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j-wont-stop · 3 years

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Mary Mary (Chapter One)

Title - Mary Mary (Chapter One)

Word Count - 1696

Fandom - The Umbrella Academy

Pairing - Five Hargreeves x OC

Summary - October 1st, 1989. Forty-Three infants were born to women with no previous signs of pregnancy. It was also the day of four-year-old Mariana Polakoff’s death. The world carried on, her mother being the only one left to grieve. But on one miraculous day, the little girl was spotted. But she was not how the world remembered her.

Warning(s) - None

Inspiration - I Just Died In Your Arms (Hidden Citizens)

A/N - This is set after season two, but instead of the Sparrow Academy appearing, everything is back to normal. Five is also physically 22 for reasons later on in the story.

22 April 2011

"I could keep you safe. They're all afraid of me."

"How is that when they can't see you?" There was a deep hum. No matter how many years he had been teaching her, her accent still remained thick as can be.

"Let's just say I'll be living vicariously." Lilac eyes shown through the darkness, filled with mischief. "Come, my dear," Knuckles brushed along her jaw. "The world isn't waiting any longer." Before she could question it his eyes faded. There was a growing pressure that surrounded her, suffocating her. An odd smell tickled her nose along with what had covered her. It was grainy, yet soft. It reminded her of something she couldn't quite remember.

The same clawed hand reached through to snatch the collar of her dress and she gasped when she was viciously pulled up. A bright light made her squint as she felt herself collapse on all fours, the pressure quickly relieving itself. A chill ran down her spine and she sat herself to wrap her arms around her thin frame.

"Mary?" A familiar voice beckoned ever so softly. She blinked a few times before fully opening her eyes that widened further. The first thing that she saw was the hoofed man towering over her, a curious look in his eyes. He gave a warming chuckle. "Confused as ever, I see." He bent down and pulled her to her feet, hands almost completely covering her upper arms. He brushed out the black fabric of her dress as she continued to look around in bewilderment. "It's a wonder how they didn't stain." He mumbled as he looked over her white cuffs and collar.

"Where am I?" The man paused and smiled to himself, then he slowly met her gaze.

"Do you not remember, my dear?" She shook her head. "This was your home. This was where you lived before I found you." He motioned to the scenery around them with his arms. Mary looked around her. The sounds of engines buzzing, birds chirping and phones ringing filled her ears. Numerous colors lined the busy streets with cars and people. She pulled her attention away from it all to where she had come from, but all she was met with was grass and a gravestone.

Mariana Polakoff

15 December 1985 - 1 October 1989

"How did I-?"

"You had a severe health condition and went into cardiac arrest." He cut her off, but she could tell there was more to it that he wasn't telling her. "Come, dear," He laid a hand on her back to guide her. "Let's find somewhere to settle down." The closer he led her to the sidewalk the more nervous she grew, unsure about the entirely new environment. Her heartbeat grew faster and he sensed it. "You have nothing to fear, sweet thing. All you have to do is follow me." She looked up at him and his eyes gently squinted, a sign that he was smiling at her. She leaned into his side as his arm rested around her shoulders. Those who passed her gave her an odd look, very few held sympathy and even fewer a smile.

"Why do they look at me like that?"

"They're just jealous, my dear." His thumb rubbed circles into the bone of her shoulder.

"Jealous how?"

"Jealous of your beauty."

"My beauty-?" She looked at herself using a window they passed and her eyes widened. She stalled her movements, or attempted to before her guardian forced her to keep walking. She stumbled a little at his light push, still fixed on what she saw. "Dascal?" Questioned Mary as they turned into an apartment complex. It was a bit run down, the paper starting to peel from the walls and stairs a bit worn. Dust filled their noses and Mary sneezed into her elbow making the man next to her chuckle. They were about to turn another corner when Dascal yanked her back. The girl threw him a pointed glare and almost pecked at him when she noticed the frightened brunette in front of her. She was practically her own height, if not slightly taller. Her face held a sense of innocence and it seemed to be refreshing to the girl.

"Mariana?" Dascal snapped her out of her head and she swallowed.

"Prostyte." The girl quickly apologized and continued on with her journey. The brown haired woman just watched her in confusion and slight fear until they disappeared through a door a little ways down.

"It's not much, but it will do for now." Dascal commented as the girl wandered to the bathroom off to the right. The man sighed and followed after her, hooves lightly clicking against the wooden floor. He ducked under the doorway and stood behind Mary who stared at herself in the mirror, eyes wide and lips ajar.

She was taller than she had remembered. Her frame now held a delicate form rather than the one she had as a four-year-old that was akin to a pencil. Her skin was smooth and almost white as snow, peppered with moles here and there.

Her nimble fingers reached up towards her hair, combing through it with ease at its softness. Egg white strands fell through, a deep contrast to the black roots. Her eyes were a ghostly blue rather than the stark icicles she held before, their liveliness lost along with who she used to be.

There was one thing that stayed the same, however. The one thing that brought a melancholic smile to her lips. Her fingers moved to brush over her nose. The small bird beak a resemblance of the same one her mother held.

Her mother.

Her eyes grew to saucers and she was about to whip around, but the hands on her waist held her in place.

"Mama?" She whispered to herself, eyes glistening from their new coat of water.

"I'm afraid that must be a conversation for another time." In her dazed and worrisome state he led her back out to the dull living room, the same size as the even more dull kitchen. There was no dining area due to how small the apartment was and an almost closet-sized bedroom was nestled in next to the bathroom. She knew she would touch up on some things later on, picturing what she wanted it to look like in her head. All of the paintings and nicknacks she wanted to put on display for no one to see.

Mary slowly walked behind the couch, her fingertips barely grazing the top of it as she came to its front and sat down. With her legs crossed and arms spread across the fabric she breathed in the scent of the worn out room. She felt a hand comb through her hair, claws gracing her scalp so gently that she closed her eyes at the pleasure. A sigh of satisfaction left her lips as her head tilted back and Dascal chuckled. Then his movements stilled. Mary's lips moved to speak, but she was cut off by the sounds of knuckles tapping the door. She raised a single brow at him and stood up fixing the skirt of her dress. "So soon?"

Dascal and Mary exchanged a look of confusion, though the former's stare held a certain hostility. He stayed where he was and carefully eyed her movements, the way her hand curved around the door knob. It twisted in a way that was suspenseful and her nerves became stronger, without a clue of who or what was behind the door. She pulled it back just enough to peek her head through.

"Hello?" A strained feminine voice cut through. Dascal gradually made his way over to the two of them, hovering over Mary. His presence, yet invading her space, was always a comfort for her. It felt like she was home. His scent was unique. She relished the moments she was able to breathe it in. Another reason she didn't mind his closeness.

"Yes?" Her voice was even, stoic. Void of emotion as she looked the stranger in the eyes. Her confidence unnerved them.

"Who is it?" Dascal quietly asked. Mary opened the door further to reveal the same brunette they had run into. He hummed, then stiffened when Mary flinched. The woman held out a ten dollar bill. Her posture was awkward and ansty, but at the same time she was as still as a statue.

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're thinking." The stranger softly spoke. It wasn't hostile or judgemental. It sounded rather fascinated.

"I've heard those words before." Mary's face remained unmoving. The woman sighed, her arm starting to wear out.

"Look, I found this after you almost ran into me and I just wanted to give it back to you. I think you dropped it." Mary's mouth moved to deny the claim, but Dascal cut her off.

"How kind." She turned to look up at him, seeing that same mischievous glint in his eyes. "Take it. She's waiting." She turned back to the brunette who seemed confused and slowly took the ten dollars from her. She watched as the woman quickly snatched her hand away with large eyes, but as soon as it happened it was gone. Before she left she spoke once more.

"I live in 205 if you need anything." Dascal softly closed the door and looked down at the pale girl who just stared at the money in her hands.

"Dinner?"

#five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x oc #five hargreeves fanfiction #five hargreeves #Aidan gallagher x oc #Aidan gallagher x reader #Aidan gallagher fanfiction #aidan gallagher #tua #tua fanfiction #tua x reader #tua x oc

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keytomythoughts · 3 years

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Perfect Imperfections | Chapter 2

Chapter Index

»»—————————————-　

“Wait, you’re making your debut soon? You were still a trainee when I was in high school, right?”

He nods, one hand on the steering wheel while the other hangs outside of the car. “The company told me a month ago, so we’ve been practicing like crazy. Fortunately, practice ended early today, so I was able to swing by and pick you up from the train station.”

I smile smugly, punching his arm playfully. “Aww, you did miss me. Look at that.”

He snorts but doesn’t refute my statement.

The evening sky is dusted in shades of rose, gold, and soft orange, the mix enveloping the horizon similar to a canvas being brushed with aesthetic paints. The clouds hang low, the sun casting shadows on the tallest of buildings with its warm, pale-yellow glow. The wind doesn’t nip at us sharply, instead shifting to a more calming, serene breeze.

The car ride shouldn’t have lasted as long as it did, but I realize halfway that he was purposely taking the longer routes home. Sensing my lurking apprehension from our phone call hours ago, my brother picked up on that cue and decided to distract me as much as he could before we inevitably had to return.

Something my parents failed to realize.

“Oh right, I forgot to ask,” Jaehyun stares ahead and switches lanes with ease, heading towards yet another highway, “how are Eunwoo and Moonbin?”

