#the last time i drew her i really fell short + i was still using paint tool sai 😭 + i did a weird angle that i had to trace over a ref for

[srcepiksla]

bulletproof cupid, shes like an oc to me

#tell me youre a placebo listener without telling me ur a placebo listener.. #the last time i drew her i really fell short + i was still using paint tool sai 😭 + i did a weird angle that i had to trace over a ref for #i still think i need to work more on her outfit tho.... what you see is basically the main thing but i need to refine it. style it a bit #also theres been some lore cooking up here however idk if ill do anything w it bc the only thing that pops to my mind is #corporate heaven type beat??? cupids being a heavenly taskforce dedicated to planting the bullets of love or some shit?? it def needs work #my art #art #sketches #oc #bulletproof cupid #digital art #character design

[ohtobeleah]

Arrival // Robert Floyd

Summary: Your early morning pregnancy cravings turn into more then what you bargained for when you go into labour.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Pregnancy. Birth. Robert Floyd x F!reader. Mickey Garcia x Platonic! F!reader. Inaccurate depiction of birth. Fluff!

Author Note: Hi! Happy Saturday folks! Yes, I’m painfully aware this isn’t what you wanted this weekend. However, it’s what you’re getting. So sit back, relax, and enjoy for once something fluffy as fuck.

It wasn’t all that often that you got a good night's rest this late into your pregnancy. Every night was the same as the last, up and down, side to side, kick here and a pain there. You woke with a hiss as  the feeling of what felt like the left side of the rib-cage breaking in half. Your hand imminently came up to caress your stomach, thirty seven weeks along, with no sign of labour in sight. 

“Shh—go back to sleep, little one.” You whined as you slowly circled your hand over your swollen belly. As the kicking persisted the realisation set in that you wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon. “Without fail hey?” It was almost a nightly ritual at this point. You’d toss and turn for a few short hours before you’d accept your fate. 

As you sat up carefully and ever so slowly so as to not wake your boyfriend, you checked the time on your phone. You were, at the very least— unimpressed at the time staring back at you, 2:30am. A slight moan left your mouth as you rolled over to see the love of your life, Robert Floyd, sleeping soundly next to you. A soft but all consuming smile crept across your face at the sight of him. He was just unapologetically Bob. His soft nature and caring personality was what drew you to him in the first place, and now, in the early hours of the morning, you fell just a little more in love with him with every soft snore that escaped past his slightly parted lips. The love you had for your partner Bob radiated through you like the strongest drug of all. It was so powerful and so consuming that your little bundle of joy that was due earth side any day now felt that love and got a little too excited. A hard kick planted itself into your side. 

“Yeah bubba, I know.” You tried to contain the small gasp of pain that threatened to echo out into the quiet of the night as you rubbed your stomach in a sweet soothing motion. “Daddy’s still sleeping, I wish I was too.” You swore if you could see your baby girl right now, she’d be poking her tiny tongue out at you. Every bit the cheeky girl her dad used to be when he was a little boy. 

“Ow!” You winced, your little bundle of joy really enjoyed using you as her personal punching bag. “Bub, please stop yeah? It’s not funny anymore, well it never was to begin with, but yeah just cut it out okay?” You spoke to your expected daughter a lot, you’d read somewhere that while in the womb expected children can hear voices and recognise important people like mum and dad. a”let’s go get something to eat before daddy wakes up.” You spoke softly to yourself under your breath as you waddled your way into the kitchen. 

At the beginning of your pregnancy, Bob had begun  stockpiling the fridge and pantry with weird and wonderful food so you would never go without. You bit your lip as you looked through the plentiful pantry, your eyes fell on the fresh container of peanut butter. Placing it on the counter you opened the fridge, your mouth instantly salivated at the sight of the pickle jar. Specifically dill pickles, specifically the kind Bob's grandma made. There was nothing better than a crisp home-brined pickle and your little girl couldn't agree more as you used the small, strategically placed stepping stool to help yourself up onto the kitchen bench. It wasn’t long at all before you had the lid of the peanut butter off and were dipping the pickles straight into the peanut butter. 

Your little girl kicking at your stomach as if to say she was happy with your late-night or rather early morning decision.

“I know, good right?” You giggled to yourself as you dipped another pickle into the peanut butter. It wasn’t long at all before you heard heavy footsteps pattering down the hall from your bedroom. “Opp, it’s the fed's baby girl.” You teased loud enough so that Bob could hear. “Hide the evidence.” A gentle hand landed on your shoulder, massaging the tense muscle softly as you leaned into your boyfriend’s touch. 

“What unholy thing are you snacking on this early in the morning baby?” You heard the early morning grumble in a sleepy Robert Floyd’s voice as he wiped his hand over his eyes. 

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it, besides—“ you took another bite of the peanut covered pickle. “Your daughter was the one craving it, not me.” Everything you had eaten in the past month had been at the decision of your unborn child. She was picky and very weird. The amount of watermelon you had consumed had to have been a world record and you couldn’t stand the smell of any kind of cooked meat right now. It was later in your pregnancy that your cravings and food aversions really started to hit and hit hard. 

Bob moved himself between your legs as they dangled over the edge of the counter-top to rest his hands on your hips. 

“Why do you insist on making your mama eat weird food combinations baby? And not to mention she doesn’t like to be woken up at all hours of the morning. She needs her beauty sleep angel, well not that she isn’t beautiful, but you get the point.” Bob babbled as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your belly. She kicked in response to hearing her daddy's voice. “You know—” Bob smirked as he came back up to leave a kiss on your lips, trailing tender kissing down the left side of your neck. “You look awfully sexy while you’re pregnant, not that you weren’t sexy before, but you have this glow about you that I can't resist.” Bob continued his assault on your neck. 

A soft moan left your mouth as your lips parted at the feeling of Bob’s warm lips against your neck. He ran his hands up your oversized shirt which was coincidentally, his, and placed them atop your baby bump. 

“I can’t wait to meet our beautiful girl, she’s going to be just as perfect as you, I know it.” 

“Mmm, I’m not perfect Bob.” You tried to argue as you bit into the next pickle. Bob chuckled at the sight of you obnoxiously chewing, purposefully exaggerating your facial expressions. It didn’t take him long at all to cave in to the curiosity.

“Okay let me try—“ Bob gestured to the pickle in your hand. “C’mon, give me a bite.” You dipped it into the peanut butter once more and placed it in his awaiting mouth. Bob's face contorted into something of disgust as you chuckled softly. He ran to the sink to spit the pickle out. “Oh god, that’s definitely a flavour combination I’m not keen to try again.” Spitting into the sink, Bob washed his mouth out with the running tap. 

You couldn’t control your laughter, tears had begun to form in your eyes. “Oh? you think that's funny, huh? We’ll see who’s laughing in a second.” Bob teased as he sauntered back over to you and started his assault on your body. His fingers moved all over your body sending shivers and Goosebumps all over. 

“Robert! Stop it, stop B-Bob!” You laughed out loud through gasps and giggles as he continued tickling you. In the early hours of the morning Bob let out a boisterous laugh. He loved you. Oh so much. 

“Who's laughing now huh?” 

“Bob, I can’t breathe s-stop p-please—.” As you pleaded with your boyfriend, you felt as if you wet yourself, however, unlike all the other times you have due to your baby girl pressing inconveniently on your bladder, this time felt more intense. The feeling kept going until you saw water dripping down the bench.

“Bob! oh—oh my god, I think, I think my water just broke.” Bob's eyes imminently widened as he stared at you in fear. Like the last nine months hadn’t been building up to this very moment. 

“What? You aren’t due for another two weeks?” Worry was prominent in his tone. You could tell he was starting to panic, the thought of him having a life dependent on him starting to set in. You knew you needed to calm Bob before things progressed into something more severe, so you reached out to grab his face with both your hands and rubbed the pads of your thumbs against his cheeks. 

“Bob homey, listen to me.” Those ocean blue eyes were truly home to you. “My water just broke— so you need to take me to the hospital yeah? Fanboy and I put an emergency hospital bag together a few weeks ago in case I went into labor while we were out so it's in the back of the Jeep.” 

“Oh, okay, i-i'll go wake h-him up.” Bob and Fanbky had lived together off base since they first came back to North Island a few years ago. They’d been friends for as long as you’d known Bob for. “Holy shit—I can’t believe this is act-actually happening.” He stuttered as he lent into your hands, the feeling of you caressing his check comforted him. Of course, you’d go into labor and STILL have to take care of Bob, you were his rock, his entire world, you’d always be there to take care of the love of your life so nothing was different about this situation. 

Bob helped you down off the kitchen countertop as a sharp pain radiated throughout your lower abdomen. It took your breath away for a moment. You circled your hand over your stomach and took a deep breath in. 

“Ohh— little girl you just had to come tonight didn’t you?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Mickey? could you maybe drive a little be faster, please?” The contractions had come quickly. Bob was sitting in the back with you, stressed as all hell, rubbing small circles against your lower back as you tried breathing through the pain as best you could. All Mickey did was smile at you through the rear-view mirror. 

“Y/n, even when you’re in labour you're still so nice.” Mickey grinned— he was so excited to meet his best friend's first child. His daughter. 

“How you feeling bub?” What kind of a stupid question that was, you thought to yourself. 

“Umm not good, I just want to get to the ho-hospital.” Tears now traveled down your face. “I’m scared baby, I don’t think I can’t do this.” Your contraction eased, you were thankful for the moment to breathe as you settled back against the backseat. 

“Baby, Y/n, listen to me yeah?” Bob held your face softly between his slightly calloused hands, the pads of his thumbs collecting your tears. “You are the strongest person I know, you carried our baby girl for nine months, nine months baby! You can do this and I'll be with you through the whole thing.”

“yeah! so will I!” Mickey tried to lighten the mood, he thought if he could make you laugh you’d feel a little better before yet another contraction washed over you. “Y/n please try not to have a baby on my new seats?” Fanboy joked as he tried to keep you smiling. You knew Mickey was joking the moment he said it. He was such a good support system. 

You let out such a loud moan that you were convinced the car next to you at the red light could hear you. 

“I’ll try not to Mick b-but I’m n-not going to p-promise you anythi-OH-MY, GOD! Bob, help me.” As you wailed you grabbed onto Bob's forearm and squeezed through your pain. It felt like a million more hours had passed you by before you were finally arriving at the emergency room waiting bay at the Miramar Base Hospital. 

“Baby, we’re here okay, as soon as Mickey pulls up i'll help you out.” Bob kissed your temple, sweaty and hot, as you leaned into him already exhausted from the last hour and a half since your water first broke. As Bob hopped out to help you, Mickey ran up to a nurse going inside the hospital. Probably coming back from taking a breath of fresh air. 

“Excuse me miss? My best friend's fiancée is in labour, she needs help.” You didn’t even register at first what he called you. You were just Bob's girlfriend, not his fiancée. You couldn’t help but scoff at yourself for thinking too much into what Fanboy had called you while you were literally about to give birth. 

“What’s so funny? Bob asked. “You okay babe?” Again, no. No you weren’t okay. But Bob was just doing his best to be the support you needed right now. 

“Nothing hun, just excited to meet our little girl who’s currently trying to tear me to shreds right now.” It wasn’t an exaggeration—you felt as if you were about to be split in two. 

But it was about to be so worth it. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Three hours later: 

“AAHHHH, fucking hell can’t she come any faster!” you were in so much pain at this point. You were currently bent over the hospital bed leaning your head on the bars and moving your hips around in a circular motion. Bob was being nothing but supportive, feeding you ice chips every once and a while and rubbing your lower back. He hated seeing you in so much pain. Even if you were a  sweaty cracked out mess Robert Floyd still thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. 

 “You're doing great baby, I know she’s being stubborn, but she’ll be here soon.” A nervous laugh left your mouth.

“Screw you, Floyd, she’s already just like her dad, stubborn and what feels like big headed!” Bob fed you another ice chip as he ran his finger over your bottom lip as you took it from his hand. 

“I’ll let that comment slide considering you're bringing our daughter into the world.” Bib moved your hair over your shoulder to gain access to your neck. His peppered gentle kisses along the side as your latest contraction subsided. Things were progressing smoothly, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

You were glistening with a layer of sweat from your contractions as your body prepared itself for birth. exhausted from the pain, you leaned into Bobs touch, his arms snake their way around your body to support your weight. 

“Come on bub lets get you in bed yeah?” Bob moved the covers back and you slid in slowly, almost scared that any movement you made could trigger your next contraction. As Bob was placing the thin blanket over your legs the nurse came in to check on your process. 

“You’re about eight centimetres dilated honey, we can start to push at ten so your very close.” You almost didn’t respond. You were far too tired to think as you rolled over onto your left side as another contraction washed over you. Bob noticed you struggling to breathe and placed the oxygen mask they nurse had previously set up for you on. 

