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lainiespicewrites · 5 months

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I just want to feel safe - Walter Marshall fanfic. Part 1?

Okay. Preface. This story has mentions of sexual assault. This is a personal story. But I've changed a lot of the names and some of the actual story to fit the fic. I think that I've decided this is going to be a series. It's taken a lot out of me writing this but. I really love Walter and I can see this relationship growing into something more than what is here. I also think that from a healing standpoint, I'm gonna write the story I never gave myself the chance to have. Anyway. That's enough from me. I'll let you guys read the story now. I know this is a heavy topic and situation but I'm still always open to comments and feedback. Thank you guys for the support in posting this <3

Plot: OFC reports assault after 2 years and Detective Walter Marshall is assigned to her case. He will stop at nothing to help her feel safe again.

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of sexual assault (retelling the story of what happened.)

Unbeta'd Mistakes are totally my own and I own that. This might be a mess because honestly I was super emotional writing this but it felt good to get it all down.

Please don't share without crediting.

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I’m not sure what I expected a police station to be like. Frankly I’d never really imagined myself in one. Kind of funny how things can change like that. All of a sudden you’re doing things you’d never imagine. That’s how I ended up here. In this strangely familiar looking police station. I guess maybe that’s the one thing movies and Tv got right. Police stations for the most part look exactly the same. This whole night started from a list of “Fuck it why not’s” that spiraled out of control. But that explanation alone was not enough to help the officer help me. I looked back at the petite woman in front of me. I’m sure she was a good police officer. I wasn't trying to doubt her skill. But her overly sympathetic nature and deer in the headlights look on her face was making me feel worse.

“I know this is hard.” She spoke softly, placing her hand over mine on the table. She didn’t know. She had no idea what this was like. Being attacked like this. Letting yourself become vulnerable because ‘why not’ I’d known those boys my entire life. When my brother invited me out for drinks with his friends, I didn’t have a reason not to trust them. Not to trust… him. My brother didn’t know. He couldn’t have known. He was betrayed too. “But I need you to tell me what you remember, what happened to you, so we can help you.” I looked around again At the empty gray walls. Out the window into the dark cloudy night sky. It must be almost midnight now. Anywhere but at the woman in front of me. What did she say her name was? Rachel? I focused on the empty desk chair behind her when I finally spoke.

“It doesn’t matter. I remember all of it. Every detail. But we have no case.” I muttered I looked down playing with my hands again.

“Alayna,” She said my name softly. I met her eyes again for the first time since we sat at her desk. “You don’t know that. You did the right thing coming here and reporting it. I need you to talk to me.” She pleaded with me. She didn’t understand.

“No,” I said again. “I do know.”

“How do you know we can’t help you?” She asked her eyes boring into mine. I know she wants to help. I know that but I just don’t see how they can. not after it’s been so long.

“There’s no evidence.” I said.

“Sweetheart, with all due respect you aren’t a police officer we may be able to find something you wouldn’t think to look…”

“It was two years ago.” Rachel paused then. She took a deep breath and sat back in her chair.

“2 years ago?” she repeated. I nodded. She let out a soft sigh. “Sweetie, Why did you wait so long to tell somebody?” She asked. This felt more manageable. This I at least knew the answer for. It was logical. It made sense. Well it doesn’t really make much sense but when you’re bargaining with yourself it does.

“I didn’t think it would matter. I’m still not sure it does.” I said. I swallowed hard. Now or never Alayna. You didn’t walk 3 miles to the police station, in the cold, after a panic attack to not give yourself some kind of peace. I let out a long breath and started again but then the door of the squadroom opened. A tall figure walked in. I couldn’t make out much of him at first. Just that he was very tall, 6,1 or something and had a full beard. He was wearing a heavy winter coat and beanie. I tensed a little when I watched him walk from the entrance to the desk next to Rachel’s. He shrugged off his coat revealing a thick gray sweater. He draped his coat over his chair and pulled off his beanie. His hair was a mess of dark curls. As soft and cozy as he should have looked…Something still felt intimidating about him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t spoken a word since he’d walked in the room. None of us had actually.

“Alayna,” Rachel said my name, getting my attention and finally breaking the silence. “This is detective Walter Marshall. He’s going to be working on your case.” That’s right. When I came in to report, the officer on duty at the station had to attend to a call. When I told them I wanted to report an assault, they told me that they’re psychiatrist was still in the office. I could talk to her until one of the detectives was available. I think they were afraid if they told me to come back later… I wouldn’t. They were probably right. Although I’m not quite sure if it would be because I’d lost my nerve or dying of hypothermia on the walk home. Rachel wasn’t even a detective. Was I really that out of it? Why didn’t I remember that until now?

“Okay,” was all I managed to say.

“I can stay,” she said. I'm not sure if it was for me or the detective. Maybe both. “If you’re more comfortable. If it’s easier for you. Ya know?” she asked. I shook my head and I watched as the detective…Walter, put his hand on her shoulder.

“Go home, it's been a long day,” he told her. His voice was deep but he spoke softly. And surprisingly he had an English accent. “We’ll manage,” his eyes were tired and heavy when they met mine. He offered a gentle smile. I nodded.

“You’re sure?” She asked.

“I don’t want to keep you Rachel. I can talk to the detective.” I said. She nodded.

“Okay, wait right here, just a moment while I catch him up okay? And then you two will get started.” I gave her a slight nod and just stared out the window again. Rachel and the detective went off into a side office somewhere to discuss what I’d already mentioned. This was sure to be quick now. As soon as she tells him how long it’s been, he’ll dismiss me. This was so stupid. I’d kept this to myself for this long. I knew this was a bad idea. Just as I had convinced myself to get up and leave the office door opened again.

“Thank you,” Walter’s voice said from across the room. “Get home safe.” he told Rachel as she waved goodbye. I gave her a small wave. I sat back in the chair trying to relax. But I knew I couldn’t. He came back over to the desk leaning his hip against it, crossing one foot over the other. “Are you comfortable out here or would you like to talk in my office?” He asked. “There aren’t too many people still around this late but, it would offer a bit more privacy than the open squadroom. It’s up to you.” He stated. I thought about it for a moment. Finally, I pulled my eyes from the window to look up at him.

“I think I’d feel better with a little more privacy,” I said. He gave me a sympathetic smile.

I stood up from my spot next to the desk. Then he led me out of the squadroom and down the hall to a small office. There wasn’t much, just a large desk with nothing but a computer and a travel coffee mug on it. The walls were bare other than a standard wall clock. He motioned for me to take a

seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk as he shut the door behind us. He circled around to the other side of the desk, setting a file down and taking a seat across from me.

“You’re reporting an assault, is that right?” He asked. I nodded.

“Yes, not a recent one. I’m sure Rachel informed you.” I said. I felt so ashamed of myself. I was wasting his time. Detective Marshall’s eyes met mine. I didn’t find the same overly sympathetic look in his eyes like I did with Rachel. He wasn’t pitying me. He wasn’t trying to psychoanalyze me. At the same time, it wasn’t cruel or harsh. Not even annoyed. Just open.

“She did,” he spoke after a brief pause. “But I’d like to hear the information from you myself. If that's alright with you?” He questioned. I swallowed hard. I leaned forward and folded my hands on the desk.

“I can do that.” My voice shook when I spoke. “Will I need to write a witness statement too?” I asked him. Telling this story once was going to be hard enough. Seeing it written on paper was going to be gut wrenching.

“Let’s just get through this conversation first. We’ll talk about the rest later, "he said. I nodded. He sat with his forearms leaning on the desk and his hands folded together. He pursed his lips into a tight small smile and nodded toward me. “Whenever you’re ready.” He stated. I swallowed hard. Of course it didn’t necessarily mean that. It was after midnight now. This guy probably wanted to get home. I had to get this out.

“November 12th, or well 13th I guess. It was around 1:30 or 2am so the 13th. My brother, his friends and I had gone out for his birthday. It wasn’t his birthday though, we had to wait until the weekend to celebrate because it fell during the week.” I was rambling. He needed details. I need to stop rambling. “Uh anyway, We were at a bar, earlier that night on the 12th, but I got kind of tired. The boys were picking on me for being a lightweight and leaving early. I left the bar at 11, got home at like 11:15. I went right to bed. I was really tired. The boys were all gonna come back to the house when they were done at the bar. I woke up to the bedroom door bursting open at like 1 am and someone yelling my name. I screamed. It was my brother's friend. Um.” I paused for a second, starting to feel uncomfortable. Did I have to describe it exactly? What did I have to say? But Walter spoke, easing the tension a bit.

“And what’s his name?” He asked me.

“His name is Justin, uh Justin Veach.” I responded. Walter nodded for me to continue as he wrote a note in his folder. He put the pen down and looked up at me again letting me know he was listening.

“Uh He said, ‘It’s okay! Don’t freak out, it's just me! We’re back, come hang out with us!’ Then he came over to my bed and kissed my face which was weird but he was an affectionate guy and well they were still drunk. I didn’t think much of it. He’d known me since I was a baby. He and my brother had been best friends since kindergarten. They were ten years older than me and he watched me grow up.” I shuttered a little thinking about it. “Um so after that he left. After telling me to come down stairs to talk with them again. And I did. We sat in the kitchen. I just sat there sleepy and confused. The boys were talking and eating drunk snacks or whatever,” I kind of chuckled a little. “It was nice. But we were talking about how it’s so funny that I’m old enough to go drink with them now. And Justin kept making these comments about remembering when I was born and that I was such a beautiful baby. It seemed so weird. But looking back. He knew. He knew what he was planning on doing…. We all said we were gonna go to bed. Blake, my brother, told Justin he could sleep on the couch or they could share his bed or whatever. But Justin was coming up the stairs with us and he said ‘I wanna cuddle’ to me, and he was still drunk and I thought he was joking so I laughed it off and said ‘yeah sure’ I let him lay in my bed. But I put myself on the inside. I thought he was just gonna lay there a minute and like it would be a joke. Blake did too. He asked if I was okay before he went to his room. Because he was still kinda drunk and ready to crash. I said. I was. But Justin didn’t just lay there. He took off his pants before he got into the bed so he was just in boxers and his shirt. And,”

I was shaking. I couldn’t do this anymore. I was gonna cry. I didn’t know this man. He was surely annoyed by me and. God he probably thought I was lying. That’s what Justin would tell him. When he confronts him. That I’m lying. Or maybe that's what I wanted. This was so stupid I shouldn’t have come here. I swallowed hard again. I looked back up at walter. I could feel the tears in my eyes.

“Take your time.” He said softly. “Is this when he hurt you?” He asked.

“I can’t,” my voice was trembling now. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time, I can’t do this.” I sobbed. I stood up to leave his office. Walter stood and walked to the other side of the desk gently reaching out and putting his hand on my shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do, I know that. I wasted your time detective. I’m so sorry.”

“Hold on,” Walter’s voice was low. “Sit back down, and breathe for a moment. If anything else I can’t let you walk out of here and drive home in this state.” I looked at his face. He was concerned. Worried about me. About my safety. I sat back down in the chair. I took a deep breath trying to compose myself again. But I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “It’s okay, You’re safe in here. I’m going to do everything I can to help you Alayna.” Detective Marshall said, crouching down in front of me to meet my eyes again. I nodded. “Do you think you can keep going?” he asked. I nodded again. He stood and leaned on the edge of his desk. His proximity seemed to help keep my calm. I don’t know what was so different between him and talking with Rachel. But when he said he could help, I believed him. Maybe it was the sheer size of this man. Or the gun on his hip. Or maybe there was something in his aura or some other bullshit I didn’t understand that was protective and made me trust him. Fuck maybe I’d gone to far to turn back now and I was too emotionally exhausted not to lean on anyone who would listen. Whatever it was, I continued.

“At first I was just laying next to him. Like I was saying, I thought it was a joke. But he wrapped his arm around me to make me cuddle him.. I guess. He started rubbing my back. I froze up. I started to recognize that his hand was lingering where it shouldn’t but I couldn’t say anything. And this guy he’s .. he’s huge. I mean like 6 foot and like 400 lbs when he rolled over on to me and started touching me I felt paralyzed I couldn’t move but… I couldn’t have pushed him off if I’d tried. I just felt hopeless. That’s when everything happened.” I sniffled softly. I hiccuuped catching my breath. “It was like I was outside of myself watching it all happen…I .. I don’t know if that makes sense? But I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was lay there. I don’t remember if I said no. But,

“You didn’t consent. That’s no. This was not your fault. You’ve already tried to blame yourself. It’s a really common thing, unfortunately, that you can’t react. But that doesn’t mean that you let it happen. Or that you wanted it to happen.” Walter said softly. I nodded at the ground.

“Afterward he, he fell asleep and I showered, I had to get rid of the feeling of him. I slept on the couch, Well I tried to. The next morning he was came down and sat with all of us like nothing had happened. I had mentioned that my back had hurt the night before. And he moved closer to me and rubbed it for me. I couldn’t move. I didn’t react…again. I just. I don’t know. All I could think was, I didn’t wanna start anything. But I also couldn’t make sense of what happened. When he left I changed the sheets. I threw them away actually. My clothes were washed. But eventually I couldn’t look at them anymore. I threw them away too.”

“Why do you think it took you so long to say anything?” Walter asked me.

“I wasn’t even sure it happened. I wasn’t sure I could call it what it was. I mean he was drunk, I just… Just laid there. It took me over a week to tell my best friend. But It took almost 4 months after talking it out with her and one of my other friends for me to face it and call it what it was. But I still can’t say it.”

“And why are you here now? What made you report it?” He raised an eyebrow. I took a deep breath. This has been eating at me so long but. This month. This 2 year “anniversary.” If you could call it that. Has been terrorizing me.

“It’s all I could think about the last couple of weeks. I started having nightmares. Seeing him in my dreams. Before when I dreamt about it, I always got away. Someone always stopped him. But now. Now I’m trapped all overagain. It happened in my childhood home. In the room I grew up in. I’ve moved out since then. I live alone. He doesn’t even live in that town anymore. He lives 3 hours away from me. The chances that I’ll run into him are slim. And I don’t have any

reminders of it anymore. But Sometimes if I wake up and I’m laying next to the wall it sends me into a panic. If I see someone with a similar body type or with a similar voice it shut down. He’s over a 100 miles away. But I don’t feel safe. I’m losing my mind! I’m getting up to check the lock on the door like 10 times before I can go to sleep. What if he just walks in like he did then. He doesn’t even know where I live. But I’ve never confronted him. And he has a wife! And Kids. He did when he did this to me. I can’t get over that. She needs to know but … I don’t, I don’t know what to do! That’s why I’m here, I had another panic attack, I didn’t trust myself to drive. So I walked. ” I was in tears again. He must think I’m so weak. So stupid. What an idiotic thing to do.

“I understand, and first I want to say, I’m sorry that you went had to experience that. It’s a good you were able to tell your friends, but you were seemingly dealing with this alone for a long time. I’m sure that’s taken a toll on you. The next thing I need to ask you, is what you want to do now that you’ve told me.” I took in his words. He was right. This has been so heavy. And I’ve carried it alone for so long. But now that I’m here I never thought there would be options.

“What can we even do? It’s been so long?” I asked.

“Not too long though, if you want to press charges, and see him convited for this, that’s still on the table. If that’s what you want to do then yes, I do need you to write a witness statement. There will be a lot of other legal things that need to be done and signed. Then we can start an investigation. I know you think there isn’t anything here. But well do you trust me?” He asked. Did I? I didn’t know him. But Rachel seemed to. And he had his own office. That must mean he’s some high status detective right? And there was just something about him. Why did he feel so safe. It wasn’t the gun. It was. It was him. I did trust him.

“I do,” I spoke finally.

“I’ve put people away, on much less than what you’ve given me tonight.” He said. That felt good. To know he could lose everything. Like he made me lose my sense of security. But then my stomach dropped.

“W-would I have to see him?” I asked meekly.

“In court yes, possibly in a line up. But definitely in court. We would need your testimoney,”

“I- I don’t know if I can do that, I don’t know if I can face him.” I shook again.

“There will be officers in the court. You won’t be near him. He won’t be able to get to you.”

“Will you be there?” I asked suddenly.

“If you’d like, yes, I can be there.” He said giving me a soft smile.

“Can I think about it?” I asked meeting his eyes again.

“Of course,” He stood and walked back to the other side of his desk. “It’s been a long night emotionally for you, if you’re ready tomorrow to make a decision you can come back in the morning.” He said typing a something quickly on his computer. “If you’ll wait just a few minutes I can gladly give you a ride home. It’s far too cold for you to walk, even it’s a block away.” He offered. I nodded.

“Thank you, I appreciate that. It’s, well its actually 3 miles.” I stated biting my lip awkwardly. He let out a soft chuckle and smiled.

“Well, I surely can’t let you walk that far this late. I’ll get you home safe.” He said. He finished typing whatever it was he was doing on his computer. Then he locked the file in his desk. He stood and gestured for me to lead out of the office. He turned the light off and locked it behind him. Oh God I’d kept him after his shift.

“I’m sorry for keeping you,”

“Oh, no don’t appologize, this is common practice for me. This is honestly the earliest I’ve left in weeks.” He said as we walked back to the squadroom. He grabbed his coat from the desk chair. “Do you have everything?” He asked. I nodded.

He led us out of the station and to his truck in the parking lot. Once we were settled in, I gave him my address so he could drive me home. I watched out the window as he drove down the familiar streets. The drive was silent. The closer we got the more I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Back home. Back home to be alone again. I was so scared. What if he knew where I lived. I didn’t feel safe. It wasn’t long before the detective was pulling up in front of my building.

“Thank you,” I spoke breaking the silence for the first time since we’d left the police station.

“Of course,” He reached into his pocket pulling out a business card. “Take the night and decide what you’d like to do.” He said and then handed me the card. “That’s my cellphone number. If there’s anything else you need call…”

“Would you come in?” I cringed the second the words left my mouth.

“I, I can search the place, If you’d like. If it would make you more comfortable.” He offered.

“I mean, could you…” I can’t believe I was asking this, “Stay?” the word came out barely above a whisper. I sighed. I turned toward the window squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m sorry that was stupid, You probably have a wife, and a family to get home to. That was so inconsiderate. I just. I was afraid and I… I’ll just go.” I opened the door.

“You don’t feel safe, do you?” He asked. I paused and shook my head. I didn’t. I hadn’t for weeks. But I couldn’t ask this guy to give up his time for me.

“I don’t but, It’s okay. It’s just that there’s only one deadbolt lock on the door. And I don’t know sometimes that doesn’t feel like enough. And I can’t seem to get any sleep. But that’s not up to you. I have to figure this out. You’ve done so much to help me already detective.” I rambled. Walter let out a long breath.

“You’ve got a lot on your mind right now and a lot to consider.” He said. “I’m sure the lack of sleep isn’t helping at all, You could use a good nights rest.” He stated.

“But it’s not you’re responsibility and I don’t want to take you away from your family.” I said.

“I, well I live alone actually.” He bit his lip awkwardly “Why don’t you stay with me for the night? I’ve got some work to catch up on anyway. I probably won’t be getting much sleep. You wouldnt’t be putting me out.”

“Are you sure?” I asked raising an eyebrow. I’d given this poor guy enough trouble. And he was being so kind. Walter nodded. Honestly. The way I was feeling I didn’t have the energy to consider it any longer. I shut the door and walter put the truck in drive.

It was almost 2 am when we walked into his house.

“I can just sleep on the couch I, I really don’t want to be any trouble.”

“You aren’t,” He assured me. “And please, you can sleep in the bedroom, I rarely sleep there anyway. It’d be nice to know someones getting use out of it.” He smiled. I nodded and he showed me to the room and left me to get comfortable. He said he’d be down stairs likely working in his office if I needed anything. I took in the room everything seemed to be a dark navy color the comforter, the curtains the sheets. I chuckled to myself. That made sense for him.

I slipped off my shoes and slid under the covers. This should feel strange. And it did. But I was safe. And I hadn’t felt that way in a while. I let that feeling take over as I tried to fall asleep. But my mind started to wander again. What if he found out I reported it. What would happen. Or What would he do when they arrested him. What would he say about me. Would he say I wanted it. Tell them I didn’t push them away. Try to convince them that I was lying somehow? He was good at that. And he had a friend from college that was a lawyer. Surely he already had a story. Maybe he’d been prepared since it had happened. I started to shake again. I could feel my heart rate speeding up. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t hear the footsteps up the stairs. I didn’t see him come in. I didn’t even realize that I’d started to cry again until I noticed he was next to me saying my name.

“Alayna. Alayna. It’s okay. You’re okay. Take a deep breath.” He soothed.

“I can’t, I can’t… what if he tries to come after me. What if.. What if he tells them… what if tries to tell them I wanted him to…I don’t think I can do this.” I sobbed. Walter wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

“He can’t get to you. We’ll be sure of that. All that matters, is that you’ve told us the truth. As long as you have, and as long as you confirm that in court. No matter what he says or what anyone believes, it won’t matter. I want to help you. I want you to feel safe again. I think the only way we can do that. Is to put this guy away. I’m not gonna stop until we do. I won’t let him hurt you again.” He said. Pulling me closer to him.

“Do you have a sister?” I asked after a brief pause sniffling softly.

“No,” He shook his head and leaning back against the headboard letting me rest my head against his shoulder. “But I have a daughter.” He said.

“Is that why you do what you do?” I asked. He smiled. But he was quite for a moment.

“Not at first. When I was younger and I first started out, it was just something that I liked. Something I was good at. But when my exwife and I had our daughter, a lot of that changed. It became personal. To an unhealthy point honestly.” He chuckled at himself. “I guess to my own detriment.”

“Is that why you’re still working even though you clocked out hours ago? You could use some good sleep too detective.” I stated. Starting to relax.

“I haven’t slept well in ages,” He said. “Focusing on the job, oddly enough, keeps my mind off everything else. There are some horrible people in this world. I don’t have to explain that to you. I get so in my own head about how, it could be her. If I spend anymore time considering the what ifs I’d keep her locked in a tower,” He chuckled.

“I understand that. But surely, If she was raised by you, she’s a smart girl. But.. well I guess,” I sighed. “Nevermind.” Walter squeezed my shoulder softly.

“Thank you, I know what you mean.” He smiled sympathetically.

“I’m going to do it.” I said suddenly. “Press charges, I mean. You’re right. Knowing can still get to me. Knowing he’s out there. That’s what’s causing me all this stress and …I can’t keep going on like this.” I stated.

“I can take you back to the station tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Walter?” I asked nervously biting my lip.

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay here? I don’t know what it is I just feel.. Safer when you’re here.” I blushed softly. Walter adjusted so that he was lying on the bed. I moved and laid my head on the pillow.

“Get some sleep darling. I’ll be right here.”

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Okay that was part one❤️ let me know how you’re feeling about this guys!