I did mention that Eunwoo and Jaehyun are close friends as well, so it wasn’t surprising when I found out that he knows of my friends circle. Well, those two really. Imagine my horror when I realized that they were the same age and friends. Shocking at first, but I got used to it. Besides, it’s not like we were awkward about it or anything. Moonbin also knew my brother, so we all essentially got along fairly well.

I push the strands of hair away from my face, glancing down at my phone in my lap to find no new notifications from them since I last texted. Sighing, I look out to my right. “They’re fine. Both of them are gonna be in Seoul for the summer, so we’re just planning on hanging out until college starts.”

“Have you guys decided where to go, what you want to study?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Not really. I mean, I’ve been thinking about medicine at Korea University, but,” I sink into the seat a little, sighing, “you know it’s not up to me.” My voice drops to a whisper near the end, my eyes casting towards the road ahead.

Jaehyun turns to me, taking his hand off the steering wheel to gently pat my arm. “I know, sis. I really do. But still,” he removes his hand and places it back on the wheel, his eyes refocusing back on the road, “you should tell them what you want to do. Who knows, they might listen this time.”

I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. I tilt my head back against the seat, turning to look at my brother. “You really think so?”

To this, he doesn’t respond. How could he? It would be a lie meant to comfort me, but we both know the truth. He simply sighs, running a hand through his hair and leaving it behind his neck. I heave another sigh as well, both of us knowing that things may not work out the way we would like them to.

This wouldn’t be the first time anyways.

We exit the freeway and merge onto the familiar streets of my neighborhood. Soon enough, we were pulling up into our driveway, the nervousness replacing the initial excitement of being back home. Jaehyun turns off the engine, neither of us making a move to leave the car first. Of course, with my nerves shot and breathing shallow, there would be no way I could go inside alone. Lucky for me, I’m not.

But why can’t I shake this sick feeling?

Jaehyun reaches out and squeezes my hand once, flashing that stupid grin of his at me. “C’mon, let’s go inside. Your oppa will protect you~”

I swat his hand away, my nose wrinkling in disgust but the laughter bubbles in my throat. He rubs my head again before removing his shades and stepping out of the car. Before I can unbuckle and step out myself, Jaehyun already stands at my side, holding my luggage. He waits patiently until I close the door behind me, my steps wavering slightly as I stand before the elaborately carved wooden door of our house.

Jaehyun nudges my shoulder, smirking. “It won’t bite, Hyu.”

I roll my eyes as I follow right behind him. He unlocks the door and turns the doorknob and disappears past the threshold. I trail close behind him, a breath catching in my throat as I walk towards the living room. Everything was the way I remembered it, minus the new decorative pieces presumably from my father’s visits abroad. Living as a surgeon requires him to embark on trips overseas, sometimes not returning for months at a time. My mother, on the other hand, doesn’t actively practice surgery, instead deciding to teach as a medical professor at a top university in the northern district of Seoul.

Four years and nothing has changed, huh?

Jaehyun states that he’s going to put my belongings in my room before coming back down, and I nod at him. Just as he ascends up the stairs, my mother emerges from the kitchen, smoothing down the front of her lavish apron, a tight smile adorning her small, petite face. Her reddish-brown hair is worn in a small bun, her glasses hanging from her shirt. I won’t lie to you, my mother is a beautiful woman, even in her late forties. Smart, rich, and insanely polished. Not only her, but my father is the same as well. It’s no surprise where my brother gets his enviable features from, while I question what leftovers were given to me. I never believed myself to be smart or beautiful, like my parents. Nor was I carefree and sociable, like my brother. Sometimes I question if I was ever adopted, seeing as I seem to be my family’s outlier. The odd-one-out. Yet, Moonbin and Eunwoo highlighted those little bits of me that I’ve shamed myself on. Where I saw disappointment, they saw genuity. The “flaws” were my strengths. They prided me on the things my parents didn’t view so favorably.

How I wish they were with me right now.

My mom approaches me, enveloping me in a rather tight embrace. Wasn’t expecting that, but I reciprocate the action anyway.

“Hyuna, dear, I’m so glad you’re home,” she pulls away, grabbing me by my arms as her eyes scan my face, smiling, “and you’ve gotten so much prettier. I see your aunt took care of you well, I’m glad.” She places a hand against my cheek.

I smile nervously. “Happy to be back, mom. Sorry for not informing you and dad that I was coming back today.”

She shakes her head, tapping my cheek lightly before moving away from me. “Nonsense, dear. Your father is in his study, so he’ll be down shortly. I know how very tired you must be, so let’s set the table for dinner.” She shuffles back towards the kitchen, soon bringing out various utensils and a stack of plates. I immediately grab them from her and arrange the items on the table for the four of us. My mom kisses the top of my head and smooths my hair down, returning to the kitchen so she could bring out the meals.

Something’s not right here.

My mother isn’t really the affectionate type. While it was blatantly obvious that I wasn’t the favorite child, that title reserved for Jaehyun (again, no surprise there), they didn’t really hate me, if that makes sense. They just tended to leave Jaehyun to do as he pleases, while I would have to listen to them. I don’t doubt that they care for us both, as good parents should, but I can’t help but feel disheartened when they would dismiss my feelings and decide to enforce their own ideals on me. Claiming that this would be “the best for me”.

As much as I respect my parents for raising me to be the ambitious, hardworking woman that I am, a part of me wishes that they would see me as a person with hopes and aspirations of my own, not just an extension of their legacy.

How could they decide what’s best for me when I don’t even have the ability to voice them myself?

Moments later, my father descends from the stairs, my brother walking down from behind him as well. It seems like he’s been busy with office meetings, seeing as he’s still dressed in his formal beige button-up shirt and black dress pants. His glasses sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants.

I bow my head in respect. “Good evening, Father.”

He acknowledges my presence with a curt nod. No surprise again. He’s a man of few words, but when he does speak, he’s blunt and gets straight to the point. Wasting time and skirting around the truth has never been his philosophy. He practically radiates with superiority and firmness. From the stoic expression on his face to his neatly styled brown hair, my father was nothing short of a posh man in his early fifties. The best surgeon, the perfect doctor, the staple of all admirable men in South Korea.

In short, he’s practically worshipped by professionals across the nation.

Naturally, my brother and I take great pride in our parents and our family’s rather successful and lavish legacy. Of course, with this reputation, it’s expected of us to uphold it. Education must be nothing short of challenging. Careers must be everything but disappointing. Appearances had to be pristine, no flaws or shortcomings apparent.

You get the picture.

My brother attended college for a short while—a year and a few months, if I’m not wrong—before dropping out once he got scouted by a reputable entertainment label. I don’t know specific details, but I do know that my parents weren’t initially too pleased to hear that he wanted to pursue a career as an idol singer. Nonetheless, and with the things Jaehyun was allowed to get away with, this was just another thing to be added to that list. I figured my father would come around and think that the Jungs shouldn’t be limited to more “sophisticated” fields—medicine, law, business, and the like. Branching out and including fine arts, including performance, would only solidify the notion that our family is meant to dominate every field imaginable with integrity and poise.

My mother and I finish setting up the table and call for the rest to sit. Seeing the variety of dishes laid out, you would think it was a special occasion. Surely they weren’t celebrating my graduation as class Valedictorian. I haven’t told them any of my accomplishments, but I’m sure they had their means of getting access to my reports even before I was made aware of them. Connections, the most vital thing in the Jung family. It’s what helps us climb ranks and secure top positions in society. Why we’re so heavily respected, as well as feared.

Jaehyun and I sit adjacent to each other while our parents are seated across us. We begin to eat in silence. Nothing too different from how we had family dinners back then, albeit the absence of my father or mother from late meetings or an overseas conference. To be quite frank, it did seem strange to have a meal with all of us present after so long.

My father suddenly clears his throat. “Hyuna, I heard from the teachers at your high school that you performed excellently. I’m pleased to hear this.”

I pause, my eyes training up to meet his steady gaze. Though pleased, he didn’t seem to express it facially. A direct complement is seldom said, so it comes as no surprise that it was the only thing I, or my brother, would be receiving.

Jaehyun nudges me, realizing that I hadn’t responded as my father awaits with the same steady expression.

“O-Oh, thank you, Father.”

He nods, placing his utensil back down on the plate before clasping his hands in front of him.

“Now that you’ve graduated, have you considered your possible college options and future career plans?”

This. This is the very question I’ve been dreading.

I can feel the air around me grow thick with anticipation. His words hang in the air, the words to respond with the scripted lines I’ve recited endlessly in my brain unable to fall from my lips. I suddenly recall what Jaehyun and Moonbin had told me prior, to try and voice my opinions in hopes that they may be heard and properly considered this time. After all, I would never know if I didn't try. Here’s my chance.

But, my father continues upon my brief hesitation. “With your academic record, you would have no issue enrolling in the top universities within the country. Even abroad, if you considered that as well.”

I gulp, my fingers clenching tightly in my lap. I force my rapid heart to slow its pace in fear that it may burst out of my chest, my breathing trying to be as calm as it can be. I can feel Jaehyun eyeing me from the side, and my mother stops eating as well.

There’s silence. One which I break when I open my mouth to let the words bottled up in my mind spill out before I can properly think them through.