Bob pushed your hair back and tied it up in a loose ponytail, he was just trying to make you as comfortable as possible. You looked at him. He was so perfect, you couldn’t imagine going through this amount of pain for anyone else. He was your biggest supporter, your best friend, your therapist. You were his soulmate, his biggest Stan, his number one girl. From the moment you met Robert Floyd you instantly gravitated to each other, a wonderful flirtatious friendship which bloomed into a beautiful relationship complete with all its perfect imperfections. 

He would stop by the small coffee shop on his way to work every morning and you’d be there, with his order ready to go and made to perfection. 

At this point, you were coming close to your three-year anniversary, your gift to Bob? Telling him you were pregnant. The poor guy almost had a heart attack but was ecstatic, to say the least. 

You caught yourself reminiscing and focused back on Bob “I love you so much.” You mumbled into the mask. He smiled back at you letting out a chuckle.

“You won’t be saying that in a few moments baby.” Bob was already prepared for the worst. You were always the nicest out of the two of you and that was saying something. You felt your whole body tighten at the feeling of what felt like the most painful contraction yet and that was it, you couldn’t hold in the cry that you let out. It was a guttural scream as you tried to breathe through it the best you could.

Bob’s face filled with heartache as he watched the women he loved unconditionally go through agonising pain, he’d give his life to ease your pain just the slightest bit, yet there was absolutely nothing he could do to help. And it killed him. 

“Babe, I’m going to get the nurse okay.” He started to move away but you pulled him back by his arm. “Honey—“

“Don't you dare leave me, Robert Floyd, I n-need you here now.” Your eyes filled with tears as the light layer of sweat turned into dripping beads. Just as Bob turned back to say he’d be right back you felt a sudden urge to push. 

“Bob, I need this baby out of me right now! I can’t do this anymore!!” Sobbing, you screamed out in pain just as the nurse ran in.

“Darling I heard you from the reception, do you feel like you need to push? She said as she sat down on the swivel stool and rolled herself in between your legs at the end of the bed. 

“YES! YES, I need this fucking thing out of me NOW!” You felt bad for Bob at this point. He was just standing there holding your hand as you endured the most amount of pain he’d ever seen someone go through. He must have pressed the call for help button moments prior as three other nurses ran into the room. 

“Okay Y/n on the count of three I want you to push for me, can you do that? Dad, I want you to count down from ten for me out loud okay? Y/n don’t stop pushing till he’s finished counting” you nodded your head. “Okay in three, two, one push Y/n push” Bob held onto your hand a little tighter as he began to count down from ten, you pushed as hard as you could.

 “7, 6, 5….” 

“BOB COUNT FASTER!” Screaming at the top of your lungs, you continued to push, gripping his hand as tight as you could in the process. 

One—alright Y/n stop pushing, have a break, you did so well darling.” The nurse said as she inspected exactly how far along your baby was. You fell back onto the pillow, just to look up at Bob. 

“Make. It. stop.” Your breathing weighed heavily on your chest. Bob looked at you with wide eyes. He felt helpless. 

“I wish I could baby I’m so sorry, you're doing so well yeah? Just a few more pushes and she’ll be with us forever.” You had to push again, this time wasn’t any easier, but you knew that every second you pushed as hard as you could you would meet your baby girl quicker. That this would be over. That the pain in this moment would be worth it. That the last nine months were entirely worth it. 

“I hate you, I hate so much, you did this to me.” You looked at Bob, the love of your life, almost ready to pass out. “You are never coming anywhere near me again after this.” Bob couldn’t have looked more upset. He knew you were in agony though. He knew you were just going through it. 

“Don’t worry daddy, she’ll still love you after this, probably even more.” The nurse between your legs chuckled. “I hear it all the time.” 

“The hell I will!!!” You interrupted the nurse making her and Bob both laugh. He was so in love with you. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

You were on your final push. 

“Okay Y/n final push and your baby girl will be here, are you ready?” Drenched in sweat, completely and utterly exhausted you mumbled up to Bob who had yet to let go of your hand the entire time. 

“Just get this thing out of me.” Pushing as hard as you could, a scream erupting from your throat and suddenly, the pain was just……gone. A small cry filled the room and your head hit the pillow, exhausted. A few moments passed and the nurse returned to place the newly wrapped bundle of joy onto your chest, yet to be cleaned of all the blood and gunk from inside you. But oh she was perfect just the way she was. 

“Oh, oh hi little one I’m your mama.” Tears of joy streamed from your eyes as you looked at your baby girl for the first time. She was perfect, everything you could have imagined and more. 

“She so tiny, hi baby girl, I’m your daddy.” Bob whispered as he gently touched his little girl's tiny head. “Baby, you did so well, I'm so proud of you.” He kissed your forehead in thankfulness. “Thank you so much for giving me the best gift of all, thank you for giving birth to the best little girl in the world.” Bob couldn’t control his tears as he planted another kiss on your forehead. “I love my girls so much.” 

“I don’t hate you, I could never hate you.” laughter escaped from both your mouths. “Here, you wanna hold her?” Bon nodded with a gentle smile that had crept across his face. You lifted your baby girl up towards Bob's strong awaiting arms, he held her so close, so gently. Your heart overflowed with happiness. He’d never let anything bad happen to her. Not to his little girl. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Two hours later 

After receiving some stitches and getting cleaned up you were happily resting with your newborn on your chest getting precious skin to skin time. 

“Y/n are you sure you don’t want me to leave?” At this point it felt like the whole world had seen your vagina, so you didn’t really care if Fanboy had stuck around in the waiting room for updates. Now, he stood by the window, wondering if he was crossing some invisible boundary as you tried your hand at breastfeeding. 

“No Micky,  I really don’t care, trust me, I’m just happy this little one is here”. Bob had gone to get you three some food, naturally asking Mickey to watch over his girls while he was gone. He was busy giving the rest of the Daggers updates on how you and your newborn were travelling. 

“Hey Mick? When we arrived here this morning you said something to the nurse. It was probably an accident and I’m totally over-analyzing the situation, but you referred to me as Bob's Fiancée?” Fanboy spat the water he was drinking from one of those little plastic cups all over the room, completely shocked with the statement. Did he actually? In the whirlwind did he actually let that one slip? 

“I uhhh, i-I did? Huh, that’s so weird, I honestly didn’t even notice I did that.” At this point, after having known Mickey Garcia for well over three years, you could read him like the back of your hand, you knew he was lying. But just as you were about to answer back, your baby girl started to cry, wanting to be fed. 

“Here, ill leave, give you some privacy” Fanboy thought he was doing you a favour as he begun walking towards the door of your maternity room when you stopped him. You weren’t all that ready to be alone yet. What if something happened? 

“Please stay Mick? I really don’t want to be alone and plus Bib would kill you if you went against his wishes and left his girl alone.” The tiny baby latched straight onto your nipple no problem. She was just perfect. 

“Okay, but i'll face the window, I feel like a pervert.” 

“Then don’t perv then?” Minutes later she was done feeding, You gently gave her a quick burp and asked Mickey if he could put her in her baby bed, so you could at least get a few minutes of sleep. She had after all woken you up at a crisp two thirty in the morning. 

“I don’t want to hurt her, are you sure you want me to?” 

“Of course I do! you’re her uncle, plus I know that we’re going to need your help a lot so you may as well start practicing now.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

You must have been out for a while, when you woke up, a smiling Robert Floyd was nursing his baby girl. Holding her close as he paced around the room. 

“I'll protect you with everything I have darling, you’ll always be loved and cared for. Your mamma was my best girl, my one and only love, I didn’t think I could love another girl as much as I love her but then you came into my life and I'd happily use her as a shield to protect you.” He laughed at his own joke. 

Great, the first dad joke and it was only the beginning of your forever of your lives together, you thought to yourself. A tiny cry came from the little human in his arms. “Shhh, shhh don’t wake your mama up darling, she’s been through a lot to get you here to me, she deserves her rest now my sweet, sweet girl.” Bob bounced her as he walked around the room slowly. 

“We still have to pick a name for you baby, I like Lily or Sky, we can’t name you Natasha because that would give Aunty Nix too much power, and we don’t want that now do we?” You laughed, startling Bob a little that he jumped a bit.

“Sorry I scared you, but very true. If it means anything I love the name Lily.” Bobs eyes went wide as a smile grew from ear to ear. 

“Did we just name our daughter?” Biting into your bottom lip you nodded in agreement. He walked over to you dawning beaming smile. Bob was completely filled with all the  love in the universe for his two beautiful girls. 

Bob placed Lily down onto your chest and you noticed something odd around her tiny fingers. You took a moment to process what it was. A shiny diamond ring, the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. besides your beautiful daughter.

“Bob?” Was all that fell out of your mouth before your eyes started to well for the seventh hundred time today. He brought his chair up to the side of your bed and rested his hand on the side of your face, caressing your wet check just as you had done to him back at home earlier that morning. 

“Y/n will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” Bob had told Fanbky earlier that week he was planning on asking you to marry him. That why in the flurry, Mickey had let it slip. 

You knew this day would come, you felt it in your heart. You loved Robert Floyd so fiercely and so tenderly and you knew he loved you just as much. 

He reached out gently to place the beautiful engagement ring his grandmother had given him on your finger. And with the happiest of tears with your newborn resting on your chest, you got the chance to say yes. 

“Robert Floyd, I thought you’d never ask.”

#robert floyd #top gun bob #top gun maverick #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fan fic #bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob top gun #top gun fandom #top gun fanfic #pregnancy #pregnant #tw: pregnancy

[maraschinomerry]

Offerings

Pairings: George Karim x gn-ish!reader (reader's gender isn't specified but they are possessed by a female ghost)

Summary: you and George are working a case as a duo when you accidentally connect with a surprisingly dangerous source

Content: strong angst with a happy ending, suicide and unwanted pregnancy references for the ghost, possession, near-death experience, confessing feelings

A/N: I really wanted to write an angsty piece based on the Annabel Ward case and was also low-key inspired by Stuck In The Middle With You (shoutout to @stray-kaz, highly recommend reading but be aware it's 18+)

Word count: 3.2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea

The limestone mansion loomed, imposing, at the end of the winding driveway, outlined in gold by the rays of the setting sun behind it. You and George approached in companionable silence - the cab ride over had been full of conversation, but it had left you at the gates and now you made the last stretch of the journey on foot to the sounds of crunching gravel and evening birdsong. The early autumn air was still warm, so your jacket was draped over your arm leaving you in a short-sleeved T-shirt. As the huge wooden door filled your vision, George drew a key from his pocket and slotted it into the lock.

It was almost 6 months now since you'd joined Lockwood & Co as their fourth member, and in that time you'd grown to love the rest of your team. Lockwood and Lucy were like the siblings you never had, but George… George was something else. It had started out small, little glances between the two of you when the others were up to their usual antics, making tea when you knew the other was having a bad day. Soon it blossomed into a need to be around him at every opportunity, butterflies in your stomach when it was him who sought you out for company or advice. Eventually you had no choice but to admit to yourself: you had a crush on George Karim. Not that you'd ever admit it to him. You were almost certain he didn't feel the same, so it would just make things awkward. Nevertheless, you were secretly excited that a busy spell meant Lockwood and Lucy had gone off on a case together and left you two to handle this one.

George had thoroughly briefed you on the case before leaving Portland Row and recapped it all in the cab: Evelyn Moore had lived in the mansion, her family home, in the late 1940s until, barely turned 21, she had given birth to an illegitimate child and been found dead a week later. Reports varied (the family had tried to keep the whole affair under wraps) but the general understanding was that she had stabbed herself. In the wake of such a tragedy the child, a boy, had been taken on by her parents and went on to have children of his own. When the visitations began, the mansion fell out of use but continued to be passed down through the family. Now Evelyn's granddaughter Amelia was attempting to have the property made safe so she could move in and reconnect with her family's history. Easy enough job, you thought.

The mansion was well-presented; it was clear that Amelia had begun making preparations, cleaning up the vintage furniture that had withstood the test of time and replacing what hadn't. Polished oak sideboards, smooth velvet loveseat in the hallway, rich red carpet leading up the staircase. It was this staircase that you took, leading you upwards as George disappeared further into the building.

A fine trail of small footprints led through the dust on the carpet, venturing a few paces forward before turning back to the stairs. If they were Amelia's, she must have seen the disrepair ahead and decided to focus her efforts on the ground floor. Either that or she'd stayed a little too long past sunset and been forced to flee. You flicked on your torch for a cursory search. Everything was as expected from the plans you were given - a bathroom to your right, two bedrooms up ahead on either side of the wide landing and a study beyond on the left. Another flight of stairs at the far end led to the working area of the house. Time to start searching for a source - the body would be long gone, that was a relief, but there could be a piece of jewellery or a keepsake, perhaps something relating to her pregnancy. You swept your torch around.

