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fennelwrites · 2 years

Note

Hiiiiii I’ve liked your Volo stories so far, so you have any ideas for one based around finding him out in the wilds after his plan falls apart? Ever since I finished the game, I miss seeing him around…

ahhhhh anon this ask has been living in my brain since it arrived!! i ALSO miss seeing volo around, the entire time i played daybreak i was looking for him lmao. where is he nintendo. hand him over

ANYWAY this scenario exactly plays out in my head at least ten times a week, and the direction this fic takes is just one possible way i could see it going! lmk if you want to see some other version of mc finds volo post postgame i have many of them :3

lost and found (volo/reader)

after finishing up some survey work, you stumble across a familiar face in the highlands.

(cw: none. contains postgame spoilers)

read on ao3

A shower of sparks erupted from the top of the Pokeball you’d thrown moments ago, marking a successful catch. You sighed as it disappeared, miraculously making its way to the pastures, and pulled out your Pokedex to mark down notes. The rain around the Highlands had finally let up, so you now had the chance to take down information about every Pokemon you’d caught in the massive outbreaks.

Your thoughts were elsewhere, however, as your pen moved across the paper. If you were honest, your thoughts had been elsewhere for months now. Ever since the incident at the Temple of Sinnoh, your mind had been cluttered with what-ifs, alternate endings to whatever that was. And most of all, you’d been thinking about him.

"My journey is over. My story ended when I lost to you."

You swallowed around the lump forming in your throat as you replayed Volo’s final words to you in your mind. The vitriol and the intensity in his eyes as he faced you in battle was seared into your mind like a brand. It was so different from the playfulness and levity that he practically exuded before, almost like he’d become a completely different person. The Volo who had saved your life after your exile from Jubilife, the Volo who seemed to be the only person who liked you for who you were rather than what you could do for him, the Volo you had loved…he was gone. And you couldn’t comprehend it.

You had done a fairly good job of keeping it together as you reported the events to Laventon, then Cyllene, then Kamado; but the moment you closed the doors to your quarters, you had burst into a flood of tears. It didn’t make any sense, and taking a break from surveying for a few days hadn’t helped you to understand. Eventually, you dragged yourself out of your quarters and back to work; you had a divine mission, after all, and it would be senseless to go through all of that and not accomplish it.

Now, months later, here you were. With an unfinished Pokedex and a god who wouldn’t listen because of it.

You snapped your notebook shut, stuffing it back in your satchel and standing up. The light was steadily fading, and you’d have to write your remaining entries back at camp. You glanced at your phone; the nearest camp was the Summit Camp, and you’d have to trek through the Celestica Ruins to get there. With a sigh, you dusted off your uniform and started on your way, trying to stifle the tears welling up behind your eyes.

As you rounded a pillar, a flash of movement caught your eye. You turned to face it, hand flying to your partner’s Pokeball; you’d cleared all of the Pokemon from this area earlier. Had some already come back? You held your breath, waiting for something, anything to happen, but you were met with only the sound of the breeze.

Then, from behind another pillar, a figure emerged, and you felt your heart leap into your throat.

Volo’s hair had gotten much longer since you’d last seen him, but it was still worn in that gravity-defying style. His clothes were torn in some places, revealing barely-healed scars, and though he glared at you from across the ruined path, anger wasn’t the only emotion present in his eyes.

He looked tired.

He looked lonely.

The two of you stared at each other for what felt like ages, neither of you daring to make the first move. The sun had fully set now, and the full moon illuminated Volo in a silvery glow, contrasted by the shadow the pillar cast over his frame.

“Well,” Volo finally said, his voice hoarse from underuse. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Same to you,” you managed to reply, taking a shaky step forward. Your thoughts were a mess as you gazed at him, trying to decide what to say. “What have you been up to?”

Volo scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “Oh, the usual. Wallowing in my failures and recovering from devoting my entire life to a god that won’t give me the time of day. You?”

You winced at the bitterness in his tone, fidgeting with the hem of your uniform shirt. “...same old,” you said quietly, not meeting his gaze. “Filling the Pokedex. Research. Survey Corps stuff.”

“Of course, of course.” Volo turned away from you before glancing over his shoulder, visible eye filled with that same anger and sadness from earlier. “Well, next time you speak to Arceus, do give it my regards. Perhaps leaving a message with the chosen one is the best I can do.”

You watched him turn to leave, tears welling up behind your eyes again, and said the first thing that came to your mind that might get him to stay.

“It doesn’t listen to me either.”

To your credit, that did the trick; Volo stopped in his tracks, though he didn’t turn to face you just yet. “What?” he asked, his voice so soft you barely heard it over the wind.

“It won’t let me talk to it until I meet every Pokemon,” you continued, taking a few cautious steps toward him. “I get, like, vague guidance about where I need to go next, but that’s it. And I sure as hell don’t have the chance to say anything back.”

Volo was silent, mulling over your words as you kept approaching. “...I don’t know if that’s comforting or terrifying,” he finally said, idly toying with his pendant.

You stopped a few feet away from him, deciding to let him either turn around or walk away on his own terms. “Look, I’m not saying you have to like me or anything,” you began, your voice sounding far more confident than you felt, “but…you don’t have to isolate yourself, okay? I care about you, so… If you need help, I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

“Short of handing over the plates, of course,” Volo quipped; there was no real malice in his tone, however.

Finally, finally, he turned to look at you. His single visible eye was illuminated by the moon, and he shivered almost imperceptibly in his thin attire. The hair that hung over one side of his face fell past his chin now, and you were struck by the urge to brush it out of his eyes. Now that you were close to him, you could see just how exhausted he was.

“You look like shit,” you said without thinking.

Volo laughed, and that small gesture was enough to remind you of every adventure you’d had with him. “I feel like shit,” he replied, taking a small step towards you.

“Come back here in a week,” you stated, smiling up at him as he approached you. “I’ll put together a bag for you. Some fresh clothes, first aid supplies, treats for Togekiss–”

“Don’t spoil her, she’ll never leave you alone.”

“I think that’s a me problem, frankly.” You placed both hands on your hips, looking up at Volo determinedly. “Still. You’ll be all set, at least for now. And where it goes from there…we’ll see. Okay?”

Volo sighed, looking down at you. “You’re something else, you know that? If that commander of yours finds out about this, you’ll probably be kicked out of the village again.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” you replied. “But if it does happen again, at least I’ll have good company, right?”

Volo shook his head, laughing softly. “You were always good at looking on the bright side.” He sighed, not meeting your gaze. “...thank you. I don’t deserve your kindness, but…I appreciate it. Sincerely.”

Something snapped inside you; before you knew it, your feet were moving on their own volition and you were enveloping Volo in a hug. He stiffened at first, but slowly relaxed into your embrace.

You smiled against his chest, the wind around you finally settling down. There were still a lot of things you wanted to say to him, but they could wait. Tomorrow, you’d have to figure out the logistics of your delivery, but that too could wait. Right now, all that mattered was that he was here, he was alive, and he was hugging you back.

That was enough.

#volo #volo x reader #pla spoilers #pokemon legends arceus spoilers #pokemon volo #writing #requests

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huniebunny · 2 years

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Oo Hello!! I am here to request the ‘five times’ drabble!!

-> I choose: five times glanced at!

-> Receiver: Tim/ Masky

[before you write this, make sure you are healthy, not stressed, not hungry or thirsty and well rested!! Don not force yourself and take your time!!]

Also, how are you??

[Hello, my busy bee! Work has been tiring, but I’m excited for the upcoming week! I’ll be going to DisneyWorld to celebrate my best friend’s birthday!]

[5 + 1 prompt list]

Glances in His Direction

It was cute, the way you thought he wouldn’t notice your glances. The sight of you quickly looking away made him smirk under the mask everytime. And you’d always have the hint of a blush crawling up your neck and temples, making him chuckle under his breath.

The first time he noticed you looking his way was in Slenderman’s office. The entity was going over details over his next mission when the hair on his body rose in chills. He briefly diverted his attention to see why, only for you to suddenly duck your head and rearrange your mask. He slowly blinked before listening in when Slender scolded him for his straying thoughts about you. He still pondered about the situation long after he’d been sent away.

The next time he noticed, he’d forgotten that it happened in the first place. He was in the middle of sipping a beer when he found you in his half blocked peripheral. He pulled his mask down to ask what you needed from him- Only for you to freeze up and run off. His brows furrowed as he watched you disappear further in the mansion. He had to get to the bottom of this.

You’ve made glancing at him pretty inconspicuous. He occasionally wondered how often you truly glance at him over the times he’s caught you. You just walked into the living area and both he and you lifted a glance to each other. You froze as his mask-free gaze traveled down your form, fully taking you in. Then you turned back around and left where you came. Masky could not hold back his laughter after that. You were too cute.

Catching you staring was becoming an endearing highlight to his days. The two of you were close enough to touch each other this time. He first felt your eyes on him, chills rising over his body as you practically, invisibly scanned him from head to toe. He let it happen for a few seconds before leaning down to your ear. “You’ve been staring at me for a while now. Do I need to do something about that?” He whispered in your ear. You dropped your gaze to the floor, causing him to chuckle.

He had you pinned under him against a wall. The two of you were on a mission together and were now hiding from your targets. Masky kept a close eye on your surroundings meanwhile, you couldn’t help but process how close the two of you were. The smell of his cigarettes burned off of his jacket, and the details of his neck were so prominent. Slender’s branded scar on the edge of his hairline, scratches long since faded and the tiniest sun marks lingered just under his collar.

You held your breath as he slowly relaxed and turned his head to face you again. You quickly turned your gaze away, causing him to chuckle. He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him as he lifted his mask. He removed yours, smirking as he watched you fail to form words. “We still have a while before we can safely leave. Can you keep quiet?” He whispered, pressing in closer. You could only nod.

You could not even look at his shoes with getting flustered after that night.

The one time you caught him glancing over? He was again in the living area, early in the morning with his usual coffee. The floor squeaked softly, and he peeked over his shoulder to see that you’d just woken up. His eyes widened. You barely wore anything, revealing so much new skin that chills came over his skin. You finally registered his eye on you and looked over, only for him to have already turned away and blocked his face with his mug. You smiled as you saw the blush crawl over his uncovered cheeks.

#hunie speaks #5+1 times #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #cp masky #masky x reader

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

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Hi lovely Elle! Congratulations on your milestone, my friend! I’m so excited for you; your writing is always absolutely immaculate and makes my heart sing, and your compassion and integrity shine through every single thing you produce. I can’t wait to see what you create next! For the celebration, may I please request something with my favourite, Rex? For the soulmate AU, I’d be happy with whichever one you feel works best (I don’t know very much about them sorry 🙈) thank you my love and congrats again! x

hello my dear! such high praise, especially from someone as lovely and talented as you! I definitely used this as an excuse to watch videos of Rex being... Rex, since I havent written him before 😌 and obviously now I'm swooning so

I hope you enjoy!

warnings: cannon-typical angst / violence, yearning, fluff, elle writing yet another new character

soulmate requests / follower celebration

Clones did get to see colors. Not really, anyway, just the muted, modulated ones their buckets provided - not the ones that brought grown men to their knees.