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Part 2:

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slxsherwriter · 7 months

Text

The Big Wheel Groans

Fandom: Joy Ride

Pairing: None, hints of future Rusty x female reader

Word count: 3, 127

Warnings: Mentioned of parental death

Author's note: Rusty has taken a permanent residence in my brain. Waffled back and forth a few times on how innocent the reader would actually be. I think Rusty would do well with this polite, naive little thing. Bonus points to anyone who gets the title reference. May explain how I'm viewing these two.

Cigarettes, stale coffee, and greasy bacon. The scent was an immediate assault as soon as the door opened. Most would find it off-putting, but to you? To you, it brought up fond childhood memories of getting to tail along with your father; early morning drives out into the beautiful countryside, interspersed with stops like this. He always let you get some pancakes with whipped cream. The nostalgia washed over you like a crashing wave, and for just a moment, your chest tightened. As good as those memories were, the pain felt just as fresh as it had been two months ago.

Giving a polite smile to the woman that came and greeted you, it was easy to pick your way through the tables as she found a space against the wall on the opposite side of the tiny truck stop diner to set you.

"Passing through, honey?" You settled down and kept up with the kind smile. You damn well knew that she didn't always get the respect she deserved. Just the nature of the job and the location. Truckers? They could carry their own and knew well enough to be mindful. At least the generation that your father belonged to did. Yours? Not so much.

"Yes, ma'am." She seemed surprised to hear the response. "Not in any hurry, though. I'll take a coffee when you get a moment, please." You could see someone, definitely not one to frequent stops like this, was trying to get her attention.

"Well, ain't you a polite young thing," she offered with a soft laugh. "I'll bring your coffee right up." She headed off with an almost lazy step to her gait, clearly not in any sort of rush to take care of the demanding customer. The action was enough to force you to stifle a laugh behind your hand. Eyes had fallen on you when you had first entered and now? They had mostly returned to their own doings and business. That could have stemmed from the fact that you dressed sort of like you fit in amongst all the workers who spent their hours on the road. The beat-up Carhartt around your shoulders had belonged to your father. It had seen far better days, but it was the one thing you hadn't been able to give up.

Your father had been your rock, your steady shore, the one who had been there. He had raised you alone, did everything right. As much as he could. Older now, you realized the man had his flaws, but he cared for you very much and had done a hell of a job on his own. When your grandmother came into the picture when you were fifteen, upheaval and chaos reigned. She had managed to petition the courts to gain custody. That was what happened when one side had money and the other hadn't. A single father on the road for work versus the woman whose name meant something and had connections. It was a losing battle.

Playing in that world, high society, had always felt wrong. You had longed for the simple days in the rural home you had spent your childhood in. Money hadn't meant shit. Social events and gatherings were torturous at best, painful proceedings that you were forced through over and over again. All because you carried a name? Or well, supposedly did. A name you has forsaken as soon as the old woman passed away.

Sure, she had left everything to you, and it would be a hell of an easy life. But that wasn't what you had wanted. Selling her house, all the shit in it that you didn't need, you had found a beater car and headed right back to see your father.

It was only a few years later that he fell ill. All the money in the world couldn't beat out the consequences of smoking two packs a day and a life spent in a rig. Now, you were working on spreading his ashes cross country in the spots you visited as a kid. At least the money was being used for something.

In the blink of an eye, your meal, pancakes with whipped cream of course, and coffee were all done. All in all, it was a meal under 15 bucks. As discreetly as you could, you wrote out a note before shoving several large bills in the little folder. Enough to leave a healthy tip for the kind waitress and pay for the meals of the six other people occupying the bar space. Standing up, you stopped the waitress on your way out.

"Keep the change." It was all you offered before you stepped outside. You didn't need to see the results of your small act. You didn't do it for recognition. Hell, once you were done with this, you were retreating from the world to your fathers house and not leaving for a few weeks at minimum.

Sitting in your car, you were studying the map. GPS was good, and while you used it, it was always good to have the route planned out. Technology could shit the bed easily. At least reading and following the map was a sure thing. Mostly. Roads occasionally changed but not enough to end up lost with no knowledge of how to unstick yourself. A tap on the window caused you to jump, pressing the paper downwards for a moment.

A man stood outside your window, tall enough that you couldn't see his face right away, having to shift closer with him leaning his head down. Even so, his hat obscured his eyes. Scruff lined his chin, slightly peppered. This man was definitely a trucker. Quickly, you rolled down the window.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"That was an awful kind thing you did there," he spoke softly, his hand jerking back in the direction of the diner. You blinked, processing the words but reacting far slower than it should have been. That voice. Deep with that drawl. You could listen to it for hours. "Things like that don't happen too often." Was he looking for an explanation?

"Oh, it wasn't much, really." His eyes were running over the car. You knew how it looked. First impressions wouldn't scream that you had money. Which, maybe to a degree, it was a good thing. "What good is an inheritance if you can't put a little good out into the world? Would it be safe to assume that one of those rigs is yours?" You motioned towards the line of trucks not far from where you were parked.

"S'pose you could."

"My father was a trucker. The job isn't easy, and I respect what you do. The least I could do was pay for food and coffee. A good meal and some caffeine are important. My attempt to make up for all the bad that you have to deal with, at least in a small way." He seemed to mull the words over for a moment, almost as if it wasn't what he expected you to say. Then, a soft chuckle, a deep sound that sent a shiver down your spine, came from the man. His fingers drummed against the hood of your car for just a moment before he stepped back.

"Well, it's appreciated."

"It's really no problem at all. Happy to do something so small. Stay safe out there."

"You do the same, sweetheart."

****

The meeting stuck in your head, leaving a little smile on your face as you drove the long, mostly desolate stretches of highway for the next two days. There was one final special stop that you had to make, where the remainder of the ashes would be spread. It was off the beaten path, near an abandoned warehouse. The same little isolated lake that you and your father had always spent your birthdays. A little fishing, some deer watching, and the sort of peace and calm that didn't come from anything but a lack of interaction with the outside world. A place just for the two of you, away from the outside world and distractions. There was no work, there was no school, no one to bother and no one to interrupt.

The spreading of his ashes had been both painful and cathartic. A final goodbye that in a lot of ways you had not been ready for. But, there was no other option. Reality was what it was, and you couldn't hold on to him out of selfish reasons. Being back in that place brought back nothing but fond memories, some that you hadn't thought about in years, and some that you had forgotten.

You hadn't driven more than a couple miles off the road that led to the abandoned warehouse when steam started coming from your engine. Pulling the truck to the side of the road, you killed the engine and let out a small huff. Out in the middle of nowhere, there wasn't a chance for cell service, and nothing was within walking distance to be able to find a tow truck. Hopefully, it was something you'd be able to fix on your own, but you wouldn't know until you got out of the car and popped the hood. The heat coming from the engine was uncomfortable, and you had to pull your hand back twice before being able to lift the hood at all. Waving smoke out of your face, you waited for just a moment longer for things to clear before appearing into the engine to see if you could determine what was causing the problem. At the same time, you tried to keep a careful ear out for any cars that might be passing by. There wasn't a lot of traffic on the road, so you could only get one chance at flagging a car down if you were lucky. You didn't know all that much about engines, just the basics that your father had taught you when you were young. You hadn't had a chance to learn much more, unfortunately. Now would have been a great time to have that knowledge.

The rumble of a semi filled your ears as you cursed and pulled back from the engine. From what you could tell, it was possible that the head gasket blew. Which meant that there was not much you could do with the car. You would have to have it towed and fixed by a mechanic. Stranded. You are absolutely stranded if this truck didn't stop for you. Before you even had the chance to stand up and pull back fully from the car and stick a thumb out, the sound of the brakes being hit filled the empty area around you. The trucker was coming to a stop before you would even ask for help. Hopefully, that was a good thing.

It took a second from the time the truck stopped for the door to open. In that time, you watched curiously, perhaps a little too relaxed, but it was in your nature. The few friends you had always said that you always thought of people as too good. But it hadn't caused problems yet, so what did they know?

"Ya broke down?" The distinct voice was familiar, even after only encountering it once. He was leaning over from the driver side, peering out through the open passenger door.

"I'm not the best with engines, but I think the head gasket went. So, it might be a lost cause." You wiped your hands against your pants for a moment, trying to clean them up a bit.

"Judging from the smoke, don't think you are going anywhere, any time soon. Why don't you hop in and I can give ya a lift to the next town." You glanced at the car for a moment before moving to grab your bag.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna inconvenience you. Or your run. I know things can be time sensitive." You glanced at the trailer that his rig was hauling, almost instantly feeling bad that he had stopped. You could remember your father complaining about eighteen, twenty hour shifts at a time to cover the necessary ground, when he thought that you couldn't hear that was.

"It isn't out of the way. Come on, get in." Any more hesitating would be time wasting. One step up, and you had to grab the bars to take the next step and keep your balance before swinging yourself into the passenger seat. Quickly, you closed the door.

"Thank you, really. I thought I was going to be there awhile." Your eyes bounced around the rig, unable to help it as you took in the inside of the cab or the way that a smile came without warning. "I haven't been inside a truck like this in forever. She really is gorgeous. Peterbilt, right?" He was already getting the truck moving again.

"Gotta say I'm impressed. Ain't too many that don't drive and know their stuff. 359, 1986."

"My mechanic skills may not be the greatest, but I like to think I know my trucks." It was a light tease, any and all pride lacking from the words. In the look around, you have spotted a few places you could leave him some cash for the ride. It was the least that could be done. "Oh, I'm sorry. I've been terribly rude." You had never introduced yourself, which you quickly remedied.

"You can call me Rusty." Probably part of a CB handle, but it hardly mattered. You had a moment where you struggled to decipher if he preferred quiet or if he wanted to chat. Talking wasn't something that you would push. If he wanted to, sure he would initiate, and if not, you didn't mind being silent.

It went on for a little longer, the silence and atmosphere of the cab comfortable. Miles seemed to pass under the large wheels within the blink of an eye.

"What are you doing out here, all on your own?" The question was bound to come eventually. You paused for just a moment before glancing away from the road finally and towards the man.

"Spreading my Daddy's ashes." His eyes tore from the road the same way yours had, this time as if trying to judge if you were being honest. "Stopping at all the places that we had visited when I was little. He raised me. First couple years of my life, I practically lived in his rig with him. A couple miles back? Off Whitey close to that abandoned warehouse, about a mile off there is a little secluded lake. We would spend birthdays there. Fishing, wildlife watching, me playing hooky from school. It was the last stop." Your voice softened as you neared the end of the explanation. A pang in your chest. One that wasn't as strong as it had been the last few months.

"I'm sorry to hear he passed." The words had been repeated by a few people, that sort of unsure what to say but needed to offer something for condolences. It was an awkward situation to try to maneuver around. But you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. "Ya mind me asking how ya came into all that money then? Can't say I got a stash laying around like that." The question brought a slightly bitter sound from your throat before you could stop it.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to do that. It's just…not the best of memories. My maternal grandmother. Never knew my mama, not entirely sure what happened to her. But when the older woman found out, she petitioned the court for custody. The usual foul rhetoric spewed about my father and his occupation. Not being suitable for children and such. Helped that she had money and connections." You paused as the rush of memories washed over you. Hands unconsciously tightened against your bag before you let out a shuddering breath. "She was one of those folks who always looked down their noses at everyone who didn't come from the so-called elite. Better than everyone else. Couldn't stand to be around her and that life. People like that? They ain't any good. Aren't honest, don't know a day of hard work in their life." You could hear the slight crink of leather, likely from the steering wheel but paid little mind.

"I didn't want anything to do with her or that life. She passed right before I turned eighteen, thinking she had gotten what she wanted with me being molded into her image. Left everything. I couldn't sell the house and business off fast enough. Got my name changed back, legally. Went straight back to the small country home I had grown up in. Never wanted the money and don't have too much of a need for it. It's a silly idea, but I try to counter all the negative, nasty things that she did by giving it away where I can." You had always been an open book to everyone. Oversharing had never gotten you in trouble yet. A habit that your grandmother had tried to break you of but had never been successful. Ever.

"Ain't all that silly, sweetheart." There was a different note to his voice. Something soft, something that made you feel a swell of some unknown emotion in your chest. Your cheeks felt a little hot. At least someone didn't think it was silly. Your friends indulged you, of course, but you knew occasionally they spoke about it behind your back. "World would be a better place with more people who thought like that."

Again, a few minutes of silence passed, as if the exchange was being digested and determinations were being made. Well, you were more content to just enjoy the rumble of the truck and the passing landscape.

"You look like you could use some sleep. Why don't you get some shut eye. Next town is still about sixty miles out."

"Are you sure?" You couldn't deny that the rhythmic rumble was lulling you into that relaxed peaceful state. But you didn't want to be rude either.

"Hun'red percent. Ain't gonna bother me none. I'll wake you when we are getting close, okay?"

Was it smart to fall asleep in the rig of a man you didn't know? Hardly. You weren't that naive. But, at the same time, you didn't feel a single sense of danger from the man. Shifting a little and pulled the jacket around you to act more like a blanket, you settled your head against the window.

"Thank you, Rusty." Eyes closed, it didn't take long for sleep to take a hold, leaving you unaware of the eyes that had turned to take you in, or the shift in intent in the truck.

#joy ride #rusty nail #rusty nail x reader #slasher x you #slasher writing #horror writing #rusty nail joyride

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anyyyyb · 11 days

Text

Time to get rid of the awful "Romancing Mister Bridgerton" cover!

Guys, this ugly thing needs to go! You know it, I know it, let's at least TRY to make it happen. The goal is to go from this :

To this :

Honestly, it ain't gonna kill anyone to take 2mins to sign the petition to get it done.

Don't y'all feel horrible for Nicola over this? She's the only character, so far, whom they felt they had to edit beyond all humanity and recognition.

In a book entirely about Penelope and Colin accepting themselves and getting comfortable/finding love in that, they didn't accept Penelope & thought the way to publish a cover/poster was to turn an already pretty actress into an A.I. monstrosity. WTF?!?!

Please! Let's show them, that it's not okay to do this kind of shit! Let's stand up & show Netflix, Julia and Shondaland, that if they're not gonna hold themselves accountable for realistic depictions of females and beauty, at least WE WILL!

Please sign this Petition :

Let's kick hollywood in the balls and show them, that this is not okay! That we won't stand for it! We can do it!

Let's actually fight together for once! 💪🏼

Btw, I already send them a Mail & got a response from the publishers. If any of y'all wanna contact them, I'll add their emails & the draft, which is basically copy/paste of the petition :)

Emails : [email protected]

[email protected]

Mail :

Dear Representatives for Julia Quinn, Staff at Netflix, Harper-Collins & Shondaland,

I Am writing to inform you of my decision to cancel my pre-order of "Romancing Mister Bridgerton" by Julia Quinn.

I found what the editing team did to the cover unacceptable and refuse to support a company that thinks it's appropriate in 2024 to change a woman's entire face to - apparently - make it "publishable".

In - AGAIN - 2024, it’s really disappointing to see the female lead of a show be so heavily edited, whilst the male lead has been hardly touched.

While I understand that marketing images will always have touch-ups, the amount that was done to Nicola Coughlan is sexist and insulting to her and her hair, makeup artistry team and any plus size fan of the show.

There has been nothing more beautiful for fans than seeing how Nicola Coughlan has stepped into her own power as a leading lady, and to have the spotlight redirected from her on a primary piece of the show’s advertising is a disgrace. She looks like an AI version of herself.

I understand, that the editors have overlaid the actor's faces so that they’re both looking in different directions.

However, when we compare the two photos, we can see that beyond basic retouching AND flipping her face, the following edits to Nicola have been made:

-Redefined her chin

-Erased her elbows

-Elongated her arm

-Enlarged her lips

-Changed the shade of her eyes

-Changed her makeup (she looks like a circus clown)

-Added cleavage

-Slimmed her waist

The following edits have been made to Luke Newton:

-Increased saturation and sharpened quality

All this on the cover of a book about finding self-acceptance!

It's shameful, troubling and disturbing to any female fans, especially those who have their own body image issues. I know that the books will likely already have been printed, but I also know that they can be reprinted.

At the very least, there is time for the posters to be redone. And if not, I Am calling out bad marketing.

Sincerely,

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infernaleikon · 1 year

Note

oooh, what about The Moment in the fashion au where Anakin gets his makeover and obi is just. stunned speechless. bonus points for padme in that au!

soooooo, this has taken me an age and a half. it's not really a "makeover" tbh but i hope you like it anyway!!

this is also my first fill for my obikin bingo card, for the "office au" @obikin-events.

*********************************************

editor-in-chief obi-wan and assistant anakin | (4.2k)

Obi-Wan scowls at his watch as he makes his way through the office space. He swallows down the groan that’s been building up in his chest, refusing to let his growing irritation and impatience echo around him. There is no need to involve any of the staff in his souring mood. It’s not like any of them can do anything about it, anyway. The only who can is, incidentally, also the one who brought it on.

Anakin was supposed to go over the budget report with him thirty minutes ago. Obi-Wan is used to Anakin being a bit liberal in interpreting set appointments between them but he’s never actually been this late to any of them before. And whenever something had come up, he’d notified Obi-Wan in time, and vice versa.

Now, Obi-Wan can’t even reach him because Anakin—uncharacteristically—left both his tablet and phone, and his headset at his desk. He’s not answering his personal phone either. And he’s nowhere to be found.

Obi-Wan exhales deeply. It’s been a long day and the cursed budget report is the last thing he wants to do, but it’s also the last thing he has to do today before he can go home. The thing remains the bane of his existence and the only thing—the only one—who gets him through it is Anakin.

It’s not like Obi-Wan can’t go through the report alone. He has plenty of times until—

He smooths out his cuff.

—until one day Anakin had noticed how tedious Obi-Wan found it and joined him to get through it faster, presumably. Since then, it’s become something like a ritual, a pocket of time just for them: Anakin always blocks off more time than they would really need if they worked through it diligently. Except their conversations always drift off to other topics, growing into discussions about this thing or that, before they’d return to the task at hand.

It’s Obi-Wan’s guilty pleasure. He rather selfishly has not yet told Anakin that it’s not part of his job to—well, to basically hold Obi-Wan’s hand while he’s suffering through the budget report. For all that they see each other every day and spend so much time together, it’s rarely just the two of them and even rarer still a conversation that doesn’t revolve around some issue concerning the magazine.

Obi-Wan has quickly learned that he quite likes having Anakin’s undivided attention. And their budget report meetings give him just that.

So it’s not that he can’t do it by himself. It’s that he doesn’t want to.

It’s also that Anakin was supposed to grab the report.

Obi-Wan is just about to resign himself to a long night at the office when he hears Anakin’s laughter as he passes the Closet. The sound skitters down his spine in a pleasant tingle. A woman’s answering laugh joins Anakin’s.

Irritation bubbles in Obi-Wan’s gut. Anakin was supposed to meet him a half hour ago. Instead, he’s in the Closet doing—something. With someone.

At least he’s not in the utility closet, a treacherous little voice in his head soothes.

Taking a deep breath in, Obi-Wan pushes through the glass doors of the Closet.

The admonishment dies on his tongue the second he rounds one of the clothes racks and spots Anakin standing in the middle of the dressing area.

“No, no, no,” the petite woman standing right in front of him is saying, words catching on a laugh. She reaches up and undoes the first few buttons of the pale blue dress shirt Anakin’s donning. Her fingers graze the skin of Anakin’s throat and the bob of his Adam’s apple is visible even from where Obi-Wan is standing. “You don’t want to look like a stuck up econ major.”

Anakin laughs. “Maybe stuck up econ major is exactly my style,” he says as he tips his head down to look at her.

A snort makes Obi-Wan turn his head. Aayla is stretching on one of the chaise lounges. “No self-respecting econ major would be caught dead wearing what you usually wear.”

“She’s right,” the woman in front of Anakin says as he starts rolling up one of his sleeves.

Obi-Wan recognizes her. Padmé Amidala, a young, rapidly rising politician, who’s the subject of their coming issue’s editorial. Obi-Wan had met with her a few days ago to talk about some details, and she’d been slated for a dress rehearsal today. It would explain why she’s here.

And why Anakin got distracted and forgot about the budget report. He’s been mooning over her since the first time she stepped foot in the building.

Obi-Wan ignores the tight-cold-hot feeling behind his ribs.

“Fine, okay,” Anakin huffs with a small head shake and a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He rolls the other sleeve up to his elbow, exposing the sinewy stretch of his forearm. Obi-Wan’s mouth is suddenly dry. “It’s definitely not my style. I could do stuck up econ major, though. Stuck up econ majors couldn’t do me.”

Obi-Wan clears his throat and decidedly does not think about anyone doing Anakin.

Anakin’s eyes flicker up to meet his, and Obi-Wan can see the exact moment he realizes.

“Oh, shit,” Anakin says empathetically. “The budget report—”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows. “I’m glad you have not forgotten about it entirely. Though I suppose this…” Obi-Wan tips his head to indicate their surroundings, “is more entertaining.” It comes out more sardonic than he means it but Anakin’s slight wince, the way he ducks his head and passes a hand over the back of his neck, feels oddly satisfying.

“It’s my fault, actually,” Padmé interjects.

I’m sure it is.

She smiles apologetically at Obi-Wan. Her hand is on Anakin’s biceps as if to soothe him and she’s standing half in front of him, like she’s shielding Anakin from Obi-Wan. It’s a ridiculous thought, of course, but their proximity to one another grates on Obi-Wan’s nerves like few other things do.

He’s being irrational. It’s become an odd pattern.

“Please.” Obi-Wan waves her words away with a smile that feels fake. “You are far lovelier company than I am, I’m sure. It’s no wonder Anakin got sidetracked.”

Anakin scowls lightly, eyes darting from him to Padmé, and then to his feet, as if he’d been caught in something. A beautiful, rosy pink flush rises to his cheeks, the way it always does when Anakin is embarrassed or caught off guard.

Obi-Wan almost feels bad.

Almost.

Padmé steps away from Anakin then, revealing his full outfit. The pale blue button down is tucked into a perfectly fitting pair of black dress pants. Black suspenders with silver clasps run along his torso, emphasizing the lines of Anakin’s upper body. The clothes show off his trim waist and the width of his shoulders. The open collar that allows tantalizing glimpses of his clavicle and throat, and the rolled up sleeves make him look casual with an almost understated, effortless elegance, similar to and yet wildly different from Anakin’s usual style.

Obi-Wan’s mouth is suddenly as dry as the Tatooine deserts.

Anakin spreads his arms a little. When he meets Obi-Wan’s gaze there’s something akin to a challenge in the upward tilt of his chin, but his eyes keep fluttering away and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, the dusky blush still faint on his cheeks.

“Doesn’t he look fantastic?” Padmé asks with a little, excited clap of her hands.

Obi-Wan tries to gather spit in his mouth to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “You look―”

A few things cross his mind none of which he can utter in a professional environment without getting slammed with a sexual harassment case, rightfully so.