To your left, opposite the bathroom door, was a rectangular recess in the wall. The top portion was shelved, filled with cobweb-laden books and yellowing papers, and below it was a writing desk. The inkwell had long since dried up but there still remained a fountain pen and a stack of unfinished letters. They were difficult to make out, but it seemed to be Evelyn trying to find the words to tell someone about her newborn son. Her mother or a friend, maybe. Had it not been for the thick coating of dust, you could almost have believed that it was only yesterday she was sitting here, pouring her heart onto the page in ten different ways, none of them quite right. Poor lass.

In the side of the desk were two drawers and a small cabinet. You tried the door to the cabinet first, revealing nothing but another stack of letters, these ones received from others and almost all opened, and a spider which scuttled away immediately. You jumped at the sudden movement. Moving up, the bottom drawer contained a rather fancy letter-writing set, simple paper and envelopes but with soft uneven edges indicative of being handmade, and each stamped with a maker's mark. In the final drawer, your breath caught at the sight of an ornate letter opener. The handle was silver, inlaid with mother of pearl, and you couldn't help but tap the blade with the tip of your finger. It wasn't as sharp as a dagger or knife, but was more pointed than you expected and you hissed involuntarily as the point dug into your skin. Putting away your torch to lift it from the drawer, you let it balance between your hands. There was something about it you couldn't quite put your finger on. Hadn't the reports said Evelyn stabbed herself? She'd have had to put some real force behind it to do serious damage with this, though. 

"George?" you called out, keeping your voice light and airy even as you raised it to travel to wherever he might be in this immense building. It was early yet, but you had no idea when or if Evelyn would start manifesting so the longer you could put off aggravating her, the better. A noise sounded in return, too far to make out. Were your ears deceiving you or did you hear footsteps?

When you turned your attention back to the letter opener, you were startled to notice a fine silvery-white pattern spreading across your skin like ice forming on a lake. You wanted to fling it away, to let it fall from trembling hands, but it felt like something was blocking the nerves, not allowing your brain access, so you could only watch as the tendrils spread further across your perfectly still palms.

"George!" you cried with more urgency. Positive energy be damned, you needed him here now. That definitely sounded like footsteps, coming from the direction of the other staircase, but they were slow. Too slow. Something crept into your vision, burning white, and in a flash the landing was bathed in warm light.

You squinted up at the small chandelier, aglow as it hung from the ceiling. Had that always been on? Hadn't you had a torch? You glanced down at the letter opener in your hands, noting the way the ice on your skin had disappeared, but when you blinked the blade was on the desk.  Where it was supposed to be, you thought. A pretty girl wandered into view, in a floral wrap dress and heels with her blonde curls neatly pinned back.

"There you are," a voice sighed up ahead. It was a young man, possibly a few years senior to the girl, dressed in a suit almost as sleek as his neatly coiffed hair.

"Basil, how did you get in here?" You watched the girl speak the words, and yet you heard them not out loud but in your head as clearly as if you were thinking and saying them yourself. In fact, the more you tried to consider it, the more you were unsure that it hadn't been you talking after all. You moved to stand next to the girl until you were seeing almost exactly what she was.

"You say that like I haven't been sneaking in to see you for years. Not that your parents wouldn't have let me in through the front door if they'd been home, of course." He smirked. That was right - his parents and yours… no, Evelyn's… were friends, and had more or less established the young couple from the moment of the girl's birth. It made it all the easier for them to court, and for them to have a child before the marriage had come to pass. Evelyn's parents had scolded her intensely for being so foolish, but for the sake of their social standing had done nothing to shun the young man responsible.

"They oughtn't. You've ruined me, Basil, and for what?" The words definitely felt like they came from you that time. Was Evelyn even still there? Yes, of course you were there. Wait. You were, Evelyn was; one and the same.

The whole room seemed to shudder, and for a second everything became incredibly grey. This wasn't right. Your, no, Evelyn's house didn't look like this. It was her, your, house without a doubt, but like it had been left untouched for decades. Basil was gone too, replaced by a younger boy with light brown skin and dark curly hair, who was watching you in confusion with some sort of light pointed at your face. You were confused too; where had your fiancé gone? Who was this bespectacled teenager? But you knew him, didn't you? Your heart fluttered against your chest at the sight of him, and the voice in your mind called out the name George over and over again.

The soft light of the more homely landing returned, and you looked at Basil with watery eyes.

"I loved you, you know that?" The curly-haired boy appeared again, and your voice cracked as a single tear spilled down your cheek and onto your T-shirt. Onto your floral wrap dress. "I really, truly loved you, but you don't feel the same."

"Who says I don't? I'm marrying you, aren't I?" Basil protested, but there was nothing loving about his tone. He was angry that you had the courage to voice your doubts, even if you both knew them to be true. Without ever breaking eye contact with him, without alerting him, you reached to the side and wrapped your fingers around the silver and pearl handle.

"You gave me a child because you wanted to, without ever stopping to ask what I wanted or how it would affect my life! If that is how you show your love, Basil, I do not want it!"

The young man's expression darkened, and you shrunk back. He grabbed at your bicep, but the touch melted into one more soft than you could have imagined as the curly-haired boy reached for you too, confused expression melting into one of worry.

"(Name), please, can you hear me?" You could, you knew you could, but the name that rolled off his tongue tasted foreign and wrong. It wasn't Evelyn. His fingers closed over yours where they had wrapped around the pearl and silver handle, fighting to pry them free, but your grip was firm.

Basil swam back into view. "You do not get to decide that. We are to be married, you are to raise my son, and you will accept whatever I decide to offer you."

"Then you can offer me nothing."

You levelled the letter opener at your stomach, the point aimed at the belly button which had so recently connected you to the baby boy who now lay in the bedroom down the hall.

—

George heard you call to him.

"Down here, (name)," he yelled back from the scullery. "What's up?" No response. He continued rummaging through piles of ancient belongings until he heard you again, louder this time. He took the back stairs, coming out on the far end of the landing. There were doors to either side, but they were all closed and your voice had sounded less muffled than if it had been behind one. He continued forward.

There you were. Standing motionless in front of an old writing desk, something balanced on your hands. Your torch was off, tucked in your belt, but as he brought his own up to try and see you better he caught a glimpse of silver. You didn't look at him, barely even flinched at the bright light. Oh god, were you ghost-locked? Was he too late? Your eyes were unfocused but not glassy in the beam of the torch, and as he watched something registered in your gaze. The corners of your mouth twitched into a gentle smile.

"I loved you, you know that?" you said without warning. George felt a pressure ease in his chest that he hadn't even realised had been building.

"I know, I just never-"

"I really, truly loved you, but you don't feel the same." No, if you'd let him finish… He stepped closer to you, reached for your outstretched hands.

Something was terribly wrong.

Your skin was freezing, thin webs of silver fanning out under some kind of letter opener. He'd seen those silvery lines before, when Lucy had tried to communicate with Annabel Ward. Oh shit.

"(Name)? (Name), please, no. Please!" His voice was rising frantically. He went to smack the blade away, but as he did so the fingers of one hand closed tightly around it.

"You gave me a child because you wanted to, without ever stopping to ask what I wanted or how it would affect my life! If that is how you show your love, Basil, I do not want it!" This was definitely Evelyn's source then, he'd read enough in his research to be confident of that, but it paled in comparison to the importance of getting it away from you right this second.

"(Name), please, can you hear me?" He was panicking now, scrabbling desperately at your fingertips even though they were as good as cast in stone. That glimmer of recognition sparked behind your eyes once more, before fading back into oblivion. You were gone again. She'd taken over. "I'm begging you, Evelyn, please, I know how this ends and I can't lose them."

Your hands moved, and for a moment he prayed that you were coming back to him, but then you turned the blade to your stomach.

"Then you can offer me nothing."

"No!" The word ripped itself through his throat as the blade began to press into your T-shirt, and with one final surge of energy he wrenched the letter opener from your grip. The metal skittered across the floor, coming to a stop when it hit the wall, and he hastily threw a silver net from his belt across it.

—

You returned to yourself with a gasp as you collapsed to your knees in a plume of dust. Someone was there, and it took a second for you to realise it was George. He followed you to the ground, pulling you into a crushing embrace. You hugged him back with arms as shaky as your breath.

"You're okay, (name), you're safe, the source is secure. It's George, I've got you. Breathe with me, ready?" His breaths were deep and steady against your chest, and you felt your own falling into the same rhythm. You wondered if, with him using both your names, this was something he'd dealt with before. When you finally felt like you weren't about to burst into tears at the sight of him, you pulled back. He let go, one hand drifting to where the sudden movement of the blade had torn the hem of your T-shirt.

"Are you hurt?"

Your hand shot up, brushing his as you passed a couple of fingers over your abdomen. They came back spotless. You sagged, all the adrenaline draining from your body. "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

He breathed a sigh of relief, hand not moving from the ripped fabric.

"You…" his voice broke. You'd never heard him sound so scared; your heart clenched painfully. "You were so close to dying, exactly how she did."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so careless picking up a potential source like that. I had no idea that she'd…" you trailed off. "Did she- I guess, did I say anything useful?"

George tried to act casual, telling you it wasn't exactly useful, but there was something about his demeanour and the way he couldn't quite meet your eyes. You waited for him to continue. "You, uh, said 'I loved you, but you don't feel the same'. Who was she saying that to?"

"Her fiancé." You bit your lip, teetering on the edge. Three, two, one, jump. "But I was saying it to you."

He looked at you then, gaze a mix of amazement, longing and something else. Hope. You saw none of it, eyes fixed on your fidgeting fingers.

"Hey," he murmured. "Can you look at me, please?" You half expected him to tilt your chin up, but he kept his distance, giving you the power to choose whether you did or not. That small moment of consideration was enough to convince you, and you steeled yourself for the rejection that was surely coming. For the pity. But you saw none.

"I didn't realise anything was wrong at first," he admitted quietly, "because I'd been so desperate to hear you say it." The words hung in the still air, waiting for you to process them. Slowly, you did.

"Why didn't you say something?"

He huffed out a breath and adjusted his glasses. "And risk having misread things? I couldn't do that, it would mean… losing you." The weight of the concept after the evening's events seemed trivial now. You both realised it as you glanced at the silver net in the corner. "I almost did lose you, and it was unbearable. I don't know what exactly Evelyn's fiancé was doing that made her say he could offer her nothing, but I know I don't ever want to be that person."

You reached out and cupped his cheek, marvelling at the way he leant into the touch. "You could never be that person. Trust me."

"I do, of course I do," he pressed a feather-light kiss to your palm. "And if you want to forget about all this, I completely understand, but I'm always here if you need to talk."

He was so sweet, you couldn't help smiling, but the exhaustion was creeping into your bones. Now that you'd neutralised the source, there was no real reason to stay any longer. "I just want to go home."

George nodded, and as he stood he offered you his hand. When he pulled you to your feet and tucked you into his side, helping you down the stairs on wobbly legs, a small part of you realised that maybe what he'd offered you was not just his hand but his heart. You'd offered yours too, the moment you told him those words were for him, but if you were really being honest you knew you'd given him your heart months ago. He'd keep it safe, he always did.

#lockwood & co x reader #george karim x reader #george karim #gn!reader #lockwood & co fanfic #lockwood and co #renew lockwood and co

[theatrelove3000]

You’re On Your Own, Kid

This is the first Obi-Wan fic I have posted, let alone let someone other than two close friends read. It took me three months of no time, energy, or inspiration to finish this, but it’s finally done, and I am actually really proud of it. I am thinking about expanding this, depending on the time I have and the inspiration as it comes. Let me know if you like this and want to see more!

Sith! Obi-Wan x former padawan reader

Warnings: I suck at warnings. Uhhh, dark side, mentions of death, maybe manipulation, kissing but only a little, canon violence (dude gets an arm cut off), lightsabers, Sith! Obi. I think that is it. The reader was his padawan but they didn’t start training together until she was already an adult. The reader wears a dress but I don’t think I used pronouns?  Lmk if I missed anything else.

Summary: When your master suddenly falls into the darkness, you are left alone to be subject to the watchful, judging, mistrusting eyes of the Jedi Council. It’s one thing to lose a master, you’ve lost one before Obi. It’s something else to lose the man you love. Especially when you can still hear his whispers. 

Inspired by Taylor Swift’s You’re On Your Own, Kid! Recommend listening while reading this

Three months, two weeks, and six days.

That's how long it's been since you last saw Obi Wan. He'd go on missions that could be that long, or longer, but this time stretch was harder because you know he isn't coming back. Obi Wan is gone. He left the order. He abandoned you. 

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

You try to stay upset and hurt about it but it's becoming more difficult by the day. Watching your master walk away from the only home and family he ever knew was a major shock to everyone. He always preached about how the Jedi Order was good, right, and peaceful, yet suddenly, he was gone after causing quite the stir in a council meeting.

He had come back to your shared apartment and marched right over to you, grabbed you by your elbow and drew you into his chest. He was always more physically affectionate with you but this was something different. Something unsettling. He had wrapped you in a tight hug, breathing in the scent of you before dropping his head and whispering one thing in your ear. 