The ones that made elation run through a person's veins and completion paint the world in light.

The soulmate colors.

Clones didnt get to see them, because clones weren't supposed have soulmates. Why would they? Their very existence was specifically curated not to encourage them to find themselves, not to go on adventures, or develop dreams, and certainly not to fall in love.

Still, when he stood at the corner of the mess hall, and watched his brothers quarrel and laugh, with their uncontrollable hair and skin spattered with scars, Rex wondered.

Because the more time he spent, the more he saw new painted patterns and heard annoying inside jokes, the more he thought somewhere in all those calculations, they got it wrong. They were individuals, they went on adventures, and had different dreams.

So, like scuffs collecting on shiny plastoid armor, a new determination scratched a mark somewhere deep inside him. If his brothers could be and do all that they already had? Love, even, was not quite so unrealistic.

He didnt talk about colors much - none of them did, and he of all people rarely had the time. But he thought about them more than he should, ached for them during quiet nights alone in his bunk.

The feeling was frusterating, something unreasonable to share, impossible to explain, so as time flew on, he learned to bury it. It felt like a lifetime ago when he learned to guard his mind and control his thoughts around his jedi generals. Still, there was a time when he - his friend and jedi - had been distracted, gazing into his certain someone's eyes, that Rex had watched. And just for a moment, his mind had slipped.

Another scratch in his chest, wanting - wanting - what? Just someone to look at, to really see, and... someone who would see him, too. That's all he wanted. It was a selfish thought, hot and fierce, seering his careful facade, branding another scuff before he could shake it away.

When he first saw you, even through his aging helmet, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

You were walking, talking to someone, not relevant to his mission, but important and he wanted to walk after you, to be the one you were talking to, but... then you were gone.

Someone else asked who you were and he felt suddenly possessive, a strange feeling immediately followed by confusion. It was an illogical response, by all accounts, you had never even met before.

And then someone else answered - a trusted friend of Senator Amidala's, and he felt relief, that he hadn't been forced to choose looking foolish by asking or the much worse option: not knowing.

And it was another illogical response.

Weeks went by, stealing glimpses of you floating through the hall, and pondering his responses in his meager free time. Was there a reason he wanted to smooth the line between your brows? Or have his arm be the one you tucked your hands into as you climbed the stairs in your heavy robes?

There shouldnt have been. But when you appeared in front of him, your lovely eyes wide and thoughtful, here shouldnt have been a reason his brain short circuited, either. But it did - images of you appeared before him: you kissing his cheek lashes fluttering as you made him promise to stay alive, your head against his chest plate as your breaths thickened with peace and his own were full of pride. You, gasping his name as your hands grasped desperately against his skin, holding onto him as he took you for his and his alone.

Rex had never been quite so dysfunctional in his entire life. But before he could collect himself, you ducked your head and ran.

There were conversations Rex had never indulged before, at the bar, or between his brothers whenever they had a moment. Conversations about love and colors and... soulmates. And it had seemed selfish to listen, selfish to participate, like it would only add to his ache, and steal from his duty. Until you.

Each time he turned to see you watching him, before your eyes would widen guiltily and you'd turn your head in embarrassment, his resolve slipped away. He was already indulging, by stealing his own glances at you, and through the intentness at which he listened beyond your educated opinions for your laugh.

And when you tripped, walking quickly through a corridor opposite of him, and grabbed his arm, holding him like he could keep you steady, it snapped.

Then those conversations became like water - they were everywhere and he craved them like he needed it to survive.

"What, really?" As always, he tried to seem only politely interested.

"Honest, we only talk for a bit -"

"And admittedly he'd been drinking, but -"

"Yeah, they seemed in love. Way more than just fucking, he was acting stupid and happy."

"It was nice, you know? A vod looking like a normal dude -"

"- kept kissing and -"

" - talking about colors - "

Rex nodded and slipped away.

After long missions, his muscles would ache with scrapes and bruises, but he always told the shinies it prepared himself for the next one. He was done collecting aches - he wanted it. Soulmates or not, he wanted you.

The opportunity came sooner than expected, in long moments after a meeting had dissolved sooner than expected.

The two of you were left alone looking over a projection, and the convenience spurred his bravery.

"You do well, with all those idiots." Brave, certainly, but smooth? Not as much. You looked surprised and pleased at his praise, and pride shot through him.

"Thank you, I..." You glanced at him, and he watched your eyes trace over his marks, along the lines of his armor and then into his visor. Hands fiddling with a little dark grey pendant around your neck, you seemed like you were building courage.

"I'm sorry I've been avoiding you."

His head tilted. You had been avoiding... him? Him, specifically? Maybe Rex shouldve felt upset, but the definitive proof that you knew who he was, lit his whole body on fire.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"You're so admirable! And capable and," you turned away, shoulders raising a bit as you confessed - "and there's something about you that's just..."

He'd never wanted someone to finish a sentence more. It seemed impossible how much he ached for you, how right you seemed for him, how it seemed like maybe you agreed, but he had defied a world of impossibilities.

"I didnt want to seem too eager," your voice was but a whisper. Hope fueled his heat, filling his armor until it felt too much to bear.

Pulling off his helmet, Rex reached for you, saying, "You couldn't -" before his words cut off.

You looking him face to face and his whole world changed in a single moment.

"- Mesh'la."

The pendant was... a color that matched the way rain felt, and the paint on his armour, brighter than he'd thought. You were his.

And you were wearing it, looking like a dream, staring at him like you'd never seen a man like him before. And... you hadnt.

As he grabbed your hands, and your fingers fit inbetween his own, Rex knew you hadn't. Because he as in color, and he was yours.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk @saradika @zinzinina

#🙃#rex x reader #soulmate requests #zinzinina #maybe i dont know people #elle only posts soulmate rqs at weird hours thats the rule #captain rex #star wars

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lotzzoforangezoutside · 2 years

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92 X-Files fanfic, w/ summaries

Quick overall for Winter Quarter (Nov 21-Jan 22):

In The Original Series, the fics happen within the same universe, but they’re completely fine to read as standalone stories.

The timeline is happening, slowly, and too messy to be posted now....

Emily Universe is where Emily lives, is adopted by Scully, who later marries Mulder and have a son named Wiley.

There’s also Jacksons Universe, where Jackson VDK travels back in time and delivers his 7-year-old self to Mulder and Scully. Jackson ends up staying with his birth parents. As a result, Mulder and Scully have two sons who are 11 years apart: William and Fox Jr.

And of course, there’s Cricket Universe, set after the revival, it’s about the lives of Mulder, Scully, William, Kuiper aka Cricket, and William’s best friend/girlfriend Michiko “Millie” Leixia.

So, here we go & thanks so much for reading :)

Original Series

Delayed: Mulder and Scully go to a costume party.

Rest: Post-Unruhe

Surprises: Post-Detour

The Mexican Coca-Cola is Much Sweeter: Post-El Mundo Gira

Have You Met A Stranger: “Intimacy Compatibility between Pisces and Libra“

The Unnecessity of Physical Distances: “She sleeps better when he is near.”

Silence: Mulder ditches Scully again. Set in season 2.

Things We Say When We’re 700 Miles Apart: “Once, on the phone, with him in the basement office and her 700 miles away, he asked her to marry him.”

Cheeks on Desk: Fluff, Sleepy Scully + Jealous Mulder.

Lunch with You: Lunch with his new partner.

Sunday: Sundays, past and future.

2e-10: A riddle

The Secret of the Sky is Not to be Revealed: Palm reading session.

A Fly on the Wall: Typical day in the basement.

Pink Piglet and His Baby Mama: Mulder goes to the dentist.

With A Cherry on Top: Fluff.

The Turkey Special: Thanksgiving 1997.

Together We’ll Mend Your Heart: How traditions are established.

When the Sundog Did Not Come: Post-dod kalm

Eight: Set during Chinga. How Mulder keeps busy while Scully’s away.

Man on a Mission: Can be read as a sequel to Sunday.

Childish Games: Cootie catcher and pig Latin.

No Other Fish: How Mulder got his fish.

The Ancient Secrets of the Bee Pollen: Lunch time.

The Goddess and the Scholar: Dana Scully, Goddess of the Scholars.

Breakfast on the Weekends: Breakfast time.

Particular: What Mulder dreams about.

Pink, Dancing, and Bubbly: Trick-or-treat memories.

Rent Day Blues: Mulder muses about his living quarters.

Salt and Sugar: Post series. The Ultimate road trip.

Cigarettes Will Kill You: Post-Brand X

Headlong: What falling in love feels like.

Seven Pound and Six Ounces: Post- Emily.

Second Christmas: Celebrating Christmas twice.

The Next Christmas: sequel to Second Christmas.

Occam’s Razor: post-How the Ghosts Stole Christmas

The Answering Machine: Mulder listens to messages on his answering machine

Heads and Tails: Post-Home

A Month Shy of A Year: Post-Young at Heart

A Call with Chuck: Dana chats with her little brother Charlie.

Forgetfulness and Presbyopia: Post- Nothing Lasts Forever

The Other Dream: Mulder and his strange dreams.

The Cincinnati Chili is a Sin to Pass Up: Post-Revelations.

Pups: Post-Mulder and Scully Meet the Were-Monster

Barnes Corners: Post- Max

True Love Happens Every Day: Mulder and Scully go to the Farmer’s Market.

The Meanings of Thermos: “The first thing she realized was that thermos meant differently to her now.”

Tuesdays With Mulder: Past and future lovers.

Old Friend in Oxford: Set during All Things. Mulder visits a friend in Oxford.

Mulder’s Chickadee: Post- One Son

The Broken Pinky Loneliness: Post- the Pine Bluff Variant

The Markings of a Man: If Mulder can wear Scully’s shirt, he would.

The Master Of: 3-person POV, a scene at a restaurant.

Universes: Fox Mulder and his experiences.

The Cygnet and Dumbo: How the ugly ducklings marries the elephant that can fly.

Marks and Scars: Number of the scars.

Waiting for the Ship to Come: Post Demons

The Origin of the Walkie-Talkie: First cell phones

The Excepted One: Mulder’s exception.

A Full House Thanksgiving: A Thanksgiving special.

The Tentative Trouble with Time Traveling: Scully time travels back to the 90′s and meets a very young Fox Mulder...

Emily AU

And They Were All Yellow: Mommy and Daddy are dressing up for Halloween!

The Spookys: Take your daughter and son to work day, FBI style.

Skinny Noodles: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Yucky Boys and Fickle Girls: Mulder’s biggest worry.

Priceless: Fox Mulder’s spending habits.

It: Getting a puppy!

Spelling Bees and Sing-A-Longs: A fun car-ride.

Letter to Santa: Emily’s letter to Santa.