“Dashing,” he finishes, rather lamely, he supposes. Dashing doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Anakin rolls his eyes at him but his flush darkens a bit. “Please rein in the compliments.”

“I can hardly contain myself,” Obi-Wan returns with a wry smile. His mouth still feels dry.

“It is quite a glow-up,” Aayla chimes in as she sits up, crossing her legs at the ankles. She grins at Anakin good-naturedly before propping her chin on her palm. “You don’t look like a dumpster racoon anymore.”

“Yeah?” Anakin says and raises his brows at her. “What do I look like now, then?”

Aayla tilts her head from side to side as if to ponder. “Like a regular racoon,” she decides with a shit-eating smirk. “Still a pest.”

Obi-Wan sees Anakin bristle and Aayla’s smirk widen. They squabble like siblings, and Anakin always rises so easily to her bait. It’s as entertaining as it is exasperating, at times.

“May I ask what brought this… makeover on?” he asks before the two of them can really get into it.

“Oh, I asked about Anakin’s wardrobe choices and when he said that he’s embarrassed about working here, I asked him to show me how he’d dress otherwise,” Padmé answers. She’s made her way over to the shoe rack, probably to pick out a fitting pair for Anakin’s outfit.

Obi-Wan barely registers it, though. He glances at Anakin. “You’re embarrassed working here?”

“No!” Anakin says hastily. His gaze skitters away as he turns and slips on his sneakers.

“Oh,” Padmé says again. “No, that’s not―”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to hear Padmé’s explanation, though. He wants to hear Anakin’s. But Anakin is busy bustling around to collect his own clothes. He grabs the binder with the budget report before straightening. His eyes don’t meet Obi-Wan’s eyes once.

“I’ll bring back the clothes later,” Anakin says over his shoulder to Aayla. He nods at Padmé and then beelines for the door as if someone was chasing him.

“He’s not―” Padmé starts again when Obi-Wan turns to say his goodbyes but stops, wincing. He smiles at her, and it feels just as fake as before.

“Have a nice evening,” he says instead of waiting for a more detailed explanation, and leaves.

Anakin is already in his office when Obi-Wan gets there. He’s moving around the room as if hounded by something, all jerky motions and hasty gestures while he gathers pens, colored sticky notes, and other stationary they might need.

Obi-Wan gives himself a moment to watch him, take him in with the changed clothes, and how he looks in this space now.

Anakin is striking. He’s always been―Obi-Wan knew that boy was trouble from the first moment they met. The clothes have never taken anything away from Anakin’s odd charisma, have never made him less beautiful. And yet, there’s a subtle change to him now, in this new attire. Obi-Wan is certain he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t worked closely with Anakin every day, and even so it’s hard to pin down exactly.

He looks, inexplicably, as if part of him has been revealed.

A number of questions rattle around in Obi-Wan’s skull, one more pressing than the other, and all just as desperate and anxious. Something in him wildly roars at the thought that Anakin is embarrassed working at Jedi, and it begs him to ask, to implore, to find a way to make Anakin comfortable. Because, that part of him says, if he’s embarrassed, it’s only a matter of time before he leaves.

Obi-Wan swallows every question that threatens to fall off the tip of his tongue. It’s not his place to pry into something that’s clearly personal and private. Especially as Anakin’s boss.

“Anakin,” he says gently.

Anakin barely glances up before his gaze skitters away again. “I’ll order some food from Dex’s and then we can get started on the report.”

“It’s late,” Obi-Wan reminds him. Outside, the approaching evening casts the facades of the highrise buildings in the first blue hues of the night. “There’s no need for you to stay. Go home.”

“No. I know you’re going to sit here and go through this thing until it’s done,” Anakin says, dropping the collected items on the low table in front of the couch.

“Well, yes―”

“Yes, and it’s my fault that you have to stay late, so I’ll help you get it done faster,” Anakin argues as he moves back to Obi-Wan’s desk.

Obi-Wan smooths a hand over his beard. Anakin always works doggedly to fix mistakes he thinks he’s made, often with such obstinate insistence that he runs himself ragged in an attempt to prove―something. It has blown up in his face on occasion and created―not a problem, per se, rather―a…situation that Obi-Wan has needed to fix. Anakin’s red face and clenched jaw has always set his teeth on edge in these moments but he still doesn’t understand how to help him…or what even makes Anakin react to perceived mistakes the way he does.

“That’s very kind of you,” Obi-Wan starts. “But I can’t ask you to stay late to do this. It’s not part of your job.”

He sees Anakin’s jaw work as he stares at a point between his hands on the desk. With a deep inhale, Anakin says, “I’m your assistant. It’s right there in my job title that I’m here to assist you.” Anakin meets his eyes now with a stubborn set to his mouth.

Obi-Wan barely manages to bite back a groan.

“Besides,” Anakin adds and grabs the phone, already dialing, “I wouldn’t get free food if I went home now.”

Before Obi-Wan can say anything, the person on the other end picks up and Anakin gives them the order. He rattles it off smoothly, getting everything Obi-Wan would order from Dex’s for himself, and it makes something hot pour through Obi-Wan’s ribcage. Obi-Wan allows himself a moment to enjoy the feeling of its warmth spreading through his body.

“Just don’t leave stains on the pages or Jocasta will have my head,” he huffs after Anakin’s hung up the phone.

Anakin grins at him like he’s going to attempt just that.

An hour later they’re—uncharacteristically—almost done with the task at hand and in a—more or less surprising—turn of events, it’s not the report that has Obi-Wan clinging to the last, gossamer-thin shred of his sanity.

Anakin is walking up and down in front of the couch table and gesturing as he talks, and Obi-Wan has found himself practically on eye-level with his ass. And for the first time since Obi-Wan has known Anakin, his ass is not covered by a plaid shirt or lost in shapeless, baggy pants.

The black dress pants fit Anakin like a glove, accentuating his waist and hugging his ass and thighs nicely. Obi-Wan definitely doesn’t think about how firm and biteable they look.

The sleeves of the dress shirt wrap neatly around his biceps and the fabric stretches across his shoulders whenever Anakin gestures wildly. It’s not tight by any measure but it’s perfectly fitted to the planes of his torso. Obi-Wan hasn’t thought of Anakin as lanky, really, but his usual wardrobe does a good job at hiding his frame, his build, and while Obi-Wan can’t say he’s surprised by Anakin’s actual physique, he’s…enticed. Inappropriately so.

It doesn’t help that the pale blue of the shirt brings out his eyes and the warm tones of his skin.

It’s impossible to look away from him.

So, really, it’s all of Anakin that has Obi-Wan keeping a white-knuckled grip on his composure.

“Okay—what?” Anakin snaps. He halts his pacing and crosses his arms over his chest defensively. Obi-Wan tries—and fails—not to notice how the sleeves stretch around the flex of his biceps.

Obi-Wan lifts his gaze from Anakin’s arms to meet his eyes. Smoothing his face into a mask of mild confusion, he says, “Pardon?”

Anakin looks at him like he’s calling bullshit. “You’ve been staring at me the way you stare at—at models or mockups or―or photoshoots that you don’t like,” he accuses, shoulders rising minisculely. The furrow between his eyebrows deepens with his frown but the line of his mouth looks―unhappy. “So, what is it? Do you not like the outfit?”

“Apologies,” Obi-Wan says. Anakin scowls and drops his gaze to stare at the low table. His arms remain crossed, however, in a manner that appears significantly like he’s trying to shield himself. Obi-Wan winces inwardly and tries again. “I apologize, Anakin. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Anakin quirks a brow and shrugs. “You didn’t,” he says, full of false bravado, as he raises his eyes again without meeting Obi-Wan’s, instead letting his gaze drift to look outside the windows.

Obi-Wan takes in his profile: the barely perceptible downwards slant of the corner of his mouth, the tension in jaw, the slight furrow of his brows. Anakin rarely shows discomfort or soft vulnerability, though he’s open with his other—loud, bold, deep—emotions.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan implores softly. He waits until Anakin, with some reluctant hesitance, turns to meet his eyes. “I do like the outfit. I was looking―or staring, I suppose―because you look―”

“Like a fraud?” The tone of his words drips mocking self-deprecation.

Obi-Wan bites back a sharp rebuke. “Comfortable,” he finishes, ignoring Anakin’s mocking words. “Like you’re comfortable in your own skin. In a way you haven’t been before.”

Anakin blinks at him.

“It suits you,” Obi-Wan adds, and then, “Both the outfit and the look.”

Anakin dips his head but it barely hides the soft pink dusting his cheeks. When he looks back up, there’s a stubborn little tilt to his chin. “You should really work on your facial expressions,” he huffs half-heartedly.

“Apologies,” Obi-Wan says again, trying to stifle the grin tugging at his mouth. “Would it help if I told you that whatever it is you saw on my face was awe?”

Anakin’s arms drop from their defensive position across his chest as he turns to fully face Obi-Wan, the color on his cheeks turning into a rich, dusky pink. He looks so wonderfully flabbergasted and so beautifully pleased at the same time that Obi-Wan very nearly coos.

(Gods, he’s such a sucker.)

For a moment, Anakin dips his eyes down with a proud little smile. He shakes himself out of it when he looks up again. “Guess I have to pay more attention to your face, then,” he muses and his brows crinkle as his gaze sweeps over Obi-Wan.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan’s stomach, stupidly, flips.

Anakin’s shoulders rise lightly. “Well, I do have to know what you think, and I thought I was on top of your face already—” He stops abruptly and his flush extends all the way down his throat now, past his collarbones, and disappears under the fabric of the shirt. “Facial expressions! On top of your facial expressions! Because I’ve been watching you so closely—” Anakin stops again, face scrunching, before he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes for a brief moment.

He could probably illuminate the office all by himself if the lights weren’t already turned on.

Obi-Wan’s stomach has gone from a flip to somersaults even though he knows Anakin is talking about being observant and attentive. It’s one of the things Anakin had told him on Obi-Wan’s first day: that he needed to know what he was thinking so he could help Obi-Wan in the best possible way.

Obi-Wan’s stomach just hasn’t gotten the message yet.

Obi-Wan clears his throat lightly. “I appreciate your dedication…to my face,” he says, trying for teasing, and breathes a sigh of relief when his voice doesn’t come out strangled.

Anakin makes high-pitched noise. He’s still steadily glowing crimson but he rolls his eyes. “You suck,” he says, with feeling, but there’s a slight wheeze in his tone.

“Can’t say that I don’t.” It falls from his mouth before he even realizes what he’s saying, but his own mortification and Anakin’s utterly gobsmacked face drive regret through him like a lance. “I’m sorry, Anakin,” he quickly adds, just as heat rises into his own cheeks. “That was inappropriate. I apologize.”

“Okay.” Anakin’s voice comes out like a croak and he clears his throat once, twice. “Thanks. I mean—” He rubs his palms over his thighs. “Yeah. It’s—okay.”

There’s a beat of silence during which Obi-Wan feels pinpricks of anxiety prattling along his skin, regret and discomfort twisting in his gut.

A thought strikes him then, and suddenly, he needs to know. “Is this why you’re uncomfortable working here?”

“What?” Anakin seems adorably confused before his expression morphs into one of alarm. “No. I’m not—” He sucks in a breath. “I’m not uncomfortable or embarrassed working here.”

Obi-Wan frowns, unconvinced, but something within him unspools nevertheless. Anakin sits back down on the couch, half turned towards him, with one leg tucked under himself. He sighs and runs a hand through his messy curls, tangling his fingers in the soft-looking strands, and then scrubs it, almost furiously, over the back of his head for a second.

Regret lances through Obi-Wan once again. “I’m sorry, Anakin, you don’t have to answer it. It’s not my place to ask.”

“I like working here,” Anakin says, so fiercely that it freezes Obi-Wan to the spot. “I like working with you.”

Oh, what a siren song.

Anakin drags in a deep breath and releases it in a long exhale. “A lot of people make fun of people who work in fashion and lifestyle. It’s still seen as—I don’t know—silly and unimportant, and people who work in this industry are regarded as airheads or vain, unless it’s someone really high up the food chain, like you.”

Obi-Wan turns towards him and sinks his shoulder against the backrest as he watches Anakin rub the pads of his fingers over the seam of his pants.

“There are enough people who just don’t take you seriously when they clock you as someone working in fashion or when you dress…differently. When you use fashion as a—a way of being who you are.” Anakin lifts a shoulder as he frowns at his hands. “So, I just, um, say I don’t care about it.”

It, Obi-Wan realizes, means more than one thing.

“People make assumptions all day long and I can’t stop anyone from doing that but—well, I guess, I can. Not play into their hands at least,” Anakin continues. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “And besides, you know, there’s more pressing stuff like housing and food and since I don’t like sharing either, fashion is—it’s—just a non-issue by necessity. Also, I am firmly against fast fashion, as you can see.” He begins motioning down himself but aborts not even mid-way through. “Well, not right now but tomorrow for sure.”

Anakin sucks in a breath through his teeth and lets his shoulders slump before he looks up to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze. There’s something akin to a challenge in his eyes, defiant and defensive and ready to strike, as if he’s waiting for Obi-Wan to pass judgment on him. But that soft, vulnerable part of him remains exposed: a glimpse of a part of Anakin that’s so delicate he rarely allows anyone to see.

And he trusts Obi-Wan with it.

The weight of it is—immeasurable.

Obi-Wan hums. “I do have to say I am quite surprised that someone as brazen as you pays any mind to the opinions of others,” he points out with a wry smile, keeping his tone jovial. “May I advise finding new friends if yours are judging you for expressing yourself?”

“How have I ever not thought of that before?” Anakin scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Guess I am too brazen.”

Ah. Wrong approach, then.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, softening his voice, “you’re exceptional at what you do. I wouldn’t get half of the things done in a day if it weren’t for you covering my back. Do you know how many people have envied me for my ‘feisty assistant’?”

Anakin scowls at his hands. “How many?” He sounds as if he can’t help himself but ask.

Obi-Wan curls his lips in a smile. “I’ve lost track, to be quite honest, but I wager you do come up in conversation at least once a week.”

“Oh.” It’s a soft little thing, full of surprise and pride. Anakin snaps his eyes up at him and purses his lips like he’s trying to keep from smiling. He rubs a hand over his neck.

“I know your value, Anakin,” Obi-Wan adds, imbuing his voice with conviction, with affection. “And it’s got absolutely nothing to do with what you wear, but I see the way you carry yourself in these clothes. Don’t let the ignorant assumptions of strangers dictate how you express yourself. Don’t make yourself smaller for anyone.”

Clearing his throat, Anakin ducks his head. His lashes fan over his cheeks as he blinks, casting long shadows along his skin.

He’s beautiful when he��s brash but there’s something inexplicably gorgeous about him when he’s bashful and flustered, a kind of unwitting vulnerability that speeds Obi-Wan’s heartbeat up and makes him curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to wrap a hand around the back of Anakin’s head to guide into the crook of his own neck.

Anakin clears his throat again. He smiles, small and happy. Obi-Wan answers with his own smile.

“I mean,” Anakin starts as he sits up a bit straighter and sharpens his edges, “duh.” He sounds insufferably cocky and though the softness has disappeared from his face, there’s a faint blush on his cheeks. “You would crash and burn without me.”

Obi-Wan sighs, faux put-upon, and Anakin grins.

Later, on his way out of the office, he makes a note to call HR in the morning.

#obikin #obikinbingo23 #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ficcups #i am such a clown #anyway anon #i hope you enjoy!!

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pynkricee · 5 months

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A Permanent Red Stain: Redamancy

Chapter 1

KyiGo, is a woman in her 30's, divorced from her ex after 5 years of marriage, leaving her with a two year old daughter to raise. After a year of being single, trying to find self-love and her self-worth again, she finally wanted to step back out into the world and discover something worth wild. From understanding her hatred to understanding the person that it turned her into, she will always try and do what's best for her baby girl. Even if it meant sacrificing her happiness? Even if that may mean stepping into a new love she never imagined? Or breaking the cycle of being afraid to love again....

I was tired. So tired that I couldn't even keep my eyes open but I knew I had to get home, cook, clean and get my daughter ready for school tomorrow. That also meant the possibility of me putting up a slight with her to get her to sleep in time if i could. Luri, still being the age of two, was still attached and wanted to cuddle up under me every chance that my little monster got. Every time we were alone, that was our comfort in peace. She was my baby girl and I loved her more than anything. She was all that I had, and I was grateful. I couldn't ask for anything else or anything more.

The house seemed like it was always a complete mess with her toys all over the floor, but I was even still too tired to bend over to clean them up every evening when I made it home from work.

Fuck It, ill do it tomorrow… (That was my main motto. I'll do it tomorrow. But even in Tomorrow, I knew I would be the definition of too busy.)

I felt like I was even too busy to have a life of my own…..

Finally after a long night of cooking and cleaning, I was able to soundly get her to bed, this was the only time that i could squeeze a moment in for myself. And that was to be replaced with a nice, hot, long shower. I would consider this.. the best part of my day, not including spending time with my daughter of course. Yes she was my everything. My entire world. The air that I breathe.. But it was nice to get some ‘me’ time in even if that meant that I had to step away for a moment from ‘The Mommy Life.’

Getting my main essentials ready for my shower, that I placed on the sink, I looked in the mirror fluffing up my short curly black locks that I cut off a few months ago. I was accustomed to having long hair for years, so I decided to cut it all off. When I mean I cut it all off, I went from sixteen inches to having a short undercut with a curly top. And I was completely in love with it. It was different, new but it was easy to take care of. Being a black woman in the black society, your hair was and has always been deemed as ‘your crown’, and if you didn't have the long black, Aesthetic look, you were basically judged for it. I thought it was the most stupid thing so I did the complete opposite. And I'm glad that I did because I don't regret it one bit. Aside from that I had the hair grade to pull off any hairstyle.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I always notice my large breasts that grew up two sizes after having my daughter, is something that I still very well have to get used to. My light stretch marks that curled down my hip dips and around my waist, complimented me more than they used to before I had kids. My semi light toasty skin hue, that changed colors during the seasons. My small seven foot size with my tiny toes. I had no type of ass, but I must admit, it was soft. I always have a smile on my face when I would rub it every now and then. A slight jiggle is all I had but it was all I needed. I was very petite and somewhat slim except for the gut my little one gave me after birth that I've grown to actually love. So right now, I was just as pale as the slice of bread my daughter left for me on the floor as a gift this evening.

(Being a mother of one, I always tried to compliment myself every chance that I got. Even if it was in silence. Even if it was hard. Even on my toughest days I had to be the one to bring myself up for my own protection. Like I said, even if it was hard. And there were times it was hard….)

“Shit…..” This felt so good. I thought to myself as I let the hot water span down my naked body, standing under the shower, with my mouth open, nipples hard from the warm water sliding off them. I wish I had someone who could touch me right now. Just maybe hold me for a second. I opened my eyes to know the reality of my thoughts were just as dry as the hot air that blew from the heater.

(Why… Do I always think like this in the shower? Of all places. It seems like it never fails…)

“Mama…” I then opened my eyes again to the sound of my baby girl crying, knowing that certainly meant she was missing me. That I wasn't beside her like I needed to be. “Well then… I guess that means my time is up for the night. It really was nice while it lasted…” I said in a low tone to myself, turning off the water and grabbed a towel to dry myself off.

I took my hand, wiping it across the fog to clear my reflection in the mirror. But I couldn't help but notice the look I had in my eyes. The look in my eyes.. was somewhat.. soulless? Like something was still missing in my life. I couldn't help but let out a soft sigh and crack a small grin on the corner of my lips to let myself know ‘It was alright..’ I always tried to convince myself that it wasn't love… But I knew deep down, thats what it fucking was. That I wanted someone to just love me right for once.

After getting dressed for bed, I held my daughter close as we went to sleep for the night. Ready to repeat the same day tomorrow. I kissed her gently, holding her in my arms in a sweet embrace that warmed my heart until we both fell asleep.

I was just ready for the weekend…….

That next morning came and I was already ready to get the day over with. I was just ready to execute the plans I made for Luri and I for the weekend. Which included going to see the new Dora movie that came out in theaters last weekend. (Her idea though.) I won't lie, I was super excited to finally be able to relax and spend some quality time with her. Especially knowing I'd be off for the next couple of days.

After about a ten minute drive I finally made it up to her school. All the parents were rushing in the back seats of their cars, unhooking their babies from their car seats, and running them into their classes so they wouldn't be late for work. I won't lie, I was actually one of them.

Finally entering the building, I took my baby girl into her classroom, which was the second door to the right of the walkway entrance. When I would go in, I'd usually just hand her to the teacher and leave after waving goodbye to her…. But her teacher wasn't there today. “Hey Nobara, Sarah isn't here today?” Nobara was Sarah's other assistant in class that helped with handling the kids when she wasn't in attendance. As I looked around the corner of the classroom, I noticed I didn't see my daughter as she walked off around the corner to the bathroom.

“No.. She's out sick for the week with covid. It's been really going around.” Fucking great! That's really what I needed to hear. That's all I need right now. As she was changing another child on the changing table I looked around for Luri before I walked off, but I still didn't see her.

“Such a beautiful girl you are. I love your eyebrows!” Said the voice of a tall pale man coming from around the corner with my daughter in his arms with her coat over his shoulder. I immediately stopped because it caught me off guard. (Someone I didn't know was holding my daughter.)

“KyiGo ….” Nobara said walking up to me, cleaning her hands off with another baby wipe. I was still glued to this man as he too walked up to me with “My” daughter in his arms. “This is Choso. He's going to be filling in for Sarah until she gets back from sick leave.” He stood her down on the ground and we watched as she ran off with the other kids.

“Hey I'm Choso.” He said hold my hand out to shake. I shook it but I was still hesitant about someone that was new around my baby girl.

“Nice to meet you Choso… I'm KyiGo.” I said releasing his hand. His skin was cool to the touch but gentle at the same time. He too was somewhat an odd one though. He was dressed in all black, black Nike high tops, a black G-Shock watch on his wrist..(Which was my favorite watch brand. But I haven't been able to get as of late because they ‘were’ pretty expensive.) Black hair that he kept in a bun with a few free bangs hanging down over his Amber eyes that darkened as he stood in front of me. His pink lips….

(Wait..Wh…Why am I looking at his lips? His lips of all things..Hang on, that smell though. Is that Top Boy Cologne?)

(Please snap out of it Go…)

“Your daughter has the thickest eyebrows!” He said with a soft smile. Nobara was sitting there, slightly looking at me giggling behind Choso. From the expression on her face she could tell my thoughts trailed off..slightly.

“Thank you… Mr. Choso right? I have no idea where she gets them from.” I could tell I was slightly blushing and I wanted to slap myself with both hands. And as hard as I could too.