"My chains are broken. The force has freed me."

And then he was gone.

It was explained to you later that your master had fallen and you were to be reassigned to complete your training. You had been set to take your trials for your knighthood in a few weeks but due to Obi Wan's sudden switch to the dark side, they feared you harbored the same beliefs he revealed he had to the council. 

Your new master is… for lack of a better word, an ass. She is your third master. Your first one, who had selected you at a young age, died a few years back. Obi Wan decided to complete your training, since you were just three or four years from knighthood, already an adult. This new master is short and cold and uncaring. You had just been through a rapid and difficult transition and she held no compassion in her eyes, only wariness and dislike. She didn't trust you. 

No one did now. All the friends you had no longer speak to you because they fear you are unstable and dangerous. You never showed signs of leaning into the dark side but because Obi Wan fell, you also must be dark. His apprentice. Only Anakin still speaks to you. Occasionally, Master Yoda invites you to meditate with him as well, though you suspect he is doing so to check on your signature. Master Yoda is a kind and gentle soul but he must be wary. You understand. Sort of. 

It isn't until the heat of summer fades and cool winter winds start to blow that you start to hear him.

My darling.

Little dove.

Sweet one.

Angel.

The terms of endearment your master used to call you whisper through your mind, as though he were right behind you. You feel his presence when you're alone and see him in your dreams. You'd thought if you dreamed of him, they'd be nightmares but they aren't. They're sweet dreams. Almost memories but with slight changes.

Mornings after nightmares when you'd wake in his bed wrapped in his embrace, though he lets his hands wander more. Presses kisses to your neck and shoulders. Messing up on purpose during training so he'd have to wrap his arms around you to fix your form but he stands far closer, holding you tightly to his body. 

You knew you loved him before he left but he never showed signs of returning the feeling. It wasn't until he was gone that the signs appeared. For a while, you thought it was just your mind grieving the loss of him. That is, until he comes to you. 

~~~~~

Anakin manages to convince the council that you need to get out of the temple, take on a mission again. He's always been persuasive, though at first the council wasn't inclined to grant his request. Through many meetings and solid evidence that you're not like Obi Wan, they allow it on the condition that he keeps you in his line of sight at all times. He agrees readily and tells you to pack a bag. 

After explaining the mission, he takes you to Padme so she can help you find a dress. You're attending a gala the senate is holding in order to ease tensions, though with the way the galaxy is now it will only raise them. 

That's how you find yourself standing in a big ballroom wearing a long sleeve, floor length dress. Despite the dress still being modest compared to the other women around you, you still feel exposed. Your Jedi robes leave everything up to imagination but this dress does not. It's more form fitting and accentuates certain parts of your body in a very flattering way, while still being conservative.

"My, my. What have we here? Did you lose your way, Little dove?"

The voice makes you freeze. You spin around, looking for the owner but see no one. You shake your head, hoping to rid yourself of the panic and hope that had appeared with the voice.

"Did you stray too far from home? Do you need help finding the path?"

You know his voice better than you know your own. He's here somewhere. You can feel his eyes on you even if you can't see him.

You turn slightly, searching the crowd for Anakin. He's talking with some of the senators, Padme by his side. He's occupied.

You start walking.

Letting yourself out of the ballroom, you wander through the halls of the massive building the gala is being held in. You had seen a terrace when you first arrived and been escorted in. There it is. You open the doors and step out into the cool night air. 

You don't hear him as he follows you or as he shuts the doors to the terrace. You don't hear him take the last few strides necessary to stand behind you, closing the distance between you. The only sign that you were correct is the feeling of his hands on your hips. They're warm and strong and certain, just as they always were.

"My Little Dove." His greeting is whispered into your hair just above your ear.

"Master-"

"I am not your master any more, my darling." He interrupts you, his voice sending goosebumps down your arms. "I am simply a being you meet in your travels as a pawn in a game your side can't win. I am only a man who has missed you very dearly."

You take a deep breath, praying your voice won't shake as you respond, "you wouldn't have had to miss me if you hadn't gone."

The hum he gives in response is deep, seemingly coming from low in his chest. "It was time for me to go. I hope you can understand. Places to be and people to see, you know."

"You left me. You abandoned me like everyone else." 

He tightens his grip on your hips, fingers digging into them. "I did not abandon you. I never left you, Little Dove. I was always there, always watching. It may have been from a distance but you were never alone."

You try to control your emotions, keep your cool, "Your leaving the Order has shown me I have always been on my own. I didn't choose this life, Obi Wan. It was thrust upon me before I was at an age that I could understand it. I don't remember the sound of my mother's voice. I don't know my father's name."

"I didn't choose it either, darling. Very few of us did. To be entirely honest with you, I dreamed of leaving and yet I stayed. Do you know why, my Little Dove?" His fingers are tracing up your sides delicately, never straying into areas he has not gained permission to touch. 

Your voice cracks a bit as you respond, "Why, Obi?"

"I stayed because I needed to be around you. Your presence is my vise, your signature is, simply put, addictive to me. It was inappropriate for me to have the feelings I do for you while you trained under me so I kept them at bay as best I could." His nose grazes your temple as he speaks, the edge of his beard lightly scratching your cheekbone as he speaks, "I didn't do as good a job as I thought. Those around us began questioning our relationship. They said horrible things that I will never allow to reach your innocent ears. I could have killed anyone who ever said anything nasty about you. I still can. All you have to do is ask."

Your breathing falters, though you can't tell if it's from fear or shock or something else. If he catches it, he doesn't say a word. "I don't want that. Murder is still wrong, no matter where you stand politically."

"Ah, but don't you see, my Little Dove? I don't wish to kill for political reasons. I kill for you. Anyone who ever hurt you deserves to go."

"You're frightening me, Master," you whisper shakily. He responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

"I do not wish for you to fear me, my love. I only want to protect you, to keep you safe. I can continue to do that from afar as I have been these three months. Or… you could come with me." He keeps his voice low, fingers stroking your sides delicately.

"Where? Where would you take me?"

"Home, Little Dove. I will take you home."

You close your eyes, feeling your resolve beginning to crumble. Suddenly the warmth of your former master against your back is gone. You turn and he's nowhere to be seen. The only sign that you did not imagine it is the phantom feeling of his hands on you. 

"All you have to do is call for me, my Little Dove. I'll come to save you from your golden cage." 

Suddenly you hear your name being called. It takes you a moment to register that it's Anakin's voice. He sounds a little worried. You turn all the way around for the first time since stepping onto the balcony. You use the force to open the doors.

"I'm here, Ani"

His head snaps to face you at your voice and he quickly makes his way over to you, "I've been looking everywhere for you! What the hell are you doing out here?"

"It was a little stuffy in there. I just needed some air. I'm sorry if I worried you. I didn't think I'd be gone long." You let him lead you back inside. Instead of taking you back to the ballroom, he escorts you outside where Padme is waiting.

"It's fine. I'm just glad I didn't lose you. That… would not have looked good on me." He laughs a little, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly, "it's time for us to head out. We're going to be escorting the senator to her suite in the hotel and then going to our room."

"Yes, Master Skywalker," you bow slightly dramatically, tone dripping in sarcasm.

He laughs, rolls his eyes at your playfulness and shoves your shoulder as you start walking, both of you flanking Padme. 

~~~~~

And that's how it began.

You start answering him when he whispers into your mind. You didn't even see him that night but you know it was real. Even if it wasn't, you hope that you continue to hear him. You start feeling him as well. You even catch hints of his scent from time to time. Always when you need him the most.

Those moments became more and more common. The weight of arms around you in those few blissful moments between sleep and wakefulness make you think of him. He whispers encouragement as you train with your new master, even the occasional reminder to help you correct your form or a suggestion to make a motion easier for you. He's still helping to train you. Apparently your four years with him didn't make him sick of teaching you.

It's your next off-world mission that starts to cause your foundation to crumble.

Anakin had convinced Master Windu that he could take you off-world with himself and Ahsoka instead of being with your own master. It was a simple mission. Get into the separatist base, steal the information, get out. 

When is anything ever that simple?

Your cover was blown quickly and it doesn't take long to realize this was a trap. You are separated from Anakin and Ahsoka somewhere in the crossfire between your troops and the battle druids. You find yourself in an empty hallway alone, not even a clone behind you.

Looking around, you move back towards the way you came, only to realize you are more than a little lost in this base. You reach out your signature to find Anakin but are met with a different signature. Another, more familiar one.

Obi Wan.

Before you can take a moment to think it through, you're running towards it. You chase the warm, blue signature you've grown oh so attached to deeper into the base. When you reach a door that you can feel him behind, you pause. Pressing your palm flat against the cool metal, you reach out again. Reaching for him. He responds by tangling his signature with yours, but doesn't open the door. You hear a click and realize it's the lock. He unlocked the door. The door still doesn't open. He's giving you the choice. It almost makes you cry.

He is giving you the option to reach him. He isn't forcing you into anything, simply waiting to see how you decide. The Order never does that. All they do is command and demand and give expectations to meet. It's exhausting. You're tired. You miss him. 

"Obi?" You whisper to the door. As a response, you hear a small thud on the door as he presses his hand to it where yours is. You can feel the pressure of his power through the door. He whispers your name back to you.

"I'm frightened," you feel your eyes start to water, voice breaking softly, "I just want you."

"I know, my darling. It's alright if you are not ready yet. I'll wait for you. I'll wait an eternity for you." His voice is louder than yours, but not by much. You want to open the door but can't bring yourself to do it. He can feel it. You know he can. His signature brushes over yours gently again, soothing you. He was always good at that.

"I have to go, Master. I'm sorry. I need to find Anakin." 

"It's alright, Little Dove. I'll be with you. Always."

You nod and take another moment of weakness before pulling away and running the way you came. It takes you twenty minutes to find Anakin and Ahsoka again. As you reappear, Ahsoka crashes into you, hugging you tight.

"Are you okay!? Your comms weren't working. We've been calling you and sent troops to find you but we couldn't! What happened? Where did you go?"

You push Ahsoka back to look her into her eyes, holding her shoulders. "It's okay. I'm fine. I got lost in the hallways. The droids were coming from that way so I handled it. I just got confused on my way back to you. All the halls look so similar."

You try cracking a joke as you notice Anakin watching you cautiously. He knows something. Looking over, you cast what you hope is a charming smile in his direction. He nods and gives a small smile in return but still looks concerned, though you can't tell if it's for you or because of you. 

When you return to the Temple, the council convenes to be briefed on the mission. Anakin credits you with destroying a majority of the Droid squadron within the base. The council seems to be a mixture of impressed and put off by this news. You're not surprised.

You feel nothing for them anymore. They don't do anything but cause more problems for you and those around you. Most Jedi would say the most dangerous feeling to have is hatred. Some say anger. Others will tell you that hope is the worst thing to feel, especially in this war.

No. The most dangerous thing a Jedi can feel is indifference. Indifference causes one to not have loyalty to those they have been sworn to. With anger or hatred or even hope, it shows one still feels attached to something. With indifference, it is not so.