Christmas at Grandma’s: Spending Christmas at Grandma Maggie’s!

Minime: Mulder and his Mimi Me.

Faithful One-Hundred Percent: Emily’s favorite book.

Deep Space Sparkle: Emily gets a teddy bear.

Sympathy Pox: Emily gets the Chicken Pox.

Belong: Emily reads a book for Mulder.

The Year of the Fox: Emily makes a deal.

Jacksons AU:

The Boy from the Future: Life with two boys.

The Things Said by the Hands: Mulder learns something from his son.

Cricket Universe

Ten Rules of Dating: Mulder’s dating rules for his girls.

Daddy’s Girl: Mulder and his girls enjoying the tail of summer.

First Day: Cricket’s going back to school.

How to Dad: Dad is a verb.

Brought to You by The LGM: A show. A gift. A trip down memory lane.

For the Life of Pie: Pie appreciation runs in the family.

Semi-Grown: William’s act of rebellion.

A Reunion: Mulder and Scully reunite with two old friends.

The Trekkie Professor: William meets Gibbs.

Premonition: A typical day set in the future.

An Experiment: William tries something silly with his girlfriend.

A Late Summer: Haven’t you heard? 30 is the new 20.

Conversation in the Very Very Late at Night….

thirteen: talk about pick up lines

fourteen: talk about summer camps

100 word drabbles…. tau | upsilon | phi | chi | psi |

#masterlist #fanfic #the list #with summaries #x-files fanfic #lotsoforangesoutside #the x files #jacksons universe #cricket universe #emily au

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nelweensfic · 3 years

Text

Twilight lullaby

This is my participation for @drarrymicrofic "Lullaby" prompt. Hope you'll like it 🥰

Wc : 1080

The mission went wrong and Harry knew it the moment he woke up in the middle of nowhere. He didn't know how he could have been in a forest, and the night time didn't help him to see something recognizable. He tried to get up but something also went wrong.

The last thing he could remember was the bright light of the curse. Ron had told Harry to be careful but this time he didn't listen and went into the hideout. Harry huffed and started to walk around the trees, he had to go home. He had to tell Draco he's alive. He had to..

How can I tell him it's me?

Harry growled in frustration, his tail whipping the ground angrily. He started to run until dawn. He was tired and hungry. His magic wasn't working, even the wandless spell didn't work. Harry kept walking even though his paws hurtings and his body was sore and tireless. But he couldn't sleep. He didn't even try to. Harry couldn't sleep alone. Not in 5 years. Not since the war.

Hermione was so desperate by his sleepiness that she asked for the best healer she knew and of course, it had to be Malfoy. Harry wasn't up to giving his sleeping problems to the git but after many attempts, Malfoy found the miracle cure. Music. Not simple music. Draco's music.

After that day, Harry went to Draco's cabinet to sleep, and then they bonded. Only after a month did they move in together. Now, it was the first day he wasn't home. The first day he was alone. Without Draco.

Without thinking he started to howl the song. Their songs. And with that, a bright golden ghosty wolf appeared in front of Harry. At first he thought he turned mad. Or was too tired that he could see things. But it wasn't the case because the wolf started walking and then stopped, making sure Harry was following him.

After four day Harry finally arrived around the cottage.

Home.

The ghost wolf bowed a single time before disappearing in the twilight sky. How he managed to know where Harry lived was a mystery but the ex-Gryffindor was thankful.

When he approached the house there were no lights. The environment didn't feel safe. The shadows were more dark, the house looked so big and the twilight colour didn't feel like a blessing but more like a curse. Harry turned around the house to find a way to enter but no opened door or windows. Like if he could enter through a window with this body anyway. This time he could look at himself through the reflection in one of the windows.

A big black wolf, with a light mark on his forehead. It was a lighting scar.

This will follow me in every form.

Harry huffed again and decided to wait in the garden. His eyes started to sting and his paws were bloody by the night and day of the walk. Like a good wolf, he started to lick the wounds then did his bath by licking his fur. It was like he had always meant to be a wolf, it felt so natural to do that. Maybe his animagus form would be a wolf. Something like Sirius animagus. Or Remus' curse.

I have almost all marauders traits now.

Harry's tail whipped happily. That's what he thought until he heard the knowing sound of someone aparating.

Draco!

Harry got up and started to go to the front door. The ex-Slytherin was there. Harry thought it was his chance and barked instinctively, like a dog welcoming his master.

But the effect wasn't what Harry wanted. Draco turned around, his face distorted by surprise, fear and anger.

"What the fuck?" Said Draco, branding his wand to Harry. "Get out of here you stupid beast !"

Harry jumped on his side to dodge a spell. Never in his life he thought Draco could possibly hurt an animal.

Well, he almost had Buckhead killed.

Remembering Harry. But even now that Draco was a healer, he never meant harm to anyone. No one in years.

What did happened?

And then he saw. The eyes. Red and teary eyes.

"Oh Draco, Darling. I'm here!" But all Harry did was barking.

Draco jumped again, threw another spell before getting inside his house and locked the door. Harry tried to follow but a Protego Totallum made him back away.

Harry whined. All he wanted was to take his lover in his paws and tell him he was there. He was there.

"I'm here Darling!" Bark Harry. But nothing changed.

The night came quickly and now Harry didn't know what to do. He was home but his lover didn't even look at him, the doors were closed and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep again.

Maybe he'll set up the lullaby tonight.

Hoped Harry but at a certain moment, all the light went off. Draco went to bed. No music. Harry whined again.

Then he howled.

And again.

Without noticing he's doing the lullaby. It was like even the wind joined him in concert. Suddenly the light in their room went on and the shadows of Draco passing by the window made Harry stop in his tracks in wonder.

Draco opened the window in hurry and looked intensely in the wolf's green eyes. Harry barked again, his tail whipped in the air, pleading for the blond to recognize him.

"Harry..?" Whispered Draco.

Harry heard him and barked again.

"Yes! Yes! It's me, Draco! Look at me!"

Draco stepped back and Harry whined a little until he heard the piano. Then the Harp.

"Yes! Our song! It's our lullaby!" Bark Harry.

He howled in rhythm until Draco went out by the door and ran toward the wolf.

"Harry ! Merlin Harry!" He hugged the beast who was literally bigger than any other dog they knew.

"I found you! You're not dead! I found you!" Draco's tears made Harry's heart clenched in despair. "Oh Harry, Ronald was so worried when he lost you ! I was worried sick!"

Harry barked but it was weak, he couldn't really understand what was happening around him anymore. His mind started drifting away, his body seemed even louder and the music was relaxing.

"Oh Harry, you didn't sleep at all?" Whispered Draco while petting Harry's head. "Sleep my love, I'm taking care of you."

And then Harry finally slept. In his lover's arms with their lullaby.

#drarry microfic #drarry #harry x draco #wolf!Harry #legend of zelda #Zelda lullaby #inspiration #zelda twilight princess

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inkformyblood · 3 years

Text

in these bodies we will die

Commander Cody Week Day 04: Post-Order 66 @commandercodyweek

Pairing: Codywan, QuinObi, Cody x Obi-Wan x Quinlan Summary: Cody knows something is going to go wrong when he wakes up on a mission to execute a Jedi. But that is also just a matter of perspective. Most days, the trooper wakes up and finds that he is still CC-2224. The world around him is sharp and dark: the purple crackle of his electrostaff mingling with the steady beat of his heart which remained as rhythmic as a march, until it blotted out everything else. He is nothing but a weapon, and he waits patiently for his orders, whatever they may be.

On those days, he knows his place in the durasteel universe, following his Lord and enacting his will. The sneers — openly worn and honed to a razor’s edge — from the Brothers and Sisters that made up the Inquisitors didn’t impact him in the way they were hoping, because why would they? He is a weapon, one of a few who had been gifted beskar by their Lord, and who served at his convenience.

“Trying for a saber of your own?” Ninth Sister spat one day as she stormed from the throne room, her anger rolling from her like lightning and breaking harmlessly on the impassive countenance of CC-2224. “Trying to be a Brother, clone?”

“I’m already a brother,” CC-2224 tells her, but he doesn’t know why. She turns on her heel and leaves in a swish of black fabric, and he returns to waiting for his next order. He listens to the rumbling breaths from Darth Vader, the slight mechanical click between each hissing exhalation adding to the reflexive count in his head.

When Cody wakes on the transport, he knows that something has gone horribly wrong.

The floor shuddered beneath his feet with each roar of the massive engines, but the room is eerily silent. Before… Before when he was— Cody cut the thought off before it could travel any further. His mind felt fragile, as if it was constructed from freshly spun glass, and he knew that if it broke, he didn’t know how long it would be before he was able to pull control back again. Or even if he would want to.

Bile rose in his throat, hot and thick and acrid, and his shoulders contorted with the effort of keeping the scream trapped in his throat. He had woken up as Cody before but never prior to a mission. Never held the ability to escape, or to die, as closely as he did now.

He could remember, beneath the dark edges of the Executor and the constant hiss-click sound of the man who had once been Anakin Skywalker, a single moment of clarity as he knelt in front of the shell that hid his rotted carcass. Cody had been holding a lightsaber, the edges of it scorched and warped, and the scent of iron lingered in the air from the blue blood that had seeped into the handle. For a moment, his thumb had twitched over the ignition switch that could have been his salvation or his doom, but then Cody was gone once again as Darth Vader raised his chin with one gloved finger.

“Well done, Commander. I am glad to see I chose correctly.”

Cody had to hold on. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, he blindly ran a hand over the wall, fingers splayed until he found the recess, pulling the datapad free.

For an instant, before the screen activated, Cody caught sight of his reflection in the tinted transparisteel and felt the world threaten to fall away from him once more, nothing but the void waiting to consume him utterly.

What had Anakin done?

Obi-Wan — traitor to the Republic, good soldiers follow orders, no! — hadn’t spoken about Anakin’s past, but a trooper would have had to be blind to not see the marks that his past had left on him, the anger that burnt low in his eyes and caused his mouth to twist whenever someone mentioned the troopers being owned. Cody had seen the scar on Anakin’s arm from his tracker removal, straight and well-healed compared to the now-ruined tapestry of scars that had covered his back.

Cody’s fingers didn’t tremble as he raised his hand to his face, trailing a line from scalp to chin. He couldn’t feel anything different, a few new minor scars here and there pitting his skin like the surface of a moon, a far cry from the whorled raised scar that curled around his left eye. But that didn’t subtract from the new knowledge he carried: that Anakin had branded him like property with a red tattoo that would mar his skin forever.

Focus.

Breathe in, then out.

(I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.)

Cody focused on the datapad, reading over the minimal briefing he had been given, doom slipping over his shoulders like a shroud. He had been sent to hunt a Jedi, to track the whispers of a survivor and kill them.

Laughter, harsh and uncaring, bubbled up in his throat, trapped behind the cage of his teeth. What was one more when Cody had killed one of the men he loved with barely a second thought?