He turned around slowly and started to walk towards the kids, cracking a small smirk on the side of his mouth making a soft “mhp” sound under his breath. “Just Choso. Added, she gets them from you.” He turned around walking to play with the babies. My daughter one of them.

I could promise that at that moment my eyes seemed to be the exact replica as Jasper from Twilight right about now. I had to turn my head away from the classroom because I knew for a fact it was fire fucking red in this daycare. Nobara was ‘still’ giggling, not making the situation any better. I was so embarrassed as I bit down on my lip to where I felt it was about to bleed. “Mmmhhppp” was the softly sound that murmured from my mouth.

My back was still turned as I waved bye to my baby girl, as I walked as quickly as I could out the school door and to my car. Rushing to unlock it, I opened the door, jumped into the seat and looked into the rear view. My face was so flushed. To the point where it looked like I absolutely had on makeup. Plus I never wore makeup unless it was a special occasion.

Choso… That was his name right? Choso?

Wait.. No..

What am I doing? Why am I thinking about his name? Why am I..thinking about him?

#choso #chosokamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk choso #choso kamo #chosoandpynk #i love choso #choso and pynkricee #choso x reader #choso x black!reader #choso x black woman #choso x smut #chosokamo x black reader

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hellcheer-heaven · 1 year

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Budding - 90s Pregnant Hellcheer

Beard Eddie photo by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Click here for the post Thanks for giving me the okay for using your photo edit.

Thank you @a-strange-inkling for proofreading the beginning stages of this short fic. Also please check out both creators listed here.

Waking up early in the morning came naturally to Eddie, it was pretty much a part of himself like the curly locks on his head; and currently the dark hairs sprouting from his face. He looked over at the sleeping woman, hair draped along her shoulders and face so at peace. Chrissy has been getting some much needed rest lately for the sake of her health and for the developing little one in her womb. There was a lovely sort of glow that surrounded her no matter where she went. Even on the days when she felt and proclaimed that she looked like a terrible mess, Eddie reassured her that nothing would dull her sparkle.

It was another quiet, lazy Saturday in their neighborhood. Most of their neighbors were still asleep, say for a few early birds that wanted to get their steps in before breakfast. Eddie occupied himself with whisking raw eggs and adding just a bit of milk to give it that fluffy texture that Chrissy liked. He practically tore open the entire package of bacon, nearly loosing a few stragglers, but thankfully his lightening fast reflexes caught the flying pork. The coffee maker bubbled as he placed the large glass container beneath the dispenser. Before he could turn on the stove, Chrissy’s sudden gasp caused him to rush to the room.

“PleasebeokayPleasebeokayPleasebeokay!” His mind begged. Eddie nearly lost his balance as he ran down the carpeted hallway before catching himself, firmly planting his feet onto the ground. “Chrissy? Baby? Are you okay? Do you need to go to the emergency room?!”

Chrissy’s back faced him, her blue eyes gazing into the mirror with quite the wide eyed stare. “Eddie… I…”

Eddie was afraid something absolutely terrible must have happened, but he had to take a deep breath. “Y-Yes? What is it?”

She slowly turned around, something was quite different with her. Aside from her bump, there was also the newly developed pair of breasts protruding out from Eddie’s nice dress shirt.

She kept herself covered, feeling incredibly embarrassed at how much skin was showing, “Eddie my boobs got bigger!”

He gulped, his mind heavily chastising him for the thoughts that were appearing. He had to think of something, anything to say to his beloved wife.

His face felt so hot and red, “Y-Yeah… yeah they did.”

It’s not like they haven’t seen each other semi to fully nude before. In her current state, this was vastly different than what she or he were used to. They both stared, flabbergasted at the single or possible double cup size increase.

Eddie hurried to readjust his vision, “How do you feel Chrissy?”

Her fingers gently felt along her budding skin, “I feel weird.”

“Do you have to go to the hospital?”

She gave him a reassuring smile, it gave him some relief of his anxiety. “No I’m fine. I just… never really thought they would grow that much.” She faced her reflection, shrugging off the shirt to get a closer look. “It’s just, I look so different.”

Eddie placed a loving hand to her shoulder, she held onto it sweetly. He pecked the top of her head, “Good different or bad different?”

She sighed, “I don’t know. I just… never really imagined that I would actually get big breasts.” Chrissy winced slightly when she held up the tender bundles.

They felt and appeared so oddly shaped to her. Then again having her abdomen sticking out from her small frame was still so unusual to see. Chrissy was always so used to having the body that she had always had: Petite with muscle and a bit of body fat. Nothing out of the ordinary for some people, but the things that her mother said did a number on her self esteem, self image, and self worth. Always making her believe that she was ugly and unattractive in her childhood and especially during adolescence.

Fat pig, string bean, baby face, rabbit teeth, body of a child, too quiet, not lady like, and so much more.

Even when her body began to naturally change during puberty and now during pregnancy, her mother still made it her mission to make her life hell. It’s no wonder Chrissy and her darling husband found a house of their own some towns away from Hawkins.

Eddie moved a lock of her hair behind her ear, “Do they hurt?”

“A little bit.”

He nuzzled into her neck, his voice filled with concern, “Only a little?”

She carefully placed them back down, really considering how she truly felt, “Well, more than a little. They feel sensitive and sore. It’s like I’m going through puberty again, but now I have these and my stomach is…”

Eddie cradled her pretty belly, his warm palms tracing her lovely stretch marks. “You look beautiful Chrissy.”

The lump in her throat started to grow even more, “But I feel like a fat cow.” She shut her eyes tightly, “And I look like one too!”

Eddie just wanted to hug her as tightly as he could, but all he could do was gently wrap his arms around her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You’re beautiful Chrissy, no matter what your brain tries to tell you. You’re the most courageous, amazing, and beautiful woman in the whole world.”

She swiped her teary eyes with the backs of her hands, “I wish I could believe that Eddie!”

Eddie turned her around and pecked her face, sweetly and generously giving her as many pecks he could give her until the tiniest smile pulled at her cotton candy colored lips. She softly cooed his name, her tears forming from self loathing to affectionate. She couldn’t prevent her giggles from tumbling out, the scruff tickling her neck as he bent down. Chrissy nibbled her lower lip, watching the way his bubblegum pink mouth planted more and more upon her body. Slowly and earnestly along her breasts, looking up to gauge her reaction: Chrissy was all smiles, batting her eyelashes at him.

She ran her fingers through his curls, “Eddie, that feels really nice. It kinda tickles a little.”

He closed his eyes, his hands caressing the sides of her body as his lips followed the shape of her torso. Wanting to follow every stretch mark with his fingers and tongue, but she was vulnerable and that wouldn’t be fair to her. Instead he placed the side of his face along her bump, breathing lightly as the warm flesh heated his cheek. Eddie looked up and still could see the sunshine smile of his Spring Goddess, her flower bed and fruits growing healthily.

Chrissy cradled his sweet, hairy face, rubbing the apples of his cheeks with her thumbs. His lips proceeded to return back up until their mouths collided, that’s when he heard it again: Laughter. Her laughter was the most wonderful melody that he could ever hear. No amount of string bending, shredding, or tapping would ever compare. They walked over to the bed, and he helped her onto her back, making sure that her pillows were aligned the way they were supposed to be for both support and comfort.

Chrissy curled her pointer finger, wanting a little more love; boy did he deliver. Kisses, kisses, and more kisses. She then began to whimper, the sensitive sensation returning to her breasts once more. Eddie was careful to not put any kind of weight on her, laying next to her and kissing her hand.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

She thought for a moment, tapping her fingers upon the mattress to find her answer. What did the moms back in Hawkins suggest during this time? A gentle massage with massage oil was the way to go according to them. He smiled, soon returning with a jar of oil that Mrs. Sinclair, Wheeler, Byers, and Henderson swore by. Thank god for their wisdom and experience, because the last person Chrissy would ever turn to regarding motherhood was her own mom.

They sat there for a moment, the two of them looking back and forth at the jar and her chest.

He gulped nervously, “So… um…”

“I guess you can start,” Chrissy mentioned, still a bit weirded out as well; honestly that makes two of them.

He swallowed, “Y-Yeah. Yup, I’m gonna massage your ti- breasts.” He sighed slowly through his nostrils, “Holy shit her tits are huge. So fucking soft and squishy. Our baby is so lucky.”

She nodded, gulping down as well, “Yeah, you’re gonna touch them.” She proceeded to open the dress shirt, blushing a bit at the sight. “God I feel like a cow! Jesus my tits look like someone sewed cantaloupes in me. Please don’t turn into watermelons! Please!”

Eddie broke the silence, it was probably the stupidest thing he’s said in a while, but he really needed to know. “So I’m not going to squeeze all of your milk out, right?”

Chrissy held his hand, showing him a wonderful grin and a warm chuckle, “No Eddie, my milk isn’t going to come out.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

She held his worried face, “You won’t hurt me, you never have.”

Eddie grinned, moving his face to kiss her palm before warming up the oil in his hands. He could feel the more immature part of his brain telling him to do things to her chest. The rest of his mind continued to scold him before locking up that area. With all distractions put aside, he could then focus on her needs. His tattooed hands and fingers slowly touched the heaping bundles of flesh, following the shape in precise circles. Starting with both and then transitioning to each one individually with his talented hands. Chrissy observed how those inked appendages motioned along her breasts, gazing through her lashes and following the way he very gently sculpted her.

She giggled, “Eddie, I really like that. Ooh, you’re so gentle. I love how sweet you are.”

He gave her a playful wink, “Sweet as honey baby girl.” He stopped momentarily when she softly gasped, his worrying thoughts returning in a flash, “Are you okay?”

“Mmhm, that just felt really, really good.”

His eyes looked between her face and body, “Are you gonna… you know?”

Her brows rose up, nodding slowly and waiting patiently for him to continue. She knew the word, but still wanted to hear it from him, “Am I going to what?”

His fingers started to slowly release her, his bashful smile evidently displayed, “Squirt milk?”

Close enough.

He couldn’t help but hide his face when she started to laugh, very loudly actually. When her giggle fit was over, Chrissy moved his hands aside and pecked the thorn surrounded rose tattoo on the back of one hand.

She placed a curly lock behind his ear, “I’m sorry Eddie, that was just really funny. It’s lactate, baby. That’s the word you’re looking for.” Chrissy held up her bosoms, giving them a gentle squeeze, “And no the doctor said it’ll be a while before that happens. Actually they could end up getting larger.”

“Really?” He sounded a little hopeful, something that Chrissy slyly smirked at to which Eddie changed his tone. “I mean… um… that sucks.”

“Pun intended Eddie?”

He gave her a cute pout before smirking himself, “Geez Chrissy, you’re really putting me between a rock and a hard place.”

Chrissy snickered, “Well I’m sure resting your head on something soft might ease the tension.”

Was she being serious or just joking? Either way he was pleased knowing that she was happy, comfortable, and safe. They hardly said anything for the remainder of the morning as he commenced with massaging her. Nothing much had to be said, their smiles were enough. The gentle touches were enough. Their kisses were enough.

They were enough.

#hellcheer #eddissy #munningham #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #pregnant hellcheer headcanon #pregnant hellcheer #pregnant #hellcheer fic #hellcheer fanfic

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bookscandlesnbts · 6 months

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Idk if this sounds stupid, i hope not, but even if jungkook is clearly the member with the “straightest” and most het concept and all, he still is the one who shows as less straight and het off-stage. I mean, not just in his interactions with jimin, which are pretty fruity by themselves. Also in his way of talking about interactions with females, the way he approaches women, or also the way he talks about “girlfriends”. Namjoon, for example, said “i have none RIGHT NOW, can you introduce me one?” And all that playful stuff, but Jungkook didn’t. He keeps sticking to that safe “armys my girl” and that’s it, always. I don’t understand why he said “i only focus on work now, i don’t need a girlfriend”, i mean, he could have not added those lies, but to me that was just smoke. Just adding details to keep it real. Please, tell me if that’s me being delusional.

I know it depends on the personality, so maybe namjoon likes to talk that way while Jk doesn’t, but to me Jungkook still looks non-straight, like, at all. And that’s funny because you’d say the contrary from his solo, songs etc, but every thing he does, little or not, apart from the work he’s told to do, looks far from straight. Funny how the image they tried to create didn’t work that much.

I agree anon. Idk why people analyze these concepts and mvs ad nauseum when there is so much queerness in JK’s actual personality and the way that he carries himself. But I think that’s why the most asks that I get pertain to people desperate for any crumb that he’s “straight” and act like they have the holy grail to prove it to who? Me? Don’t waste your time. Or do they come to my ask box hoping to convince themselves. Probably more likely.

For me personally, Jungkook is queer as hell. Imo, I think he’s gay. His lack of interest in women and chemistry when he’s around them has been a trend since debut. And no, I’m not talking about his “shyness”. Jungkook was shy in general so to act like he was only shy when he was around girls or women is 🙄. Fun fact, in high school I had a crush on a gay boy who was in the closet at the time (he was nice to me okay!) His “crush” was Rachel Ray (the tv cooking talk show host) she’s what no straight boy at 16 would jump to say is their crush. I’m sure that he liked her because he liked her show, not because he found her attractive. Reminds me of a certain bunny saying that “IU” is his ideal type. And interesting too that he chose to name a an actual person, a woman who is older than him btw. When JK did list attributes he found attractive for a partner, none of them screamed “straight” to me. He talked about nice muscles what 🤣 not that women can’t have muscles but the Korean beauty standard for women is for them to be very petite. In conclusion, Jungkook hasn’t been reading as hetereo since we’ve met him. And I’ll die on that hill.

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shivvroys · 7 months

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Hi lia! #5 from the big swiss dialogue "but you? You, i loved" :) feel free to make it angsty i can take it <3

this, uhm…turned into something else. Nia i think you may have broken my angst compass i keep trying to make everything end nicely 😭

“But you? You, I loved.”

“Ok, I fucking get it.” she raises a hand, almost dropping her cigarette. “I don’t know why you agreed to come, since you hate it so much. You know, you won, mom—he’s fucking dead, I can’t see how much of upper hand you could possibly have to gain than that.”

Her mother sighs in the same disappointing manner she always has. Like she’s tired of the conversation before it’s even started, like talking to Shiv is always just such a dreadful bother.

“And if it’s not him you’re still pissed at, you can just admit it’s me you can’t stand to be around. I’m way past the point where that’s gonna bother me.”

Shiv supposes she should mostly be blaming herself. She was the one who’d decided inviting their mother to their father’s memorial party was the thing to do. She just hadn’t expected her to actually show up.

The sour mood and constant scoffing, she could handle that—welcome it as a surrogate for the motherly warmth she’d never felt growing up. But the divorce jokes, the thinly veiled allusions to what Roman had been calling her vanishing uterus act—that had felt intentional. Like her father’s absence left Caroline with no vessel to pour her bitterness into, so she’d chosen the one who reminded her the most of him.

Shiv busies herself with the cigarette, refusing to meet her mother’s eyes. She doesn’t know what she fears seeing most—hurt or confirmation.

As the sentence hangs in the air like a sliver of smoke, twisting and turning into a sharp dagger, Caroline takes a step towards her, almost reaching a hand towards her elbow, before pulling back.

“It isn’t you that I can’t stand, Siobhan.” She doesn’t force Shiv to look at her, but she speaks to her slowly, and gravelly, in the tone she usually reserves for when they’re both tipsy and aching to hurt each other with the truth. “It’s never been you.”

Shiv scoffs. “Right. I know, what with all that maternal love you’ve showered me with.”

She turns to face Caroline, though she only manages to maintain eye-contact for a brief moment, before turning her attention back to the cigarette in her hand.

“There are things about you that I couldn’t bear to see, yes.” Caroline sighs. “Things that drove me mad. Like the way your eyes would only follow him in every room, even as a baby. I hated the anger he planted into you, the way I could hear him each time you were upset. All of those little claw marks he’s left in you—Kendall, too.”

Shiv sweeps her eyes over the guests inside, over her father’s legacy reduced to mediocre wine and fucking fusion cuisine finger foods. Then her sight unfocuses, and all she can see is her own reflection. The problem is—her mother’s not wrong.

“But not Rome, right?” she finally meets her mother’s eyes, challenging her to lie.

Caroline shakes her head sadly. “Not really, I suppose. Though he desperately wished for it, the poor thing.”

The briefest mention of her petit prince is enough to get the waterworks going.

Snapping herself out of it, Caroline puts out her cigarette and lays both hands on Shiv’s arms, not squeezing, but lightly stroking the rough material of her blazer.

“But you, Siobhan. You, I loved. Love.”

It’s pathetic, really, how little it takes for tears to gather in Shiv’s eyes. How quickly her mother could slip through the cracks of any wall she’s tried to build. Brick by fucking brick, and all it took was a look from that woman and down came Shiv’s mighty fortress, like a house of cards.

“I’m your fucking onion, right?” she sniffs, averting her mother’s gaze.

She hears laughter coming from inside, though she doubts anyone’s sharing some hearwarming anecdote in her father’s memory.

Her mother laughs in quiet and heavy breaths. “Yes, you are, darling. My darling onion.”

Already exhausted by the millisecond of vulnerability, they both snap back to reality, the moment already forgotten.

Shiv turns back towards the railing, lighting another cigarette. She tells herself it’s because it’s too hot inside, and she can’t bear to hear Roman make another joke about Frank’s sweater vest.

“What’re the others, then? Is Rome your fucking parsley?”

She extends her lighter to Caroline, who lets her palm caress Shiv’s hand as she takes it.

“That’s an herb, dear, I think you mean parsnip.” she murmurs. “I’d say he’s more of a beetroot—remember how he used to get so red and splotchy in the face when your father yelled at him.” she almost chokes while inhaling. Shiv joins her, smirking as she takes a drag from her cigarette.

“And Ken?”

“Hmm…” her mother rests a slender finger against her chins, in mock contemplation.

“An eggplant? Like a sad, wilted one.” Shiv snorts.

“Oh, yes.” Caroline bursts into a pearl of laughter. Then, resting her back against the railing, she gestures towards the memorial party. “What about her? What’s her place in your garden?”

Shiv turns to see her mother’s eyes fixed on one person in particular. Karolina. She’s listening to something Connor is saying, nodding politely every so often, though Shiv knows she’d probably checked out of the conversation the moment Connor had started talking.

Shiv also knows the angle at which Karolina is facing the terrace door is intentional. She’s keeping Shiv in her peripheral vision, the way they always do when they have to attend some work function where they might need quick rescuing from some boring conversation.

“Oh, that’s—she’s not..” she stutters, flicking her cigarette so hard it almost breaks in the middle.

“Darling, please.” Caroline scoffs. “She’s been throwing daggers at me ever since you came out here. Does she think I might throw you off the balcony?”

“You wouldn’t?” Shiv tilts her head. “We’re just—she’s just being friendly. We work together, so yeah. We’re friends, I guess”

Caroline looks down, shaking her head. “Alright, Siobhan.”

“What? I can’t have any fucking friends?”

“Of course, darling.”

Caroline puts her cigarette out and ceremoniously shakes her shoulders, as if cleansing herself from the conversation. She starts walking towards the door, before turning over her shoulder to Shiv.

“You can also have more, Siobhan. He is dead. No need to look for his shadow under the door.”

“Uh huh.”

With that, Caroline goes back to the party, leaving Shiv alone with her half burnt cigarette. She turns back to the railing, watching the sun dip below the skyline, her eyes following a stray bird or plane every now and then.

She’s never been into gardening, so she doesn’t know that much about it. But she knows everything needs good soil to grow in. And she knows once the soil is poisoned there’s very little chance of anything surviving in it. What can she grow if all she has is mud?

She doesn’t hear the door open, only feels the lightest pressure on the small of her back and quiet voice that brings her back to the terrace.

“You okay?”

Shiv looks down at the burnt out cigarette dangling between her fingers. She throws the stub in the wine glass she’s been using as an ashtray, before turning to face Karolina.

“Yeah. Just, you know, weird day.” she sighs, her voice slightly shaking.

Karolina nods, throwing a glance towards the setting sun. “It’s almost over.”

“Thank god.”

Karolina keeps her eyes on the party inside and her voice low and soft. “You wanna come over tonight?”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to stay here?”

She regrets the suggestion before it’s even left her lips. Though she’s had Karolina over many times before, it had never felt quite right. The walls of the apartment held too much, had trapped in every bad memory from the past few years like mould—silently rotting it from the inside out. She fears letting all of that cling to Karolina.

“It would.” Karolina nods. “Hey, how about we get a room somewhere?” she says, after some contemplation.

“What, like, we go down to the hotel bar and you pretend you’re a call girl?” Shiv smirks.

“No, Siobhan.” Karolina raises her glass to cover her face, attempting to hide her laughter. “Like—we just spend a night someplace neither us have ever felt bad in.”

A place with good soil. Like there’s still a chance something good could grow.

Karolina always says things like these like they’re part of the natural order, like the most obvious choice for her is to keep Shiv safe—to take the bad stuff away.

“Yeah, okay.”

For tonight, Shiv decides, she’ll let it happen. See if anything grows.

#shivlina #shiv x karolina #siobhan roy #karolina novotney #caroline collingwood #CAROLINE ALERT!!!#im not the proudest of this and i definitely made caroline too kind 😭#im losing my sparkle i keep wanting to see them happy 😩#my fics #prompt fill

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realmackross · 10 days

Text

PARTIES: @contemporarybardess, @realmackross TIMING: Sometime in the spring SUMMARY: Elora & Mack have a Twilight themed date night where some secrets are revealed... WARNINGS: Just a soft thread with a sire and a zombie! ♥

It had been a while since Mackenzie had gotten to do anything just fun and cute with Elora. In fact, it had felt like it had been months. And she knew it probably had to do something with the fact that the two still didn’t live together, but Mack just wasn’t ready. The one year anniversary of Brody’s death had literally just passed, and she still couldn’t bring herself to fully commit every part of her life to Elora; though she clearly wasn’t going to tell Elora that. She loved the woman with most of her heart, but moving on still felt wrong.

However, tonight, she was going to make it a point to spend time with her girlfriend, and she knew just the place to go…

“I really hope you like sparkly vampires. It’s the only thing showing, and I thought that if we got bored of seeing Robert Pattison’s sparkling peeled potato skin, we could just make out.” Mackenzie looked over at Elora with a hopeful grin as she shut off the engine on her Mini Cooper. The first movie hadn’t quite started yet, so there was still time for concessions, bathroom breaks, and finding a spot in the grass up front with the blankets she brought, if Elora didn’t want to stay in the car the whole time.

—

Finally, just a cozy date night watching a cheesy vampire movie with her girlfriend. No violence. No cosmic bullshit cutting in. Just Elora and Mackenzie…and the other people watching the Twilight marathon, of course. While she always got butterflies whenever she saw her still, quality alone time that wasn’t interrupted was rare. They both had very…busy and eventful lives after all.