Your indifference is what Obi Wan was waiting for. 

~~~~~

The next mission you are sent on is the one that sends you over the edge. 

It's another gala you are to attend, this time undercover as a senator's aid. The moment you arrive, you reach out for Obi Wan. You search the room with your eyes and your signature, praying to the Maker that he is there.

As the evening progresses, you stop looking for him. You become distracted by doing your job, working the crowd and getting more information you've been sent to collect. Though the council has seemed to develop more trust in you over the last couple of months, they don't trust you entirely. You have another Jedi with you to keep an eye on you. You don't remember his name, and it doesn't particularly matter to you anyway. He's just a security measure to protect the Order. 

"Pardon me for interrupting, Senator Gunray. I was hoping I might ask this lovely young lady for this dance." His voice drips across your ears like bacta over a burn. Your posture relaxes as the senator you were speaking with bows out gracefully, promising to speak with you again later.

You turn and finally see the man you've dreamt of for five whole months, though if you're honest, it's been longer than that. He looks dashing in his white suit and cape. As your eyes trail up from his chest, you catch the hairs of his auburn beard lift as he smiles at you. You see that smile next, the shining and slightly arrogant one you grew used to throughout your few years of training with him.

He reserves this smile for you. The one that shows his pride but also a glimmer of praise for you. He softens whenever he sees you, even if it's isn't noticeable to anyone else. It always was to you. He was a good and kind master, but a better friend. In this smile, you see your friend. 

You raise your eyes to meet his and your breath catches. The cerulean ocean you are used to seeing is gone, replaced by molten gold, framed by dark lashes, which seem darker than they used to. Maybe it's just your imagination.

"Remember to breathe, Little Dove. I fear you will pass out if you don't."

You let out a small huff of a laugh as you smile and glance down to your feet. You see him lift his hand to under your chin, raising your eyes back to his. You can see him searching your face for something. He must find it or you are imagining it because he draws away again, offering you his arm to take.

"I believe I offered you a dance, my love. May I have one?"

"Yes, my lord." He leads you out onto the floor. A waltz starts not long after he pulls you into position. As you dance, he keeps you closer to his body than the other partners on the floor. You don't mind, letting yourself melt into his arms for the first time in several months.

Obi Wan was the one who taught you to dance. He had been trying to help you learn to make your movements smoother, more choreographed as you dueled. You kept making jagged, uncoordinated movements that caused you to lose your footing or leave an open spot for someone to strike. Obi had taken your Saber, tossed it and his own to the side, then pulled you in gently. He kept a respectable amount of space between you as he placed your hand on his shoulder and his own on your waist, holding your opposite hand. And he taught you to dance. Slowly, you got the hang of it and he moved back into the forms you were learning. You never lost to him in a duel again.

The dance sessions became almost a regular occurrence. He'd hug you when you were upset and slowly rock you, letting it turn into a silly little dance to make you smile and giggle. He'd kiss your head and twirl you just to make you squeal or blush. Those are his fondest memories of being in the order.

"I have a question for you, Darling."

"I will answer anything you ask of me, Darth Nighte," you respond without hesitation.

He grins widely and lets out a laugh. "You always have, haven't you? My good girl."

You blush slightly and look away from him to hide it. He doesn't like that. He lifts your chin again and raises an eyebrow, warning you not to look away again. 

"Did you pick this gown to get someone's attention?" He says it in a teasing tone but you know what he is asking. Is the dress for him?

The dress you selected for the gala was bought with what little you had saved over the years. You had gone out into the city on one of your rare days off to buy it. It was in the shop window and you'd asked to try it on. It was a long sleeved, dark blue dress with tiny gems to make it appear as though you were a part of the evening sky. It's a bit lower cut in the bust than you thought you'd be comfortable with but seeing the way he admires it, you know it was the right decision.

"I must confess, my lord. I fear I am no longer a good Jedi. You see, I find myself disagreeing with the rules and growing agitated trying to suppress my emotions. It feels like I'm being pulled down a different, new path. I can't stand the rule against attachments. I have found that attachments only make you stronger. Maybe that is what they are afraid of…" you trail off as you realize how much you spoke but he holds your eye contact and nods for you to continue. "I have found myself deeply attached to a lord at this very party and I had hoped he'd find the dress pleasing."

"I'm sure he does, my darling. Do I know this lord, do you think?" He knows. He always does.

You smile and glance around as though making sure no one was listening, "I think you know him very well, my lord." 

"Then I suppose I'll leave you to him." He starts to release you but you grip onto him tighter. He laughs again, a sound you truly and sorely missed.

Together, you and Obi Wan danced for several more songs. You talk occasionally but mostly bask in the comfort you bring each other. As the night dwindles on and draws to a close, you know you have a decision to make. A path to choose.

Obi Wan senses your panic and turmoil. He searches your eyes again before leading you off the dance floor to a little alcove on the side of the ballroom. He presses you back against the wall and lets his body tower over yours. 

"My angel, you do not have to do anything you don't wish to. I don't intend to steal you away and hide you from the galaxy. It is your decision. This is your life. Lead it how you wish to. No matter what you decide, I will always love and support you. Even if I must do so from afar." He leans down and presses his forehead to yours. You can feel the love in his signature. True love. Pure love. How can a feeling so pure be so bad? 

Lifting your chin slightly, you let your nose brush his and hear his quick intake of breath. He leans further into you slowly, giving you time to pull away from him. To say no.

You never will.

He lets his lips brush yours. It's gentle, simple, peaceful. He lets you decide how to proceed. Slowly, your hands move from where you had pressed them to his chest up into his hair to pull him closer. He hums in pleasure and pushes you further into the alcove. He kisses you the way you imagined he would. Gentle but dominant. Kind but leading. Persuasive. The Great Negotiator, indeed.

You pull away first, needing to breathe. He lets you go but keeps his forehead against yours. 

"Obi?" You whisper to him.

"Sweet One?" He responds.

"Am I ready now?"

"That, my dearest little dove, is not a question I can answer for you."

You nod, feeling the tears form. His hand is holding your cheek and jaw on one side. He can feel when they start to fall. He coos gently and pulls you into his chest, whispering reassurances and words of love.

"I don't want you to go again. It hurts when you go, my Obi." You mutter through the tears. Obi Wan pulls away enough to hold your face with both hands.

"I don't have to. You can come with me, Darling. I have a place for us. It's safe and quiet and peaceful. It's perfect. I made sure it's perfect for you. All you have to do is say yes. Little Dove, you can stay with me. Come with me."

His voice isn't commanding or ordering you. It's… begging. He's begging you to stay with him.

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you look up at his eyes. They're no longer gold the way they were before. They're darker now. Green. Your breathing picks up as you kiss him again. It's a soft, quick kiss. He reciprocates, waiting for your decision.

"Home?" You ask him. He smiles against your lips and nods.

"Home." 

"Obi Wan. Take me home."

The burst of joy in his signature is more than enough to convince you that this was the right decision. He kisses you fiercely before retreating and standing up straight. A lord once again. Offering you his arm, he leads you back into the public eye.

As he escorts you through the front doors of the building and towards the hanger, you are stopped by a voice yelling your name. Your Jedi babysitter. You forgot about him. Obi Wan stiffens as he hears it as well, turning his head just enough to see the man behind you. You try to keep going but Obi Wan has stopped. Your panic is beginning to rise again. You'll never be free.

"You are to return to the Temple with me immediately, Young Padawan. This is not a debate."

"I-" 

"My apologies, Jedi, but I believe she has made her decision." Obi Wan's voice is calm but there is a hint of a threat in it. He's daring the man to oppose him.

"I'm sorry, Senator, but that will not be happening. She has been asked to return to the Temple."

"Senator? Do you hear that, my darling? Senator. The level of disrespect tossed about by the Order is truly insulting. He doesn't even know my name."

You keep your eyes on Obi, pleading with him through your signature to just take you and go. In your bones, you knew it wouldn't be this easy. If only.

Obi Wan turns and the Jedi recognizes him. His eyes, now returned to gold, are a dead giveaway. The Jedi draws his weapon and beckons you over, holding his hand out as he calls your name again. 

"This man is not who you think he is, Padawan. Come with me." He reaches for you again but you take a step back, closer to Obi Wan. 

"Maybe I'm not who you thought I was, Master. Or… I think perhaps I am." Glancing up at Obi, you see him watching you with curiosity and… hope. You haven't seen hope in so long you almost don't recognize it. 

Your Obi nods at you, just once, and takes a step back. The Jedi is gazing at the both of you with confusion and horror as you look at Obi Wan.

"I told you already, Little Dove. This is your decision. No one can make it for you." His voice calms you. There's no malice in it when he directs it at you.

"He's trying to trick you, Padawan. It's time to go now." The Jedi got close enough to grab your wrist and begin to pull you away. The moment he touches you, your lightsaber is in your hand and the Jedi is screaming. You open your eyes and see the man's arm on the ground between you. His lightsaber falls from his other hand and Obi Wan comes to pick it up. You feel your hands shaking as you watch him replace the Jedi's Saber on his belt before reaching a hand out to you. 

"Are you ready now, darling?"

You look between Obi's hand and the man's arm and then at the blood on your gown. You take Obi Wan's hand and leave the Jedi kneeling on the ground of the hanger as you're taken onto your love's ship. He sits you down and pulls off his cape, draping it over you. It's heavier than it looked. He helps to strap you into the co-pilot seat before getting into the pilot seat.

As the ship lifts off, you catch a reflection in the glass of the cockpit window. Your eyes are surrounded by a ring of gold.

You feel Obi Wan take your hand as you reach hyperspace and let him smooth his thumb over your knuckles. You glance up at his beautiful eyes and see they are the blue you missed. You realize something that nearly brings you to tears again. You've been on your own for most of your life, especially when it got hard.

You don't have to be alone anymore. You have your Obi Wan.

~~~~~

@meshlasolus @vi-does-stuff @star-whores-a-new-hoe @turtlelover59 @lowkeyorloki 

#sith!obi wan #sith!obi wan x reader #obi wan x reader #obi x reader #dark side of the force #apparently I suck at tags and warnings #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x padawan reader

[sevikasleftpussyflap]

You can't tell me that Sevika's strap game isn't god-tier. LOOK AT HER AND TELL ME TO MY FACE THAT SHE DOESN'T HAVE THE BEST STRAP GAME IN THE WHOLE OF ZAUN. GO ON, I'LL WAIT.

HBFHBHEBIB my second username of choice was sevikasstickystrapon

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, subspace, overstimulation, sevikas sticky strap

Literally any pace would have you falling apart. She's all about the motion of the ocean and she will take all night discovering what gets you to make those pretty sounds for her

You're so responsive for her that she might think she's your first

If she's not, you'd tell her that no one's made you feel like that before/made you come that many times in one night

This would honestly piss her off and she'd want the names and addresses of your previous lovers bc it is SO EASY FOR HER to please you

Which means they weren't trying so they need death :)

"I was wringing you dry last night, the fuck?" You'd be a blushing mess at her words, her protectiveness, and the memories

You'd defensively ask her if she had ever made someone come like that

"Have you never made someone come before?" You stuttered out defensively, cheeks alight with embarrassment. A low chuckle meets your ears, smug at your naivety of her reputation. "Honey, I have. But never that many times in one night. You came every time I stuck my strap in you."

She'll be fucking you so good and you can't help but claw at her back, ignoring her no touching command and leaving red welts in your wake

"Hands." She growls. Your bliss is interrupted by her stern tone, nails retract and arms cautiously wrap around her neck. She stills and barks the command again but you don't want to let go of her. "No, please I just want to hold you." To her dismay, this softens some part of her and she kisses you, irritated. She'll start fucking you harder and you'll be clawing her up again, but she'll put up with it this time

Sevika is an absolute menace when it comes to over stimulation. If you work yourself too hard during the day, she's gonna make you relax. You'll just have to lay there and take what she gives you

She loves the face you make when you're fucked stupid, all of the worry and stress of the day gone

So she'll want to see it again and again and again

I hc that you're her first true relationship. With her job she never really had time for anything serious. The brothel was there for a stress reliever when she needed it (and she needed it a lot)

So you're the first thing that's truly hers. There's no sharing you with anyone, she has someone to call her own and she's gonna show you her appreciation

Also take a little half-assed drabble:

Moans filled the room. You were bent over the table, stuffed absolutely full by Sevika's strap. She didn’t even have to move the large toy in your cunt, wet dripping down your thighs, squeezed together as if that would stop her from breaching your entrance. You tried to move as little as possible, every movement overwhelming as the toy filled and pressed against the entirety of your walls. Whimpers fell endlessly from your lips, thighs slick and slipping together. When your eyes weren’t squeezed shut, they were rolled to the back of your head. Gentle pets against your hair comforted you as you moaned, overstimulated from every sensation. 

“Good, baby?” 

Your nod was sluggish and cut short when she pulled out slightly. The noises that fell out of your mouth were not under your own volition as the strap slid back inside you. Somehow her slow humping was more overwhelming, each drag rubbing against that one spot and bringing you to the edge faster than any harsh thrust would.

When you fall over your scream is guttural, sobs ripping from your throat when she continues those measured thrusts.

“‘Vika‘Vika‘Vika-”

“It’s alright, just lay there and enjoy it. Take what I give you.”

Your head was fuzzy, comprehending nothing but the feelings she drew from you and her gentle commands. Dutifully, you laid there spread for her, letting her use you and unravel every shred of coherence until there was nothing but her. 

“How am I supposed to stop when you keep making those pretty noises for me?”

Lips brushed your ear, breath casting over your cheek and sending shivers down your spine. You were wailing, sobs and moans falling from your mouth, intensifying when a hand lifted your thigh to give her more access.

“That’s right, open up for me.” 

Thrust.

“That’s-”

Thrust.

“-it.”

It felt like you couldn’t stop coming. Her hands massaged your tense muscles until you were boneless, every touch feeling like a kiss. Ink smudged beneath you from your tears, whatever document she was working on before was absolutely ruined. Like you.

You whimpered as she pulled out, shushing you before her warmth left you completely. Metal clanked against porcelain, something falling to the ground followed by a muffled “-shit.” You could only focus on your heartbeat pounding in your chest, the pulsing throb between your thighs.

Time didn’t exist. You had no idea if she’d been gone for five seconds or five minutes. Warm, calloused hands rested on your thighs and you pliantly spread them, slightly pushing your hips up and presenting yourself to her.

“That’s good, baby. But we’re done with that.” Words dripping with amusement weren’t enough to snap you out of your haze. A rag lightly cleaned between your thighs, mesmerizing her with your glistening arousal. Sevika smiled softly when you pushed back as the cloth wiped over your entrance, thighs parting again. 