⁂

Cody felt himself slip partially beneath the waves of his consciousness the moment the trooper stepped outside the ship, hiding away from the first flicker of unspeakable terror that passed over a civilian's face at the sight of him.

The CC-2224 knew the motions, just as well as Cody did. Alpha-17 had vanished into the wind, from what little he had managed to find out from scraps of rumors, but he remembered his, and the other trainers, words well.

Move quick, strike hard, complete the mission.

Salt clung to every visible structure, encrusted pillars that distorted the shapes of the shipping crates and barrels into hunched figures as CC-2224 stepped into the warehouse. His electroshock baton lit up with a hiss, bathing the room in a vibrant purple, and the trooper took a step forward. The floor crunched beneath his boot, grinding down the patchwork of salt as he slowly followed the faint trail of footprints, head tilted to one side as he listened.

The Jedi — the traitor, no, all of them, traitors — was cornered with nowhere to run and had never been more dangerous.

He saw the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, and he is turning before the trooper can even think, but it is Cody who shouts, his voice tinged with a desperation that could have ripped the stars from the sky at a word. “Quinlan!”

The man stumbled, caught off guard for only a moment, before he turned, igniting his lightsaber. The green blade stole Cody’s breath away, Quinlan’s lips drawn back in a snarl as he shifted into the beginning position of Ataru, the muscles in his legs visibly bunching as he prepared to jump.

Cody knew what he would do. He had seen it so many times before; a deadly dance made beautiful by the care and precision behind it: a single leap and twist, with the blade following barely half a second behind, leaving nothing but death in its wake.

His helmet clattered to the ground, the air biting at the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Then, the hiss of Quinlan’s blade stopped as the Jedi deignited it, stumbling forward half a step before he caught himself, hurt emblazoned across his face.

Cody was struck by how different he seemed now to their last parting. Before, where Obi-Wan had been the rising sun and Cody was moonlight, Quinlan was the midday sun, bright and vibrant and intoxicating. He had curled into Cody’s side, one leg thrown across his hip to prod at Obi-Wan, who was motionless, except for the faint rise and fall of his chest. His breath still held the sweetness of the wine from the previous evening, part celebration and part regret at having to be parted once more even as the war slowly drew to a close.

Extracting himself was a journey in parts as Quinlan slowly worked his way free, every movement languid and tinged with a deep melancholy.

“You don’t have to get up with me,” he whispered, cupping Cody’s face with one battle-worn hand, his thumb smoothing over the jut of his cheekbone. Quinlan’s eyes slipped out of focus for a moment, warm brown no longer studying every inch of Cody’s face, but between one blink and the next, a warm grin spilled across his face. “But it is good to see you both.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Cody replied. It felt like a paltry offering compared to the roaring fire that rekindled itself in his chest for sustenance at the mere thought of the other men, but Quinlan only laughed, low and deep, before kissing him again.

“When the war is over—“ Quinlan cut off Cody’s attempt at protest with another kiss, infuriating and effective all at the same time before he continued, intent on daring the universe to defy him. “When the war is over, we will be together again.”

Cody tasted the promise like caff on his tongue, hoping with every shattered piece of him that Quinlan was right. His hands were steady as he untied the small token — a nondescript twist of metal with the edges worn smooth through the Force — from the leather tie around his neck, and pressed it into Quinlan’s hands.

The man stepped backwards, a chill settling in the space between them, and closed his eyes. Cody settled back into the warmth of Obi-Wan’s embrace, watching the peace settle across Quinlan’s face, the edges of his grin softening.

“Beautiful.”

“How?” Quinlan demanded, his voice harsh and broken, ripping Cody from the memory. “Why?”

Cody’s hands spasmed around the handle of the electro baton, the urge to ignite it almost overwhelming. Quinlan was close, too close.

“Didn’t— Couldn’t—“ The words would choke him before he could speak. His free hand shook as he raised it, signing a single clumsy message as he trembled with the effort.

He still tried to flinch away from the blow that Quinlan landed, the heavy hilt of his lightsaber thinking against his temple, then Cody was gone once again.

When he woke, it could have hours, days, weeks, years later. But he was Cody, settling into the body it felt like he had borrowed, with a slight shift of his shoulders as he tested the restraints.

He knew that he was on a ship, could feel the floor vibrating beneath him through the thin padding of the cot he was lying in. His stomach twisted and rolled as the autopilot shuddered into life, and then there was nothing to do but wait.

Pain pulsed through his head like a second heartbeat, blurring his vision when his eyes slipped open in coordination with the door.

“Morning, Cody. Have I ever mentioned how blood-soaked is a very attractive look on you?”

“That makes three times now.” The words clawed up his throat as he spoke, dried blood flaking from his face with every movement. “And you were even stone-cold sober for one of them.”

“Such a liar,” Quinlan teased, his laugh choked and distorted by the tears that ran down his cheeks. The soft sound of metal clinking together followed him as he walked across the room, and Cody caught sight of the countless mementos strung across his chest on a sturdy chain.

“I can’t untie you,” Quinlan said, his voice heavy with regret as he sat on the edge of the bed. “After the first time, when you woke up and you weren’t you—“ He broke off with a grimace, the action mirrored by Cody.

He could barely breathe, regret and hope he thought he had killed long ago wrapping around his throat like a noose. “Are you okay?”

Quinlan laughed, the sound a distant echo from the rich timbre Cody remembered, leaning forward to press their foreheads together in Keldabe. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I’m notoriously hard to kill, which I guess is lucky for us both.”

As if sensing the dark direction Cody’s thoughts were starting to spiral in, Quinlan moved closer and kissed him gently, blotting out the universe for everything but soft warmth and the bite of salt and iron.

“I know about the chip. I can’t destroy it, cyar’ika.”

Sorrow ripped through Cody’s chest like a blaster bolt. The memory of teaching Quinlan ‘cyar’ika’ each mumbled repetition punctuated with a kiss until it seemed to fill his very soul couldn’t stand against it, and Cody pulled away from the Jedi, curling in on himself as much as he could.

“I’ll hurt you. Eventually, I’ll slip back under, and I’ll kill you. Please, Quin.”

Quinlan shook his head, his jaw set in sly determination. “I can’t remove it. It’s too Dark for me to distinguish it from myself. But I know someone who can.

“You’re not a killer in the way you think you are, Cody. Obi-Wan is still alive. And he’s going to be so happy to see you.”

“Alive?” Cody felt as if the floor had fallen away beneath him, but he was still here, still in control. “He’s alive?”

Quinlan nodded, and Cody finally allowed himself to weep, pressing his face into the crook of Quinlan’s neck as the other man hugged him tightly, trying to hold his shattered pieces together for a while longer.

#codyweek2021 #codywan #quinobi #purge trooper cody #cody x obi wan x quinlan #star wars #quinlan vos #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #my writing

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libradusk · 4 years

Text

Touch Starved | Ahsoka Tano

Word Count: 1,260

Pairing: Ahsoka Tano x Reader

Summary: The most vivid memories of your adolescence were stolen by violence and war, a chance reunion 14 years after the fall of the Jedi Order reignites what little hope still dribbles through you

warnings: some mention of blood and death that comes along with Order 66

Part of my Touch Starved miniseries

Chance, that's what it had all boiled down to at the end of it all, how you had survived the worst day of your short life - the worst day of the war.

If you had been with anyone else at the time, you would have been dead, cut down just like your master and the thousands of other Jedi who had all met their fate that horrific day. You had known it at the time through your stolen adolescence, and you certainly knew it now as a fugitive - the only birthright you had ever known now sentenced you for execution, the Empire’s mark for death forever branded on your very soul.

When you had stepped onto that Star Destroyer bridge alongside Ahsoka and Captain Rex, you could never have predicted that the rapid flash of hyperspace would soon double as a blurred countdown to your final moments as a Jedi.

Your assassination had been pre-written in blaster-fire and blood.

At the time you had been happy - drained in every way possible following the Siege of Mandalore, but undeniably overjoyed at being reunited with Ahsoka once more. You had even noted - despite your conscience deeming the thought ludicrously selfish for a Jedi - that you dared to feel whole again, now that your closest confidant and treasured ally had returned to fight at your side - to fight alongside all of you to finish the war for good.

If only you had listened to Maul’s final, desperate warning to you all.

From the moment that first gunshot had grazed your neck, everything else stumbled into slow motion behind it.

The burn that seared and cauterised across your flesh was incomparable to the pain of realising that the only world you had ever known now crumbled around you, that the same soldiers you had battled alongside - laughed, cried and mourned beside, were now either dead or trying to kill you too.

Your own, personal tragedy had unfurled its merciless bindings around you and cut you to pieces in the process.

Bile, adrenaline and unadulterated fear curled over each other for the entire time it took you to escape, threatening to overwhelm every one of your senses as you navigated the dungeon of corridors and airfields. Recalling the events even now caused your lungs to constrict and shrivel in your chest the exact way they had back then - there was no mercy spared for whether you were awake or sleeping, your memories remained tarnished all the same.

Everything finally came to a screeching stop the moment you stumbled from that stolen bomber and your knees collided with solid ground. Despite your freedom, you had felt anything but relief at the feeling of snow blanketing your blistered knees.

You could still smell the smoking remains of the Star Destroyer ship and the clones that had perished alongside it long after you had finished burying their bodies.

Only after you had placed down the last helmet and turned to face the haunting expression on Ahsoka’s face had your body finally allowed you to cry, your soul wrecked with confusion and grief that neither of you could truly answer.

She had held you then, despite your bloodied hands staining her cowl and the fact you knew she was just as broken as you were - she remained steadfast and let you crash against her, your only remaining warmth left across the whole galaxy.

Her own tears had burned hot with fury as they dripped onto your frost-bitten skin when she finally shattered alongside you.

She was torn from you too soon after that.

Or rather the Empire tore you from her.

Your throat had practically bled as their forces had ripped you away, ravaged raw with screams of protest and pleas for her to run, to continue to survive through it all.

The look drowning in those misty-blue eyes still tormented your dreams long after rebel forces had come to your rescue, as did the way she had grasped helplessly towards you as Rex had muffled her cries and dragged her out of view - to safety.

You had made peace then, that somewhere out amongst the stars, Ahsoka was still safe - still alive, even if she couldn’t be by your side anymore.

The thought had eased the hollowness in your heart, if only by the most minuscule amount.

That fateful night relit the fire in your stomach - despite the terror and loss of the only two people you had left in the world it brought alongside it. You stopped running, determined now more than ever to retake the peace that was stolen from you - from Ahsoka and Rex and everyone else who’s lives had been dictated and swallowed by the horrors of blood lust and power born from war.

You had vowed to honour that reignited mission when you had settled down to sleep amidst the threadbare sanctuary of the rebel base that night - and every night that followed thereafter.

You cannot break me further, I have nothing left for you to take from me.

I will stop you from forcing others to suffer as I have.

That skeleton of a mantra continued to guide your every action, to dictate your very survival for years, until at last it guided you to the crew of the Ghost and settled you amongst its rag-tag family of Rebels.

