabbed a towel to hold to her elbow in the other.
“You going to take care of me?” She purred.
“You know it, darlin’.”
Once the arm was patched up - he held up to his promise.
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Buddie + actors please
When Buck is a kid, he decides he wants to be a stuntman. Actors are cool, sure, but driving fast cars, jumping off buildings, being right in the middle of all the cool action happening in movies—that sounds awesome.
It’s a dream that sticks with him (much to Maddie’s chagrin). When Buck is twenty-one, he leaves Hershey for LA and gets his first job doing stunt work for a small time TV show. When he’s twenty-five, he gets hired for his first big time movie. Fast cars, jumping off buildings—all the fun stuff he dreamed about as a kid. He moves out of a share house and rents his own apartment for the first time in his life. He works on a movie with Abby Clark, falls in love, then gets his heart broken all in the span of six months. But life is still good. Buck has his job and he has friends and—it’s good. Life is good. It’s great, even, because Maddie shows up on his doorstep and suddenly Buck has his sister back in his life after three years of radio silence. For a while, life is almost perfect.
Then it all comes crashing down. Two months after his twenty-seventh birthday, Buck shatters his leg when a stunt goes wrong—he almost dies, and almost definitely ends his career. He goes through two surgeries and he’s lying in a hospital bed after the second one, trying not to drown in the hopelessness weighing on his chest, when Bobby Nash comes to see him. Bobby is one of the best directors in the business and if Buck wasn’t so high on painkillers, it would probably feel like a pretty big deal having him visit.
“I have a job for you,” Bobby says. “I want you to focus on recovery, do what the doctors tell you, get yourself better. Then, if you’re walking in three months, I want you to come see me.”
“I’ll be walking in two months,” Buck tells him. He doesn’t mention that walking might be all he’ll be able to do.
Bobby shakes his head. “Three months,” he repeats. “Then we talk.”
They are three of the most frustrating months of Buck’s life. He pushes himself—probably harder than he should, and definitely harder than Maddie likes.
“You have other options,” his sister tells him, the same argument hashed over and over. “Your life isn’t over just because you can’t do stunt work anymore.”
Buck shakes his head. “No. This is my life, Maddie, I can’t just give up—there isn’t anything else—“
Until there is.
Three months pass and Buck shows up at Bobby’s office, not knowing what the hell he’s getting himself into. He sits down on the other side of the large desk and Bobby hands him a script. Buck takes it, curious, and flips through the first couple of pages. It’s not an action movie. Buck isn’t quite sure what it is; part psychological thriller, part romance. Limited stunt work.
“I don’t understand.”
“I want you to play the husband,” Bobby tells him.
“You want me to act?” Buck asks, frowning at the script in his hands.
“I’ve been watching you, kid. I think you’ve got more potential than you think you do.”
Buck shakes his head. “I just do the stunts.”
Bobby smiles, like they’re in on some joke together. “You’ve done a few cameos. Advertisements. There were those two episodes of Underland. I spoke to your agent, Buck.”
Carla didn’t mention that. In all the conversations they’ve had about the future of his career since the accident, Bobby’s offer only came up once in passing. Maybe because Carla knew Buck would say no if he knew what it was for. Maybe because Buck was always so quick to shut down any conversation that didn’t start and end with of course you’ll make a full recovery and get back to stunt work.
“Those things were just a way to make money between other jobs,” he tells Bobby. “I don’t—I’m not an actor.”
Bobby hesitates. “When I spoke to Carla… she mentioned you might not be able to do stunt work again, Buck. I’m offering you something else; something you could be just as good at. At least think about it.”
Buck doesn’t want to think about it. He’s not sure he can think about it, not without accepting that he might never do stunts again, and he’s not ready for that. He stands up and holds the script out for Bobby to take back.
“Thank you,” he says, the words stiff, formal. “But I’m not interested.”
Bobby doesn’t take the script. “Keep it,” he says. “That copy was made for you; I’ve got plenty more.”
Buck leaves the office feeling... disheartened. Disappointed. He’s just not sure whether the disappointment is in all the people trying to get him to give up on his dream, or in himself for not being good enough prove them wrong.
Because they’re right. He knows they’re right. He’s walking, but he’s still in pain more days than he isn’t. He’s still going through PT, rebuilding the strength in his leg, getting to somewhere where he can do half the things he used to be able to do. Some days it’s a struggle just to walk without a limp. After three months, he should be getting closer to his goal but instead it feels further away than ever.
Buck goes home and sulks. That’s what Maddie calls it, when she stops by to ply him with food and company and the same motivational speech she’s been giving him for months. Buck isn’t in the mood to hear it, but Maddie doesn’t give him much choice.
“Your life isn’t over, Evan,” she says. “The sooner you realise that you’re more than just this one job, the sooner you’ll be happy.”
A week passes. Buck keeps doing PT and not much else. Carla calls. Buck ignores it, but she keeps calling, insistent and concerned, and when Buck finally gives in and picks up the phone, she says much the same thing that Maddie did. Except she also adds, “Read the script, Buck. If you hate it, we never have to talk about it again, but I don’t think you will.”
Buck reads the script. And he’s surprised to find that he kind of loves it.