“Well I used to have a crush on that sparkly potato skin when I was younger. But I’d never turn down a makeout session, you know that.” It was a bit embarrassing to admit she was a recovering Twihard, but she also knew pretty much every girl went through that phase at one point or another.

“Y’know, I was expecting a better turnout” she said, looking out at the crowd of people. The turnout seemed decent, but definitely didn’t seem to match the fervor the online petition had implied would be present. “I guess not everyone can tough it out through all the movies, eh? Can’t blame them, I’m not so sure we’ll make it either.” She was hoping that they’d get too tired to give Mack an excuse to spend the night at Elora’s place. Or for Elora to spend the night at Mack’s. Either way, they hadn’t had much time co-habitating and she definitely wanted to make it happen. It just felt more cozy and couple-y.

—

When Mack had heard that Elora had a crush on Edward Cullen, a wide grin spread across her cheeks, “Wait…what? Were you a Twihard, Elora Spiros?” Mackenzie had never really gotten the appeal of the movies, at least not when they had first released, considering she was only ten years old. But by the time she had turned thirteen, it was all she could talk about. She had caught the tail end of the obsession, but it didn’t matter. The pasty sparkly vampires and werewolf who wore jorts had their hooks in her heart, and she wanted more. It would take another year or so for her to actually grow out of it, but rumor has it, there’s still some of Mackenzie Ross’s (TwihardGirlie98) fanfic still floating around the internet today.

“I…Okay, I’ll admit it. I was a Twihard, too. But like at the tailend of the hype, because I was ten when the first movie came out, and my parents wouldn’t let me read the books until I was a little older…” If she could blush, she would, “Who was your favorite character?” This date was already so telling, but she loved it. It made her feel so much closer to Elora. Something she needed out of fear that they might have been drifting apart.

“You know, I’m surprised too, but it’s probably because everyone and their mother and brother own all the movies and don’t want to be bothered by sitting in a car for three years just to see Edward Cullen sparkle and brood on the big screen.” Mack laughed softly. “Besides, I would rather us not make it…if you catch my drift…” She grinned coyly at Elora.

—

With mock embarrassment, Elora put her hands up and said “Guilty as charged! Me and pretty much everyone else I went to middle school with.” She then caught herself, as she technically didn’t go to school with any of them. “Well, the girls who were the same age as me, I should say. It was like some hive mind virus that targeted tween girls specifically. It was sort of some weird fever dream we all woke up out of years later.” All of her Twilight merch was long gone now, burned up with pretty much everything else, but she hung on to a lot of her New Moon T-shirts until well after her teenage years. Those times were fun to look back on, even if they did make her cringe more than anything.

“I knew it! You totally seem like the type! No offense, of course. Nobody’s immune from the Twilight phenomenon, not even the infallible Ms. Mackenzie Ross.” She thought about Mack’s question for a little while. There were so many characters, but not many that were particularly good or likable. “I like the dad. What was his name? Charlie? He had a good head on his shoulders and only wanted what was best for Bella. Took the whole existence of vampires and werewolves surprisingly well. I mean, mildly freaked out of course, but didn’t get hung up on it too much! The real question is…Team Jacob or Team Edward?”

“I wouldn’t mind cutting out early either” Elora said, knowing fully well what her girlfriend had in mind. It had been a while since they had a chill night just to themselves, and while watching bad vampire romance was a good date night it wasn’t quite what Elora had wanted. “Let’s at least make it to the baseball scene from the first movie. After that everything goes downhill anyway”.

—

Mack laughed at Elora. She knew exactly what the other woman was talking about though, because she had witnessed its phenomena, even growing up on movie sets. She could remember the adults on set talking about it and trying to ask them what they were talking about. Even some of her younger co-stars had been allowed to bask in the glory of its success, but Mack had been left on the sidelines, until she wasn’t anymore and her room was plastered from head-to-toe. But the real height of her obsession came, when she was allowed to attend the Breaking Dawn Pt. 1 premiere. She hadn’t recalled the memory until now, sitting next to her girlfriend while having this conversation, and she honestly wasn’t quite sure if she had wanted to admit it out of the fear of being teased for eternity by Elora, “Yeah, yeah…the dad was cool. Nice guy in real life too. And you’re right. He did keep a pretty level head. You know…he kind of reminds me of Kaden. Have you two met? He wouldn’t get the reference, but if you ever meet him, tell me he doesn’t remind you of Charlie.”

Mackenzie was trying to stall, but it was getting harder and harder, because even she wanted to laugh at herself and the situation, “Oh come on…why did you have to ask me that?” She paused thinking, before finally giving the redhead an answer, “So I was Team Edward all the way growing up, but there is some bias because I had worked on a movie with Robert before, but now that I’m an actual member of the undead, I’m gonna have to go Team Jacob. Who wouldn’t love a nice, warm fuzzy werewolf to snuggle up to on cold, winter nights. Any chance you might be able to grow some fur? Perpetually cold dead girl over here.” She let out a snort, before playfully nudging her girlfriend to let her know she was kidding.

“Totally fine with waiting for the baseball scene. It’s like the best part of the movie, but I have a tiny bit of embarrassing information to share, and I don’t know if it will make you want to cut out sooner or not leave at all…” Mackenzie forced down the nerves that had formed in her throat as she pulled out her phone and searched online for something. When she finally found it, she quickly handed off her phone to Elora and turned away from the window. It was a video of a little Mackenzie at the Breaking Dawn Part 1 premiere answering everybody’s favorite question – the one Elora had just asked. And as she heard her voice fill the car, she couldn’t help but put her head down in embarrassment.

—

She wasn’t sure why, but Elora’s eyes widened a bit when Mack mentioned Charlie being a nice guy in real life as well as on screen. Sure, she was a major celebrity who had met pretty much all of the huge A-listers already, but did she really mean to tell her she’d met the Charlie Swan?

“Man, I’ll never get over you just knowing people. It must be so cool to know what people are like off camera. Well…the ones who are nice at least” She had heard talk of a Kaden in town, but had never gotten the pleasure of actually meeting him. “Nah, I’ve never met him. Nice guy then, I’m assuming? It’s nice to see decent guys around here, they aren’t super common.” It was true. There a lot of shady folks hanging around here, so knowing who was friend or foe was very important information to have.

“Well I’m glad you finally came around to the side of reason! Jacob was so much better for her, I can’t believe she went with the crusty vampire man instead.” She laughed a bit at the fur comment, knowing that feathers just wouldn’t fill the same purpose for her. “I mean, there technically is a way I can make myself warm, it would just be very painful for me and probably burn you to a crisp. So…sorry but your dreams of a furnace girlfriend are going to have to be put on the back burner.”

She couldn’t help but crack a smile as she saw a young Mack, fully human and full of life, giving her interview. She was so young then, she always found it interesting seeing people she met as adults when they were children. “That’s adorable! You were so excited for the sparkly man! Also…really puts into perspective how long you’ve been a star for. I guess being a fan girl is a little different when you know the people personally, huh?”

—

Mackenzie had learned early on that celebrities were just people. It had come after an embarrassing moment on one of the first sets she had worked on, when she had gotten so nervous to be around one of the leading stars that she started to cry. It had stopped production, but the person she was working with had been patient with her and had spoken to her in a way that reassured her that everything was okay, and to remember that even the biggest Hollywood stars were just people and this was just a job, and at the end of the day they were all just friends having fun together. Of course, that worked until Mack grew older and started to realize that not all actors felt the same way; some who thought they hung the moon. But at the end of the day, Mack had learned to be kind and humble, and whenever there was someone feeling nervous, she was going to treat them with the same respect she had learned as a child, “At the end of the day, they’re all just people. Even the ones who think they’re God’s greatest gift to man.” She smiled warmly at Elora, before changing the subject to Kaden, “But yeah, if you want me to introduce you to him sometime, just let me know.”

Elora’s comment about Edward and Jacob made Mack laugh, “Crusty vampire man. That’s so accurate it hurts though. That’s why there’s fanfiction. So all your literary and movie dreams come true, when the plot doesn’t go the way you want it to.” She couldn’t believe she had just admitted that either. This trip to Twilight was proving to be more embarrassing for Mack than anything else, but she wouldn’t have it any other way, “You know, that's a shame though that you’d burn me to a crisp. I guess I’ll just stick with my fifteen heated blankets.” She was being serious too. “You heard me.”

It was a relief when the video was over, and Mack could put her phone away. If Elora wanted more, she could google it for herself, “Yeah…mention that, and I’ll disown you, Elora Spiros.” She was joking of course. “I mean, I’ll be honest – despite what I told you earlier, I still bragged to the few friends that I had that I knew Edward Cullen. I couldn’t help myself though. I was young and dumb.”

Looking up, Mackenzie noticed the movie was about to start, “Did you want anything, before this thing starts?” She was honestly looking forward more to the makeout sesh and what might follow then watching a movie about sparkly vampires.

—

“Yeah, everyone’s just another person. It’s just that some people need to be reminded that they’re only people.” Elora knew all too well what some members of the rich and powerful thought of themselves. Some people thought themselves to be gods of some degree, and demanded they be treated as such. “I’d like that. The more friends the better in this town, that’s for sure.”

Elora knew about fanfiction all too well. She had written some herself, mostly when she was a teenager through her early 20s. It’s not a phase of her life she’s proud of, but if Mack was willing to show an embarrassing moment from her past then Elora figured she should be too. “Well, since we’re sharing. I know quite a bit about fanfiction and writing the ending I want. I actually used to post on AO3 a lot…I kind of had a problem actually. I just had a lot of my own ideas on what the canon should be so I wrote it into existence!” She knew there were a lot of fanfiction writers out there so saying she wrote wasn’t the most embarrassing thing in the world. However, she would fight tooth and nail to stop Mack from actually reading what she wrote. Her screenname wasn’t exactly easy to guess.

“How could you NOT brag?! I don’t care how famous you are, every girl that age had the hots for Mr. Pattinson. And now he’s off being Batman, times really have changed.” She thought, thinking about how his acting skills really did have a huge glow up after the Twilight movies wrapped. He was a good actor when he wasn’t sparkling like a diamond.

“We can just share some popcorn. I don’t want to eat too much, especially if we have…y’know…plans for after this.” The baseball scene couldn’t come fast enough. Although Elora had to admit she’d probably genuinely enjoy watching the movie up until that point.

—

“I’m not like that am I?” Mackenzie looked at Elora. She had come to this town hoping and praying she wouldn’t be recognized, but knew she probably would. Of course, the mansion out on World’s End Isle probably didn’t make her seem very humble or down-to-Earth, but Mackenzie tried to be. She really did. “I just…I don’t want to be perceived as an asshole.” Now, she was paranoid. Did Elora ever think of her that way?

Mack’s smile had dropped as she worried, until Elora had brought up AO3 and fanfiction, “Wait…what?! You wrote fanfiction? I want to read it! I showed you my embarrassing red carpet video, and look, I’ll even tell you my screenname, because I’m sure my stuff is still out there, if you tell me yours or at least share some of your fanfiction!” Her sad face turned to one of a puppy dog pout, she wanted to see this fanfiction dammit!

“I mean, I guess you have a point, and he really did glow up, didn’t he. Now, he’s got a kid. Good for him, you know? But if you think this is going to take my mind off of you admitting that you wrote fanfiction, you’re wrong.” It was hard talking about anything else now. “Look, I’ll go get the popcorn and soda…” She paused thinking on Elora’s words with a grin, “And nothing else…and while I’m gone, you can pull up AO3…accidentally leave your phone on the dash, and I can be all…whoops! What is this?!” Mackenzie put the puppy dog pout on and stared at her girlfriend.

—

Elora felt her heart stop for a moment at Mack’s question. In truth, she was one of the realest and most down to earth people she had ever met. “Not at all!” She blurted out quickly. “Quite the opposite, actually. I’ve met some fairly well recognized bands and artists and there’s just so many pompous douches in the entertainment industry.” She then grabbed hold of Mack’s hand and looked into her eyes. “But not you. Never you.”

Elora’s panic soon gave way to embarrassment as it seemed Mack wouldn’t let her off the hook about her fanfic days. She wouldn’t mind sharing if it was any good. But making a fic where the Cullen clan enter the World Series of Poker and titling it “High Stakes” isn’t exactly the peak of literature. Still, Mack did have a point. If she could see a mildly embarrassing red carpet video, they could cringe at some bad fics together

“Fiiine, you win. But be nice! I was a teenager. I think…maybe early 20s. Either way, I’m a much better writer now!” She begrudgingly opened up to her old screenname on AO3 and set her phone on the dash, resigning herself to her fate. If she can love me after reading these she’ll love me through anything, she thought to herself with a smirk. She was starting to get peckish and hoped she’d come back with their popcorn soon.

—

Mackenzie had immediately felt relief at Elora’s words in regards to her fame and the way she had treated people. There had easily been the exceptions, like Jade. But even with Jade, Mack had originally tried to be nice. But the loving grip Elora had on Mack’s hand solidified just how right she had gotten it when she had chosen to start falling in love with this woman. Someone who had chosen to see the real Mackenzie Ross for more than just a celebrity.

A giddiness had taken over the young actress though when Elora finally agreed to let Mack see the fanfic, and like a child excited on Christmas morning, Mackenzie hurried off to get the popcorn.

And just like that she was back in a flash and right back in her seat next to Elora, “Here’s your popcorn. Now gimme gimme gimme!” She was impatient like a child until she noticed the phone sitting on the dash, and quickly pulled it back. For the next hour, Mackenzie was going to sit and read the beautiful works of art that her girlfriend had gifted to the world, while the inspiration for such works played in the background.

—

As her girlfriend scrolled through some of the worst fanfiction she can remember reading in a very long time, Elora simply tried to focus on the movie. It actually wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, there were some genuine sweet and entertaining moments. Nevertheless, it was still Twilight. The cheesiness would always be there to stop it from being more than just a guilty pleasure watch.

At long last the fated baseball scene ran its course, and the pair shot each other a knowing look as their deadline had finally arrived.

“Well,” Elora began, “Shall we head back to my place for a little night cap? Maybe we can do something less embarrassing than reading my old fics.”

—

Mackenzie had squealed with delight, throwing Elora a glance of genuine enjoyment every now and then, sometimes just stopping to catch the redhead in a moment of intrigue. God, she’s beautiful. The way the light from the screen accented the silhouette of her face and more had easily made Mackenzie ready to leave, and when the time had finally come, and Elora spoke, the zombie was in full agreement with the idea, “Babe, I might take inspiration from your old fics.”

Leaning over to give Elora her phone back, Mackenzie snuck in a quick kiss, before starting the engine of her Mini Cooper. Giving Edward and his ragtag team of vampires one last look, she peeled out of the parking lot with her girlfriend ready to go home and make a little magic of their own and the fifty things of glitter Mackenzie kept stashed in her bathroom for special occasions.

#para: hold on tight spider monkey #para: elora #contemporarybardess #wickedswriting

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aclaywrites · 4 months

Text

Hop into the Time Machine, kids! It’s time to talk about how to find a date when your only options involved landlines, the postal service, or actually leaving the house.

You had to describe yourself in a short paragraph, usually 100-150 words, which didn’t leave a lot of room to pack in all the info about what made you the perfect choice. So there were lots of abbreviations to make sure you maximized your potential. A BBW (big beautiful woman aka not skinny also euphemised as zaftig or Reubenesque) in search of NFNF (no fats no femmes, common in gay male ads) preferring instead someone who’s HWP (height/weight proportional— gosh we spent a lot of time assuring people we weren’t large). she’s DDF (drug and disease free), with a GSOH (good sense of humor). I learned them all eventually, and I loved to read personal ads, even/especially when I wasn’t interested.

My first college job I worked in an Indian restaurant and became friends with our waiter who went on to be a fairly big time movie and tv actor (he played Principal Figgins on Glee!). But my best and longest-held job was at a used bookstore which also sold used porn. As in, you could buy your dirty mags, leave for a few hours, then come back and trade them for others. I learned so much, I tell ya. Many of the mags had ads in the back and my morbid curiosity made sure I read every one of them. Leg Show was the foot fetish mag, and I remember there was always an ad from a man looking to buy used shoes with the impression of the woman’s foot on the liner inside. He’d pay extra if the footprint was dirty, or if there was a dead bug on the sole of the shoe. One man in a different mag was always advertising to meet a ‘petite, attractive, blonde woman who has been diagnosed medically incontinent’. 1) gross and 2) do you imagine this woman is home and so sad that no man will want her she’s reading the ads in the back of Busty magazine hoping for a last chance?

So, yes, I know all the abbreviations, not that it did me any good.

#lesbian queries #lesbian query of the day #lesbian #lesbian history #gay shit #personal ads #dykes #dyke shit #lesbian love #looking for love #in all the wrong places

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dotieeee · 1 year

Text

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 13

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

**********************************************************

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

graphic dub-con ahead - turn back now if this disturbs you :)

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

PTSD and trauma angst, and selective amnesia (depicted creatively) resulting from trauma

reader still hearing voices

manipulation galore

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 13: Under the Starry Night Sky

You whip your head around in alarm at the voice, a young woman’s, that had just entered the room and echoed inside the dungeon.

Impossible. Could she have –?

She stands in the corner of the dungeon twirling her wild, multi-coloured, shoulder-length hair, wearing a brown coat too large for her petite frame over her underwear and what seems to be a torn fishnet body suit. She has the appearance of a teenager, but there’s something about her that feels like she’s older than she looks – dangerous, powerful…

Endless.

“I don’t like being ogled at. That’s a funny word, but ‘gawk’ is even funnier, I think,” she says, her voice almost having the quality of a thousand colours in the spectrum. “I do that a lot, these days – think? Even right now, I’m thinking of thinking, while also thinking about what you’re thinking.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ogle, or gawk, or stare,” you amend, flashing her a small smile in greeting. “Lady Delirium.”

She ignores your greeting and favours continuing her line of questioning.

“I can also hear the Voice thinking, but it already went quiet.”

Your smile is wiped off your face at once at her words. Before you, Lady Delirium keeps muttering to herself, confirming what you had dreaded when she walked in.

“I hear voices all the time, you know. There’s that one from the butcher shop, then two coming from a saleslady at a posh department store – I never liked their clothes, they always look so, uh, posh-y, I don’t know the word really. Then there’s this one lady who can actually see me, except no one believes her. But the voice inside her talks to me too. Yours won’t talk now. Do you know ‘what’s here’?”

“I don’t know, actually,” you say slowly, trying to choose your words carefully. “You mean, you can actually hear it?”

Swaying on her feet, she starts creating bubbles out of thin air, popping them with glee. “Oh yeah. It’s not very friendly to me. Not yet anyway, they all become my friends in the end. What about you? Are you a friend?”

Caught by surprise at the question, you stammer, “I – but of course, i-if my Lady wishes me so,” you manage with a shy smile.

“Great!” Lady Delirium exclaims, taking both your hands in hers. Her wide, mismatched eyes look into yours with delight, and you return her toothy grin, even if you find her stare somewhat unnerving – it’s a stare that feels like it sees you bare, looking through and living in your innermost thoughts.

“I’ve heard friends help each other find what they lost. You see, we lost a brother,” she says as she quite literally drags you out of the dungeon by the sleeve. You both reach the foot of a staircase, presumably ascending to one of the main halls, where she stops suddenly, looking at you with doe eyes and a pout. “I tried convincing my siblings to help me look for him, but they all turned me away like I was a n-n-uuu-isaaance.”

Right before you, she pauses her speech as her hair transitions from her rainbow-coloured hair, shortening to almost a dull, badly cut bob. She pops a lone bubble dolefully, before asking, “Do you think I’m a nnuuu-iiissaaance, Mera?”

“Of course not, my Lady,” you reply with a soft smile, recalling a certain Endless who had turned away and rejected your pleas. “I know the feeling.”

“So, you’ll help me find my brother? The one we lost, I mean, not the mean one, or Destiny, ‘cause he’s not going anywhere, he never leaves his garden, you know…”

“I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Yay!!”

With a thrilled squeal, Lady Delirium lets go of you and climbs the stairs, with you following behind.

Shit. Suddenly, you remember: she can hear the Voice and she may very well tell her brother.

“Uh, Lady Delirium?” you call out to her as she wobbles in her steps off the far end of the hallway.

“Yeah?”

“Remember how you said we can be friends?” you start, shooting her a hopeful look. “Can you keep the Voice you heard a secret? Please?”

She turns her head at you, her mouth forming a comical ‘o’ at your request. Finally, she says, “Sure, I keep many secrets, I’m rather good at them! The people who see me tend to reveal stuff, and even if they don’t really like telling them, they tell me anyway. Even Dream has a secret, but I can’t tell you…” With a flair, she places her forefinger to her lips.

“Thank you, Lady Delirium,” you say with a relieved sigh.

Taking your hand once more, she walks on, turning right to another hallway you’re not familiar with. She continues telling you stories that don’t connect and don’t make sense, but you listen anyway, knowing she could teach you a thing or two.

“I know where we can start looking for my brother. He created the Abyss, and Dream offered it a place to stay somewhere here, in his realm, but I don’t really know where. But I’m close, I think? I just rowed to the wrong island, I think.”

“Hang on,” you wonder, your curiosity spiking. “Isn’t that just a myth? The Abyss?”

“I suppose it could be for someone who hasn’t really seen it,” she just replies casually.

After three of four left turns and five rights, you later find yourselves in the same hallway as before when you came out of the dungeon’s staircase.

“My Lady, I think we’re lost…” you comment, looking around for another way out besides what you’ve already passed.

Her only reply is cryptic.

“Being lost is only temporary, but if it isn’t, then maybe you’re meant to be there and you’re not really lost, I dunno,” she says with a nonchalant shrug. She then pushes the door to her left open and enters, with you trailing behind.

You’re greeted by the sight of the tall, all-black figure of Dream of the Endless, standing in the middle of the room.

“My sister, my Dream,” he acknowledges you both, tilting his head in his sister’s direction. “What brings you both here? Little sister, you know better than to enter my realm without consulting me in my Gallery.”

“But you weren’t answering, and Desire told me to ‘go away,’” she counters, her hair growing rapidly and turning ash-blonde with red and green highlights. At her brother’s hard, chastising stare, she continues, her voice quivering as if trying not to cry, “And Death is busy, as always, and Destiny just kept telling me nonsense, I couldn’t make out any of his words, and Despair told me to ‘give up’ but you know I can’t, I just miss our brother terribly and what if something bad happened, or something…so there.”

The Dream Lord sighs in mild irritation before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We have been through this, little sister. Our brother does not want to be found. Now, I have my realm to attend to. Perhaps it’s best you return to yours.”

“I knew you’d say that,” she says with a dejected sigh. “At least Mera was kind enough to offer help.” She sticks her tongue out at her brother, before waving at you farewell and disappearing into a blinding, white crack in the space.