You never envisioned yourself ever reuniting with Ahsoka in your remaining lifetime - had not even dared dream of it. Instead you had always placated yourself with a fantasy wherein she was alive and well hidden in a remote pocket of the galaxy - untouchable and sparkling and happy.

In retrospect you should have known better than to pacify yourself with the lie that the ex-Jedi would ever be the type to ever cower away while others suffered in her stead. Your morals - your spirits - would also entwine you together. The two of you shared a destination that had been forever stitched across the stars, regardless of the path you each walked to reach it.

Jedi or not, the stars could only keep you apart for so long - no matter how excruciating the wait, the means or the time between.

Yet the moment she stood before you once more, older and taller and exhausted, but still as warm and beautiful a soul as you always knew her to be, you couldn’t help but crumble.

And so did she.

For a second the two of you reverted to the ghosts of those tear-stomped teenagers once more, torn apart and furious when you had already lost everything but each other, jaded and scarred by events far beyond your control.

But beneath the tears and anger and pain there was the Ahsoka you knew, the same Ahsoka that had offered you a chance to live - to keep on fighting despite the hell you had both been dragged through day after day.

The Togruta had all but melted into your embrace then, choking back relief that quivered over her shoulders as wide eyes and tentative hands had swarmed over your face, desperate to check that you were truly there, truly alive.

You wondered, if your tears seared against her skin with the same intensity that buzzed across your own as her fingers cradled your jaw - every nerve threaded tightly with a prickling intensity as your soul restitched itself with each touch of Ahsoka’s skin against your own.

It bordered on overwhelming in the most magical way.

For at long last, after so much sacrifice you had been blessed with the most wonderful chance reunion - no, miracle of them all.

#touch starved #star wars reader insert #star wars imagine #ahsoka x reader #ahsoka tano imagine #i had forgotten how much tumblr's tag system overwhelms me #ahsoka reader insert #star wars #rebels #mine #oh god i really hope this has formatted ok i have no idea what im doing #ahsoka is the best ok goodbye thank you!#ahsoka #ahsoka x you #ahsoka tano

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kangaracharacha · 3 years

Note

Imogen and all the OC asks

What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about? ‘sparrow’, because she turned up with hawkeye and a sparrow is a little shitty hawk and tony stark thinks he’s funny

What is the color of your OC’s eyes/hair/skin? blue, blonde, white.

How tall is your OC? not very tall. very short. probably like 5′-ish.

What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC? there’s a long, ugly scar on the inside of her collarbone. otherwise, the general bad attitude mixed with the height is. amusing.

What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night? comfortable, practical clothing. dull colours, generic brands, doesn’t mind much what she looks like. for a special occasion, she’d dress down, but appropriate to the occasion.

What is one word you would use to describe your OC’s appearances? angry

Does your OC have any markings, such as a birthmark or a scar? scar on her collarbone.

How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like? I’m honestly struggling here. It’s just normal. Just a normal voice. Good at shouting. Very loud. Usually angry.

What does your OC’s bedroom look like? His/her living area? kind of messy but like, organised chaos. she’s not really a chore-doer, yknow, she’s busy doing other stuff and she mostly lives alone so it doesn’t bother her or anyone else. it’s not really out of control or anything. apart from her clothes and stuff, she doesn’t really have her own space; in new york, she lives in clint’s apartment, an old, small space in an outdated building with second-hand furniture and a bunch of clint’s crap still sitting around, and if she has a place in sokovia it’s temporary housing and doubles as an office, so in the grand scheme of things she doesn’t really have a huge impact on the spaces she occupies while she’s there.

What does your OC keep in a special drawer? as sad as it is, nothing, she doesn’t really have a lot of possessions, definitely not special ones; the only things she brought with her from SHIELD were a bag of clothes, a knife, a gun, and a toothbrush, and since then she hasn’t quite settled enough to start collecting things - and living most of her life so far without a lot of stuff is just a hard habit to break.

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her mother? the evil scientist? she’s not a huge fan. kind of resents her like, a lot. imogen doesn’t remember anything about her except what other people have told her and the things she’s found out about herself, so she’s kind of just a stranger that set her up for a lifetime of frustrations.

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her father? nevr knew him, has like one vague memory of him being kind of nice, but in the end he was evil so she’s not really searching for any way to keep his memory alive.

How many siblings does your OC and what is his/her relationship with them? hah. she has one brother. having cut herself loose of that tie, she’s recently realised that that relationship was some kinda toxic and also he wasn’t afraid to kill her when ordered to so. you could say she’s not really interested in seeing him again either.

Who is the mother and/or father figure in your OC’s life? she’s a bit over parental figures and a bit too old for that kind of bond at this point in her life, but she does have a couple of ‘mentors’, people that she can rely on to point her in the right direction. clint barton is one, of course, you always have to have a good friend who can knock you out and tell you ‘hey maybe being on team hydra isn’t like, the most morally sound decision you could make’. pepper potts is a professional rolemodel she’s found she can look up to. she lowkey thinks she could be like pepper someday but she’ll never admit that ‘CEO’ sounds like a good job to her. and shoutout to Agent Donoghue, whose name i had to look up because he’s in sparrow for a whole five seconds but. she feels really bad about this one. Donoghue was her last chance at SHIELD, he gave her every chance to be successful in that line of work and he really was a good mentor, she just wasn’t ready to change when they knew each other. she looks back on a lot of the things he said these days and regrets not listening sooner, just like she regrets how it ended...but things had to happen the way they did for her to want to grow and become a better person.

What was your OC’s childhood like? crap, mostly. well, it was fine in a way, but. her parents died when she was five and she almost died too but that wiped most of the memory out of her head at least. she was adopted by a neighbour who was actually just a hydra agent on a longcon mission to keep an eye on her, more because she was possibly useful for information on her parents than out of any concern. this didn’t really lead to a loving household to grow up in, and her brother, who is five (or maybe seven?) years older than her didn’t spend much time around the place, and got himself admitted to the SHIELD academy as soon as he could. she didn’t really deal with this whole situation very well, so she grew up struggling in school, getting into fights, constantly grounded and yet impossible to control. eventually, her brother managed to get her an admission into the academy as well, where she found some structure at least but wasn’t particularly well liked and was typically bottom of the class, problem student, one step away from being thrown out.

What is your OC’s strongest childhood memory? Why and how as that impacted him/her? she sort of remembers the murder of her parents, sort of, but it doesn’t really hit her the way she thinks it probably should? it’s just there in the back of her brain, blurry and disjointed and she’s not sure how much of it she’s made up and how much she’s actually remembering, and it doesn’t really impact her all that much although it probably did as a young child. otherwise, the day that her brother, will, left for the academy. she has a whole lifetime of memories of people failing her, but that was the first time that he failed her, and though she didn’t realise it at the time, it was the final straw for her as a kid; she only closed off after that, gave up on people and on school and whatever else she was dreaming about. looking back now, she realises that she should have held on to that betrayal instead of eventually forgiving him, because that was her first red flag that he wasn’t as focused on her wellbeing as she thought he was.

What is your OC’s imagination like? not very good, she’s a very impulsive and in-the-moment kind of person, and a pragmatic and logical thinker who doesn’t leave much room for fanciful dreaming or thinking very far outside the box.

How many times did your OC move as a child? Which area was his/her favorite? she spent most of her childhood in new york, shifting house a couple of times but otherwise in the same area, attending the same school, etc. they all sucked, honestly; her favourite place was her parent’s house. or it would be if she could remember it.

What does your OC think of children- either in general or about having them? she used to have no tolerance for kids but she’s warming up to them slowly, the further she gets from being a loudmouthed, hotheaded teenager. she would have kids one day, but not for a while yet, but more because she’s just too busy and not settled in one place at all than because she doesn’t like them.

What kind of mother/father would your OC be? she’d be dedicated to being a good mother, and to settling down and living a life that is right for her kids. she wouldn’t be the perfect parent, she knows nothing about parenting and has never had one of her own in her life, but she would try her best. she might even learn patience.

Who are your OC’s closest relatives? none of her relatives are close. she doesn’t know any of her distant family, most of them are dead anyway, and her brother is the worst person ever, so she’d just like them all to stay very far away, thankyou.

Who is/are your OC’s closest friend(s)? she has a couple of good friends in sokovia, katja and sofia and vinn (but they are all ocs and so you’ll have to send me another ask to know more about them). clint and the maximoffs are her closest friends in the avengers circle of people, and i guess ruby (radford, hacker extraordinaire and Legally Dead) also counts as a close friend, if grudgingly.

Who are the people your OC surrounds him/herself with? people that challenge her, and people that have earned her respect, which she doesn’t give away freely. she likes to be pushed, whether in her skills or her wit or just as a person, and she has an acute sense of when people don’t really like her company - which is fine, she knows she has a personality that is grating to some people, but she would prefer that they just didn’t come near her if that’s the case.

Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates? people that she feels are working against what she thinks is right. usually, this is groups of people - hydra, intel, certain rebel groups and militias in sokovia. otherwise, there are plenty of people that rub her the wrong way day to day, but she doesn’t really spend time actively hating them, she’ll just either get into a fight with them or avoid them as much as she can.

If your OC has a soulmate, who is it? (pietro, but don’t tell her)

Why does your OC and his/her soulmate work so well together? they’re both people that grew up lost and overlooked and angry at the world, and they were both manipulated by hydra and used and tossed aside by them, so they find common ground in that, even if it was on very different scales. they also tend to run in the same sort of circles as well - they find friends in the same people, their goals often align - but their personalities are different enough that they don’t just piss each other off. they share the same humour and the same brutal honesty and strong sense of right and wrong - they’re not afraid to call each other out, or argue, and they’re learning to apologise and forgive together. most importantly, they make the choice to be there for each other and to live new lives, and they stick to it. they both have an idea of who they want to be in the future, and both have the other in that vision.

What are some things your OC admires about his/her soulmate? she admires his commitment to his cause, how much he cares about his country and his friends and family and the responsibility he puts on himself to fix it. also, that he could put up with her for so long, without complaint; she’s always been used to people getting tired of her or taking off (or trying to kill her but we’re not going to talk about that), and she wasn’t really sure anyone could stand to be around her and still care about her for so long.

How did your OC and his/her soulmate meet? auntie stark playing matchmaker at a party because he was bored and he’s a meddler and they both annoy him in the same way.

What is your OC’s level of education? high school dropout and SHIELD academy dropout with no formal education, but she’s competent enough to get by in basic skills like maths and SHIELD related things like fighting and espionage.

Did your OC participate in extracurricular activities, and if so, what were they? is detention considered an extracurricular activity

What is your OC’s opinion of school? What kind of student was s/he? school was a very negative experience. she hated every minute of it. she was that really annoying, disruptive kid that would physically square up to anyone who even looked at her funny and regularly punched people and things, yknow? bad grades, bad attitude, no friends, given up on a long time ago.