“Eager to please, huh?” 

The rich oak wood slid against your cheek as your head bobbled in a nod, halted by hands now cradling your cheeks. “We’re through, sweet thing. Come back to me.”  

Sevika watched as your bleary eyes slowly crept into focus, a sleepy smile settling on your face.

“Hi.”

Your quiet voice was met with her chuckles. 

“Hey, babygirl. You good?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

The sight of you utterly spent brought a satisfied smile to Sevika’s face. She loved being able to give you the pleasure you deserved, that it was her that was able to take away all of your worries until you were floating in the clouds. Sevika wasn’t used to having someone to call her own. She had favorites at the brothel, sure, but they were never entirely hers. Now here you are, someone she could never tire of, who she always looked forward coming home to, who she could ply with riches, status, and sex until you were sick of it. 

She never thought it would be possible to feel this way about another person and now she made sure to give her thanks to you in her own way, making sure your needs were met and that any stress of the day was fucked away before you slept. Of course to you, she was just your hyper sexual partner.

After she was able to get some water in you, combating the whines with coaxing pets and encouraging praises, a bowl of fruit found itself in her metal hand. Your grumbling protests were ignored as you were hoisted into her lap.

“I wanna sleep, Sev.”

“A few bites for me, c’mon.” 

By the third bite, you were mostly back to yourself and gave her finger a nip when it pushed a berry to your mouth.

“Brat. For you to behave, I have to fuck you stupid? Is that what it takes?”

Burning cheeks hid in her collar bone, a teasing little “maybe” muttered into her skin.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

#sevika x reader #arcane sevika x reader #sevika imagine

[autumnslance]

send HELPED for a scene from my muse's past in which someone helped / saved them

For Iyna, please!

She was surrounded.

The magitek smoked and sparked beyond the line of advancing soldiers; she'd accomplished that much, at least.

"Make sure to capture her," the Pilus called. "Sas Laccius will be pleased we've snared this hare!"

Iyna froze, pulse hammering in her ears, mouth dry, fingers clenched on her gun's stock. She had to move, had to react, had to do something, but the mention of Tyrsis had unnerved her far more than it should.

He still hunted her? After all this time?!

The soldiers nearest to her fell, cries cut short and blood spurting, arrows protruding from their necks and torsos. The squad reacted, turning to the new threat.

"More of her rebel friends!"

But she did not know these people; she had been on a solo mission to destroy this depot, her last cell dead and none willing to work with her--not with her strange visions of others' pasts.

Still, the sudden appearance of others unfroze her, and she lifted her gun and fired.

The battle was quickly finished, and the rebels dispersed into the depot to complete their work. Their leader, however, walked up to Iyna, her eyes wide at the sight of another Viera. The woman wore filigree armor, her thick white hair hanging long down her back, and her sharp red eyes raking over Iyna.

She was more threatening than the Garleans had been.

"Didn't know anyone else was operating here," the other Viera said.

Iyna shook her head. "It's just me."

The Viera's brows raised. "Working alone? No wonder you were in such a tight spot." Her long ears twitched and she looked toward the road. Iyna heard it too; the faint, tell-tale sounds of vehicles on the way. "We need to move; there's room, if you want to join us."

Iyna was certain the woman didn't just mean to leave the depot, but she nodded. "If you've got an extract plan, I'll take it. I...didn't really," she looked away.

The Viera studied her a moment, even as she called to her team. "I'm Fran," she finally said to Iyna. "General of Lente's Tears."

"Iyna. Not of anything," she replied as she followed the group through the ruined fence. Behind them, the depot exploded into a brilliant plume of fire and smoke, the incoming vehicles screeching to a halt outside the gate on the opposite side. "Thanks for the help." Her own plan to disable the depot had been terribly incomplete.

Somewhat on purpose, if she was being honest.

Fran's slight smile was feral. "You're welcome. Let's go--and maybe we can talk about making you a talented operative of somewhere again."

Iyna drew in a breath, nodded, and followed Fran.

#final fantasy xiv #Lyn Writing #Iyna Prompts #Fran Eryut #Iyna Cauld #Backstory

[pillowfriendly]

15 lines of dialogue

Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

tagged by @ferrocyan yayayay yippyyy ^^ tagging @smallest-turtle and viewers like you

(coming back to the top to say i definitely did more than just the spoken lines because i misunderstood the prompt. my official stance on this is: whatever. eat my shorts)

---

The man scrambled back further, waving his spoon. “Are you going to rob me?”

“Um.” She conducted a brief inventory of his few belongings and glanced at the single scraggly chocobo. “No?”

---

“My mothers mostly told me forest stories, so I don’t know much about the ocean. But it seems… big… there?” She winced. Jude frowned at her.

“Too much water,” she added, desperate. This was a conversation. She was making conversation.

---

“Does it always have to be so hard?” She spoke to Fray, but would have liked to pose the question to several gods, too.

---

He backpedaled, holding his arm close. The saber lay at his feet, yet he didn’t reach for it. He wasn’t even trying. Why did that make it worse? “Do you even want to live at all?” Fray said. Kethry said.

---

“Yeah, we’ll go out. Unless you can trace the aetheric signature of defensive constructs. Or whatever that last scholar was talking about.”

“Kweh.”

“Me neither.”

---

She threw up her hands. “What for? If there’s something that needs killed again, I’ll get it out of your way. Happy?” She shook grit from her log and stood. “If I can’t do anything else, I’d like to do my job without busybodies.”

---

He thumbed his chin. “Still, the fact that she changed plumage, I assume after she reached full maturity, might make her something of a scientific anomaly.”

Kethry’s ears flattened. “An anomaly? That’s so! So!” she sputtered. “That’s so rude! She’s a good bird!”

“I’m not saying she’s not,” he said, in a tone somewhere between confusion and amusement. His eyes landed on a fin stuck to Phoebe’s beak. “Perhaps it was induced by dietary changes?”

“She’s just blue! Don’t be mean!” Kethry struggled to scramble into the saddle and maintain disapproving eye contact at the same time.

---

“There’s something like this up in Coerthas too. They say it came down when the moon fell. Saw an Echo of it happening first time I came here.” She waved his question away before he could ask. “I get these… past visions, sometimes. Side effect of the Echo. Don’t worry about it. Anyway, this whole thing formed ’cause of the impact.” She narrowed her eyes and tossed him the arrows. “But don’t stand there thinking about what it all means. That’s on your own time.”

---

This arrow flew true, but a twirl of her staff knocked it out of the air. “No, she just has Limsa. For now.”

“Has Limsa.” He drew several arrows to fire in succession. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

She turned to avoid the first shot. “It’s hers.” Ducked under the second. “She can use it.” Sent the next skittering and sparking along the crystal. “Get people to do things.” Startled him by leaping over the fourth with a dragoon’s high jump, and aimed for the fifth on the return. It zipped under her—she swung for it and missed, landing with a thud on the field. “She takes a cut for organizing trade. Makes the fleet sail here or there. But if she messes it up, or pulls too much…” She opened her hands and dropped the staff, then kicked it back up to herself. “Someone will take it from her. And if that can happen, she’s not really in charge of it, see? It’s a tool she can use while she’s got it. Or something.”

---

“Mmbwuh,” said Kethry.

---

“It doesn’t…” She scrunched up her face, then made a waving motion. “When Alphinaud and Y’shtola cast spells, you can feel their aether move when they weave it, and it goes like, fwoosh. But when I try to shape mine into a sigil, or anything like that, it’s like pulling on an anchor rode. Doesn’t move.”

---

“I just. When I lived here. We were hunting, the kids. I mean, we were kids, not that we were hunting any. It was the first time I was supposed to lead. And we ran into one of those, a boar, they grow too big here, and we should have ran, but I tried to take it down anyway, and—” She shook her head, to try and shake out the memory, too. “It got my cousin. Tore her right open.”

---

Still, he’d been whiny about it. “Since when have you gotten so demanding?” he panted.

“Since I decided we were friends.”

His ears flicked. “Oh? And when was that?”

She folded her hands over his head and rested her own on top of them while she considered. “Right now? A while ago? I dunno. I'm hungry, though.”

---

She shook her head, flicking water about as she did so. “The only reason not to help people is if you can't. And you should be sure that you really can’t, not just that it might be hard. Anyway, I know the Echo doesn’t work like that, probably. That's why it's stupid.”

---

Kethry laughed. “You kidding? Of course we can.” She leaned out to look up the incline, then rolled an eye over her shoulder at him. Her grin had too many teeth. “Monsters this big rely on having more power than you, and that's usually enough. It can try to hit us, sure. But it can't fight.”

#*holds up kethry* baby u r my #ANGELLLLLL #ffxiv #tag game #wheehehehehe

[ghostiewriter]

drabbles or hc of fast and furious au jiara??👀👀

enjoy!🤠idk what this is but wkebkdwebfbjw

...

“I know what you’re doing and it’s not working.”

Kiara raised her brows, lifting her head to look at the blond who stood a couple of feet away from her. He had abandoned his shirt long ago, his tanned chest stained with grease stains and the wrench he was twirling between his fingers drew her attention for a few moments. 

She removed the lollipop from between her lips. “What am I doing?”

He let out a groan, the car he was working on now the last thing on his mind as he made his way towards her. Before she could even react, he was pulling her into his chest and quickly pushing down the hood of her car at once. 

“I was working on that,” she murmured with a small huff, raising the lollipop to her lips. 

“You were being a fucking tease, baby,” he grumbled as his head fell to the crook of her neck. His thick arms wound around her torso, keeping her back pressed against his chest. “How much longer are you gonna hold this over me?”

“A bet is a bet, Jay,” she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. 

“Yeah but I didn’t think you were serious about a sex ban,” he grumbled, tightening his grip on her. 

“Shouldn’t have lost the race then,” she said, though her amusement was thick in her voice. 

He had brought this upon himself and both of them were very aware of that. She had told him time and time again before the last meetup that he needed to stop biting any bait that was hung in front of him. JJ—ever the competitive egotistic mess he was—ignored her. 

She had said to him that if he lost any of the races, they were on a sex ban. 

JJ just smirked at her. 

And now, two weeks later, he was still suffering.

“It’s been weeks,” he muttered, his lips tracing along her neck and down her shoulders. She only had a tank and pair of shorts on, the heat of the garage not really allowing anything else. “You gotta be suffering too, baby.” 

“Don’t you worry about me, big boy,” she drawled and lightly tapped his arms. “I can keep myself satisfied just fine.” 

“Not as well as I could,” he whispered, his voice dropping as his lips brushed against her ear. 

“I don’t know,” she mused, biting back her smirk. “I think I could get used to it being a permanent—

She didn’t even have a chance to finish her sentence before she was spun around, hands on her thighs lifting her until she was on the hood of her car. She looked at the boy with raised brows but he was already tugging her shorts down her legs. 

“Permanent, my ass,” he grumbled, the sound of fabric ripping as he tore her panties away before she could even bat his hands away. “Gonna fuck you pretty on your own fucking car, baby, and then we are gonna race and put this stupid ban to and end. Got it?” 

Kiara only grinned, pulling him closer by his belt loops and wrapping her legs around his waist. “Fuck me good, pretty boy, and I’ll blow you on the way home.”

...

#jiara #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jiara fic #jiara fanfic #jiara fanfiction #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #my fic

[house-of-slayterr]

I Need A Vacation Pt. 2

Tag: @vechkinfan @dickspaghettii @yor72 @thelostboyswife @panickinanakin1

It was our third day in Santa Clara. For the most part, everyone was getting along. No one had been staked, not wolfsbane, no neck-snapping. It was nice to be away from Mystic Falls where I didn’t have to worry about my friends getting drugged by Vervain. Especially with my twin being a Hybrid now. The girls were off tanning at the beach, an activity I wasn't keen in joining them in. I wasn't a vampire, or a which, I could still get skin cancer.

Damon had dragged the boys somewhere to cause some mischief. I'm sure Stefan and Matt were being the voice of reason. While my brother was likely lucky to keep his head on his shoulders. Which left me all alone, standing in the middle of our air b and b rental. I drew the shades, blocking out any sunlight. Unlike my brother, My werewolf eyes were sensitive. I could see much better than him at night, but this hindered me during the day. Without my sunglasses, I was basically blind.

I turned the air conditioning up and laid down on the cold marble flooring of the kitchen. It felt nice against my hot skin. Before I knew it, I fell asleep.

David's POV:

The night was drawing close, I could see the last remnants of sunlight setting along the horizon. I was always the first to wake unless Dwayne was particularly antsy that day. It had been three days since we met that girl at the convenience store. Three whole days since we fed on her in the ally. I knew the boys were still thinking about her, I was too. Paul was jumping out of his skin at a chance to sniff her out. But we had to be patient, she said she'd meet us again, and I doubt she'd lie. Not after letting us feed on her so willingly. Nobody had ever done that for us before.