***

You had expected (or hoped?) to see Lady Delirium again, but you don’t see a single hair of hers after her visit. More than a month has since passed – but then again, you had stopped counting since the second week. You’re still imprisoned – in the castle and in your own mind. If you aren’t catatonically staring out to open the sea or the grey walls, or in bed, sleeping, you take to locking yourself up in the bathroom after your Dream Lord leaves for his duties. The Voice isn’t much help either. It has so far only spoken one thing since it’s been heard by Lady Delirium: the word ‘dungeon.’ Exactly what the fuck that meant, you had entirely no clue. Perhaps it isn’t really the Voice you heard, but you going out of your mind. After all, why would Lady Delirium choose to come to you, if you had not started going over the edge?

Having so much time alone by yourself, you had every opportunity to replay the events that had led to your imprisonment, but since that day you saw a vision of the blurry man in Ethan the Knight’s place, your memory has been coming in fragments, if not an entirely blank sheet. No matter how hard you try or how loud you scream, nothing would come, except distorted shapes and muddled emotions.

It has been hours since your Dream Lord left this morning. As you sit on the cold bathroom floor hugging your knees to your chest, crying desperately for any recall that wouldn’t come, it dawns on you that you had hit rock bottom and are in bad need of help.

You had called to him many times before. Will he listen to your pleas this time?

***

Dream of Endless expects that when he comes home to you and to the tower he’s keeping you in, he’ll find you on the bathroom floor sulking.

He had known for quite some time that you had switched from watching the sea melancholically to hiding in the bathroom whenever he’s gone away. He has watched you gradually spiral into depression at being left in the castle for long periods of time without anything to do besides wandering the decrepit fortress, and there are some days he wonders to himself whether he had gone too far in punishing you, if your recent brush with his sister Delirium is anything to go by. On those days in question, he would find his resolve weakening when he hears you plead so woefully beside him as he holds you close in the night, but of course, he never lets it show. In response, would only shush your crying in the softest ways he can – you had to learn, you had to live through your penance before he could shower you with all the luxury the whole of Dreaming can offer. He could not let you, his most beloved, walk away without so much as a slap on your wrist for defying his orders and daring to love anyone else other than him, to whom all your love, affection, and loyalty should belong. It had hurt him the way you continued spurning him, true, but your suffering brought him no joy. Also, although he had thoroughly taken boundless pleasure in every single night he had laid with you, it certainly does not sit well with him to have to force you to fulfil your duties to him, your King, as the King himself does to his realm. No matter: he is sure you will one day see the error of your ways.

And he had another reason for keeping you in the tower and away from everyone else: he knew from the very beginning that isolating you – when you’re still mourning the loss of that detestable mortal that dared keep you from him by way of that deplorable magic – would drive you to inconsolable spirits, and who better to save you from despair than him? He is aware he had started to chip off your rebelliousness, and you had started seeking him yourself to plead your case – he will take you back to his palace eventually, and if he does it at just the right time, he might be able to push you further into accepting your place beside him as his princess-consort.

Morpheus arrives on the balcony of the tower, tired from a long day and very much ready to spend the entire night hogging your warmth. He lets out an imperceptible sigh of relief – since he has placed you here, he has looked forward to coming home to you every night. He could just see how happy you would both be in each other’s arms under the pale moonlight of the Dreaming once he has reinstated your place in his own palace at the heart of his kingdom.

The instant he steps inside the room, he hears soft sobs coming from the bathroom. He reaches you in no time, sitting beside you on the floor and scooping you in his arms. It warms his heart the way you wrap your arms around him at once; he knows you’re starved for company, so he relishes the willing contact. He buries his face in your hair, greedily taking in your scent.

“My Lord, please,” he hears you beg against his shirt, your voice cracking from crying all day. “Please, take me back to the palace, I beg you. I’m trying not to lose my mind, but it’s just so damn hard when all I get to see is this stupid, decaying castle all the time.”

“It pains me to see you this distraught, dream of mine,” he replies softly as he caresses your exposed cheek with his forefinger. Has he pushed you close to your limit?

“Then, free me, my Lord…please,” you choke out.

Vaguely, he recalls the same words from a woman he thought he once loved: one he had sent to Hell for scorning him as you have done.

This time, could he find it in his heart to forgive?

But, this woman was nothing like you, the dream he had so lovingly and meticulously crafted to perfection.

Morpheus carefully chooses his next words. “My Mera, I do not mean to cause you so much anguish.”

Your voice comes as a faint whisper, but the subtle rebuke in it makes him pause momentarily.

“And yet you insist on keeping me here as punishment for something I can’t even remember…

“I know I did something bad, I tried to escape, but my memory – they come in fragments. And I try, but every time I think I’m close, everything becomes blurry again,” you say weakly as he feels your trembling hand crumple his shirt to try to stave off the fresh bout of tears.

“I just want to go back, please…”

Dream, lost for words, places a lingering kiss on your hair as he weaves his sand to send you to unconsciousness. If you were on the brink of mental collapse, he needs you in deep sleep to confirm his suspicions.

He had vowed to himself never to stoop so low as to dive into your mind, let alone even touch your thoughts, but he had to see for himself what your state of mind has become. Once inside, he immediately notices a barrier: behind it are memories of Oliver Chapman and all the time you spent with him – all of it he finds revolting and insulting, it actually leaves a bitter, lingering taste on his tongue. He watches every single memory with shaking fists, allowing his bitter jealousy to course through his veins. This is the first time he’s looking into your so-called love through your eyes, and he wants nothing at that moment but to squeeze the life out of the man that had stolen you right under his nose. He turns away when he gets to a kiss you shared at a bar – he might not help himself from spilling the mortal’s blood if he so much as witnessed another one, and a kiss you had willingly shared with him, at that. Seeing you readily run to the arms of that man felt like he had been stabbed in the heart – what he had sought from you, you had freely given to another: that fact alone is enough to make his Endless blood boil. He then remembers he has a nightmare he’s about to finish – it could be time he assigned that nightmare to torment only the human specifically?

Shaking himself from his train of thought, he remembers what he came here for – torturing the man can wait. He taps the glass-like barrier you had encased those abhorrent memories in.

Admittedly, he had thought of doing this himself just so you could forget your love for the cursed Chapman, but it seems like you had beaten him to it. You had apparently done this yourself subconsciously, likely in order to shield yourself from further trauma. Your own subconscious has declared that memories of your love for that mortal were a danger to your wellbeing, to which he agrees enthusiastically. He sneers slightly in mild amusement: he had powers that now could rival the Morningstar himself, so he could simply shatter the barrier without breaking a sweat. But, why would he?

He had, at last, gotten rid of his rival to your heart, and he didn’t even have to lift a finger.

Satisfied with this development, he ceases his connection to your mind and carries you to the bed, noting how you had turned so frail in your time here. He lays down on your side so he could cuddle you close and listen to your beating heart, which he knows one day will beat only for him.

Perhaps it’s time he takes you back to his castle. And if he plays his cards right, he would have you so grateful that he had finally come to your aid and you’d ultimately surrender to him fully, as he had always envisioned you would.

***

Morpheus wakes you up the next morning to deliver the news. He never tears his eyes away from the way your eyes slowly light up as the realization of freedom hits you, to the way you give him the warmest, most genuine smile he has ever seen from you since his capture. He tries not to be blinded by it, even as the smile is fully directed at him and no one else, like it always should.

“Allow me three days to ensure that you want for nothing in your return.”

Inwardly, he praises himself at the idea of making you wait a little more – he would build up your hope and excitement for your return, making you even more pliable to his wishes. He sees your smile falter a little at the mention of waiting, but what are three more days, when your King is at long last granting what you had so endearingly begged for?

He finds it difficult to keep his composure when you wrap your arms around him in a delicate hug – he just melts in it as he tightens the hug. He couldn’t help burying his face in the groove of your neck, inadvertently planting an innocent kiss. He allows himself a tiny smirk – everything is going according to his plan.

***

The ray of hope that filtered through the room in the form of your freedom was thin, but it was enough to brighten your room a little when your Dream Lord leaves for his duties. This was the only good news you’d ever heard since your imprisonment; you had not been able to stop yourself from impulsively hugging him at the height of your emotions.

It’s when he’s left, however, that the Voice makes known its opinion:

Don’t trust him.

This makes you wonder: is this promise of his another one of his cruel mind games? You know well enough of your master to tell that he can change his mind on a whim, and you realize he might just take it all back the moment he feels the slightest resistance from you.

But in all honesty, what else could you do, knowing he’s your only way out of this place? You release a heavy puff as you sit on the edge of the bed so you could compose yourself. If you could last the next three days being the demure subject and obeying your King’s bidding, he’d have no reason to go back on his word.

Either way you go, you’re screwed.

Thankfully for you, the next two days coasted by with nothing but your frazzled nerves to deal with. Your Dream King had been merciful enough to sense that you weren’t in the mood to sleep with him in any way, so he let you be, only holding you close to his chest as he waited for you to fall asleep. You had drowsily asked him a random question about how you hadn’t seen Jessamy; he had responded after a long pause about his beloved raven’s death at the hands of his captors. He had spoken with so much vulnerability, you actually caressed his face with your fingers to try and comfort him before drifting off. It was probably the only time he’d ever be vulnerable with you.

You watch the afternoon sun in the Dreaming slowly sink into the horizon, painting the sky and sea with a thousand shades of purples and oranges, signalling the kingdom’s passage to a starry night its King is partial to.

That means the monarch in question is about to arrive to spend his night with you in your prison cell.

***

Dream of the Endless appears on the balcony a little after the sun has fully set and the stars have begun glittering in the night sky. He finds you there, staring at the sea, and he watches you turn gracefully to acknowledge him, your silhouette standing out against the midnight blue sky. He feels his heart warm at the way you hold his gaze for a few moments – but then you turn away, breaking the spell. You’re still uneasy around him, it seems.

But, to him, it’s a simple fix: once he takes you back to his castle, he’ll never let you leave his side. You’ll have all the time in the universe to start warming up to him.

He approaches your side languidly, never speaking a word as he takes in the scenery, allowing only the hushed sounds of waves crashing against the rocky cliff to break the silence. This will probably be the last time in a long while that he’ll have you fully to himself – he knows other creatures of the Dreaming would take up your time, because who wouldn’t love their new princess-consort? – and so he just wants to savour this moment, and this night, with you.

Quietly, he looks up at the star-filled sky, fondly recalling a promise he had made to you in your sleep.

“A little more than a hundred years ago, I vowed that you’d fall asleep in my arms under the Dreaming stars.”

Morpheus turns to face you fully, and you do the same, perhaps out of habit, he muses, but you continue averting your eyes, looking at anything but him. This wouldn’t do, of course, so lifts your chin with a finger and, closing the distance between you, he kisses your soft lips, revelling in your taste. He feels your lips move against his, albeit shyly, but it doesn’t matter – it’s enough to fuel the fire stirring within him like only you could, and nothing else, no one else, could quell it for him. He cups your cheek and angles his head to deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to repeatedly slide over yours as you bashfully try to keep up.

But a passionate lip lock isn’t enough – it’s never enough for him – he wants you, he’s always wanted only you, and he wastes no time wrapping his arms around your figure as his sand transports you both to a portion of the island he had prepared for this night. He places both his hands on your waist to steady you before you break your footing as you both land on the seashore. Reluctant as he was to break your kiss, he pulls away so he could carry you, bridal style, to the bed that he had fashioned out of his sand just mere seconds ago. Unlike the bed in the tower, it had no upper panels, allowing for an unobstructed view of the Dreaming’s dark, starry canvas. He lays you down on the silky covers like you’re a porcelain doll he’s afraid to break, before shedding these troublesome clothes he had with a wordless command. He gets on the bed, his thighs on both sides of your hips straddling you. He leans closer to you, his lips stopping just a hairbreadth away from yours, and he speaks:

“You will find that I intend to be true to my word.”

He then sits up, intent on admiring the way look, splayed out underneath him so exquisitely; with your chest visibly heaving up and down in anticipation of his touches, and your hair fanning out to reveal that beauty of a face he crafted. He needs to see more of you, so much more, and yet he gives himself the joy of untying your belt, the only thing that holds your dress in place, with the gentleness akin to unwrapping a fragile gift. Slowly, he peels the dress off, baring that perfect body he so lovingly crafted – it’s all for him to see, to taste, to take, and he plans on reacquainting himself with every inch of you as if he had not already done so almost every night for the past month.

With his hands, he traces every part of you slowly, remembering how he poured his heart out when he crafted you. He begins with your lips, still red from the kiss you shared, to your neck, which he laments is still empty of his marks – he must do something about that, but not a moment too soon. His fingers find their way to your breasts, lazily brushing over your nipples as they perk under his touch. But then, when you start trembling underneath him, he glances at your face: he finds your eyes squeezed shut, with tears gathering at the corners – you were trying to conceal your sobs from him.

Why do you cry so, when all he means is to give you endless ecstasy? Could it be that you still longed for someone else, when he had made it explicitly clear that you belonged to him? Could you be thinking of that mortal? His jaw clenches with ire at the thought, but he reels that feeling in – he is aware of how you’re subconsciously repressing the memories you have of that man, so he needs to think rationally and focus on you.

Besides, there is no one else who can pleasure you the way he does.

“No more of your tears, my little dream. Do not fret: I will make you feel good.”

It matters not to him the way you shake your head in denial – he bends down to kiss your tears away, before moving to capture your lips. He needs you to feel just much you’re sending him on edge with longing, and so he marks you: your jaw, your neck, your collarbones – he covers them in no time with angry welts as he alternates between sucking and biting your flesh. He could feel the blood rushing to his groin, but he sets aside seeking his relief for later, knowing you need it more than him. When his mouth finds one of your breasts and his teeth graze your nipple, you arch your back to him and moan. He bites down even harder, emboldened by your response, and moves to the other breast and lavishes it with just as much attention. The hand that isn’t squeezing your breast traces downwards from your stomach down to the mound between your legs, and he hears you gasp audibly before panting. Gently, he massages your folds, taking delight in the way he makes you wet and start squirming in his grasp. He’s thirsty, and only your nectar could fill him – he places one final lick on your breasts before caressing his way down to your folds. He parts your thighs, admiring the way your opening glistens with wetness. He makes sure he never breaks eye contact with you as he lowers down and starts delving right in.

The moment he starts lapping your juices, you let out a breathy moan and lift your hips to meet his mouth. Grabbing one of your inner thighs to still you, he parts your folds using his tongue and starts flicking your nub with it. The way you cry out makes his cock twitch in anticipation – he’s painfully hard now, but he knows he needs to hold out for you. He intensifies your pleasure by inserting his middle finger into your tight opening. You jerk at the intrusion, but he holds you still while he sucks your clit, sliding his finger in and out and enjoying the way you shake beneath him. Once he adds a second finger inside, he feels you tug his hair harshly. He lets out a pleasured groan and picks up the pace he set with his fingers. He knows you’re close, so he lets his fingers brush over your spot as the continues to suck in your sweet nectar. In no time, your thighs start trembling as you cry your climax out, and like a starved man, he laps up everything you offer him. He then leans back just in time to see you come undone, gasping for air as you finish. He withdraws his fingers from you, coated in your arousal. He gently opens your mouth and issues a command to lick it clean. It stirs him up further, the way you look at him with innocence as you suck them with puckered lips. When he’s satisfied with your work, he takes your hand and places it on his throbbing erection.

“Can you not see the effect you have on me, my Mera? No one else can make me feel the way you do,” he purrs, guiding your fumbling hand up and down his shaft.

But, like always, he wants his undoing to be after you had found yours multiple times, and he prefers being inside you as he does, so he releases your hand and lowers himself closer to your body so he could breathe you in. He clasps his length and uses it to part your folds before positioning himself over your slick opening.

Dream releases a sigh of relief as he slides inside your velvety walls – inside you is where finds his home – and how he wishes he could stay within you forever. He enters you gradually, but it’s pure torture for him to wait as your strangled cries die down, when all he could think of is taking you wildly, so he breathes heavily as he rolls his hips ever-so-slightly to seek some form of comfort. You’re so tight around him, he couldn’t help the groan of pleasure that escapes him as your walls clamp around his length. He begins with slow, deliberate thrusts, while he watches you fist the sheets beneath you. He takes your arms and wraps them around himself so you could hold on to him. As he sets a sensual pace, he drowns out your sobbing with his mouth and runs his tongue over your lips, tasting your salty tears. He knows your tears will eventually turn to cries of pleasure, so he needs to be patient. He continues this laborious pace of his to draw out your little whimpers while he licks and sucks on your jawline and massages your breasts. Eventually, he feels you instinctively meet his hips, so his thrusts become harder and faster, and you reward him by digging your nails into his back and moaning louder. He would never tire of hearing you make such sweet music as he hits your spot over and over.

He then hooks your leg around his waist to deepen his thrusts – he grunts with every roll of your hips together, and for a time, your bodies move in perfect sync. Within minutes, your screams of pleasure fill the shore, and he knows he’s about to bring you over the edge – so he grasps your hips and finally starts taking you in the rhythm and force he had craved since the beginning. He lets loose as his thrusts become more unforgiving, and with a harsh snap of his hips, you come undone beneath him, your body quivering all over as your walls clench desperately around his cock. Right before his eyes is a vision of you he burns into his memory: your hair damp with sweat, your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes close, mouth parted in desire as you scream obscenities into the night – you had never looked more ravishing in his eyes.

But he isn’t done with you yet, not by a stretch. He allows you to catch your breath, but only for a while – he then flips your positions over swiftly so you’re lying on top of him, careful not to pull out of you. He growls a command over your ears:

“Ride your King, dream of mine, and make yourself come.”

And like the obedient little dream you are, you sit up and start moving shyly on top of him, withdrawing from his cock and sinking back down. He watches intensely as you rock your hips, your breasts bouncing with every movement. He reaches up to cup one with his hand as his other digs into your waist so he could control your pace as he thrusts upward. You continue grinding into him until you come apart for the second time, throwing your head back so he could get a clear view of your neck and collarbones littered with his love bites. The sight is almost enough to bring him to the edge, he has to hold himself back, clenching his jaw and growling as your core tightens around his length – you, above him, screaming hoarsely in your passion, bathed from head to toe in the light of a billion stars: his ethereal goddess, his only lover, collapsing on top of him in full bliss.

Morpheus is done waiting, he decides. He slides from underneath you and helps you get on all fours, with your elbows propped for support. From behind you, he gets into position, lifting your hips further in the air, and sinks his throbbing cock inside you. His breath hitches at the way you readily take him in while you make a strangled noise at his intrusion. He senses that you’re close to being overstimulated by the way you try to wriggle away, but he grips your hips with bruising force to keep you in place.

He does not start right away – he just rolls his hips softly, even though it brought him endless torment, restraining himself like so. After a short while, he hears you whine and start pushing into him, but with a sadistic smirk, he holds your hips still.

“Please, my Lord…” he hears you beg beneath him.

Leaning over your ear, Dream whispers, “‘Please’ what, my dream? Use your words.”

“Get it over with, please, I can’t take it anymore,” comes your pained reply.

He just lets out a dark chuckle which makes you shiver. Oh, how he enjoys teasing you like so. “Those aren’t the right words.”

He hears you let out an indignant whimper, before letting out in an embarrassed whisper, “Please, just fuck me, my Lord, please…”

He need not be told twice.

“As my little dream wishes.”

With the force and speed only an Endless could muster, Morpheus ruts into you with wanton abandon, chasing after his own release. The way your core clamps around his cock as he pounds into you relentlessly makes him groan loudly into the night, while your hoarse moans and cries fill his ears, making for one sinful harmony. Not one to neglect you, he starts rubbing your clit, earning hoarse screams from you. He sets a pace you could no longer keep up with, so he tightens his grip on your hips as he pulls you towards him. He has only one thought as he focuses on the way his cock fully sinks into your body again and again: he will never take another lover in his lifetime, he will never want anyone else – he only burns for you, and he will continue to burn only for you even as the last star in the universe gives its last dying flicker.

He is close, and he can feel it; he starts losing his rhythm, his hips slamming into yours with strength that makes you buckle – as you climax beneath him, your walls clamp down on his cock with so much pressure, he loses control: with a roar that shakes the entire island and the ocean surrounding it, Dream’s orgasm hits him in shockwaves – time slows around him as he says your name over and over like a prayer to the goddess underneath him. He releases his seed and fills you up with it, while you clench and milk him for all he’s worth – he pumps inside you until he’s got nothing more to give, eventually stilling his movements, before you both collapse on the bed, with him rolling to the side, careful not to crush you.

Wasting no time, he pulls you close so you could listen to his heartbeat – will you pull away, like you always do? It always hurt him a little bit when do after you had shared such an intimate act, so when you stay limp in his arms, he holds you even closer, as he kisses you so softly, so deeply, letting his lips convey what he couldn’t with words. He then pulls away, sensing you were in no state to respond and strokes your cheeks while he watches your eyes flutter in exhaustion. You both listen to the gentle crashing of the waves on the shore under the starry night, the only witnesses to how he made love to you all night with an all-consuming passion.

Finally, he confesses into the night:

“I hold your heart so dearly, my Mera – would it be so much to ask of you to hold mine, too?”

But the only response he receives is your deep steady breathing, signalling you’d already fallen asleep. Nevertheless, his heart sings at his fulfilled promise. He has many more of them to carry out just for you, and you have nothing but an eternity ahead to open up to him.

***

The first thing that registers when you come to is the hollow pain in your lower abdomen. That had been a normal occurrence for you this past month since you had begun sharing your master's bed, especially from last night’s activities. You sit up, suddenly feeling a different set of sheets underneath you from the one you had slept in last night. You rub the sleep away from your eyes before looking around wildly, half-expecting you’d still be looking at the grey, stone-brick walls and grimy windows.

What greets you makes you jump out of bed and ignore the throbbing ache between your legs.

The room you woke up to is large and blindingly white, owing to the marble floors and walls and sunlight streaming from the windows spanning from the floor to the ceiling and the doors that open to an expansive balcony. You had slept and woken up to this a few times before and remember it clear as day.

You’re in your Dream Lord’s chambers.

You must have lost your mind at last, and you’re just hallucinating all of this, you think. This can’t be real, right? Could he really have brought you back, knowing how much you resisted him last night?

You wrap the silk sheets around your naked body and slowly saunter to the open balcony in disbelief.

But the scenery that unfolds before you do not vanish, as visions often do. With tears cascading down your cheeks, you stare with wonder at the beauty of the heart of the Dreaming like it’s your first time, finally convincing yourself that this is real thisisreal –

“My dream,” comes a deep, velvety voice from behind you.

Your creator, closing in on you, cups your tear-stained cheeks and gently plants a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re home.”

This confirmation is all it takes for you to burst into tears of unadulterated joy.

Do not trust him, is all the Voice says in your head.

***

“…I leave you in the expert hands of your headwaiter, Taramis. Thank you all for coming, and I’ll see you all at the party.”