What subjects did your OC excel at? sports weren’t terrible, as long as they weren’t team sports. once she got to the academy, hand to hand combat was her best subject, except that she was used to fighting dirty and already too set against the system to sit down and learn proper technique.

What subjects interested your OC? nothing at school really interested her; all of her interests have really come to her in her 20s, when she’s free to discover them on her own.

What is your OC’s dream job and/or current profession? throughout the three fics about her, she’s a shield/hydra agent, a security officer at Stark Industries, and the director of the SRF camp in Nova Grad, Sokovia. she’s still figuring out where this is leading her, but the last two jobs have been perfect for her at that stage in her life.

How is your OC working towards his/her dream job and/or achieved his/her current profession? she’s been lucky enough to fall into each of her professions so far, which she is all too aware of and works hard to prove that she deserves it. her brother got her a place in SHIELD training, Clint helped organise the job at Stark Industries and called in a few favours so that she would get it, and she took over the SRF camp temporarily after an incident with the former director. she’s most proud of her work at the latter, and she’ll try to continue in that role until something else pulls her away.

What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession? she enjoyed working at SI well enough, the job was within her skill level, the people were okay, she was comfortable. she could have easily stayed there for a lot longer if other opportunities hadn’t presented themselves. she loves running the SRF camp, it’s just the right amount of challenging and a little bit dangerous but not too dangerous, and even if it’s a lot of paperwork there’s also something new and crazy happening every day to keep it fresh.

What is your OC’s biggest dream? to find a place to fit into and live a life where she’s making her own decisions, outside of the control of other people.

How does your OC react to and handle stress? she gets short and snappy with people, doesn’t have time for stupid or time wasting, can get pretty heated but doesn’t often get overwhelmed, she’s still got a handle on the situation.

How does your OC handle anger? loudly. she will physically fight people, if she’s riled up enough, but she’s trying to curb that habit.

How does your OC handle grief? processes inwardly, and puts on a brave face outwardly. very few people would see her express grief, and it would take a few weeks for it to really hit her like that.

What is your OC’s greatest fear? losing everything she’s worked hard to get in the last few years.

What makes your OC happy? uninterrupted downtime, when she can just do what she wants. it’s a simple life. oh, and people getting what they deserve. it’s satisfying.

What kind of sense of humor does your OC have? sarcastic, dry remarks, and finding humour in other people’s misfortune.

What are some things that greatly upset your OC? being disregarded as stupid or useless or annoying, situations in which she’s helpless or too far out of her depth to catch up

What are some things that annoy your OC? people that can’t keep up with her or say dumb shit, people in general, irritating noises

If your OC has them, what are some regrets s/he has? she regrets not trying harder in school or the academy, she feels like those years were mostly wasted and wishes they hadn’t been even though she knows it’s not something to blame herself for. she regrets killing donoghue too; in the moment, it was all she could do, and what she had to do to survive, but it goes so against her morals that she’ll always feel guilty about it.

How easily does your OC forgive? not very. she’s been let down a lot in the past, and she’s cutthroat about removing people from her life when she thinks that they’re dragging her down.

What are some of your OC’s vices? pride, wrath, anger, impatience, unkindness, spite

If your OC experienced trauma, what was it? the death of her parents. during flicker, she struggles with the knowledge that she has killed and seriously injured people before, and with knowing that she’s done these things while trying to learn how to live a normal life. in swift, sokovia offers her a very immediate and major seachange; she has to live through bombings, violent riots, shootings, etc. I think the most rattling out of these for her is having to play dead on a street filled with the dead, not knowing if her friends are alive or if she is going to live through this. up until swift, she doesn’t really see the worst that groups like hydra can do; she sees the blood and the death and the injustice of soldiers running blindly in to die, but this incident really hits home for her that she’s putting herself in the way of bad, terrifying people, and the things they are capable of are scary.

What secrets does your OC have? she used to be a hydra agent. she’s open about it if she has to be, if someone finds this information out themselves she’s very upfront and will tell them the whole story and let them make their own decision, but she’ll keep it secret until that time, she’ll never be the one they hear it from.

What are some of your OC’s morals? usually her choices come down to just basic human decency, sadly; she believes people should be free to make their own choices and to live their own lives, safe and in peace. in the scope of swift, she wants the people of sokovia to be able to retain their country under their own control, she doesn’t believe that the invaders and the rising militia should be involved, and that they should be free to choose their own government, but she doesn’t really think that riots and bombs are the way to go about it.

What are some of your OC’s motivations? her own drive to be better than she has been in the past, to make up for the time she’d spent with hydra (even if the things she’d actively done for them were minimal), to find her way in the world and the place she’s meant to occupy.

What is the health of your OC? it’s good. lots of scars, the regular kind of aches and pains from living a very active lifestyle. as of swift, she has restricted movement in her shoulder from a bullet wound - not enough to really bother her day-to-day, but she’s given up archery since recovering.

Does your OC think with his/her head or heart? with her head

What are your OC’s thoughts on death? she hasn’t really come to terms with death yet - it’s a scary concept, and she’s young. mostly, she just tries not to think about it at all, even when it’s staring her right in the face. she could probably find peace with it when it happens, if it’s for the right cause.

What are some of your OC’s strengths? she’s willful, determined, brave, she can speak her mind when she needs to and she’s not afraid to tell people what she thinks or to fight for a change. she’s open to change herself, and she’s willing to learn, where she wasn’t in the past.

What are some of your OC’s weaknesses? she’s quick to anger and slow to forgive, she often picks a fight that she should refrain from and can easily hurt the ones she loves. she’s closed off and that turns away many people and loses her many opportunities. she has a negative mindset and low self-worth; she makes life harder for herself often.

How does your OC take criticism? not well. she’ll get angry and start an argument or storm off, and take a few hours or days to process. it depends who is offering her criticism as to whether she’ll come crawling back to apologise or if her pride will be too much to allow her to do that.

What does your OC think of him/herself? she doesn’t think very highly of herself. she’s acutely aware of her faults - that she’s too angry and hardheaded, that she doesn’t listen enough and isn’t particularly talented at anything.

If your OC could change one thing about him/herself, what would it be? some days, she would say that she would change her whole personality, take out the anger or whatever it is that makes it so hard for her to sit down and listen, or forget her whole past. other days, she wouldn’t want to change anything at all, even though she’s a whole mess. she really wants the latter to be her answer, but she’s still learning to be okay with herself.

What is the general impression your OC gives other people? standoffish, strong personality bordering on rude, takes no shit, short-tempered, unfriendly.

How emotionally/mentally vulnerable is your OC with other people? on a scale of zero to ten, i’d give her a solid one. she’s closed off, pragmatic, and thinks she has to do everything alone. close friends might get more out of her, and she’s learning to be softer and more open, and to work with other people, but for the most part she isn’t giving anything away.

How does your OC display love? sarcasm, mostly. she doesn’t outwardly express it, really, especially in public, but she’s always there as support or to listen or offer advice, if she can. and she’s always trying to do better and to commit herself to the relationship, even if she doesn’t make a big show of it.

What are some habits your OC has picked up? clint’s coffee addiction has rubbed off on her.

What is your OC’s favorite drink? it’s quickly becoming coffee

What is your OC’s favorite food? doritos

What is your OC’s favorite sweet? chocolate

What is your OC’s favorite season? autumn

What is your OC’s favorite kind of weather? sunny, but not too sunny

What is your OC’s favorite book? she doesn’t really read

What is your OC’s favorite movie and/or TV show? dog cops, she used to hate it but now she’s too invested to quit, shrek is her like, go-to movie when there’s nothing else which is weird and she’ll never admit it. but true.

What is your OC’s favorite kind of music (and song if there is one)? she listens to a whole bunch of different music, but her main genres would be pop, rock, rnb

What is your OC’s favorite form of entertainment? TV/movies

What is your OC’s favorite color? blue

What is your OC’s favorite scent? salty sea air on a strong breeze. it’s just so crisp.

What is your OC’s favorite animal? she wasn’t a dog person until she met clint’s dogs. now she’s totally a dog person.

What is your OC’s favorite sound? s i l e n c e on a sunday morning.

What is your OC’s favorite time of day? morning, once she’s awake.

What is your OC’s favorite kind of ice cream? chocolate

What is your OC’s favorite dinosaur? pterodactyl

#imogen oc #flicker

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dayseternal-blog · 4 years

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Summary: Naruto and Hinata join the Twelve Guardian Ninja of the Land of Fire's Daimyo. (But not really.) Their mission is to smoke out the rat among them who's selling political secrets to insurgents, while making sure the other Guardians don't figure them out.

Neither can tell when their acting became so convincing.

A fake relationship canon-divergent AU.

Rated E for eventual shameless smut.

Written for @naruhina2020 March - Bodyguard Theme

Chapter 1: Introduction: Motives

She’s called for a mission at an expected time, about 9:00 in the morning, rather than some odd hour of the night. Whatever it is, it must not be a real emergency.

He uses the rooftops to get to the Tower, as is his preferred route these days, rather than get caught up in conversations with groups of giggling girls.

She enters the Sixth Hokage’s office, surprised to see that Shino is not already there before her.

He makes his way through the hall, wondering who he’ll be partnered with, or if he’ll have a partner at all.

“He never knocks,” Kakashi laments, and right on time, the door swings open.

He excitedly wonders aloud, “Who am I working-”

She honestly can’t remember the last time she worked with Naruto. Their skills are too similar. Close combat. Sensory. And he’s simply too good to need anyone with the same specialties as him.

“Hinata! You’re my partner this time?! This is going to be great!” He’s not going to fight over stupid things like he does with Sakura, Kiba, and Ino. He’s not going to be overworked with Lee and Tenten, who are both used to a level of workouts that no one else has been conditioned to enjoy. He’s not going to be creeped out by Shino.

Shikamaru’s his usual partner.

But Shikamaru’s been out on a ridiculously long mission.

“It must be a tough one if I’m partnering with Hinata,” he casually observes.

She doesn’t say it out loud, but obviously, if Naruto’s on the job, the mission must actually be some kind of emergency. A or...S-rank. For Naruto to say that something’s going to be tough...

“Yes,” Kakashi starts, hands folding together, lackadaisical attitude turning serious. “An extended S-rank. Estimated for a month or longer.”

They kneel before the Fire Daimyo, officially pledging their loyalties to a man who’s never known mud on his cheeks, never seen a comrade fall, perhaps never even broken a sweat in his life. Yet somehow he carries far more political clout than their own Hokage.

Not our Hokage, Hinata corrects herself. Or at least, she needs to pretend that she’s no longer a shinobi of Konoha.

They’re Guardians now.

On paper and in the assessing eyes of their new peers, their abilities and bodies belong to the Daimyo, to fight and protect this leader with their lives.

She can feel their judgement boring into the top of her head. Unlike Naruto, whose reputation precedes him, she’s often underestimated. Small. The only kunoichi in the room. She’ll be tested in some way by the others. But she’ll do whatever it takes to gain the other Guardians’ trust, and, eventually, smoke out the conspirator among them.