“I want to stay here, in Seoul.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

#moonbin x oc #moonbin ff #moonbin fic #moon bin #cha eunwoo #jung jaehyun #astro #nct #fanfiction #my writings #mine

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bladengineer · 4 years

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Bladebreakers: College Edition

anyone who’s already read my fics knows exactly what i’m about, so lets get straight to business about the college headcanons im about to slap yall with

also all under the cut bc this went way too long lmfao Hilary and Kenny should follow shortly bc it got really long and im just. oops

Kai is the first to go which is like. logical considering he’s the oldest and most driven out of all of them

not to mention he had the entirety of Hiwatari Corp. about to be put into his name as soon as he reached 18 and he’s just like aw man here we go

to be honest? he’s not keen on taking over the company, never has been (excluding the time where he felt obligated to under his grandfather’s influence) and the thought of actually having too just kinda. embitters him

so he gets himself sucked into the whole Business classes to get himself the necessary qualifications – and despite being bitter, he doesn’t half-ass shit so he studies on the regular

it isn't until Max wrangles him into finally giving his own interests a go and he changes his path to a History Major with a Minor in Business

he is so much happier

History, specifically Ancient History, had always been an avid interest in Kai’s books so he basically dives into his new studies with his own brand of stoic enthusiasm

its also the sole reason why he’s been amassing so many books in his personal collection at home, Hilary had implored him to buy bigger shelves after Max nearly broke his neck tripping over a loose pile

Kai likes to study alone, preferably in his private study (Tyson keeps making fun of him for having a private study at the age of 18, what are you, a grandpa? damn rich kid lmao) with soft instrumental music playing – he’s especially fond of rainy ambience music

of course, Kai is often seated at the back of the classes, but is indisputably one of the best students with very insightful and well-researched essays, naturally, most of his professors adore him

except a select few traditional-minded professors – they’re still bitter that Kai stood his ground when they had overlooked Cleopatra’s history and reduced her to the Ancient Sex Symbol and Kai was ready to cut a bitch at the blatant disrespect towards an Ancient Political Mastermind

the majority in his class has a fat crush on him but thats nothing new

Max, for a long time, had a bit of a dilemma as his parents urge him to start choosing his preferred path; was it going to be Engineering like his Mother or Mechanics like his Father, and honestly? the poor boy was so torn

in the end, he confessed he wanted to do neither – he loved Beyblade but it wasn’t something he wanted to dedicate his life to forever

instead, his heart had always belonged to the ocean and he dreams of being a Marine Biologist

his father was very supportive, while Judy had her doubts so it took a little convincing – in the end, her son’s joy was more important to her and she too gave her blessing for him to pursue his dream

Max goes on to major Zoology, directed towards marine animals, and takes up a minor in Engineering because hey, it pretty much runs in his family and it stayed an avid interest of his

his university wasn’t too far of from Kai’s own, so sometimes when he stays over at Kai’s he gets a free ride to class

he returns the gesture by always providing the best butter croissants for breakfast (they’re still warm too!)

Max usually studies in the campus library, noise-cancelling headphones on, bopping silently to whatever music he’s listening to as he reviews his notes for the next exam

he researches a lot for his topics and has collected so much trivia about the ocean and its inhabitants in general

Max: did you know jellyfishes have no brain? Kai: Max don’t bully Tyson Tyson: excuse me?

the professors love Max tbh, he’s always fully engaged within class so they usually let him get away with things mainly bc he’s just their Favourite

pretty sure half of the university knows of Max in some way or another, being a social butterfly and all and maybe having flooded the campus once by accident

Ray also had a hard time deciding what to do and what to study; being from a rural village with traditions certainly made him question wether he should pursue a modern career or stay within his community

the White Tigers were quick to kick his ass over it however, booting him straight to Kai’s doorstep and telling him to do what he feels was right for him

now, he’s managed to get himself applied to one of the prestigious university for culinary arts – he’s not too sure yet which path he wants to take in terms of culinary skill

he loves cooking and working in a kitchen, however after many work experiences he has found that working at the command of someone else wasn't exactly to his tastes, not to mention, he’d like to dabble in more traditional culinary arts

as of now, Ray particularly enjoys the sweeter side of cooking, preferring to create intricate pastries and confectionaries, often stemming from his chinese roots but also applying his skill within the japanese side of things

his homemade mooncakes are honestly to die for

next to his obvious passion for cooking, he’s also taken up classes in horticulture, mainly bc he’d love to grow his own ingredients and create his own sets of spices and various artisan products

since his career path is very labour focused, he often practices at home and takes inspiration from various chefs all around the world. his bookshelves are full of recipe books and general insightful cookbooks

Max had suggested to him to make videos of his dishes, mainly for self-improvement, but also being able to put them online to start a crowd interest for his work

its going pretty well actually, his videos have become quite popular since they are aesthetically pleasing, the food looks tasty as hell and also a wide crowd of older people have voiced their joy in seeing more traditional confectionary being made

his friends secretly love their birthdays nowadays bc without fail, Ray always gifts them homemade foods, from neat boxes of handcrafted chocolates to cute jars of sweet jams

he knows, he always takes time to create flavours he knows they will appreciate

Tyson, surprisingly, knew exactly what he wanted to do, and it wasn’t anything to do with Beyblade

Hilary: WHAT ARE YOU SICK Tyson: i- no? i just– Ray: hold on maybe he’s running a fever Tyson: would yOU GUYS JUST LISTEN–

look, he loves Beyblade, it’s something he’ll treasure all his life, something he’ll still pursue in the future, but

it won’t be what he wants to do full time

instead, he majors in Anthropology in order to pave his way into Archeology and everyone is so proud they start crying

next to his Major, he also minors in Business, mainly due to his longstanding position within the BBA, with whom he stays as a particular poster boy and star

next to his work with the BBA, he occasionally helps out in the Dojo and everyone kinda realises? that this guy is literally holding down two (2) whole jobs while also studying and if that isn't hardcore my dudes i don’t know

then again, he’s grown a lot and his interest in his father’s career had always accompanied him since he was a kid – however, his studying habits are still all kinds of atrocious and the only reason why he can even halfway ace his exams is bc he refuses to go down quietly, actually is really critical and analytical is he puts his head into it, and the fact that he employs Hilary to stand vigil with a rolled up magazine to smack him back into focus should he slack off

otherwise, he’s friends with most people in his class and regularly exchanges notes with them and even has become a favourite with a select few of his professors

most just find him exhausting but can’t refute his elaborate essays, which are both thoughtful as eyebrow raising

he attends the same university as Kai (much to his chagrin) and they stick together just as much as they bicker (one-sidedly) just like old times – however, they are both ancient history buffs and its one of the very few topics that they can be heard talking about in actual peace without Tyson going apeshit when Kai loses interest in the conversation

Tyson and Kai are also those college students who pull ridiculous all nighters to study

Max once got so nervous for an exam he made a terrifying concoction of Red Bull and Instant Coffee to stay up and study

he aced the exam but he cannot for the life of him remember what he did in those 24hours bc as soon as he went home he crashed for nearly 32hours straight

Tyson and Ray who were present at the time refuse to speak about it and when asked about it, they kinda just. disassociate for a minute at the sheer horror they had witnessed

Kai rarely ever communicates with classmates yet somehow gets always invited to all the frat parties

who are those people? he doesn’t know

#beyblade #bakuten shoot beyblade #beyblade headcanon #engineering some headcanons #bladebreakers #i low-key love those college aus only bc the amount of shenanigans they could get into #actually i should make a more extensive list about their shenanigans #bc this was literally halfway a meta about my own deductions of the characters #HM.

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ehstarwar · 4 years

Text

the gentler gamester is the soonest winner (1/4)

to sport would be as tedious as to work

"I have a seat thief.” Rey said, clutching the pen harder in her grip.

“A what?”

“A seat thief. Someone who steals my unassigned-assigned seat. It’s been going on all semester in my night class. It’s very frustrating.”

Ben steals Rey's seat in class (a crime akin to high treason) and Rey refuses to go down without a fight.

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 2K

Read on AO3

Notes: this is an experience dear to my heart and i hope all you fellow over-thinkers will agree with me. in fact, Rey's civility about this whole situation requires a lot of self restraint on my part. (so you're welcome, Ben ಠ_ಠ )

Chapter 1: to sport would be as tedious as to work

Rey glanced at the clock for the sixth time this hour.

5:22. Still time… probably.

She didn’t want to seem impatient or like a bad worker, but there was only so much one could do at a coffee counter when no one has been in it for the last hour and a half. She cleaned the espresso machine twice, refilled the sugar packet and every size of cup, even swept behind the counter and in front of it. All of this was supposed to help the time pass until she and Kaydel could close up and head out for the evening, and yet, here she was, still eight minutes to go.

Kaydel glanced at her and pointedly looked down at the pen Rey was incessantly tapping against the register.

“Everything okay?” Kaydel asked. Rey knew that Kaydel was polite and was probably asking this anticipating an ‘Oh, yeah, everything is fine’ then moving on from the conversation all together. But not Rey. She had a grievance to air and Kaydel had unwittingly opened the flood gates.

“I have a seat thief.” Rey said, clutching the pen harder in her grip. Kaydel looked back up at her with a very confused expression that makes Rey wish she had her phone out.

“A what?”

“A seat thief. Someone who steals my unassigned-assigned seat. It’s been going on all semester in my night class. It’s very frustrating.”

“Rey… its October. You’ve been fighting with someone, about a seat, for weeks now?”

Rey gulps. A downside to actually being able to get this off her chest is how unbelievably petty this all sounds out loud.