I hear Marko stir from his place on the ceiling, the others were quick to wake up after.

"I have a good feeling about tonight!" He declared, overly cheerful.

"Somebodies happy, wet have one of those dreams again?" Paul teased.

Marko rolled his eyes, and Dwayne chuckled lightly under his breath. He stretched showing the top of his happy trail. My eyes wandered for a moment, before Paul clapped his hand on my shoulder.

"And somebodies hungry this morning. Who did the two of you drink last night, because I want what you're having."?

"Shut it hairspray!" I flinched his hand off of me.

Dwayne chuckled playfully.

"If you're sure tonight is the night Marko, do your thing, sniff her out."

"With Pleasure." Marko cracked his infamous cat like grin.

He was the best tracker out of all of us. We set out into the crowd, patrolling the boardwalk as usual. Despite my best efforts, Paul got distracted by the usual chum. Pretty girls, less pretty boys. He was a horny bastard and he needed to get his priorities straight. He'd be disappointed if he tires himself out before we find her, she would to. And for that I'd have to punish him. But it was his grave he was digging, Paul learned things the hard way.

Dwayne was on high alert as usual, scanning the crowd as if any of these humans were a danger to us. Though I couldn't really blame him, his gut feelings were never wrong. I just wish he'd relax outside of the cave every once and a while.

But Marko, Marko did not disappoint. In under an hour, we had her in our sights again. And by the gods, was she breath taking. Her outfit wasn't particularly stunning the first time we met. But that hardly mattered, right now however, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I slapped Paul on the back of his head, pulling his attention away from the girl he was toying with.

"Ow, what the hell man?"

Her hair was loosely braided to one side. She wore a short red plaid skirt, black knee-high socks and platform boots. But what had my breath catching in my throat was her top or lack thereof. She wore a thing black lace bralette, and Dwayne's leather jacket hung loosely around it. It was way too oversized, and she honestly looked adorable in it. It was clear Dwayne agreed from the genuine smile on his face.

"She's wearing it."

I was honestly surprised when he gave it to her. Dwayne wasn't nearly as uppity about his jacket as Marko was with his. But it was still one of his favorite things. He wore it every day. Today however he threw on one of Paul's old black flannels he stole. It was a little tight on him, because his muscles were larger. But it still looked nice, weird but nice.

She was sat alone on a bench by Max's video store. None of her pesky friends following her today. Most importantly, her brother was nowhere in sight. He smelt like wet dog and cheap booze. She fidgeted with the necklace around her neck. Her gaze was far off, staring up at the sky.

Before I could finish reading Marko's mind, he was already on his way over. Too eager I suppose. I sighed heavily as I watched the scene unfold.

"Should we intervene?" Dwayne asked.

I shook my head.

"Naw man, Markie's just having some fun." Paul defended.

We watched as he jumped out in front of her, starling her. I could hear the soft squeak that left her mouth. She clutched her necklace tighter and glared up at him. We took that as our que to softly approach.

"You should have seen your face." Paul laughed.

"You should know it well, it's the same face you make when you walk past a reflective surface."

Paul placed a hand over his heart in offence. Marko was double over laughing, leaning on her shoulder.

"How are you?" I asked smoothly.

She smiled up at me, holding out her hand, as if to ask for mine I pulled her up to her feet, watching Marko stumble in the process.

"Thank you. And I'm fine, you?"

I gave her a half-baked answer, I could tell she wasn't fully with us. Her eye looked past me at the sky again. I followed her line of sight, and she quickly shrunk in on herself when she noticed.

"Something wrong?" Dwayne asked for me.

"Sorry. Just, the moons very bright tonight, don't you think?"

"It is, isn't it." I muttered.

"Awesome, isn't it? The blood moons tonight." Paul wiggled his fingers in her face like a kid telling a ghost story.

She frowned, but it was so subtle I almost thought I imagined it.

"Yeah, cool..."

"You with us Doll face?" I mused.

Her attention snapped back to me.

"So, you settled on Doll face? Better than Kitten I guess." she laughed lightly.

It wasn't pity laugh. Just something small, genuine.

"What's wrong with Kitten, Kitten?" Marko purred in her ear.

"Wrong type of pet." She joked.

The type of joke, only she knew the true meaning of. But Marko took this as a challenge.

"Little bird? Bunny? No, no- you're definitely some thinks cool like a snake!" He declared.

She pushed his face away with her hand.

"Keep trying buddy. You boys want to get out of her?" She asked.

I could hear the nerves in her voice, it was the way Dwayne spoke when he felt threatened.

"I thought you'd never ask." Paul grinned.

I held out my hand, mirroring her earlier action. She took it gratefully and we all started walking.

"Where too?" I questioned.

"Somewhere the light doesn't touch." She said defiantly.

On odd request, but who was I to judge. She was making this all too easy. I walked her over to where Our bikes sat and helped her hop on. I handed her the extra helmet I used for Star. The boys and I talked through our mind link.

"Do you think she's on something?" Paul asked.

"Her pupils were fine." Dwayne observed.

"Of course, you were staring at her eye's loser, did you see what she's wearing?" Marko jeered.

That was a stupid question, of course he did. But Dwayne was more gentlemanly than the rest of us, or at least he played the part better.

"She seemed uncomfortable, maybe she got in a fight with one of her friends. Would explain why that blond girl wasn't hanging off of her, and that due with the dumb haircut wasn't glaring at anyone who got to close." Dwayne queried.

"Doesn't explain why she doesn't like the light." I finally chimed in.

Nobody seemed to have an explanation for that one. The rest of the ride to the cave was silent. She got of my biked, taking of the helmet, and removing her braid. She shook her hair out, so it fell sloppily around her neck. The bite marks had healed pretty well.

"So, what do you think?" Marko asked.

"Of what? This hunk of rock?" She laughed, not genuine like it was early.

She was defiantly on edge about something.

"Well, this hunk of rock is ours, Sweetcheeks" Paul slung his arm over our shoulders.

"We live deep within the cave, used to be an old hotel or something like that. Sink hole got to it."

"No shit, that's kinda cool actually. Show me around?" She asked, looking right into his eyes.

Dwayne playfully scooped her up in his arms.

"Hey, put me down!" "No can do, the way in's slippery, can't have you falling and breaking that pretty little neck of yours."

I knew he was cracking. Vampires were territorial creatures by nature. Being this close to our home and seeing her in his clothes. His mind was numbing by the second.

He flew her down to our spot in the cave, Her giggled echoed of the walls. It made my undead heart swell in a way I didn't think it could. He plated his feet on the edge of the fountain, threatening to drop her in it. A move I'm sure he learned from one of the terror twins.

"No don't!"

"Why not?" "Because you'll ruin your jacket silly!" She said it like there was nothing more obvious in the whole world.

Paul had already made himself comfortable on the couch. Marko read my mind and left to go get some food. We wouldn't need to find dinner ourselves, if she let us feed on her again. I stood watching the whole ordeal and lit a cigarette.

"And what if I were to just take it back?"

Her eyes widened like saucers.

"You musty ass bitch! you'll have to pry it from my could dead hands!" she shouted.

She somehow managed to twist out of his hold, flipping backwards and landing expertly on the tip of the center of the fountain.

Paul starred at her like she just grew a second head. I honestly was surprised, and mildly impressed. Dwayne took a moment to contemplate what just happened but lunged for her playfully. She jumped back gain, dogging him with ease. A chase ensued for a few minutes, Paul deciding to join in and help.

"Oh, come on, it's my jacket!" Dwayne tried to reason.

"Finder keepers, losers' weepers!" She stuck her tongue out at him.

It was like she sensed Paul's presence behind her, cause she ducked when he tried to reach for her, slipping under his legs. She grabbed his hair and pulled him close, using him as a human shield between her and Dwayne. Paul bit his lip hard, I could tell he was trying to hold back a moan. It was honestly hilarious, and what that idiot deserved. They circled each other for a moment, stargazing.

"Hey when did I become a pawn in this?"

"When you picked his side you traitor."

Marko came back with the food, but none of them moved an inch.

"I got the chow- what the hell is going on here?" He asked amused.

"Care to explain Doll face?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Dwayne want's his jacket back. I like being warm."

Marko chuckled, placing the food down on the makeshift coffee table.

"Oh yeah? I could always warm you up babe." He tried.

She rolled her eyes.

"Pick a side blondie, there no cuddling in the heat of war!"

He jumped over the couch and stood by Dwayne's side.

"What? Wouldn't give up my jacket for just any girl." He smiled at her.

"Boo, you whore!"

I laughed under my breath, it was true, Marko as a whore.

"What are you laughing at Ken, get over here and help me."

I raised a brow at her. Not only did she just give me an order, she called me ken. It's almost like she raid my mind, because in a smaller voice, with a blush on her face, she explained.

"Well, if I'm your doll..."

"When you say it like that, sure, I'll help you."

I stood Infront of her and Dwayne glared at me. She finally let go of Paul, knowing he wouldn't dare switch back teams.

"So that's how were gonna play this?" Dwayne asked her.

"All is fair in war." She shrugged.

She definitely shouldn't have said that. He and Marko shared a look, before he launched the smaller boy at me. I shifted the impact so we wouldn't back up into her. Dwayne went for her but got cut off by Paul. She took this as an opportunity to run and hide. Another mistake. We were vampires, she knew this. It was amusing she thought we couldn't find her.

I quickly shook Marko off of me and went to go find her. She'd never suspect someone on her own team to turn on her. She said it herself, anything goes. I pulled back the makeshift curtain, separating Paul's part of the cave. I found her hiding behind the mini fringe he kept in there. I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder.

"NO fair!" She let out between laughs.

"This has been fun Doll, but I'm hungry and you're delaying dinner."

She must have understood my double entendre, because I felt a shiver run through her spine. I chuckled menacingly. I threw her down on the couch and she glared up at me. Dwayne came up behind her and removed his jacket.

"I win." he said, leaning down to her height and grinning.

She said nothing, glaring. She was giving him the silent treatment. To emphasized this, she turned away from him, focusing her attention on Paul. She called him over, and he obliged. She pecked him on the cheek.

"Thats for not betraying me."

He smiled the brightest smile I've ever seen. He plopped down next to her on the couch and handed her some food.

"Thanks."

We all ate, the boys making meaningless conversation. Dwayne looked over at her every once in a while, trying to gauge if she was actually upset. I was just glad she was eating. We wouldn't want her passing out later. I'm sure she'd have to get back to her friends sooner or later. She spaced out again, staring lifelessly at a spot on the floor. Paul nudgedx her shoudler, but she didnt budge. I grew a tad concenred.

"Y/N?" I asked.

The other boys drew their full attention to her now.

"Y/N?" I asked a little louder.

Marko waved his hand in front of her face. A few minutes past and we still could snap her out of it. So, I made a decision.

"What are you doing?" Paul asked, suddenly protective.

"We have to snap he out of whatever this is, she's not consciously breathing, and her heart is slowing. You can hear it can't you?"

They all nodded.

"Being gentle isn't working so-"

I extended my claws. I grabbed her wrist, turning it over in my grasp. I made eye contact with Dwayne for a second, he was the smartest of us, basically asking if he thought this was the right play. He gave me a nod. I dug y nail into her skin, hard enough to draw blood. She snaped out of it quickly, grabbing my hand in a tight grip. Her eyes met mine and they were darker than before. She had a scowl on her face.

"What was that?" She growled.

"We lost you for a second there, you were out for a few minutes." I said defensively.

Her grip is much tighter than it should of been. The boy's and I suspected she wasn't human, but she wasn't one of us either. That was obvious. What the hell was she?

"Yeah, you totally went all zombie on us, not like literally-"

She cut off Paul with a glare. She took a deep breath, before finally letting go of my arm. There was a red mark for a moment, before it healed.

"Sorry." She apologized.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Dwayne, always the worry wort.

"What does it feel like when you feed?" She asked suddenly, changing the subject.

I starred at her with curiosity.

"When you drink from a human, I mean. How does it make you feel?" Her question was directed at me specifically this time.

"IS that what you're worried about. We weren't gonna feed on you without permission." I laughed.

She shook her head.

"No." She looked past me at Dwayne now. "What do you think when you're doing it?"

Dwayne let out a heavy sigh.

"I don't think we have the answer you want."

"I'm not testing you; I just want a genuine answer. Please." Her voice got small in the end.

Paul was an idiot, but he was good at comforting. He pulled her close once he felt no resistance, and pet her hair down, smoothing it.

"Well, for me it feels really exciting. More the hunting them down, hearing their please. Sometimes they taste good, and the ones that don't, the weed helps." He explained.

I excepted her to pull away from him, disgusted, but she just nodded, leaning into his touch more.

"Well, if were being honest, it kidna turns me on. I usually pick the hottest people to feed off of. You were the first one who liked it though." Marko added.

She gave him a weak smile, eyes drifting to Dwayne.