“Uzumaki Naruto. Hyuuga Hinata,” the Fire Daimyo addresses.

They stand at his call.

“Starting from today, you no longer serve just the interests of Konoha. You are now shinobi of the Land of Fire. You lay down your lives for me, you lay down your lives for the entire country.”

In the corner of her sharp vision, she can see Naruto bristling.

It’s no secret that Naruto has never held high regard for this man, whose decisions did very little to help during and after the war, who refused to fund Sakura’s mental health initiative for children, who seems to always defer to the loudest voice in the room.

If he could, he would tell the daimyo to stick his little speech up his ass. But he can’t fail, here, now, already, only a few minutes into their undercover mission. Kakashi made it a point to make clear that he didn’t have to pretend to be anyone but himself...but that he still had to show some level of respect to their political leader. While they’re out here in the capitol, the daimyo is their only contact to Konoha, the only one who knows of this charade.

After all, he commissioned them.

The reasoning being that the daimyo didn’t want to stir distrust among the remaining Guardians. They had already caught two informants on their own. Morale among the rest was high now.

But the daimyo had suspicions that there might be another hiding among them. Rather than having them turn against each other, he decided that this was an outside job.

And if this man fails to make a good decision in every other area of being a leader, Naruto needs to make sure that at least in this, they do not fail.

Failure could mean a coup d’etat.

Civil War when the rest of the shinobi world is at peace.

They can’t let that happen.

“Your accomplishments and track records in your career thus far have marked you as the strongest and most loyal to our nation. You join the ranks of the most elite shinobi in not just the country, but in the entire world. Here you stand among the greatest, and your names will forever be remembered for your service to me.”

Hinata keeps her face placid, not difficult at all for a Hyuuga.

She can only hope that Naruto’s doing the same.

But based on the furrowed brow of one of the Guardians, who steps forward, holding the branded waistcloths out to them, she can deduce that Naruto’s not doing a very good job hiding his thoughts.

They take the waistcloths, tying them on in the same way as the others.

The kanji for Fire emblazoned on their hip, meant to announce their status.

It’s a recognition that neither of them need, but Hinata knows she can’t ignore its meaning.

The ten Guardians who stand lined up before them, gathered from across the country, really are the best, on par with at least her own skills, and needing to take down even just one of them qualifies as an S-rank mission.

They haven’t even left the main office yet when four of the Guardians who were meant to show them the ins-and-outs of the administrative buildings turn them into an empty hall.

“So you think you’re better than us?” snarls one, a bulky man by the name of Geiiro.

“They’re Konoha shinobi. What did you expect?” laughs Tacchi, his pretty features marred by a long, raised scar cutting through the side of his head. “Konoha’s Hero, Saviour of this World,” he sneers. “It’s all gone to his head.”

Naruto holds his tongue. It was his mistake to not hide his dislike of the old man. These men are not his enemies.

At least not right now.

Geiiro huffs, “If you have no interest in being out here in the real world, then run back to your ‘hidden’ village.”

Naruto raises a brow at that. He didn’t know that that’s how the outside villages see Konoha. But he knows they suffered damages just as much from the war, if not moreso. And they don’t pledge the same prided allegiance to their country’s Hokage.

If they want to rant, he’ll listen. He’ll learn.

The tallest of the group, Eizan, steps forward, cocking his head, eyes trailing over her. “And what about the Hyuuga princess?”

They both tense.

She expected to be tested, but not quite so soon.

“So it’s true what they say. For you to have accepted a position here…you were replaced by your younger sister,” murmurs Hukukane. He stands in the back, hands on his hips like a casual observer.

Like a long-range fighter.

She doesn’t care about her sister taking the helm for the clan. She hasn’t cared about that in a long time. But she pays careful attention to the men before her, their formation, their “relaxed” stances.

Was this planned from the start?

“So she’s trying to prove her worth to her clan here?” Eizan laughs, earning smirks from the others. “Pretty little princesses should play at home-”

Her eyes flash up to his, just as his hand grabs at her chin.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Naruto’s rasengan is only centimeters from Eizan’s chest.

The warping chakra is close enough to exert the pressure of a fist pushing against his skin.

He glares furiously at Eizan, even as the edges of his senses tingle at the knowledge that the others have taken on their own cautionary stances. “She doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone!”

“Naruto-kun,” she tries, as calmly as she can, hoping she has just enough force in her voice to remind him to stay calm, too.

But Naruto doesn’t budge. If he doesn’t make a point now, then what else might they do to her? Eleven men and only Hinata? Why aren’t there any other women in this group?

It’s just another reason to hate the current daimyo.

“So that really is why he’s here,” Hukukane interrupts.

“Yeah,” Eizan agrees, frowning at the jutsu threatening to burst a hole in his body.

“We all have reasons to be here,” Geiiro says. “For us, not part of Konoha’s shinobi system, this is a steady job. Money to send home to our families.”

Naruto reluctantly turns his attention to him. But he doesn’t back down.

“Money for my younger siblings,” Tacchi adds on.

“I send money home for my wife’s aging parents,” Hukukane continues. “Believe us, we don’t like the daimyo’s decisions much either. But he’ll pay us to protect him. So long as we keep him alive, we have income.”

Naruto turns his attention back to Eizan. What their stories have to do with this guy touching Hinata, he still hasn’t figured out. But he’ll let Eizan explain.

“I never had a family. The Guardians are my family.”

That’s something Naruto can understand. Still doesn’t excuse the guy from touching and insulting Hinata.

“My family has no room for secrets.” This time Eizan’s eyes gain a fire that wasn’t there before. “What are two Konoha shinobi doing here?”

Hinata answers quickly, knowing these men are certainly sharper than they initially seemed. This confrontation was all a ploy to get them to reveal themselves. “We wanted to gain insight on affairs outside of Konoha. Our actions are limited within the village’s walls, we’re under constant surveillance. We only interact with other Konoha citizens and the occasional visitors or people we meet on missions.”

“For a Hyuuga to say that, certainly that makes sense,” Hukukane responds. “We figured that. They say clan lives are stuffy.”

“Naruto-kun,” Hinata tries again.

He lets his rasengan disperse. He lets a second pass before he finally steps back, closer to Hinata than before.

“Relax, Naruto,” Eizan starts. “None of us are stupid enough to touch your woman.”

She can’t help the reactive heat that touches her cheeks, even though she knows the obvious implication completely flew over Naruto’s head.

A glance over, and she can see only a contemplative distrust on his face.

“Sealed a goddess, ended the world war, master of the Kyuubi, next in line to be Hokage? We couldn’t think of any logical reason for someone like you to leave Konoha to join us,” Eizan continues, suddenly conversational.

“But love can make even someone like Naruto make irrational decisions,” Geiiro barks out with a laugh. “You two don’t have to keep your relationship a secret.”

“What?” Naruto asks, trying to catch up with the shift in atmosphere.

Hinata flushes even worse than before. She thinks to correct them, but that would only earn worse scrutiny on their reasons for joining the Guardians.

They can’t let them know they’re here on a mission. Any one of them could be another spy for the insurgents.

So...maybe she needs to play along. Even if it’s mortifyingly embarrassing.

She just has to make sure Naruto understands, too.

She swallows her own fears. And steps up to him.

She has to choose her words carefully. She still doesn’t know what abilities the other Guardians might have.

She closes her hands around her mouth, leaning in toward his ear, knowing it’ll look intimate to the others.

“Hinata?” he asks, finding her pressing against him.

“They know we’re lovers,” she whispers.

“W-what?” He steps away, eyes wide. “Hinata-”

She grabs his hand with both of hers, keeping him from backing away too far. “It’s okay. It’s better if they know.” She looks hopefully into his eyes. Hoping that he catches on. Hoping he doesn’t say anything in denial.

He just stares at her, mouth wide open, attention shifting down to her hands firmly around his. She’s acting really touchy with him. She said they’re lovers when they’re not. Hinata doesn’t usually act like this, so why-

“You really don’t have to hide it. We don’t operate on the same rules as Konoha,” Tacchi explains.

She nods, pretending to agree with him. She blushes harder with what she wants to say next. But she has to make him understand. “Naruto-kun,” she calls, as sweetly as possible. It sounds so embarrassing. Like she’s really trying to catch his attention.

He looks back up at her, eyes growing wider still at her flirtatious tone of voice.

“This way, maybe we can spend more time together...” She looks as meaningfully as she can into his eyes. “...alone,” she adds on, in a whisper.

The other Guardians start laughing and hooting.

She’s flaming red, she knows, she doesn’t remember the last time she felt so hot.

He can see the vibrant color on her fair skin, but he can also feel the searing heat pressing into him from her hands. He realizes she’s incredibly embarrassed. She’s not under some genjutsu or trying to play a trick on him. She’s pretending. So that they can meet to talk about their mission. “A-aah, yeah!!” he stutters out, embarrassment belatedly catching up with him. “W-whatever you want, Hinata!”

“He’s whipped!” hollers Geiiro. “Poor boy’s got it bad!”

She smiles in relief, trying to ignore the teasing of their new comrades.

He looks down, suddenly very, very conscious of her hands around his.

She lets go of him quickly.

“You two can hold hands!” Geiiro continues, laughing harder and harder.

Hinata shakes her head furiously. She got her point across, and she needn’t embarrass either of them any further.

And by Naruto’s blushing grimace, she knows she really embarrassed him.

#naruhina fanfic #canon divergence au #no the last #fake/pretend relationship #bodyguard #undercover missions #romance #eventual smut #minor original characters #naruhina 2020 #nh2020 #thank you for reading!#naruhina fanfiction

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

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Someone Left to Save (10)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: What isn’t strictly prohibited but you feel its illegal? Writing drafts of my fanfic in my office desktop LMAO the banking industry here can be pretty tight with their rules tho. AAAAAHH So sorry I haven’t been posting!!! For the past 2 days, I was finishing this whole chapter and I’ve gotten into like one-fourth of the next chapter!! (stay tuned! that one’s gonna be intense! ;w;)

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 | Previous: Part 9 | Next: Part 11 | Masterlist

10 of ?

Relying on the spies’ intel didn’t cut it anymore, so getting out there was the best course of action. You perfectly knew that this is no race against the other Inquisitors, and each Jedi is just hunted game in the eyes of the Grand Inquisitor, Darth Vader, and the Emperor altogether.

You marched to the hangar with a graceful, poised stride. When you saw the hangar officers conversing by the entrance, they stiffened at the sight of you.

“Prepare my ship!” you barked.

The mechanics and engineers scrambled to your TIE Fighter—distinguishable by its black body, a red intercrossed stripe making the cockpit look like a rifle’s reticle from the outside—you watched them inspect, recalibrate, and refuel the vehicle before confirming that it’s safe for travel.