With a final curtsy, you leave the parlour, mouthing thanks to Taramis, who gives you a little bow in response before his army of servers swarms the guests to take in their choice of refreshments.

It has been exactly six months since your Dream Lord has taken you back to his castle. He had since tasked Lucienne to train you officially for your new royal position, which you had of course passed with flying colours. Your master, ever with his fondness of theatrics and grand gestures, insisted that he host a party to celebrate your official ascent as his princess-consort. He had made it clear that day that there’d be no room for arguments, especially from you. So, today, the entire Dreaming is in a festive mood, with the entire palace staff, and in extension, you, running around like a headless chicken to greet and accommodate guests he had invited from different realms across the entire universe.

The day had not even started, and you already couldn’t wait for it to end.

He wouldn’t like it, of course, when he finds out you’d been helping, but it isn’t like there’s much of a choice: you had woken early, and when you saw that some of the guests had started arriving early, you had pleaded with Morwyn to help you dress and not tell a word about it to the Dream Lord, and ran down so you could help in welcoming them – goodness knows Lucienne is already swamped with work as she always is. And it wouldn’t hurt at all to leave a good first impression, right?

Great. You’re now simping for royalty you don’t even know.

After ensuring that the first batch of guests has been well taken care of, you had to let your master know that some of his guests have arrived, as it’s only polite for the Dream King to greet them himself, as the grand host.

You had received word from a frantic Lucienne that the King had an audience he attended to in his office in the library. You had found it odd that he’d be receiving company in an office he barely used, but then again, his oddities are by now, completely normal to you.

You reach the office in question, slightly surprised to find the door slightly ajar. Inside, you could hear your master in a seemingly tense conversation with someone sounding so vaguely familiar.

“…I let you retrieve it because I knew you were mourning, brother. But to go as far as to keep it to yourself and hide it from me? You can’t just keep doing as you please with it,” says the familiar voice, firm and chastising.

��And yet, I believe we had an understanding that you are not to touch it, most especially not in my presence, dear sister,” comes your Dream Lord’s much harsher, biting tone.

A heavy silence passes between the two, and not wanting to eavesdrop any further, albeit unintentionally, you knock on the door to make your presence known.

“Enter,” comes the terse command of your Dream Lord.

“I’m sorry to interrupt –” you start to say as you push the door wider, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Lady Death, with her kind, wide smile, brushes past her brother to approach you and hugs you warmly in greeting. You couldn’t hug back in your surprise, but she seems to think none of it. She pulls away, still with that comforting gaze of hers as she gives you an affectionate stroke on your cheek.

“I am so glad to have finally met you, Mera. My little brother has told me all about you.”

****************************** Link to the next chapter

Author notes on the Chapter:

To the anon who sent an ask about Dream's POV, thank you for reminding me that I have been neglecting our dear Morphy's POV for quite some time now, so this smut in his POV is for you!! I hope I conveyed his thought processes properly!!

On a side note, two Endless??! What could possibly be going on?

Plot also keeps growing, I thought I had only up to 17 chapters for this fic, but now onto 19!! Who woulda thought lmao

******************************

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 1/14/22

Edit date: 1/15/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsets

@izzicle

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@saraicus

@blu3what

@justporple

@emy635

@chantzmar

@dawnissunnysideup

@esmeralda-tupi

@ggxsan

Genuinely sorry if I fail to add blog names that have requested to be part of this list, I forget (not as much as Mera, but hey)

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timingmatters · 2 years

Text

As the new nightwing comics seem to lead towards Barbara and Dick becoming “endgame” i am once again begging DC writers to free Kori from all this???? Since Nightwing went back to the batman domain back in like the 80s (??) and he cheated on her for no reason other than drama with Barbara, Star has constantly been hung up on him. It feels so…. Badly written. To have Nightwing constantly have all these relationships and choose Barbara but never allowing Star to actually choose someone else in her heart because they keep her as a back up for him for the sake of drama. Starfire is her own character outside that romantic relationship. She deserves better writing.

I’ve always been a huge dickkori fan, but it is also the worst thing that could have ever happened to her character. In mainstream dc media her character is often reduced to that relationship and she isn’t allowed to move on even though he cheated on her and has long since moved on. And in the only universe where they made it as a couple and had a child, they fucking killed her off.

Like can i make a petition of this shit??? Is time to give Kori a new iconic couple that becomes her endgame. Someone that appreciates her. Star can so easily be one of the best characters in DC because her story and person have so much to be explore yet, but because she isn’t in the flash, superman, wonder-woman, or batman domain she gets payed dust. I almost wish she could magically transfer to marvel. I mean she was a slave!!!!!!!! That alone is a whole series of origins they can expand on. They have written it but never expanded on it as they do other characters. She is magic and kind and full of love. Naive yet strong and brave. She is genuinely such a good fucking character and it makes me so mad how all these years they have developed nightwing and have left star collecting dust. Even when she had a poly relationship the reason why she couldn’t go beyond in commitment was because she still had dick in her heart. If they are committing to making barbara and dick truly the endgame after all this time, the least Kori deserves is to be allowed to have her own new endgame and someone who loves her back in the way she deserves. And to have more adventures of her own explored.

I feel like even Barbara fans have to admit outside of the love triangle the way Star has been written these past years has lacked so much. Ik DC SUCKS at handling women but my GOD if harley could get out of her sunken place after so long so can kori

Edit: given some comments i wanna make it one thing clear: i do prefer the dickkori dynamic and the whole cheating thing was a plot device to get him back into the batman domain and start cutting ties with teen titans. That’s an already proven fact. What i meant with him choosing barbara is not that I’m disregarding the truth behind what dickkori was, but rather that its been several years since DC has nightwing focusing on the batman domain and the characters there, and most of his storylines with them. Thus usually approaching barbara or other batman characters. Star, as a character outside of that, hasn’t really interacted with him in years, yet remains emotionally connected to him. Which i think is unfair. Is not that star’s only plot revolves around him, but rather that emotionally they haven’t been fair to her in terms of writing. Dickkori from the original teen titans run will always remain superior (and those alternate universes when they made it through even when one of them died).

#koriand'r #starfire #robstar #dickkori #dickkory #dc comcis #dick grayson #also who do i speak to so that kori can be queer in the main continuity #bc like both in universe and the public constantly over sexualize her characted #and like no man deserves her ever #i dont want literally any guy to even look her way #she needs to find a girlfriend asap #cant look me in the eye and say that the way she is written isnt perfect for it #like her ass wouldn’t care for gender when it comes to love #GIVE HER A GF #SO SHE CAN CLING TO SOMEONE ELSE RATHER THAT DICK HE IS BORING #dickbabs

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marierg · 3 months

Text

Of Light and Darkness: The Rising Darkness pt.4

Pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi X Reader

WARNINGS!: (IF YOU ARE NOT IN A GOOD PLACE MENTALLY DO NOT READ THIS PART!!!!!!!!) ANGST!!! Depictions of induced (reference Sith induced horror and mind shards) PTSD flashbacks, death, injury, near death, threatened death, battle scenes, blood, pain, regret, longing, anger, self loathing, foul language, SNAKES!.... Yeah if I missed anything let me know. Needless to say not light reading.... (Why'd it have to be snakes!)

note: if Italic indicates mental telepathy etc.

A/N: I take no credit for the movie dialogue that is all the work of the wonderful Mr. Lucas!!!! THIS IS A LOVING WORK OF FANFICTION!!! With that said I did take more than a few liberties but I tried to pull from the film and meld it into a cohesive piece. Much love to all the prequels and the folks there in!

Ok folks I will fully admit this one has been taking quite a while to cook because well... It took a hell of a lot out of me to do this one. I wanted it done just so and I didn't want to let it out to the tumblr verse otherwise. AGAIN please heed the warnings!!!!

Yes our reader is a badass (Her master is Mace frickin' Windu!) but even she ain't enough to take on a Sith. I also will reiterate that I believe that there are limitations to all force abilities.

If you have never seen Sir Christopher Lee fence in other films (actual swordsman really!) go watch some of his other works, they are amazing! I referenced the 1970's four musketeers specifically for the fight here, lot of fencing terms are used.

Picture/ GIF Credit: @92-guy, @supererick911, Lucasfilm & Pinterest

Words: 8456... (Holy moly!)

Masterlist Next

Dooku had always favored games of strategy as a child. Dejarik, Nexu and Hounds, Weiduk were all child's play compared to his game board now. It had been a long strategy, years of moving all of his pieces into play and now... now was the time to finally begin his endgame. Every forfeit and feign leading to this point.

“Senator Amidala won't you have a seat.”

Dooku observed as the Geonosian guards brought the young Senator and her companion roughly to the table. He restrained his annoyance at their... crude method of capture. Fortunately Fett had stepped in and salvaged the situation. Viceroy Gunray may want the woman dead, but she still held value. Killing was often the simplest answer to a problem, but it may not yet be the correct one. Patience often yielding the better option in any given situation. Given the difficulty of her capture he could see why she was a useful thorn in his Master's side.

Padme stared dispassionately at the Count, “I am here to discuss the Jedi Knights in your custody. If they are released immediately I am willing to overlook the assault of myself and Jedi Skywalker.”

“I'm not.” Anakin muttered under his breath.

“I'm afraid that I cannot allow that. You see Masters Kenobi and L/n have been convicted of espionage and sentenced to execution.” Dooku watched the young woman's face turn pale, her young protector closing rank behind her. The boy held his temper, but Dooku could feel it simmer just below the surface.

How very interesting...

“They're representatives of the Republic on an investigatory mission. You of all people should recognize that.” Padme gripped into the arms of the chair to ground her emotions. The Count pursed his lips and tilted his head sympathetically, but there was no honesty to the gesture.

“We do not recognize the Republic here, but if Naboo were to join our alliance,” Dooku's lips turned up in a kind façade, “I would gladly hear your petition for clemency.”

“And sacrifice my peoples rights to your charlatan council, I think not.” Padme's voice dripped venom, well remembering the causalities of the Trade Federation Blockade. “This anarchy must end Count, release the Jedi and I will see to it that you have appropriate representation when you are brought to trial.”

“A very kind offer Senator Amidala, but not one I think that you will be able to deliver on,” Dooku laughed in his chest. The girl still thought she could win, how quaint. Ah to have that youth and the ideals that once came with it. Dooku knew the true power and way of the galaxy that only came with age, it was a shame that this young woman would not live long enough to see for herself. “I'm afraid that given your own activities here, you and your Jedi compatriot have been found guilty of the same charges. I'm so very sorry my dear.”

Jango watched as the prisoners were led away, a dark feeling settling over him. The Jedi welp wouldn't have come on his own and that meant that there would be more on the way. Starting a war was a messy business, fighting one was not in the contract. Keeping a casual air he moved to speak with Tyranus. “I've been contacted about a bounty near Concord Dawn. I should leave within the hour, if I'm finished here that is.”

Dooku glanced at the hunter, feeling the unease in him though he hid it quite well. Fett would never be foolish enough to defy him, but he was just smart enough to see the likely trouble coming. Smiling at the man he rose, walking towards the hallway. It would be easy enough to let the hunter go about his business, but if Fett was uneasy then it was all the more reason to keep him close. “Of course my friend, I would never want to interfere in your dealings. I had hoped that you would join us for the execution, after all Boba seemed very excited when the entertainment was being brought in earlier. But if you must go...”

“It would be rude not to accept,” Jango kept his tone light, uncaring. He could see the man was testing him. He was a cagey one Tyranus, but not the first that Jango had delt with. Raising an amused brow at the older man he gave a half smirk, “Wouldn't want to disappoint the boy.”

Dooku smiled back, “Of course not.”

Of all the ways that you thought that you would die a gladiator arena hadn't even made the top ten. Your personal hope had been a clean death, nice and quick. Or maybe in your sleep. But as the chariot carrying you and Obi Wan approached the columns, seeing the deep tooth and claw gashes, cold dread washed over you. Dying wasn't frightening to you, but the thought of seeing Obi Wan suffer because of your failure... it was your very worst nightmare. Grasping at straws you fell back to dark humor, “Well at least the sun's shining.”

“A better show for our hosts I imagine,” Obi Wan gazed at you, sarcastic smile quirking up.

You snorted, “Glad to see you're optimistic at least.”

Obi Wan knew that tone, the resigned look. He had long prayed to not see it again, yet he too knew the grim reality of their situation. If by some miracle Anakin had sent the message on, a rescue may not reach the two of you in time. If escape were to happen it would be on their own skill to do so. “Just remember the plan and stay close, together or not at all wee one.”

“First round at Maffa's is on me.” Shaking your head and taking a deep breath you tried to smile.

“This day is not our end Y/n, I promise.”

As the guards finished securing your hands to the post you couldn't help the bitter tone of your reply, “Don't make promises you can't keep.”

------

The ship had dropped the rescue team as close as possible without being detected. It had taken considerable patience and negotiation to keep the civilian crew from joining the Jedi, one in particular had tested Mace's will. He had finally pulled Yalvaberg to the side, explaining that if the situation turned truly south that he was relying on her and the others to get them out quickly.

The girl had argued, yelled, begged to go. In the end Mace had asked her what you would do. It was a testament really, the loyalty and care of the gathered rag tag group. Glitch had handed him a comm and then squeezed his hand around it tightly, bidding her gods to guide them. Her last words to him and the others echoed in his ears even in the catacomb halls.

“Victory or Valhalla.”

Anakin's emotions swirled about him like a raging torrent. Despair, anger, hopelessness, and disappointment kept barely contained. He had failed his mother, he had failed his Masters, and now he was about to fail the woman he loved. It wouldn't even matter that she could not love him back, but that they would die together because he couldn't follow a simple order.

He felt so kriffing useless.

Anakin tried to find the calm within as you had taught him, to make peace with himself on the walk to the staging area. As Master Obi Wan often reminded him, in failure there is opportunity and from opportunity victory can yet be achieved.

“I'm sorry Anakin, I should have listened to you.” Padme swallowed as the guilt rose. Her hubris had led to this, thinking that these demagogues could be reasoned with.

“You have nothing to be sorry for Padme.”

“Yes I do,” She pursed her lips desperately trying to find the words.

Anakin glanced at her drawn face, finding the focus that he so needed. He would get Padme to safety even if it killed him. Putting on a confident face he tried to give her a reassuring look. “Don't be afraid.”

“Oh Anakin... I'm not afraid to die.” Padme shook her head with a somber grimace. “I've been dying a little every day since you came back into my life.”

Anakin winced, “What are you saying?”

She couldn't lie any longer, not to him and not to herself. If one could not be truthful in the face of death then how could they hope to see the other side of creation. Padme looked into those blue eyes, begging forgiveness for the deceit. “I love you.”

“You love me?” It was as if the whole of the Force had calmed his turmoil at her words. Anakin wanted to whoop and crush her to himself, but the shackles not withstanding he was still hesitant. He could feel the roll of her emotions within and as badly as he wished to believe Padme, Anakin remembered the bitter sting of her words from a few nights before. “I thought we decided not to fall in love. That we would be forced to live a lie... That it would destroy us.”

“Our lives are about to be destroyed anyway.” Turning as best the restrains would allow, Padme let go of her control. Tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her voice trembled, “I know how I feel for you. As much as my mind begs me to stop, my heart won't obey. The moment that I saw you again I felt whole, not knowing that I was incomplete.”

“Padme I...” Anakin tried to reach for her, to reassure and comfort. He cursed and struggled against the chains.

“Ani please,” pressing her shoulder to his, Padme huffed a breath out, “I cannot control this love for you and I don't wish to anymore. I truly, deeply love you Anakin Skywalker.”

Anakin moved, desperately stretching to finally kiss her. Unable to do more than give the lightest pressure, he tried to put every bit of what he felt into the gentle melding. For once he dropped his own walls, wanting to feel more than just this sweet affection. The dazzling way her signature flickered as they kissed, the heat that rose in her cheeks. If Anakin could freeze time he would have this moment last forever.

It was a bittersweet kiss of love and regret, of time squandered. Maker he wished that she had simply told him the truth before now. He wanted to be upset with her, but the salt of her tears easily swept that away. Anakin would move the orbits of the stars to never see Padme cry again. Feeling the stutter in her breathing he tried to find the words to say. “My heart has always been yours my angel. When we get out of this...”

“Anakin.”

“WHEN we get out of this I will show you just how much I love you.” He kissed her again before she could speak. He wished he could stop the wheels of the chariot, to beg the galaxy a few moments more. Their lips parting as the vehicle exited the portal, Anakin's resolve was firm. The two of them would survive this. Padme loved him and he would not lose her now.

Not today nor any other.

Obi Wan shouldn't have been surprised to see his wayward Padawan, he shouldn't be surprised to see the Senator with him. None of that kept his temper from flaring the minute the two were transferred from the chariot and chained to the posts with the two of you. “I was beginning to wonder if you gotten our message.”

“We re transmitted it just like you asked,” Anakin replied with a forced an easy tone, “Then we came to rescue you two.”

Obi Wan glanced at the shackles on all four posts then back to Anakin, “Good job.”

“Padme, what happened?” Glancing to the younger woman you saw her face fall and felt a coldness within Anakin. “She's gone isn't she.”

“Now's not the time wee one, focus.” He narrowed his eyes at the far portal. “I do believe that the executioners have arrived.”

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Anakin's stomach dropped.

The karks had chosen well. You watched as the Acklay, Nexu and Reek started stalking towards the posts. There was also movement below the sand, something causing a wavy movement in the grains. Whatever it was headed towards your post, hidden below the surface. “Yeah no kidding.”

“Just relax, concentrate.” Obi Wan bit out, surveying the area, “Try to get yourself free.”

Closing your eyes to focus on the shackle lock the danger crept ever near. The cuffs loosened finally, just enough that you could squeeze one hand out. Glancing at Padme you saw her already climbing the post. Copying the strategy you began your ascent when the pillar shook, almost knocking you to the ground.

Glancing down you saw as the triangular head of the creature emerged from the sands. Green and orange scales shimmering as the fans and spines on its back sprang out, serpentine figure rising to a staggering height. Using the Force you pulled yourself up the pole glancing down at the beast. “What in the ever loving kark?!”

“Stay away from it!” Padme screamed as she hit the pouncing Nexu with the chain again. “A Rawl, very dangerous.”

“No kidding,” you snarked back. Free of the last cuff you searched through your robes. The dagger wasn't very large but it was better than nothing. If you made it out of this you would owe the Hunter a great favor. Taking a swing you cut at the serpents nose as it came close to strike. Laughable attempt really, the creature could have used it as a toothpick after consuming you.

Gunray and the others were distracted by the spectacle as was Boba, who practically leaned over the parapet of the box for a better view. Jango had told the boy to be on the alert, his sense of unease was building. Dooku was chatting with his council as though this were a speeder race and not four beings fighting for their lives. The prisoners were doing well actually, Jango had to give credit to them. Sparing a glance in your direction he saw the concentrated look and then a faint smile.

Obi Wan was still trying to deal with the Acklay, his attempt at spearing the creature only resulted in angering it further. Anakin was having better luck with the Reek and the Nexu was now neutralized. Two down but where were you? Then he heard it, the joyous cheering in the crowd and Anakin's pain ripping through the Force. Glancing up he saw just as your boot disappeared down the serpent's maw. “No!”

Anakin charged with the reek crushing the Acklay and retrieving Obi Wan. Then the Rawl slithered towards all of them. Padme held onto him tightly as the creature reared up readying to strike again. Anakin squeezed her arm, “Don't look angel.”

But the creature stopped. Pausing mid slither, beginning to writhe.

Hacking and sputtering unable to draw breath the beast let out a series of angry hisses. Shaking its head and straightening up before a large wound began bursting from just below it's neck. It fell dead to the ground as the wound got larger, blood and viscera spilling on the sand. Then a hand poked out.

“Uh, Obi Boy if you aren't too busy out there... A LITTLE HELP!”

“Wee One!” Jumping down, Obi Wan reached through the mess to pull you up. Hugging you to his chest in relief he wanted to yell at you for scaring five years off his life. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today, because you are absolutely resplendent.”

Glancing at the approaching destroyer droids you gave him a quick hug back. “Later sweet man, escape first.”

Dooku felt the stirring in the Force before he heard the lightsaber ignite. Turning he was not at all surprised to see the glaring Head of the Jedi Counci. “Master Windu, how pleasant of you to join us.”

Jango glowered at the Jetii. He knew he should have left when he had the chance. Waiving at his son, Jango didn't want him getting mix in this. “Udesii Boba, Pare!”

Mace narrowed his eyes at the former Jedi. An enemy who had tried to kill his Padawan and grand Padawan. The righteous need to see the man brought to justice nearly clouding his better judgment. Still the disdain rolled through him and took hold in his voice, “This party's over.”

Multiple Jedi began to emerge around the arena, moving quickly to the four prisoners aid. Dooku grinned, how very noble... and predictable. Subtle amusement showed in his tone, “Brave, but futile my old Jedi friend. You're impossibly outnumbered.”

Mace heard the clanking of the droids coming. Glaring at his former college, pure venom in his words, “We'll see about that.”

Jango set loose his flamethrower just as the droids had the Knight distracted. He fell over the parapet but landed on his feet. Another appeared trying to cut down Tyranus, a few shots took care of that one well enough. His boss nodded thanks as Jango reholstered his blaster. Turning to his son he pulled the boy into the vom, “Boba get down to the ship and get ready for take off. Stay hidden and stay away from the fight.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts son, now go.” The boy ran down the corridor, pausing to look back at him. “Go on Boba, I'll be there shortly.”

The arena blurred as the Jedi charged to meet the droid army. You lose sight of Obi Wan and Anakin. The Geonosians bring in sonic cannons blasting indiscriminately, bodies and debris flying everywhere. All around there was pain and death rippling in the Force. No time to think, only to act. Your temper rose unbridled at the suffering surrounding you. Anger boiling over for the Knights and Padawans dying and injured.

Anger at Dooku for his betrayal.

Most of all anger at yourself.

For being too weak, for getting caught...

Reaching out to lift the crumbled column pieces and you began to fling them at the droids. No where to run, no where to hide for either side. Over and over, block after block you crush your opponents. “Come on you pieces of mechanical crap!”

You loosing the rocks across the floor of the arena, bringing others up to help deflect bolts meant for you and your comrades. Shots whiz past your head and you know at some point you will be hit. But there's just no time to be afraid and you are well acquainted with pain already. A steady presence in the Force draws near, like a warm blanket in the cold of a storm, calm and anchoring.

“Young Y/n.” The familiar modulated voice of Master Plo Koon floats through the air. The old Kel Doran stood beside you, surveying at the battle and he starts to direct your shots. “Aim for those cannons.”

Giving a nod you close your eyes in concentration, willing the Force to raise the largest of the pieces to the air. You channel everything you have into rocketing the marble chunk into the weapon. It explodes in fantastic fashion and you raise another to careen into one of the portal entries, blocking it so more droids cannot enter there.