“It’s a very nice seat; the perfect one! Front row, so I don’t have to worry about seeing the board, right handed table cuz getting stuck at the left handed ones are the worst, and it’s close enough to the door that I don’t get stampeded while trying to make it out in a timely manner. It’s the perfect seat and my seat thief continues to steal it from me because he’s a stupid… seat stealer,” Rey finishes. Kaydel is now looking up at her as if Rey is speaking in a foreign language.

“Okay then… isn’t your night class right across the street? Don’t you get there like super early?” Kaydel asks. Rey throws her hands in the air.

“I do! I get there ridiculously early! But he’s even earlier. Because he’s a criminal mastermind, I assume.”

The alert on Rey’s phone goes off indicating that it’s time to officially close up and head to class, so she works with a honed proficiency and is able to walk out of the doors exactly at 5:37. Rey fast-walks, but doesn’t run (she’s not that crazy) into the building and into the room, only to be met with his dark stare.

Him.

Mr. Seat Thief.

Tall, dark, and criminal.

They’re the only two people in the classroom and Rey wonders if he can feel the simmering rage rolling off her. She hopes he can. She hopes that he feels the daggers she’s throwing with her eyes. She hopes that he knows that, regardless of how stupid hot he is (with that luscious hair and hands that could cover her entire waist), that he is a thief and Rey has some very choice words for him that shouldn’t be spoken in polite society.

His head nods to acknowledge her, and despite Rey’s slight urge to flip him off, she returns the gesture and sits her semi-official seat. It’s towards the back, with a pole obstructing the right side of the board, and one seat over from the furthest to the board. Rey tries to temper down her rage, but the silent class room eats at her.

She’s about to march right up to Hottie McSeat Stealer, but a group of kids file in the class, followed closely by Professor Tano. Rey thinks that yelling obscenities at another student wouldn’t give Professor Tano the good impression she desperately needs every authoritative figure to have of her.

So Rey fights the silent war inside of herself and tries not to focus too much energy on hoping Seat Thief’s pencil breaks.

“Rey, your class isn’t until six; why the hell would you leave now?” Finn asks, incredulous.

“Rey is sort of fighting this dude for her seat. She thinks she has to get there an hour early to beat him in this game of musical chairs,” Rose’s voice is level and filled with none of the mirth Rey’s definitely would. She imagines that this is what it would feel like if she had a mother who was uninterested in her endeavors, but still knew enough about them to warn her father.

“It isn’t a game. I’m winning my seat back. I won’t be able to focus if I don’t,” Rey says determinedly. She wraps another scarf around her neck before turning to face her friends. Finn is giving Rey the same look Kaydel gave her last week. Rose is flipping through a text book and ignoring the inane argument that feels inevitable now.

“Rey-Rey, aren’t you a little old to be fighting a boy about a seat?” Poe’s voice calls out from the bathroom.

“Why don’t you pay more attention to the amount of gel you put in your hair instead of my battle,” Rey calls back. She hears an incredulous gasp from behind the door and smirks to herself.

“Poe’s got a point. Have you considered talking to him and asking him to move before declaring all out war?” Finn asks.

“And say what? ‘I know we’re both at the collegiate level, but please get out of my seat because I’m about to have a temper tantrum akin to a four-year-old who was told it’s time for bed’? The only way to fight this is like adults. Passive-Aggressive comments until one of us kill the other or graduate. And I’m unwilling to wait until May for this to be over so… passive-aggressiveness will have to do,” Rey stalks towards the door, ignoring the protest from her friends and heads out to her night class a while hour and a half before six.

It’s going to be a long night.

The classroom is blessedly empty when Rey arrives and she has the pleasure of taking her rightful place in her seat. She’d gloat to anyone who asked, but she was alone and not crazy enough to talk to people who weren’t there (in public at least).

Thirty minutes before the start of class, a dethroned, no-longer-seat stealer enters the door way. His eyes are wide when he sees Rey in (what he thinks should be) his seat. She’s got a shit eating grin, typing away on her laptop, and trying to repress the urge to shout ‘Ha! In your face!’

Instead of move his defeated self to the seat she now thinks of as the loser seat, he sits right. next. to. her.

An empty class room. Roughly seventy-five seats.

Just them. Next to each other.

Mortal enemies. Thrust into strangely intimate quarters.

It’s… a lot.

Rey thinks this would be easier if he weren’t so beautiful. If his hair didn’t fall so perfectly in his face. If his plush lips didn’t look like they could suck the life right out of her. Easier, Rey thinks.

As it stands, Seat Stealer opens his expensive laptop and Rey finds herself wanting to see what he’s typing. Just to see if he’s keeping a physical list of the times he’s won and the times she’s won, but that’s ridiculous. He is an adult and so is she and keeping a juvenile record of whose won would be insane.

(Rey keeps her tally on the second to last page of her notebook.)

Instead, Rey hold steady, keeping her attention firmly on her own laptop and biding the time until class starts. Student begin to file in and it’s almost possible for Rey to forget the strange man beside her.

Almost.

Because of course he smells amazing; like fancy coffee beans and soap products that Gwyneth Paltrow would rave about and warm. Rey doesn’t think she’s ever met a person who smells warm before, but he did. And it was unnerving and a little scary, so Rey really can’t fault herself for having to re-read the same sentence thirteen times.

His hands are also massive and Rey is decidedly not going to think about what he could do with them.

Seat Stealer is stoic, dutifully typing away, none the wiser to Rey’s internal clusterfuck that is her brain.

Dr. Tano comes in and starts the lesson, and Rey is finally able to focus on something other than Seat Stealer and she’s honestly considering writing the English department and telling them they need to give her a rise. While English isn’t Rey’s favorite subject, it’s the lesser evil of the humanities the university is forcing her to take and she actually finds that she enjoys it. The depth of the conversations, the possibilities within writing; it’s complex and individually based and a world away from the math equations that take up the majority of her civil engineering course work.

Class is going perfectly fine, even better now that Rey is back in her seat until Dr. Tano decides to drop a little bomb on Rey’s seat-reclaiming venture.

“As you all know, midterm grades will be released this coming Monday. I’m sure many of you will have questions about comments, and while I’m happy to answer any questions, I do ask that you contact my assistant Ben about more clerical information. He’s read quite a bit of my chicken scratch before, so I’m sure he could answer any question you have as well…” Dr. Tano moves her hand to indicate where Ben is, or rather should be, but is in fact occupied by Rey.

Seat Stealer (or Ben) raises his hand sheepishly to show that he is the one people should come to with question and no the red-faced, sweaty blob that Rey has devolved into.

Dr. Tano wraps up class and students begin filing out the door, paying no mind that Rey was not the first one out despite her proximity to the exit, a once thought of benefit to this particular seat. She waits until the majority of students have left or lined up to speak with Dr. Tano, before she even dares to look at him.

Ben is packing up, placing his things delicately in a bag that probably cost the same as a semesters worth of tuition. Rey decides she must right this wrong. If she doesn’t do it now, she will absolutely chicken out and Hottie-Seat-Stealer-Ben will forever think of her as the poor girl who stole his seat on the wrong day.

“You were stealing my seat because your the TA… and TA’s sit up front…” Rey says to him. She would typically start with a bit more normal greeting (Hi! or Hello! or I’d like to see you shirtless or pant-less or both), but feels that their predicament merits forgoing that courtesy.

“I’m sorry?” He says, looking over to her. God, his voice.

“You were sitting her because you’re the TA,” She repeats. Ben shrugs as if to say ‘sort of’ before shaking his head.

“It’s really no big deal, it’s just convent for Ashoka- Sorry, Dr. Tano. I think she just got kind of used to me being right there. But, again, no big deal,” Ben says. She want’s to thank him for being so incredibly blasé about the whole thing, but Rey, being Rey, can’t let it go.

“You really should have told me to bugger off. I mean, I ended up being the Seat Thief I assumed you were! I really am sorry.”

“‘Seat Thief’?” He questions, lips upturned in the corner. “I don’t think you could steal something that doesn’t actually belong to me.”

Rey’s cheeks are red, she’s sure of it. “Well, regardless, I apologize. I completely relinquish all seat-beholden right to you. For the semester, at least,” Rey laughs nervously. The slight twitch of Ben’s lips have formed into a broad smile and Rey now regrets the silent time she’s wasted on him earlier. They could’ve talked and she could’ve heard his voice and maybe have even made him smile, but no. She spent it without doing any of those things and she wants to punch herself for letting that happen.

“I appreciate that. But I still don’t think I’d ever tell you to bugger off,” Ben says.

“Well… good then. Thank you,” Rey says, looking towards the ground to hide the smile pinching her cheeks. “As an apology, I’ll save you seat for you next class. Make sure no other Seat Thieves intrude.”

“That’d be kind of you,” His voice is low and sweet and Rey wants to swim in it. “I’ll… see you around…?” Ben extends a hand towards her.

“Rey… Niima,” Rey says, taking his hand. It’s large and firm around her and Rey knows why he smells warm; he is warm. Deliciously so.

“Ben Solo.”

#ben solo #kylo ren #reylo #ben solo x rey #kylo ren x rey #adam driver #daisy ridley #star wars #fan fiction #my work #modern setting

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starfaring-princelotor · 5 years

Text

First Sight

Summary: It has been a year since Emperor Lotor’s disappearance. The Medic has been trying to survive.

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. ★

Warnings: Blood, light gore, mentions of death.

A/N: Wow, in this blessed year of 2019, I still hate S8 with a burning passion.