He sits on it for another day and then he gives in and calls Bobby and says, “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Bobby’s reply is pleased, but not surprised. Two days later Buck is back in his office, this time with another man as well. Tall, dark hair—gorgeous, Buck’s mind supplies. He’s vaguely familiar in that way that all people feel in Hollywood.
“This is Eddie Diaz,” Bobby introduces. “He’ll be playing Joe.”
Your husband, he doesn’t need to say. They’ve all read the script.
Eddie smiles easily, holding his hand out for Buck to shake. “Nice to meet you, man.”
As Buck shakes Eddie’s hand, he wonders again what the hell he’s getting himself in. He still feels wildly out of his depth, unsure of his place here, but standing next to Eddie, returning that easy smile with one of his own—Buck finds himself feeling something else as well: anticipation. Excitement, even. He has a feeling that working on this movie is going to be fun.
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robot ghost story
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Haylijah Whump Ficlet
Based on the prompt: “Take me instead”
Thank you @thedumpster-fire ! I hope you enjoy it :D
Find the other ficlet here: stay awake with me (AO3)
"Why don't you take me instead?"
Relief and fear clash inside Hayley at the sound of Elijah's voice. Her captor - a young, blond man- clenches his fingers around the lever which connects the cage with the mainframe.
"Don't come closer!" he snaps frantically. "If you do so, she dies!"
A responding chuckle echoes off the walls of the makeshift laboratory, and Elijah saunters into the white, ghastly light. He glances at the lever.
"Yes, she probably will," he muses with a tilt of his head. "But your experiment will die with it."
Hayley holds herself ready, a new burst of energy pushing away the effects of the wolf bane in her system. She tries to get Elijah's attention, but he ignores her, focusing instead on her captor.
"Doctor Rochester, is it? I have to say, your experiments have caused quite a stir among many learned men."
Rochester's lips twitch.
Lazily, Elijah circles closer to the machine, deftly stepping over the numerous cables curled on the floor.
"They have. But of course, with their petty minds, they could not possibly comprehend what you try to accomplish here."
He halts. Just in front of him shimmers a barely visible force field, held up by a strange combination of technology and magic.
"But I can help you."
For the first time, his gaze flickers to Hayley.
"That is, if you rid yourself of this hybrid filth."
Hayley flinches. Even though she knows it is an act - it must be an act - she can't help but cower down under the force of his cold stare.
"What do you mean?" Rochester squeals, head swirling from Elijah to Hayley and back again. He is dancing on his spot, his caution warring with his desire for an ally.
"Her bloodline is tainted," Elijah continues. "Use her, and your experiment will almost certainly fail. And why should you, when you have me?"
Rochester laughs nervously.
"This is a trick. You must think I am stupid!"
"On the contrary. You are the smartest person in this room. But you need a pure source of energy. One that cannot die."
Black veins dance below Elijah's eyes.
"And I am truly immortal."
Electricity cracks when he touches the force field. Hayley had seen it kill a normal vampire, but Elijah just clenches his hand into a fist.
Rochester gapes at him. He is shaking, from excitement or fear Hayley can't tell. Slowly, his hand slips from the lever, and he stumbles closer, like a child fixated on candy. Like a siren, Elijah spins a tale about ancient societies and hidden knowledge, only available for a select few. He sounds perfectly reasonable. Perfectly understandable. In a brief moment, Hayley sees him like their enemies must see him. An ethereal creature, beyond human, luring them to their deaths.
When the force field comes down with a crash, Elijah snaps his fangs in Rochester's neck. Before the body has crumbled to the ground, he is kneeling in front the cage, his hands roaming over the iron bars.
"Hayley, are you alright?"
His cold stare has been replaced by frantic concern, and Hayley nods mutely, her exhausted mind struggling to catch up. As soon as the bars give way under his strength, he pulls her free from the wreckage. Hayley buries her nose in Elijah's shoulder, shivering as he traces soothing circles over her back.
In a daze, she hears Klaus arrive. He and Elijah argue softly, until Elijah pulls her upright.
"Come on," he says gently, "I'll take you home. Niklaus will take care of the rest."
Too tired to argue, Hayley leans heavily into his side as he leads her to the car. To her surprise, it is still light outside, and she takes in a grateful breath of fresh air. Elijah stops when they reach the car.
"Hayley, what I said..." he starts, but she cuts him off.
"I know," she rasps, her throat raw from disuse.
He shakes his head in protest, so she kisses him instead, swallowing his words. Hunger and desire kindle inside her, and she sneaks her hands under his jacket, unable to stop a rumble in her throat.
"Go ahead," Elijah encourages hoarsely.
Hayley makes a quick cut on his throat with her nail and presses her lips against the wound. She sucks deeply, relishing in the soft gasp coming from his mouth and the clench of his arms around her.
When she finally pulls away, she feels like she is floating. She is barely aware of Elijah lifting her up and placing her in the car, and when she comes to they are half way back to New Orleans. At his fond, reassuring smile, she laces her fingers through his before closing her eyes again, shifting to make herself more comfortable.
The next time she woke would be to the sight of her daughter.
And then she would take a long, well deserved bath.
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