“Well done,” Plo continues to deflect bolts as you work at the stone. The older Jedi knows though that their small group is being herded to a kill zone. He has fought many wars, knows that their position is untenable. “We need to evacuate.”

“Wounded to the middle, form up!” You cried out above the din. Looking around you feel your heart clench. So many dead Jedi, so many wounded, and for what? You had all fallen into Dooku's trap.

You looked to the senior Jedi around you, “What do we do?”

The booming voice of the Count echoed through the arena, “You have fought valiantly Masters, worthy of recognition in the Historical Archives...”

This was all your fault... this was all your fault... if you hadn't been caught!

The guilt races through you like a raging river to swallow you whole. But a hand gently grips your shoulder, one that has never really left you. Glancing up to Master Windu you can see that even in the face of disaster he will never yield. No, even if it were only him left, Master Windu would never cede the field of battle to the enemy. He squeezed and a calm settled over you once more and that very first lesson ran through your mind, “Not Today.”

“...But now it is finished. Surrender and your lives will be spared.” Dooku looked down imperiously upon the rabble below. They were foolish and idealistic as he had once been, never seeing the true power at work. Still they would serve their purpose in the grander plan, for the future his Master so desired. An offered sacrifice for the grander glory of the galaxy.

Order from chaos.

“We will not be hostages for you to barter Dooku!” Mace kept his temper and emotions barely in check. Glancing to the sky he prayed that the signal had worked. Just a few minutes more.

“Then I'm sorry old friend.” Dooku raised his hand ready to give the order to fire.

“I love you Obi Wan.” Closing your eyes you reached your signature to his, holding tight. You glanced at your apprentice, “Anakin it has been my honor to be your Master.”

Obi Wan glanced to you, readying for the fight. “I love you Y/n.”

Just as you were sure that the droids would start to fire there was a rumble through the air.

Padme glanced up, “LOOK!”

“Listen you armored pain in the ass, I don't give a Kark! Just get us down there and stay outta my way!” Glitch's temper reigned. She would not lose you or the other two space wizards that had become as close as family. She'd fight and die if it was called for. “And give me that thing, you'll hurt yourself.”

Deek saw the girl take hold of the Z-6 as if it weren't twice her size and could knock her square to the ground. “Damn it Glitch our objective is the wounded! Stick to the Maker damned plan!”

“Fine!” Glitch held fast to the cannon, “Oiy bucket brigade, make sure we got all the wounded on board before we lift.”

“Maker Kriffing Damn it to Hell Glitch!” If Deek wasn't flying the bird he'd kick her ass.

The troopers were also less than pleased by the woman's antics, “Ma'am it would be better...”

“Kark better!” The ship made a sharp descent and the mad woman gave a sheik. “The gods smile and fly with us today. Now get those wounded aboard and let a Valkar fight.”

The gunships began to circle around the Jedi as the droids began their assault again. You could hear a faint familiar tune and saw the nose art on the little bird as it came around. Looking over at Master Windu your face was incredulous, “You didn't?!”

He shrugged, “They insisted.”

Shaking your head you could hear the high pitched cackle above the din, “Glitch?!”

Mace shook his head as the two of you worked in tandem to block more shots from the droids. “She was quite insistent.”

On another transport Master Yoda directed the inbound craft. He had seen many battles but this, this was murder most cruel. His own apprentice, a boy he had taught and mentored, had caused such destruction. And now it fell to this weary Master to set things to right. First by recovering his knights. “Around the survivors a perimeter create.”

The old Jedi would give these clones credit, they were fine soldiers. The gunners coordinating their fire to take out whole swathes of battle droids. Upon landing the troopers instantly took up positions so that the Jedi could quickly evacuate. Yoda's heart broke at the sight of so few left.

The troopers started to grab the wounded from the arena floor, able bodied Jedi also moving to cover them. A cry familiar and haunting rose through the air sending a chill down your spine. Glitch had let loose such cry on one other occasion, on Norte. She gave it now as you watched her blast into the droids with her rifle. A bone chilling and ancient sound, the cry to war for her people. You shook yourself and organized the wounded onto the craft. “Deek get the wounded out of here!”

“Not without you and Glitch!” The old pilot's face was anguished at the thought of not taking you back. He had made that mistake once and dank ferrik he would not do it again! His heart couldn't bear the thought.

You felt the fear within him. You'd had this conversation many many times. At the end of the day, the needs of the many outweighed anything else. Looking at him softly, knowing that you needed to be strong for your friend, you gave the slightest push with the Force. “We'll get another one. I'll meet you on the flight deck old man.”

“Good Hunting.” There were tears in the old pilot's eyes as he lifted off. He knew you were right, that the troopers and the wounded Jedi on this craft needed him to fly. Deek prayed to whoever was listening, “Please not again, please bring them back.”

There was little time left and none for hesitation. Running across the sand you grabbed Glitch by the scruff of the neck, “MOVE IT YALVABEG! ASSHOLES AND ELBOWS, WE ARE LEAVING!”

Glitch turned to you with a smirk even as she surveyed the area one last time. “Boss you never let me have any fun!”

“Kid I swear I'm gonna refer you to psych again!” Both of you dove into the last transport with Masters' Yoda and Windu. The LA-AT was no little bird, rising so quickly you could feel the fillings in your teeth being pulled by the G forces.

Glitch did a double take looking a the small green being next to her. “Oh, hello again little boss!”

You chuckled to the unamused, bewildered looks from Masters Mundi and Plo. “Glitch focus, need you on the door gun.”

"Yeah yeah yeah. So bossy!" The young woman stuck her tongue out at you even as she took up the position, “You know you're getting boring in your old age.”

“Smartass!” You gave her a playful kick as the ship made another sharp turn and began taking fire. “Shit, hold on!”

“If Dooku escapes, rally more systems to his cause he will.” Master Yoda accidentally clacked his staff on Glitch's foot startling her. “Apologies young one.”

“Not at all Sir.” Glitch couldn't help to like this little fellow, he was calm and confident in command. Wise and not arrogant, reminded her of someone very dear. “You have a mighty heart little Master, Gods be at your side.”

“My ally is the Force, but all assistance will we accept.”

“Where will Dooku go?” Glancing to your own master, “How do we hunt him to ground?”

“I have a feeling that our adversary will make his presence known in time.” Mace gazed upon the battle in progress around them, control of the ground needed to be reestablished if there was to be any hope of victory. “Pilot land at that forward assembly area. Y/n, stay with Master Yoda and track down Dooku.”

Ships were being blasted out of the sky around you and though you could feel Obi Wan and Anakin you weren't sure where they had gone. Looking at your Master, you gave a quick nod. “Yes Sir.”

“Holy Shit! The boss lady listens to somebody?” Glitch winked at Master Yoda, who gave a restrained laugh of his own.

“Pot and Kettle,” Rolling your eyes the LA-AT as it took off for the forward observation post. Upon arrival there was a static transmission from one of the other ships, Dooku had been spotted and they were in pursuit. Commandeering a speeder, you prayed the Force you were fast enough. “Glitch, stay with Master Yoda.”

“No, I'm going with you! We just saved your ass no way are you...”

“Damn it Glitch,” Glaring at the girl you clutched her shoulders in frustration, “I cannot lose any more of them or you.”

Glitch had tears in her eyes silently begging you to take her too.

“Protect them for me, please.” Pleading with the young woman, you needed her safe.

“Y/n, don't.” Glitch so rarely called you by name, always Boss. Some part of her wanted to keep you all at a distance, didn't want that pain again if she lost another friend. But that would be a disrespect to all you had done and how close you'd grown. “I can help, please!”

“You are Tyra,” tucking a stray hair behind her ear, you climbed on the speeder bike. “Listen to Master Yoda as you would me. It'll be alright.”

Yoda watched as you departed, coming to take Glitches hand, “Come my young friend, your wisdom and strength do I require.”

“I doubt there's anything that I have to offer you sir.” Glitch laughed bitterly.

Yoda hummed, “A different foe have I for you, one of greater importance. Come.”

“I don't care, land the ship!” Anakin's mind screamed at the sight of Padme laying motionless on the sand.

“Anakin I need you, come to your senses!” Obi Wan pleaded with the boy. Stars knew he understood better than anyone, seeing the woman he loved injured and thought killed. He knew the gut churning pain, but he also knew his duty. That as badly as it hurt there was a job to do. “What would Padme do were she in your place? What would Y/n do if it were us?”

Anakin searched the Force for his angel, she was alive. Maker he wanted nothing more than to go to her but as Obi Wan's questions sank in he also knew that answer. As hard as the truth was, as harsh as the situation was he would not make the same mistake twice in a day. Scrunching his face in frustration and anguish he looked to Master Obi Wan.

“They would do their duty,” Taking a deep breath Anakin tried to focus, “I'm sorry Master...”

“It's alright, calm yourself.” Obi Wan reached over to squeeze the boy's shoulder. “When this is over I owe you a long talk and a strong cup of tea.”

The craft dropped them on the landing platform, exploding almost immediately as it pulled away. Anakin's eyes went wide as yet three more lives flickered and faded into the greater Force. Why must death be so cruel, why? But there was no time to contemplate such things as he and Master Obi Wan ran into the cavern.

Malevolence enveloped them almost immediately, the air growing thicker the closer they drew. Dooku stood at the controller with his back turned, uncaring that he was trapped with the two Jedi. Anger and grief rolled through Anakin once more, his tone graveled and angry, “You're going to pay for all the Jedi you killed to day.”

Dooku turned slowly to regard the welp, scrawny and overconfident. All the arrogance to befit the grand Padawan of Windu and Dalincort. He gave the two a sickening smile, “And I presume that you have claimed the honor of bringing me to justice... youngling.”

“We'll take him together,” Obi Wan could see that Dooku was attempting to draw Anakin into the fight alone, “You go around...”

Anakin saw the sneer on the old man's face, remembered how he watched as the Jedi were slaughtered in the arena. Then the bastard started to laugh, LAUGH!

Anakin was done being patient. “I'll take him NOW!”

You could hear fighting the minute the speeder landed on the pad. The very air hung heavy; darkness, pain, anger... Hate. Running as though the hounds of perdition were upon you, stomach dropping to your boots. Obi Wan was sprawled on the floor in pain, Dooku had wounded him. Anakin was battling the old saber master, but it was obvious that the Count was toying with the young man. Blocking and parrying several over powered strikes Dooku made his move, turning and efficiently amputated Anakin's arm.

“NO!!!” you screamed.

Dooku grinned, extending his hand to fling the foolish boy across the room. The boy landed at Kenobi's feet with a pained whimper. He would have relished in the sight of his victory more if it weren't for several rocks that came flying at him. Deflecting them away with a brush of his hand, Dooku finally acknowledged your presence. “I see that Windu send his little pet after me.”

“Get. Away. From. My. FAMILY!” Biting out the words you couldn't care to cover the fury in your voice. Extending your arm you pulled the injured men closer to the entrance. The air practically crackled around you, pebbles floated and clattered from your rage.

He had injured Obi Wan....

he had cut off Anakin's arm...

he had killed so many good Jedi today...

“Young y/n, perhaps it's time for another lesson?” Dooku taunted you, tutting under his breath with a sly grin. “Then again you always were a poor student.”

There was a moment where Anakin looked up and he didn't recognize the woman striding across the room. Logically he could see that it was you, but it was as though your body had been possessed by a foreign spirit. A cold dead look of fury... it was terrifying. “Master?”

“Y/n,” Obi Wan tried to reach out to you but your walls were firmly in place. A shot of dread ran through him, bile rising. He had not been present when you had killed the Neimoidian, but he well remembered the fight against the cartel on Talenza. That same detached look, clinical almost if not for the anger in your eyes. Merciful light protect you, “Wee one...”

“I will not let you kill another Jedi today Dooku.” Without turning, moving only to raise your hand catching the saber hilt as it rocketed into your grip from the floor, you glared down the former Master. These feelings within were beyond anger or disgust or sorrow. When you looked at the man you felt nothing, seeing only the shadow of evil that was trying to destroy all around you. A cancer that needed to be excised. Raising your blade you coolly addressed the debauched soul, “Surrender old man.”

“We both know that I won't come willingly.” Dooku threw your own words at you. He couldn't help to admire the tenacity, foolish as it was, “You're outmatched girl.”

Your feet shifted to a starting position, “I have all that I require.”

“So very naïve,” Dooku gazed haughtily at you. “It appears then that this lesson is over due.”

You didn't reply, twirling the blade raising it to ready. There was no urgency in your step, nor stiffness to your body. Slowly entering the enemy's domain, closing space and circling. The air crackled around the room as Dooku extended his blade, red as the blood that stained his hands.

He feigned, beating the edge of his blade against yours trying to provoke you to action.

Tilting your head you slid the edge of the beam along causing sparks, giving a beat in return.

Force for force, blade on blade.

Dooku made the first move sweeping up then countering low. You didn't try for anything fancy simply deflecting and redirecting the move. Again, he thrust the edge of his saber, only for you to twist and block the move. He kept baiting and prodding, yet you would not do more than defend and take more ground. “Come now girl, certainly you can do better. Surely you wish to destroy me for what I've done. You'd like that wouldn't you?”

Another hard blow coming down from above as you felt him probing your mental barriers. Your walls were beginning to fray, and you could feel the cold clutches trying to wreak havoc on your mind. Blocking his saber again you gave a great push with the Force to throw the man across the floor.

“Would you not like to see me humbled before the Council for the harm done to your Padawan?” Dooku landed on his feet, less than gracefully but still in form. He watched to see if his words would add to the storm. He continued to project the most awful of things to your mind trying to break your will. Mental images of your Master dying, of Kenobi dying, of your apprentice crying for help as he too died. All of that which you feared most. A little further he thought, only a little more and the girl will crumble. Dooku shot lightning at you, laughing as he reveled in your cries of pain. “Or have you finally found that you are not what you believe yourself to be?”

“Aaaaahhhh!!!” You screamed in pain and frustration and the barrage continued.

Smirking he set the bolts loose again. Oh yes this did brighten his day to see you suffer. “You are no Knight, you are nothing but a weak little foundling! A cur allowed among the ranks of better beings because of one Council head's attachment.”

“Don't listen to him Y/n!” Obi Wan screamed from across the room, the lightning was so bright that he could barely discern your outline.

“Obi Boy...”

He took in a sharp breath feeling your signature wrap tightly to his. “Wee One?”

“Hey Slemo!”

Dooku paused the electric charge hearing your words. There you stood looking at him defiantly through the pain. How was this possible? Then he realized you hadn't fully taken the shock, channeling it to the ground through your body. Anger rose within him, not the least of which was directed at his own hubris. “So you HAVE learned something...”

“And you have forgotten,” Raising your saber again at the old man, charging forward with a swift low swing at his knees. One two three times blocked to come up for a high cross body strike. You glared over the light of the blades, “You've forgotten who you were! Whom you were supposed to defend! You were a Jedi, you were Qui Gon's Master.”

“You are not worthy to utter his name!” The old man matched your venom at the mere mention of his former apprentice.

So the old man still grieved. Good you thought, two could play at this! “Would he recognize you now? To see what you have become?”

Dooku charged and swung harder this time aiming for your shoulder and neck to silence you. “Qui Gon should still be alive, but instead you two unworthy children...”

“Qui Gon died defending the galaxy from the evil that you embraced!” You parried and kept backing him towards the edge of the cavern space. The old Sith continued to bash at your mental shields continuing his two front assault. You could feel him clawing in, feel yourself weakening with each minute and blow. The dark thoughts that you kept at bey so long rising at his bidding. You would not yield this battle though, giving a scream. “If Qui Gon had lived he would stand against you now! Since he cannot then we will!”

“You and Kenobi are nothing! That boy is nothing!” Dooku had to pivot quickly to avoid the quick footwork and precision of your thrusts and swings. Damn you using his momentary lapse to begin taking ground. Dooku wasn't out of the fight yet, using the Force to hurtle crates at rapid speed while blocking and advancing back at you. “The power of the dark side shall rise to bring order to the Galaxy.”

“Not so long as there is one Jedi left to defend her still!”

Slicing through the crates you continued to fight your way to the corner. Just a bit closer to the power conduit on the wall. Keeping your eyes on the Sith as you got within range. Tipping over a chemical container near the wall, then yanking out the high voltage cables.

“Anakin look away!” Obi Wan tried to cover his eyes as the pool of chemicals sparked off.

There was a flash and a wave of heat as the fumes ignited around the Count, driving you back. Please let this work, sweet merciful Force...

But then the world crumbled around you, nothing but swirling darkness.

You felt as though transported, floating through the coldest void of space until suddenly your body dropped to the ground.

No... this couldn't be?

You were back on Talenza... back to that day. Swirling ash and fire surrounding you, the stench of burnt flesh and death. The bodies of all the Jedi you had ever know strewn about your feet, blood raining from the sky.

Sightless eyes staring at you, mouths moving in tandem....

Why didn't you save us? Why didn't you save us?

Closest to you was Obi Wan and Anakin, again the same words.

Why didn't you save us?

“NOOOOOOO!!!!!” This wasn't real, this couldn't be real, DEAR SWEET MAKER STOP THIS PLEASE!

Pain erupted in your back and head momentarily breaking the hold Dooku had on your mind. The briefest of pauses from the horror. Thrown into the cavern wall to fall to the floor, flung into the rocky surface again and again like a ragdoll.

“Foolish child,” the Sith tutted as he strode closer, untouched by the flame. Raising his hand to continue the scourge. “Did you really think that would work? That you could defeat me so easily...”

The images kept flashing over and over in your mind, until all at once they stopped. As though the light had reached through and pulled you from the depths of the dark. Warmth slowly creeping back into you along with the pain. A familiar voice rang in the cavern as surely as a meditation bell in the Temple, steady and calm.

“Release her.” The paced clacking of a walking staff came to a pause, voice raising again. “Release my Knight!”

Dooku sneered, “Master Yoda...”

Your body crumpled to the floor, blood pounding in your head. The wise old Master looked to you, raising a hand that would stay you from acting further. Not that there was much convincing needed. You reached your signature out to Anakin and Obi Wan, injured but alive. “Obi Boy...”

“I'm here Wee One.”

“I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...” You succumbed to the pain, vision blanking into unconsciousness.

Yoda looked upon the man before him, twisted in mind and spirit.

No longer the boy he had taught...

No longer the Knight and defender...

“Count Dooku.”

“You have interfered with our affairs for the last time,” The Sith pried and flung multiple conduits from the wall to crush his foe. When that did not prove enough he brought the ceiling of the cave upon the small Jedi's head.

With an nonplussed waive of his hand Yoda deflected the debris. “Our affairs is it? Then truly fallen you have.”

“The dark side has shown me the truth of the galaxy. And my Master has taught me so much more than you ever could.” Dooku glowered at the small being that he had once held in such esteem. One who had held him back and treated him like a child, well no more. He would end his former Master once and for all, “I have become more powerful than any mere Jedi... Even you!”

Lightning arced through the air at the small Jedi but to no effect. Dooku tried again, but with each attempt Yoda deflected or absorbed the volts, appearing unimpressed by the attempt. Similar to when an initiate threw a tantrum in the creche, the old Master kept his countenance calm. Dooku knew better though, that the still waters ran deeper than the ocean worlds.

“Powerful you have become Dooku,” Yoda straightened his posture to more squarely look the man down. "but not wiser."

“How is this possible?” Dooku glared at the small being. Sidious had trained him well, Dooku should be able to defeat the old man easily. He was more powerful, smarter! Anger and fear flashed within him as Dooku continued to reassess his strategy.

“Your ambitions and plans, like leaves in the wind they are,” Yoda's ears turned up as he glared down at his opponent, “Much to learn you still have. Clouded is your mind, to your senses return.”

“It is obvious that this contest will not be decided by our knowledge of the Force, but by our skills with a saber.” He raised his blade, cool anger flashing in his eyes, “Unless you feel unequal to the challenge.”

Parting his robes Yoda drew his saber, “Do you?”

Across the floor Obi Wan was unable do much while injured, Anakin was semi conscious on his leg. They needed to get out of the cavern, there was no hope of lending assistance to Master Yoda in their condition. Concentrating on you signature Obi Wan tried to wake you, “Wee one?”

You face twitched in pain, but still not rousing to consciousness.

“Wee One I need you,” He focused harder, “Please wake up love, please.”

“Obi...” One eye blinked painfully open as you took in a deeper breath. You could hear the clash of sabers beating, glancing over you witnessed something not seen in a very long time. Master Yoda had drawn his lightsaber and was fighting the Count. The normally peaceful and patient Grand Master was beating the fallen Jedi, giving no quarter. Glancing at where Anakin and Obi Boy were you also saw the bleak look in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“We need to get the boy out of here, can you help pull us over.” Reaching out with the Force Obi Wan moved to where you lay. You were shaking and unfocused, you were scared. Raising a hand to your battered face, Obi Wan's voice shook, "I'm sorry love, I'm sorry for all of it."

"Me too," Leaning into the touch you wrapped your signature to his, at least you were together.

The tears in your eyes begged to set loose, but you refused. For all their sakes you had to hold back, as much as you wanted otherwise. Fortunately the saber had cauterized the wound, but you doubted there was any way of reattaching the arm successfully. The boy was in shock and you did your best to try to ease his pain. What little strength you had would not allow you to do much. Placing your hand to his head you tried to give him peace, projecting that day at the beach on Dantooine, a good memory instead of the fear of now. “It'll be alright Ani-man, just hold on... just hold on.”

Yoda clashed his saber with Dooku's again and again, each blow and move made to disarm his foe. Dooku was strong, but his emotions clouded his judgment. It had been one of the many reasons that he had been denied a seat on the Council. His arrogance and air of superiority over his fellow knights had also been a thorn in many of the Jedi's side. Warning signs seen too late or ignored due to rank? Blocking yet another crippling blow Yoda struggled to hold his guard, “fought well you have my old Padawan.”

“Kind of you to notice, but I think that this contest is soon to end.” Forcing the smaller Jedi away the Count raised his hand to rip the largest of the ducts on the wall away. With all of his might Dooku tried to bring it down on the injured Jedi.

“Y/n!” Obi Wan grabbed your head trying to shield both you and Anakin with his body.

Bounding back from Dooku, Yoda raised his arms in concentration. Even as the Sith laughed and ran to his ship Yoda held the large metal beam fast and with great effort flung it away. Turning just as the portal to the ship closed the old Master glowered. “Finished, this is not!”

“No,” Dooku's voice boomed, “it is just the beginning!”

Translations:

Udesii, Pare- Easy, Wait

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#Holy crud this took a while!#Oh but it's here #the next one's really gonna hurt...#go read fluff after this #you'll need it #star wars #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x y/n #ol&d #obi wan x you #jango fett #count dooku #master yoda #mace windu #plo koon #attack of the clones

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