Also, a special thank you to @legendofcarl and @fairy-cat-mother for beta reading this long chapter!

Touch Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Taste Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Sight Series: Part One ___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four

“Captain Shirogane. Whittaker didn’t make it.”

Another soul lost, another day of war continued. The captain’s back was towards you, but his face was watching the sun rise over the silent, desolate hills. He has been standing guard for most of the night and you took note of this one important detail. Even a captain needed rest, even a doctor needed to put the scalpel down once in a while. Shiro sighed heavily then turned towards you, his expression stoic like a hardened soldier but eyes...his eyes told you everything.

“You stayed with him?” he asked, avoiding the red dotting your coat.

“Until his last breath.”

“They don’t teach you about that in training.”

“No, sir. No, they...they do not,” you crossed your arms, “I don’t think that it is possible to teach something like this, Captain.”

A pregnant pause, a few seconds of Shiro’s gaze studying the restless sunken sockets on your face.

“Takashi. I told you to call me Takashi. We’re well acquainted enough by now. It’s been what? A year since I pulled you out of that ditch?”

“A year and 3 days, exactly,” you cautioned a step closer, heart hurting and hands dirtied with blood, “We make it out of here alive and I’ll start listening to you, friend.”

As a friend. As a comrade. As a pair of fractured misfits trying to cozy up in society again like the war overseas didn’t already kill their souls. We can’t leave this behind us, no matter how many bullets we take. We can’t die, but we can’t live like nothing happened. We can’t be doctor and captain, yet we can’t remember who we really were before all of this. The idea that we made it would be enough for us. It would be enough.

There was a red dot between his brows.

BANG!

Jolting from your sleep never felt so real before. You swore, you were back in the barracks with your nerves and hackles raised in defense at...nothing. It was just a dream. A memory, a time that you would have preferred rather than now. Another loud bang made you clutch the scratchy blanket tighter to your chest, moth eaten and too thin to really keep you warm in the cold cell.

The lights flicked on, revealing you and the rest of the prisoners huddled together. Mere foot soldiers to flight fighters to ion cannon engineers from Lotor’s ship. Hostages to Haggar’s will and interrogation. Zarkon’s witch. No, you recall that those who were summoned never once returned. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened to them.

“You.” Sendak’s voice alone had you cringing from the sheer resolution behind it, “Your trial has come.”

You narrowed your eyes at him like a mouse trapped in a corner with other scared, meek beings. And they were right to be afraid. By all technicality, you and the Galra under his ward were the last to see Emperor Lotor alive. You specifically saw him leave and you knew this very fact would be held against your case.

When you made no movement, only to delay the inevitable, he approached you with a condescending look, “Come of your own free will or High Priestess Haggar will come here instead.”

He really didn’t like humans. Small, frail, weak. Emotional. And that bite mark on your neck signifying more than you were aware of? Sendak almost sneered at you. Almost.

You stood up and allowed yourself to be cuffed without a fuss. No word, no flinch, not even bothering to meet his challenging gaze. Your eyes were on the ground, trying to calculate how you could use your words and turn the evidence to be on your side. The side that won’t end up with your corpse launched into the vacuum of deep space. Each step down the hall felt as if you were walking to your own death.

The door opened, but this was no court. That was a medical table, those were physical restraints hanging down from the ceiling, and there, standing under the halo of light, was Haggar. This was the first time you saw her.

“State your name.”

You gave it with a bitter taste on your tongue.

“You are hereby being charged with the complicit assassination of the Emperor of the Galra Empire - Emperor Lotor,” she announced, voice throaty yet evident of her power, “We have recorded evidence that you willingly allowed Emperor Lotor to return to the hands of Voltron alongside with his generals. How do you plead?”

How do you plead? What a loaded question. They already had solid evidence against you. Now they just wanted to hear you say it. Hear you say you were guilty. You let him go. In doing so, you unwittingly forfeited your own safety to the fates of Galra Court. Or rather, whoever was next in charge. Whoever was left after the Empire became fractured in civil war.

You trusted Lotor to return. It has been nearly a year. The odds were stacked against him, against you, that either would be staying alive for long.

“Guilty. I plead guilty.”

Honerva narrowed her eyes into thin slits, critically studying your surrendering form. You gave in without her taking what she needed from your mind. You were compliant, too compliant, and yet this fact alone showed her one thing: you were smart. You knew how their system worked and you knew what unfortunate side you were on. Now, only one thing remained.

The crime must fit the punishment. Victory or death, right?

“You are hereby sentenced to a lifetime in prison without parole.” Haggar glanced at Sendak, “Take the inmate away.”

“I know where Lotor is.”

Lie. She knew it was a lie, indicative by the way the corner of her lips dipped lower in a barely contained snarl. Prisoners would say anything to change the outcome of their fate, and Honerva was not one for mercy - not where her rightful son was concerned And yet, those five little words were the perfect ones to make her raise a hand, halting Commander Sendak.

“I know where the Emperor is.”

The thin paper in your hand felt heavier than anything you’ve ever carried before in your life. Your eyes skimmed over familiar writing - your father's words etched out in dark ink, but not nearly as dark as the shadows growing in the corner of your mind. Prisoners were becoming soldiers. Ultimatums were set and no matter how much you begged your father to change his mind, begged for him to understand that he was being used, he still made the worst possible choice.

It’s funny, now that you think about it. He once told you that he wanted to be a soldier when he was younger. To make sure there was a future for children, for you. Now, he got his wish. But it shouldn’t be like this, never like this.

The tears blurred your sight before you were able to take a hold of yourself. And how could you? Your father, the only family who saw you as a person instead of a physical investment for others, was walking onto the battlefield as live bait. Helpless couldn’t even begin to describe the fateful situation thrust upon your shoulders and a fleeting thought that karma was out to get you passed through your mind. This was wrong. This was wrong and everyone knew it.

Your grip on the paper crinkled it, nearly tearing it where your fingers dug in. Sobbing, you were sobbing so much, chest constricting as the thoughts of being powerless attacked your mind. It’s a system. There’s a system, maybe you could talk to someone, talk to the higher ups about switching camps? Just don’t panic. Your father will be fine, you can save him still. Maybe there was still time to -

“Doc?”

It was Shiro.

“Doc!”

The sight of you crying, choking on your own tears and leaning on the the wall for support, instantly alerted your captain. He has seen you post breakdown, eyes red-rimmed and composure regained like nothing had happened. But this? This was worse. It was worse seeing you crumble to the ground with teeth gritting, lip quivering, and streaks of painful tears dripping down your face. The stuttering breaths, the whimpering, the breaking. It. Was. Much. Worse.

Shiro rushed to you, arms pulling you in to his chest, “Talk to me.”

You couldn’t.

“Please, say something.”

You didn’t.

“We can get through this.”

You can’t.

All you could do was weep for what was to come.

“I worked alongside Emperor Lotor as his private medical officer for the last four years. From his time as a prisoner in Voltron’s hold up until his disappearance, every injury and sickness I assessed are logged in the medical database at the Galra Headquarters.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“I know where he was going.”

Honerva was never one to be impatient. She was calculating, much more than Zarkon ever was. It was how she survived this long, through being poisoned by quintessence, mourning her husband’s death, and withstanding the Empire’s eternal disgust with her. But she also knew when the floor was shrinking around her and soon, her conniving ways would end up with her dead.

She needed allies to find her son and right now? You were as good as any. The witch can torture the information out of you to get what she needed, but logically that wasn’t the most efficient choice. Space was huge, there was a gamble that the your words would lead to a firm dead end, but Honerva was on borrowed time to search for her only child. Limited on necessary resources. Those under her command were spread thin.

“Emperor Lotor managed to pierce the Rift. He succeeded in starting to supply the Empire and the rest of the universe with unlimited quintessence, but there were...complications.” You took a deep breath, “I am already sentenced to a lifetime in prison, but I guarantee you, I’m more useful alive than dying in a cell wall.”

Yes, this seemed almost too perfect to Honerva, but the more the doctor spoke, the more this plan made sense. If - when they find her son, he would no doubt be in critical condition after all this time. Even if he wasn’t, having a medical team attend to him immediately would ensure his survival. Time was wasting, she couldn't assign another druid to read the entirety of Lotor’s medical history when there was someone who already knew it standing right in front of her.

“You will be under Commander Mar’s ward and accompany him on his search for Emperor Lotor,” she approached you then, closer for intimidation, “You are to report any and all information you gain during your mission directly to me. Emperor Lotor must be found.”

Yes, his Empire needed him. The universe needed him to continue working for an era of peace and prosperity. Right now, with the warlords loose and slavery still persisting, you knew all of this would eventually end up in total and complete destruction. You were not excluded from such a fate. Even though you had options, you could run, you could hide, you could corner yourself, but how long until you perish by conflict or by choice?

That is how you found yourself here, standing on the bridge besides Commander Mar. He accepted his mission with honor, accepted your partnership, however temporary it may be. The Commander was no fool, none of the higher-ups were. While some sought power for themselves, the Galra understood power was not only for security, but for survival as well.

He turned to face you, that sullen, empty look reminding him of a tired soldier who fought too long, “Doctor, do we have a heading?”

You stayed silent for a moment before raising your sunken eyes to focus on his scarred expression, “To the remnants of Daibazaal, Commander Mar. The trans-reality gate is there and that is the last place Voltron was located. That is where Emperor Lotor traveled to.”