“All engines go for your TIE Fighter, Twelfth Sister,”

“Good,”

You climbed the ladder to the cockpit and made yourself comfortable. The mechanics scurried to detach the hooks and cables strapped to the vessel as you pump up the engines. The hangar attendant waved his signal rods in front of your cockpit as you slowly hover forward, following the path the attendant is carving for you, when you inched closer to the open air you cranked the throttle’s lever and accelerated. The rotors rippled out a ring of dust and air as it slowly gained some velocity, and then you zoom out of the hangar like a black comet and out of Mons Golotha.

In less than 20 minutes, the X1 TIE Fighter’s speed hindered as soon as it entered Mons Golotha’s exosphere. Staring back at you through that cockpit windshield is the star-dotted vacuum of space.

“Okay, Cal sweetheart, where could you be hiding?” you mutter to yourself as you fire up the nav computer.

You drive the TIE forward, farther and farther away from the orbiting moon, you weren’t trying to pick up a signal—you’re trying to find some peace, ironically, in the dead blankness of the galaxy in the hopes to pick up where you left in your meditation earlier. Your grip loosened, no more than a delicate, dainty hold of the steering wheel, you let go and let yourself get lost in concentration.

The heavy, gloomy hum of space helped you drown out all of the white noise in order for you to focus better. A silent call whose echo reaches as far as the system in the ten parsecs. You struggle to recall the image of the place where you saw Cal in—that’s your next best shot in finding him.

A blinding red hue—it’s either morning or afternoon wherever he is. You could even feel the prickling heat underneath your suit.

An arid wasteland. A single city perched atop one of the mesas erected across the sandy, barren expanse.

This planet is wholly new to you.

You see Cal standing atop a mesa whose surface has cracked, brought upon by intense drought, it overlooks the small city not larger than half a quadrant of Coruscant’s city block. The image sharply jabbed its way through your skull, causing you to flick your eyelids up, and return to reality.

“Jeddah!” you gasped its name.

The place is unheard of to you, going back to Mons Golotha to check the archives would prove to be inconvenient. The next plausible move is to follow your instincts. You crane the neck of the nav computer so it faces you, then your fingers tapped away with the buttons—it was strange, though you weren’t startled, you knew exactly what its coordinates are, and so you charted your course to Jeddah.

When the computer screen glowed green and showed a map of the destination, without reluctance, you punched it—pushing the steering forward and the TIE Fighter cuts through the empty space like an arrowhead.

—–

JEDDAH

Cal sits at the edge of the exact mesa where you saw him in your vision, taking under the stout branches of a dead tree. He’s lost count of the days you’ve been gone, he wagered it to be roughly a month now—and he still hasn’t moved on, he refuses to. Gradually, his new habits have become routine to him, not that he’s gotten any better; he remains stoic, almost unfeeling, and his fighting has lost its grace.

If only you could see him now—he’s riddled with sear marks either from his pastime tinkering or the miss-by-a-hair grazes from Stormtroopers’ blasts, bruises, and brand new scars. He refuses healing from Merrin’s magick and makes do with the stims BD-1 supplies for him; but truthfully, he prefers your Force Healing. He misses the warm touch of your palm flat on his skin, wherever his injury might be, the soothing sensation might as well be a thing of the past for him.

The humid wind blows over his cheeks, red sand pricks at his freckles. He sits there, eyes closed, feeling for something cannot name yet knows wholeheartedly.

“[Y/N]…” he mouthed. The utterance of your name is carried away by the wisp of sand.

Nothing.

He yearned to feel it again. He had hoped he would.

His meditation bore no fruit due to his desperation, impatience, and a directionless, bottled up anger.

“Come on…” he growled, squeezing his eyes shut as the rays of the sun blazed through the spaces between the tree branches.

Over several parsecs away, Cal’s voice saying your name—all but a whisper—and a deep humming rang altogether behind your ears. In the first few minutes, you’re unbothered by it, until it did reach you. Your eyes on the windshield wandered, searching the skies for the source, spotting planets and moons here and there.

Cal locked in on the connection, his furrowed eyebrows now relaxed, his breathing calmed and he maintained the ideal, tranquil stillness of his meditation.

The humming grew louder, it evolved into a deeper, more baritone rumbling—like a stampede in the distance—you kept looking for its origin, but neither a single planet nor moon in the system you’re in seem to have the answer. You lent a few more minutes of listening in, hoping you’d make sense of it until you picked up the same familiar sensation as earlier.

“[Y/N]…?” asked Cal, confirming your presence through the Force.

You didn’t speak, you exploited the connection to clear out the cloudiness surrounding your objective. The red mesa in the desert appeared before your eyes, a dead tree, and the city overlooking the city sitting atop a single, erect rock pillar large enough to cradle it.

[Y/N]…! Please…!

A wicked grin snaked on your face. Your jaw clenched and your eyes had a sinister glint.

“Found you!” you hissed.

According to your nav, you’re two systems away from Jeddah. You pulled the computer by its metal neck, your fingers flying all over the keyboard as you calculate the jump to lightspeed.

Never have you ever punched the buttons on the dashboard of your fighter, you were particularly fond and careful of this TIE Fighter, though the excitement of finally spotting your prey caused you to crank the steering wheel forward so hard that the cogs inside groaned, consequently making the thrusters roar with great enthusiasm and haul the vessel at its full speed.

You grinned as you put the pedal to the metal with your fighter, you licked your lips and smirked.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’m coming for you.”

The young Jedi got out of the trance and he’s out of breath, exhilarated by the fact that you are alive after all this time—after all this time of defending that exact same point in every debate amongst the Mantis crew—but connecting with you felt different and eerie. BD-1 inched closer to his owner, his scanners picking up Cal’s stress levels and his increased heart rate. A single chirp caught the boy’s attention.

“It’s [Y/N], BD, but…”

“Bee…?”

“I have a bad feeling about her,”

The droid was in disbelief, BD never imagined—not even his processors and circuit board—that Cal would say that about you! He sent out a whole string of trills, questions that Cal couldn’t translate one at a time. He eased his little droid companion, gently gesturing at him to calm down.

“I think we need to tell this to Cere,”

The most concrete proof he could ever get a hold of was a connection from you through the Force. He questioned himself if Cere would believe him, considering she is the closest he can come to in terms of the ways of the Force.

Cal comes rushing back to the Mantis.

“Cere!” he started to call repeatedly when he was only a few meters away until he got into the ship.

The boy was a huffing and puffing mess when he threw himself into the ship, startling everyone and inadvertently interrupting their individual pastimes.

“Cal? What happened?” Cere had to lower her leather journal away from her face just to check on the boy.

“Are you alright?”

“Slow down, kid! It’s not like we’re leaving without you all of a sudden!”

“That’s not it!” he panted. He then turned to the older woman. “Cere, didn’t Cordova write something about having two Force-sensitive beings connecting or communicating through the Force?”

The more Cal rambled on with his queries, Cere had to put her book down on the lounge table to listen to the redheaded youngster. She knows he’s onto something—his excitement is just making slightly incoherent. Her lips parted as if to say something, but the boy is unconsciously unfurling new discoveries with the ways of the Force.

“Well, I just connected with [Y/N]!”

Greez cuts in as politely as he can. “Wai—Wait, how did you know it was [Y/N]? Moreover, what do you mean by ‘connect’?”

“Her voice!” he then remembers the eerie feeling that he put him off during the trance. “But… something doesn’t feel right.”

“About what? About [Y/N]?” Merrin joins in on the subject, curious and intrigued about your well-being, pausing from her tending of the terrarium and stepping down to the lounge table.

“So is it really her or just some random voice you heard that sounds just like her? My poor brain inside this gray head of mine can’t really grasp all of your Force mumbo-jumbo.”

“Cal, you don’t think—?”

Cal immediately refuses Cere’s theory without even letting her finish.

“No!” he bolts. “It can’t be. It’s impossible!”

“Cal, we can’t say for sure. But if you do have a bad feeling about it, then you best be prepared for what you’re about to see when she comes to you.”

There was a foreboding tone in Cere’s voice, consciously warning the boy of what’s to come. In his mind, Cal battled with himself and his inhibitions.

It’s not fair! In his mind, he whined like a child, on the verge of sobbing.

In what ought to be roughly a month and few weeks since you disappeared in Ulfin, his ecstasy in knowing that you truly are alive is instantly overridden by the fear that he cannot pinpoint yet—more like, he cannot accept yet should it be realized.

Coming out of hyperspace brought you to half a parsec away from Jeddah. In the nav, you can see the designated planet outlined in green amidst the others drawn in blue, blending in with the screen’s dark blue background.

You eased down to the regular flying speed as you close the distance between you and Jeddah. While the TIE Fighter cruises through space, passing by the neighboring planets, you cannot help but feel… bothered. Earlier, before you went to hyperspace, you were quite startled with how you behaved—you have never acted like this before. This was your very first solo campaign, as well.

Could it be excitement? For what, exactly? For doing something you want all alone—exactly how you want it? Perhaps.

Uncertainty? Because within the recesses of your being, the old you still lives albeit imprisoned?

“Enough!” you roared, leaning too hard and too fast to accidentally hit the back of your head. “Aaargh! Ow…”

You finally calmed down, for real this time, and your attention from the pain rippling across the back of your skull shifted to the repetitive bleeping of the nav computer. You leaned closer to the dashboard, peering on the screen; the radar indicates that you’re approaching the planet’s orbit. You buckle up and prepare the first phase of atmospheric entry.

Your arms flew in all directions, flicking switches and pressing buttons all over the ship—setting up the shields, applying the right amount of pressure on the steering wheel to counter the gravity, and finding the optimum speed. You close in on the bright, sunshine-gold sheen of Jeddah’s atmosphere.

The leather sank as you lean back, the turbulence made the ship rattle under your feet—the shields are doing its job to keeping the shaking to a minimum—and the TIE Fighter tore through the skies easily.

“Well, that turned out more effortlessly than I expected,” you sighed. “Now, to find you, Cal.”

The same feeling you had when you were still out in space returned, only this time, much louder and more prominent. There wasn’t a doubt that you’ve come to the right place; the connection has staled over time, perhaps Cal has given up in trying. The TIE Fighter circles in the skies in search for a specific city atop a mesa, at least a common signal belonging to it.

Along Cal’s trek, he spots your TIE Fighter—in perfect coincidence—zooming through Jeddah’s sky as a growing black speck. He squints his eyes and shades them with his hand over his brows.

“That can’t be good.”

“If this thing could hold a droid, things would’ve been much easier!” you grumbled as you manually optimized the transmitter. You sighed when no blips popped on the radar. “Might as well find someplace to land.”

At first, the ripple of the Force—barely a whisper again, drowned by the engine hum of the TIE—ran in the back of your mind. Unconsciously feeling it, you’re practically welcoming it; Cal gets the exact same feeling as he watches your TIE Fighter circle the horizon, curious what this lone fighter could be doing in some place as desolate as Jeddah.

He senses the familiarity from the TIE Figher’s pilot, of all people, and little by little he starts to think that it’s not impossible.

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