He nodded to his subordinate who punched in the coordinates. A few jumps through hyperspace and they would arrive in less than two weeks. Two weeks for you to prepare either the worst or the best outcome. Two weeks for you to plan an escape and flee for your own good. Two weeks…

Before he turned to leave, you asked, “Commander Mar, can I speak to you in private?”

The taller Galra grunted, granting your wish, then led you into the hallway just outside the command center, “What is it, Doctor? You have time to gather supplies we have on the ship, if needed.”

“I appreciate the generosity, Commander. But…” you crossed your arms, “If I may ask, why did you accept this mission?”

“You question my loyalty to the Empire?”

“No, no, not at all. I...apologize for my disrespect.” You glanced to the floor, debating in that mind of yours, “I am not blind. I’m aware of the fractured state the Empire has been in since Lotor’s crowning at the Kral Zera.”

“A human knows of the Kral Zera?”

“While he was working alongside Voltron, yes, Lotor informed me of the Kral Zera.”

His eyes narrowed to slits, “And your team was the one who killed Emperor Zarkon.”

“Yes. Yes, we did. My captain and I gave Lotor the tools needed to take down Zarkon.”

You expected disgust, even fury or an attack, yet all you received was a calculating look from Commander Mar. He had his own thoughts about Voltron working with the Empire and how it was run. At the same time, he had his own grievances when it came to working under Zarkon, as well.

“Voltron has been a smear on the Empire. Now that they have killed not one, but two Emperors, I swear to never align with them again,” there was a certain conviction in his voice, one that held truth with hidden malice, “I am loyal to the Empire and the Empire alone. That is why I took this mission because Lotor is the Emperor. Retrieving his body will bring closure to those in charge and we may finally proceed with another Kral Zera ceremony.”

“And if there is no body? How long will the Empire stand on it’s own two feet? How long until he is officially announced deceased?”

“Five years.”

The Empire did not have five years to last. No leader, no one taking charge until either five years pass or a dead body arrives. The system can only hold as long as the council would allow it, but even that was in shambles. Options were becoming more and more limited. Even after five years, if Lotor comes back, there won't be an Empire for him to run.

“Why did the witch let you live?”

No more. No more standing aside. Lotor made you choose.

“Because I am loyal to the Emperor. And right now, his return means more than just ensuring the future of the Galra Empire. His return ensures the end of war.”

You were tired. Exhausted, like the life was drained out of every pore of your body. You didn’t want to do this anymore. Now, you wonder what drove you to do it in the first place. Be a medic for war. Be a healer. Battle death on a daily basis. Was it for money? For financial security? Or just to prove you were good? Save those who couldn't save themselves? Either way, you couldn’t handle it anymore. Not now. Not for a while or never, if you decide to put the white coat back on again.

“Where will you go?”

Zipping your backpack shut, you placed both hands flat on top of the table. It was the only support you had from collapsing into another painful cry, mourning for the death of your father. No headstone. No body. Hard to find a body when a bomb is dropped. Your eyes drifted up to see Shiro, your captain, your friend, the one who held you so the dark promise of grief didn't get a chance to consume you whole.

“I don’t know.”

“Will you be back?”

“I was discharged. I'm not coming back,” you spoke, emphasizing your dismissal.

“The war is over. Treaties were signed, now we’re just working on bringing soldiers back to their home. Are you sure - “

“Find another medic.”

He paused.

“Find another medic. I’m not doing this - ” your weary voice, once strong and dignified, now whispered, “I can’t do this.

Shiro’s silence spoke volumes, but nothing meant more to you than when he approached you with a soft, understanding gaze. He picked up your bag, the weight more unbearable than he could imagine, before gently handing it to you. And you took it. You took this burden, but he never wanted you to feel like you had to deal with it alone.

“I understand,” he pulled you in for a hug, “Take care of yourself out there. And if you need anything…”

You returned the hug, needing this more than you realized, “I’m sorry, Takashi.”

“Don’t apologize. Never apologize for anything, least of all this. Take your time. You deserve that much.”

You needed time to heal. And before you left through the tent, you turned to look back at your dearest friend once more.

“Come find me after you’re back.”

“Cease fire! Cease fire! I surrender!”

You huddled behind your shield, barely large enough to defend yourself. Commander Mar was dead, as was most of his crew, and standing across from the battlefield were three people you didn't expect to see again. Three people who left with the Emperor on that fateful day months ago. All of them were equally wounded, exhausted, and still raging with the fiery spirit of battle.

“Zethrid!” Ezor’s pained scream echoed the hangar, gaining her ally’s full attention.

Immediately, the behemoth Galra rushed to her aid, hands out and unsure exactly how to help her friend. There was blood profusely gushing from Ezor’s thigh, entire leg now missing due to the recent battle. Axes were weapons not to be underestimated, a lesson she will ingrain in her mind well if she survived after this. Zethrid snarled as her thoughts became conflicted with worry, with hatred, with the burning will to seek revenge.

“Kill them! Kill them all!” she ordered Acxa, “Do it, now!”

Acxa’s options were limited, too. They always were in the heat of battle. Yes, the three of them managed to take down Commander Mar and his warriors, sans you. She was smart. She knew to leave the medic the last one standing because medics had moral obligations to their crew. You were no Galra doctor, you were human. Humans were susceptible to being compassionate.

“What are you waiting for? We have to get Ezor out of here!”

Take the fleet, hide in the deepest part of the galaxy, find someone who could aid Ezor, but...but she may not have the time. She may not survive. In her critical condition, none of them knew how to properly handle decapitated limbs, and the chances of living after such a fatal blow was already haunting the general. Acxa saw your gaze flicker to their wounded companion then back to her own steely glare.

“I can help her.”

Acxa gripped her gun tighter, barrel pointing directly at you as she pressed the lightest of pressure on the trigger.

“I can save her. You kill me now, she dies. It takes nearly three days to find the nearest planet. She doesn’t even have 30 minutes to live.”

Desperation. Acxa hated feeling desperate. All of them did. Hated leaving the fate of others in the hands of unknown, hated feeling powerless in the face of danger when their friends were concerned. Hated trusting Lotor to protect them and guide them like a good leader. You were on Lotor’s side, but he wasn’t here.

Acxa lowered her gun, signalling her consent for your aid, then you rushed to Ezor’s side while pulling out a syringe. It had an ominous, black liquid in it. You would never consider using this on her, but she was going to die, and the Witigue drug has been proven to bring back those on the brink of death.

You tugged the rope to pull your dingy into port. The wooden pier was nearly desolate of life except the spare few locals. All who initially hesitated at the mere sight of you, but took you in regardless, granting you a place to live among their home. Clear blue waters with equally clear blue skies. It was paradise, the place your father was born, far away from the city life and all it’s deadly toxicity.

No, not really toxic. Just the politics. Just the corruption.

“A fisherman, huh? Never took you for a fishing type.”

At that voice, that one voice you knew so well, your head shot up to see those familiar mirthful grey eyes staring straight at you. And that smirk, that smile that told you everything will be okay, everything is okay. It was infectious, incredibly infectious. You felt your lips and your heart smile at the mere sight of Shiro. He was here, your friend, he was really here.

“Captain - “ “Takashi. Don’t think I forgot that promise.”

You jumped off your boat and stumbled in front of him. His eyes took in all of you, from your humidified hair to your toes fitted in flip-flops. You looked healthy enough if that small laugh after his comment was anything to go by. Not even a second passed before he embraced you in his comforting arms, your own winding around his midsection in a tight hold.

“Takashi! What in blue blazes are you doing here? How did you even - “ you shook your head then took a step back, grinning at him with honest joy splashed over your face, “It’s good to see you, my friend.”

“Thought I’d travel a bit, check in on you. I have to say, you picked a nice place to hide.”

You scoffed at the situational convenience of it all, knowing damn well he used some resource to seek you out. But he wasn’t wrong. This was a nice place to recover and, although you will never fully heal from the scars that the war left behind, you could say your body felt...better. Your mind, however, was a different thing altogether.

“It's a humble life, y’know. Fishing, selling, adapting to a new place. How about you? Where have you been living at now?”

“The Galaxy Garrison called me a year ago and I’ve been working on becoming a space explorer,” he saw the way your eyes lit up at that, “And sometimes I go to local schools to inspire young minds.”

“A space explorer, hm? What do you think you’ll find out there?”

“Honestly? I don't know. Guess I’ll find it when I go up there.”

You two chuckled at that, the familiar conversation refreshing you like time itself hadn’t even passed since the war. He was still Shiro, and you were still...you were still you. He had a good thing going for him and hearing the excitement in his voice when he spoke about it, well, it left you feeling elated for your friend.

“It really is good to see you again, Takashi. How long are you in town? No friend of mine is going to stay in a hotel when he can stay with me in my straw hut.”

Shiro would love nothing more than to stay and catch up on the recovering years. Share thoughts, share pains, share funny stories that happened while both of you were away from each other. But the twinge in his right hand, the tingling feeling in his fingertips, reminded him of the real reason why he was here.

“I’ll take you up on that hut for a few days. I’ve got to head back by the end of the week,” he explained before his expression slowly became solemn, “There’s...there’s something else, too.”

“Something else?” you asked, now your brows were knit in confusion, in wariness, “Something...good, I hope?”

Shiro sighed before pulling his right hand out of his pocket. At first, you saw nothing out of the ordinary. Then, a twitch, followed shortly by a few uneven shakes, like he was shivering. That was all you needed to see before your wide eyes shot up to stare at him dead in the face. He couldn't possibly -

“I knew you’d hate me if I never told you - ” Shiro took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, “ - I’m sick. It’s...incurable.”

You dabbed a cloth over Zethrid’s eye to stop the bleeding and, to your surprise, she didn't even flinch. Her gaze was stuck on Ezor, her stump bandaged and her breathing stable, but she couldn’t bring herself to find a smidgen of relief. Even with you tending to her wounds, there were internal pains that you could not heal. That was out of your skill range. To comfort a victim of survivor’s guilt.

You grabbed a different cloth and soaked it in a blue liquid, squeezing out the excess medicine, “Keep this over your eye. I can’t save your sight, but this will soothe it and prevent infection until you are fully healed.”

Zethrid obeyed. Still numb, still in shock that you had actually managed to save Ezor. Deciding to leave the room so they could have a moment of silence, you saw Acxa follow you into the hallway. The crew that were still alive were tossed into holding cells and the only people controlling the ship were the three women before you. Acxa watched the way you dried your hands on a towel before you stuffed it back into your pocket.

“Who sent you?” she asked, straightforward and still hesitant on why you were helping them.

You don’t blame her. You would be just as suspicious.

“Haggar. She has sent fleets out in search of Emperor Lotor. I can only assume she wants him back so she can have another puppet to control on the throne.”

And you were not going to let that happen, but there was a sign of confusion flickering behind Acxa’s eyes at your statement. A bit of disbelief, as well. Though, she understands that if she and her generals returned to Haggar, things will not end up well for them. They would be tortured for days on end, or worse, killed. Not a fate she would allow to fall on Ezor and Zethrid.

“Lotor is dead and so is Voltron. Both of them disappeared into the Rift and have not returned after all this time. There is no Emperor anymore.”

“That’s...impossible. Both of them?” you repeated just to make sure the reality of the situation wasn't a lie, “Are you sure? How could you be sure?”

Both of the universe’s defenders were gone? No...no, no, this was worse. This was going to end terribly, not just for you, but for everyone. A thousand scenarios flashed through your head, already thinking about what will happen now. Not just after five years, but the entire future that would be left in ruins.

“We were stranded for a year with no sight of them. They aren’t coming back,” her eyes focused intensely on you, “And I’m not risking our lives by returning to Haggar.”

Ah. The thinly veiled threat.

“We have to find both of them. If not them, then Lotor. Only he could restore the Empire - “

“It is over. Lotor swore to wipe out the entire Galra Empire. All three of us heard it with our own ears,” her expression hardened in betrayal, “Even if he did return by some small miracle, I would not ally with him again. You’re on the wrong side here.”

You ran a hand through your hair, “And what side are you on?”

“Whatever side protects my crew.”

And now, what side were you on?

Part of you argued that there was no happy ending if you returned to Haggar empty handed. Part of you argued that your continued search would be fruitless now that Acxa explained both Lotor and Voltron were finished. And another part...another part of you argued to find another way. Don’t run, there has to be another way, there’s always another way. And if not? You MAKE your own way.

“Acxa,” you interrupted her thoughts, “Do you know where the Alteans are?”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “You still look to bring him back? He isn’t right for the Empire.”

“Do you or do you not know?”

Silence. After a scrutinizing minute, a single nod.

And that small bit of hope was enough for you to keep trying to find the rightful ruler of the Galra Empire.

“Take me there. Do this, then we can part ways and you’ll never have to see me again.”

Then, Acxa added, “And you never tell Lotor about our survival, if you find him.”

“There was an interesting kid I met today,” Shiro spoke after swallowing his spoonful of cafeteria food.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He stole my car.”

Shiro always had a weird sense of humor, but it was humor nonetheless. You slowly raised a brow at him, of course expecting him to expand a bit on his story now that he had you hooked. Maybe you should have joined him today, just to get a breath of fresh air and see some new, young faces.

“Well?”

“Hm?” he asked, knowing damn well what you were asking.

“Takashi, you wouldn’t even let me drive that thing. It’s your ‘baby’ and you let an actual baby steal it from underneath your nose?”

Now, he laughed out loud, “Listen, I’m impressed he didn’t crash and injure himself.”

“What’s the little thief’s name?”

“Keith. Keith Kogane,” another scoop of food, “If he joins, I’m going to be his guardian.”

A guardian, huh? Fitting, you suppose, for someone like him. Shiro seemed proud, encouraged even, and a little bit of his light shined on you. Even with his illness, he had more moments of happiness than impending doom. You respected that about him. Part of you wondered if you, too, would one day be rid of your own personal grief.

The Galra ship landed on the docking station, kicking up dust and debris from all around. Acxa’s code given to enter the base went through, but you knew that Lotor was one to have at least two means of security. You knew he wouldn’t put all his trust in one person. He always had a back up plan somewhere, somehow, and years of living as an exiled Prince no doubt ingrained that in him.

Three. There were three Alteans who approached you and Acxa when crossing to the entrance of the mountain. Each of them were equipped with a shield much like your own and a broadsword, one you recall Lotor training with long ago. Shields up, weapons prepared, it put Acxa on edge. It put you on edge, so much so that you summoned your own shield for protection.

“Who are you?”

“How did you find this place?” “Where is Lotor?”

You studied each of them, taking in their marks, their hair, their skin. Warriors, defenders. These were the protectors of the base. It...it was a true sight to behold. Lotor succeeded. He achieved in saving Alteans from extinction, something everyone doubted was even possible considering Zarkon’s wickedness. He saved a part of his history, his culture, when no one else could have.

He succeeded where the Princess failed.

“We do not wish to fight,” you announced, hoping they obeyed the diplomacy first rule, “I - We need your help. Lotor needs your help.”

At Lotor’s name, they immediately lowered their guard as a grave expression fell upon their faces.

“You have news of Lotor’s disappearance?” one of the men asked as he stepped forward, “Where is our leader? Has...Has he been captured?”

The other two murmured under their breath, dreading the worst. Of course they knew about the Galra Empire. Of course they knew of Zarkon. Of course they knew of the exiled Prince. And of course they knew the danger he was in, they all were in. If their leader was caught, then they would do what they must to ensure his survival. They were not idiots sitting around with twiddling thumbs.

They know damn well about the war.

Now, your lowered the shield completely, your own face grim at the news you were about to share, “Lotor is missing. I need your help finding him.”

“Captain, how do we know they are not spies? I’ve never seen that one with Lotor before,” the other soldier asked, hinting at Acxa.

“We are not spies. I am a medic that aided in healing Lotor and she is - “ you paused, unsure of the actual relationship between Acxa and Lotor, “She was part of his...crew. What can I do to prove it to you?”

The leader of the trio’s stare bore into your shield. The shape of it was the same and the stance you held was similar to their own. Their battle culture was once lost to time, generations of hiding and fleeing reduced their numbers, and the knowledge was wiped out. Lotor was the one who retaught it to them. Only Lotor knew about them.

“If you aren’t a spy, then you will need to prove it through combat.”

There was a soft knock at your door, followed by a “Hey, it’s me.”

“Me” being Shiro. Of course you let him in your room. It was impeccably clean and equally as bland save for one memento. A picture: old, wrinkled, the edges torn and frayed—showing how long it has stood against the test of time. It was you and Shiro in your old military outfits. Typical soldier uniform for him and a white medic coat for you. Dirtied cheeks and tired eyes, but both of you were smiling. Hopeful for the future.

“Ready for tomorrow’s launch?”

“Are you?”

“Waited all my life for this moment,” he sat on the edge of your bed, elbows on his knees and hands entwined with each other, “I wanted to thank you...again. For coming with us. For all this.”

“You know, the more I thought about it, the more I’m surprised I am even...here. It’s hard to believe, actually. I’m a pilot. I’m back to being a medic. I’m healing and I think...I think that’s what my father would’ve wanted for me in life.”

Shiro raised his eyebrows, surprised to hear you even mention your father after all these years of avoiding the topic. He was careful to talk about your deceased dad, even more so when your mother was involved. You never told him about her and he never pushed to know. To hear you open up, well, it...shocked him. He always hoped to be a good influence to you, a good partner, a good friend.

“I should be the one thanking you, Takashi.”

Oh, he was humbled. You gave him a honest smile, one full of fondness and appreciation. Grateful that he stuck around and helped you start walking again, step by step. Where would you be without him? Fishing, living a humble life, never returning to heal the wounded. Takashi showed you that there was something better out there for you. All you had to do was see it.

“What do you think will be up there?” you gazed out the window, night stars twinkling promises of a new future for you.

“I don’t know - ” Shiro’s eyes reflected the midnight sky, “but it’s going to be amazing.”

#lotor x reader #spacestories #come with me in space #he says #it'll be great #HE #SAYS

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shauriofabydos · 7 years

Text

MEMBERS OF SG-14 (Main Verse)

See below the cut for biographical information

Name: Amelia Dunbar Rank: Lieutenant Colonel Position on Team: Leader/Tactical Expert Age: 42 Born: St. Louis, MO Significant Other(s): Dr. Joseph Dunbar (husband) Children: Elizabeth Dunbar (9), Michael Dunbar (7) Parents: Michael Yates (father), Antoinette Yates (mother) Siblings: Two younger sisters, Tanya and Jacqueline FC: Angela Bassett

Biographical Overview: Born in St. Louis, MO to two high school teachers. Her family was always tight-knit, loving, and supportive, but they struggled financially. As the oldest of three girls, Amelia took on the role of caregiver early in life. She not only took care of her younger sisters regularly, but also started working to earn more money for the family as soon as she was able. This occasionally interfered with her academic success, but Amelia was always far too stubborn and determined to let a hectic life stop her. Despite working two jobs and caring for her sisters, she managed to finish high school third in her class. Upon graduation, she decided to seek out new challenges in the Air Force.

At both the Academy and in the early years of her career, Amelia distinguished herself as an exemplary officer with a keen strategic mind and strong, no-nonsense leadership skills. As she rose through the ranks, she was often feared by her subordinates, but always earned their utmost respect. When the Stargate Program began to pick up steam, her record and reputation made her one of the earliest recruits. For several years, she was a member of SG-6, before finally earning her own command as the leader of SG-14.

Meanwhile, as her career was thriving, so was her personal life. On an early assignment before joining the SGC, she met a physicist named Dr. Joseph Dunbar who was contracted to work with the Air Force on an aerospace project. Despite her better judgement, the two fell in love and were soon married. He moved with her to Colorado when she was offered a position at the SGC. They have two young children, Elizabeth and Michael.

Psychological Profile: To most people, Amelia is stern, stoic, and hard to read. She doesn’t suffer fools lightly and can always be counted on for a plan and a cool head in tense moments. She is the very image of a leader. But it would be a mistake write her off as ‘cold.’ She deliberately keeps her emotions out of her work as best she can. Beneath the well-trained exterior, she is deeply maternal and is incredibly protective of anyone she sees as being her care. She will dole out lots of ‘tough love’, but serve as steady support all the same. Those who know her best - namely, her family and her teammates - know that she can be incredibly warm and funny. She has an enormous capacity for love, even if few people see it up close. She is deeply mission-oriented, but ultimately, her primary goal is to protect her own and the people who are counting on her.

Name: Kendra Park Rank: Major Position on Team: Aerospace Engineer/Tech Expert Age: 33 Born: New York, NY Significant Other(s): Catarina Olivera (partner) Children: N/A Parents: Ki-tae Park (father), Margaret Flaherty (mother) Siblings: N/A FC: Moon Bloodgood

Biographical Overview: Born in New York City, the only child of two Air Force officers. Growing up, she moved around the world on a regular basis, going wherever her parents’ assignments took them. She excelled at school, especially in science and languages. Aside from English, she became fluent in Korean and German. The former was learned from her father, a first-generation South Korean, and her immigrant grandparents; the latter came from spending her formative teen years in Germany while her parents were stationed at Ramstein Air Base. Without siblings and with friendships that only lasted as long as she lived in a particular place, Kendra’s childhood was often fairly lonely. She found it easier to relate to older base personnel than people her own age, and quickly developed a tendency towards precocious disobedience.

It seemed only natural that Kendra would join the Air Force once she was old enough. Between her strong academic record and the respect garnered by her parents’ reputations, she was easily accepted into the Air Force Academy. There, she finally felt at home. She was able to pursue her burgeoning interest in aerospace engineering, as well as work on keeping her often fiery temper in check (to varying degrees of success).

Her work at the academy, as well her early career upon graduation caught the attention of the Stargate Program. She was recruited and assigned to SG-7, a research/science team. She also was involved in the project to develop the F-302 fighters. After several years with SG-7, Kendra sought the opportunity to expand her field experience and go on more exploratory missions. She was eventually reassigned to SG-14 under the command of Lt. Col. Dunbar.

Kendra lives with her partner, Catarina, who works as a nurse in Colorado Springs.

Psychological Profile: Kendra is the most outgoing member of her team. Talkative and engaging, she is the sort of person who draws people in naturally when they meet her. Her military upbringing has instilled the importance of duty and honor, even if her own pride and quick temper often stand in the way of seamlessly living up to those ideals. She has a rather lengthy record of write-ups for insubordination, a tendency that has occasionally caused problems on missions. Still, Kendra is fiercely loyal and would not hesitate to sacrifice herself in order to protect her teammates. She has a biting, sarcastic sense of humor that she will unleash on just about anyone -- good-naturedly or not. Whether she loves or hates someone, they will feel it strongly.

Name: David Ramos Rank: 1st Lieutenant Position on Team: Medic Age: 28 Born: Santa Barbara, CA Significant Other(s): N/A Children: N/A Parents: Alberto Ramos (father -- deceased), Maria Ramos (mother) Siblings: James Ramos (older brother - deceased), Clara Ramos (younger sister) FC: Bob Morely

Biographical Overview: Growing up the middle child, David was always the ‘quiet one’ of his family. Shy and smart, he excelled in school -- even if his reserved nature made it hard for him to make many friends. His biggest passion, though, was for baseball. Ever since he began going to games with his father as a kid, he knew he wanted to play in the majors. And, as it turned out, he was good too. Eventually, he earned an athletic scholarship to attend UC Santa Barbara. David made the baseball team and, for the first year, it seemed like he was on track to achieve his dreams.

Until tragedy struck: David’s father and older brother were tragically killed in a car accident his sophomore year of college, turning his world upside down. With the emotional and financial foundations of the family gone, David worried about how his mother and sister would get by. He ultimately decided that relying on a career in baseball would be too unpredictable - there was no guarantee that he would ever make it. So, he turned to an interest he’d developed through his classes: medicine. It was hard to give up his childhood goals, but for his family, he didn’t hesitate. Knowing he would never be able to afford medical school on his own, upon graduation, David decided to join the Air Force and train as a medic.

After several years of distinctive service (all the while sending money home to his family), David was recruited to the Stargate Program. At first he was reluctant to join, given the distance from his mother and sister, but the opportunity was too good to ignore. Over the years, he’d come to love the Air Force and his role as a doctor. After spending time on the SGC medical staff, he was eventually assigned to SG-14 as the team’s medic.

Psychological Profile: Shy, quiet, not much of a talker. He is used to being responsible for others, and has a tendency to carry as much of his family/team’s weight on his shoulders as he can. A natural ‘fixer’ and peacemaker. The fact that he’s quiet, however, should not be taken to mean that he has no opinion. He is intelligent and perceptive, and has a keen sense of humor that sneaks out when he deems it appropriate. He is deeply loyal, dedicated, and passionate about the mission of the program. However, his reserved nature can sometimes be read as standoffishness, and those who don’t know him well often do not know what to make of him. He rarely - if ever - talks about his father and brother. David is a perfect example of the phrase ‘still waters run deep.’

Name: Sha’uri Rank: N/A Position on Team: Translator/Diplomat Age: 25 Born: Nagada, Abydos Significant Other(s): Dr. Daniel Jackson (husband) Children: Shifu (son - ascended) Parents: Kasuf (father), Mina (mother - deceased) Siblings: Skaara (younger brother) FC: Mili Avital

Biographical Overview: Sha’uri was born into slavery on the planet Abydos, which was then controlled by the Goa’uld Supreme System Lord Ra. She was raised in Nagada, a naquadah mining outpost. Like the rest of her people, she was forbidden from learning to read or write. When she was 20, Tau’ri explorers came through the Stargate. Sha’uri was given in marriage to one, Dr. Daniel Jackson, and soon helped him learn to speak the language. After discovering that Ra was not a true god, she rallied the Abydonians together in rebellion. With the help of the Tau’ri, the rebellion was successful and Ra was killed. Meanwhile, Sha’uri and Daniel had developed genuine feelings for one another, and he decided to remain on Abydos after the Tau’ri returned to Earth.

A year later, the Goa’uld returned, this time led by the System Lord Apophis. Sha’uri was captured and chosen as a host for his queen, Amaunet. She spent several years as a host, in the process bearing Apophis’ child. For his own protection, the boy was eventually hidden away out of reach of the Goa’uld. Once freed from Amaunet’s control by the Tok’ra, Sha’uri joined SG-1 and the rest of the Stargate Program to help find the boy. Once it was discovered that he was in the care of Oma Desala, it was determined that that was the safest place for the child, and he eventually ascended.

After the completion of the mission, Sha’uri’s skills were determined too valuable to the program to lose. Her ability to translate Goa’uld, as well as the knowledge of their culture and politics gleaned during her time as a host, made her an asset. Her background also made her relatable to those living on Goa’uld-controlled worlds and as such, she proved to be a useful negotiator, diplomat, and representative of the Tau’ri cause. She was eventually assigned to SG-14.

Psychological Profile: With a curious and fiercely intelligent nature, Sha’uri was always quietly at odds with the restrictive traditions of her homeworld. Her role in the rebellion was a turning point, opening her eyes to her own potential and inspiring her to become more outgoing and confident. She no longer hesitates to ask questions or to speak her mind. As if to make up for lost time, she reads voraciously, learning all that she can. Quick-witted, compassionate, and with a warm sense of humor, she is almost universally liked by her colleagues. However, she can sometimes prove stubborn, and even jealous under the wrong circumstances. It should also be noted that the trauma from her time as a host is still fresh. She has frequent nightmares and does not sleep soundly. She feels a deep anger about what happened to her, but resists indulging or even addressing those feelings. Instead, she throws herself into her work, focusing on others, rather than her own health.

#// WHOO!#Not as thorough as I might have liked but it's an outline!#☥⎢v: вrave new world ◦ (main)⎜#[headcanon tag]

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