"I didn't like it at first, being a vampire. But it doesn't bother me anymore. I like it because they like it. As long as they're having fun, then so am I." Dwayne confessed.

"So not only are you a literally leech, but you're a social leech to." She joked softly. Laughing into Paul's chest.

Dwayne rolled his eyes. Her attention finally shifted back to me. We held eye contact for a long time, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

"Why do you want to know?" I sighed. "Aren't their answers good enough?"

She sat up, pulling away from Paul. I heard a small whine escape him. But he let her go anyway.

"I'm not asking you to pour your heart out to me David. I'll-" She stopped herself, running an unsteady had through her hair. "I'll answer a question for you, if you answer mine. Any question, I can't say no." She offered.

It was tempting, truly. I wanted to know if me and the boys could trust her. Why we felt these things towards her, that we never felt before. Why she had this effect on us.

"Any question?"

"You can each ask me something, yes." Her heart didn't falter, she wasn't lying.

"It's a power exchange for me. To know me and my boys can strike fear, that people wouldn't mess with us. I feed on douchbags, idiots who deserve what they get. To watch them feel small, it feels good. If you're talking more literally, it does power us. Were stronger right after we've just fed. We feel faster, lighter, our mood improves."

She looked lost in thought for a moment.

"Thank you for being honest."

"You're not scared of us?" Paul asked, sounding hopful.

"Is that your question?"

He thought for a moment, before nodding. Out of all of us, he was the worst with rejection. She reached out to stroke his cheek with her thumb.

"No. I'm not scared of you. If you guys wanted to kill me, I'd most likely already be dead. Now, trust is a different story. But I trust you as much I trust any man. But at least you guys seem to want to be honest with me."

"Why did you let us feed from you?" Dwayne asked next. "You'd already been fed on that night, so why risk it?"

"Because I can tell when a vampire is in need. You boys are just more forthcoming with your thirst then others I've interacted with. Besides, you piqued my interest, and my night was rather boring."

He didn't seem fully satisfied with the answer none of us were, but he let her continue.

"Do you like me? I mean us?" Marko blurted out.

She let out a soft chortle.

"Would I be here right now if I didn't?"

He frowned.

"The answer is yes, Marko, I do find all of you rater attractive. I'm just a bit more subtle than you are."

He gave a small cheer.

"The floor is yours David." She spoke.

"Who bit you that night? Did you know the vampire?"

"Thats two questions." She stalled.

"Y/N" I warned.

She sighed dropping her head. She fidgeted with her hands.

"Yes. I knew him."

"Him?" Marko and Paul asked in sync.

I could tell their territorial nature was kicking in as well.

"He's a friend, he doesn't like me like that. Probably never will." She sounded sad. "He's not very good at controlling his thirst-"

"So, he bit you?" I asked, angry.

"It's not like that, David. He would never hurt me... on purpose. He doesn't like hurting people, He didn't bring enough blood packs on this trip, so I gave him a top off. It was my choice, just let letting you guys' feed on me was my choice."

"He's using your feeling for him to get stuff from you." I said.

"And you aren't?!" She suddenly yelled. "I know what your intentions were bringing me here, to your home. It's secluded, no body for miles, I'm not stupid David. Don't you dare suggest that I am not in control of my own feelings, and my body!"

She got up in my face.

"He didnt-" Dwayne started to defed me.

"NO! Let him speak for himself, this is his grave he's digging, not yours."

"It was not my place to speak."

"Yeah, no shit.

She suddenly slumped over, clutching her side. She groaned in pain. I reached down to try to ask what was wrong.

"What, time is it?" She asked, her voice strained.

"Almost midnight, why?" Dwayne asked, getting up from his spot and coming over to her.

"I have to go." She shrugged Dwayne's hand off her and tried to stand, faltering in her steps.

"You don't look so good." Paul said.

If Paul was concerned, something was definitely wrong.

"I'm fine!" she growled out.

Her town was low, deep. She doubled over in pain again, this time falling to her knees.

"I shouldn't have come here; this was a mistake." She said. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"What's happening?" I asked, my tone more bitter than I intended.

"The blood moon." She stuttered out. "You all should leave, it's not- it's not safe." She pleaded.

I heard a deafening crack echo throughout the cave. She cradled her arm with her other hand.

"This was reckless, I'm so stupid." It seemed like she was talking more to herself now.

Paul tried to help her up but hissed and pulled his hand away.

"She's burning up." He explained. "Like really hot."

She suddenly let out a scream as another loud crack was heard. She laid on her back now, staring up at the ceiling with tears in her eyes. Her eyes flashed yellow. I was by her side in an instant, holding her in my arms.

"I know you're trying to help David, but you cant. It's not safe. I'm- I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have put you guys int his position."

Before I could ask for clarification, she screamed again. This tie I could feel her bones cracking. She was a sweating mess, writhing in pain. Even after all the horrible things I've done, I couldn't stand to watch this. The boys remained quiet, trying not to disturb her. But their thoughts were rapid. But one thoughts of Dwayne's stood out.

"What's effected by the moonlight, has fangs, and a high body temperature?" He asked himself.

"It can't be." Marko said.

"Max said they were real, just not native to this part of the country, that's why he made a home in California." Paul reasoned.

It could be possible; we'd never seen one of their kind in person. Only heard the stories.

"You're a werewolf." I concluded.

She nodded, a few tears slipping from her eyes as they screwed shut.

"How can we help?" Dwayne asked, kneeling down besides us.

"You can't. My brother, he's the only one who-"

The most violent scream I'd ever heard tore through her throat. It grated in my ears, it held so much anguish, even Marko flinched. And he relished in his victim's scream, but she wasn't his victim.

"I'll go find him." Marko was quick to leave.

We'd caught his scent that first day, it was obvious now he smelled like a wolf. But why didn't she smell that way? Paul paced back and forth, biting his nails. He didn't know what to do. Paul was never good in a crisis, especially not ow that he was currently sober. She calmed for a moment, gripping my hand and breathing heavily.

"I- I'm ok. This isn't my first turning. But you can't stay. Whatever you do, don't let me bite you. My venom is poisonous to your kind."

Max had conveniently left that out, telling us we'd never have to worry about werewolves. She bit down on her tongue, her body contorting wildly.

"David, promise me you'll leave. It's not fair for me to kick you out of the house, you aren't day walkers. But you'll find somewhere safe to hide." She took in a couple stuttered breaths.

"My friends, bring them my necklace." She ripped it off, handing it to me. "They'll know It's an emergency if you have this, I never take it off unless I trust someone. They'll make sure you're away from the sun and away from me. Now go!" She begged.

She threw herself off of me, backing up into the wall.

"Now!" she yelled.

I hesitated, we all did, but she promised she'd be alright. Marko would alert her brother and we'd fixed this. She had to be ok, she had to. The boys and I left, in search of her friends.

AN: I know this isn't how it works in the vampire diaries universe. But since Tyler and her are twins, and only he's a hybrid, I'm making this choice for dramatic effect. She can tell when he's fed, because he gets stronger. Twin bond or some shit. But since he can turn whenever, and she still has to turn on the full moon, she feels the pain he would have if he chose to turn with her. Usually, he does to lessen her pain, but this vacation her forgot.

#the lost boys movie #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x you #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #mark tlb #Paul tlb #David tlb #Dwayne tlb #the lost boys x werewolf #werewolf reader #vampires #we’re wolves #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diaries #tyler lockwood #hybrids

[burnwater13]

Grogu didn’t know why anyone went to watch other people fight. That seemed pretty ‘uncouth’ to him. Of course, he wasn’t quite sure what uncouth meant either. He tried asking his dad but Din Djarin just shrugged at him. That shrug either meant that the bounty hunter didn’t know or he didn’t care. Well, that was frustrating. Why couldn’t he just explain?

Sure there were plenty of times that Grogu hadn’t explained things to people, including to the Mandalorian. Sometimes he just shrugged. Other times he pretended that he hadn’t heard the question. Still other times he just opened his eyes wider, dropped his ears down and tried to feel as sad as he looked. 

That last one worked pretty well on Peli Motto. The first one worked well with Fennec Shand, and he could always count on Greef Karga falling for the middle one. None of them worked on his dad. That was frustrating as well. 

Din Djarin would just stand there, looming over Grogu, one hand on his hip, his head tilted, and his other hand at the ready for finger shaking.

“Kid, Buddy, Grogu,” he would say, depending on when it happened, “you better come clean now. I’m a bounty hunter. I know how to extract information from people with a lot more to hide than you.”

Grogu was under the impression that the only interrogation technique the Mandalorian used was the offer to bring people in warm, or bring them in cold. The cold ones never said anything and everyone ended up cold. Some technique. Harrumph. 

But then Grogu would reflect that he really liked the tall human, even if he was looming over him on purpose, and he would come clean. He’d chirp, coo, and whistle his whole story. Sometimes it only took a minute. Other times, well, let’s just say Grogu had heard the phrase, ‘Make it a short story, I don’t have time for novel’ more than once. 

It still annoyed Grogu that he didn’t have any good way to do that to the Mandalorian. He was too small to loom. He was too sweet to shake his fingers at the bounty hunter. And the one time he’d tried the hand on the hip thing with the head tilt he almost fell over because he managed, somehow, to step on his own ear. Ouch.

He asked various people he knew how to handle it and their advice was all over the place. 

The Armorer had said, “He is a Mandalorian first, Din Grogu. He must follow the Creed. Learn the Creed and he will have to abide by it. There are many loopholes in it that a clever boy like you can take advantage of.” 

Uff, that was like being told by Greef Karga that he should consult with the teaching droid. It would at least know the meaning of ‘uncouth’. He wanted a more direct solution. 

Fennec told him that he should just use the Force and take his dad’s sidearm and ask him his question. Nope. Nope. Nope. He was not going to get his vid watching privileges suspended again. It took forever to catch up with all the Diggle and Daggle episodes he’d missed that week.

Boba Fett had overheard Fennec’s advice and drew Grogu aside once she completed her disappearing act. 

“Grogu, he’s your dad. Just tell him you thought as his father, he’d want to help you understand the galaxy better. Then tell him it doesn’t matter, you will just as the Daimyo. Remember shake your head and sigh a little. That sort of thing worked with my dad every time.” The Daimyo advised with a sort of sad smile. 

Grogu liked that advice best. The Daimyo was the only who mentioned how it had worked with their dad, so that gave him a lot more credibility and Grogu remembered hearing stories about Jango Fett at the Jedi Temple. He seemed like a pretty hard character. Just like his dad. 

Din Djarin came down to the throne room to pick him up and bring him back to Mos Eisley and Grogu hoped he’d find a time to follow the Daimyo’s advice before he forgot it. 

“Did you have a good visit?” Din Djarin asked them both.

“Yes. We did. He had a lot of questions for me. It was a real pleasure to have the young one here today.” Boba Fett smiled far more brightly than he had before Din Djarin had arrived.

“Good. I’ll be seeing you soon. Give Fennec my regards,” the Mandalorian had replied. 

Then Din brought Grogu back to their speeder bike. Grogu asked what he’d been doing, while Grogu was with the Daimyo. The Mandalorian shrugged at him. 

Great! He could test the Daimyo’s advice now! 

Grogu chirped and coo’d at his dad, shook his head, sighed deeply and then began to walk back toward the palace.

Din just walked over and picked him up. 

“Buddy, that won’t work on me. It never worked on my dad either. I just thought I would spare you this, but if you want to hear all about my trip to the armor polish factory, then fine. Did you know they make thirteen different kinds of polish in that one factory?”

Dank Farrik! His dad was right. There were somethings it was better not to know.

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #Gor Koresh

[scapegrace74-blog]

The Man from Black Water, Chapter 15

A/N  Just a short bridging chapter today that sets the stage for the final part of the story.  I think you’ll like it, because both Henry Beauchamp and Angus get a bit of what’s coming to them.

Previous chapters can be found on my AO3 page.

Henry Beauchamp spurred his horse forward, intercepting the derelict cart and its driver just as it was about to leave his property.

“Ah, ye’ve come tae see yer auld friend on his way.  Courteous as always, Henry.”  Murtagh re-arranged his tam over his oily hair and drew the back of his hand across his beard, where some of Mrs. Crook’s fine breakfast pastie still lingered.

“You’ve said enough today,” Henry growled.  “Turning Claire against me.”

“Ye misjudge the lass.  Jes as ye did her mother.”

Invoking Julia’s memory was like pouring lamp oil on the flames of Henry’s anger and he rose up tall in his saddle, hazel eyes flashing.

“Tell me,” he demanded, “once and for all, whose daughter is she?”

To his utter consternation, Murtagh began to guffaw, hitting his empty pant leg like he’d heard a good joke.

“Puir Henry Beauchamp.  All the riches in the world, but no’ a drop of wisdom tae enjoy them by.”

Murtagh slapped the reins against his old nag’s back and the old cart began to creak towards the road.  He waited until the last minute before looking over his shoulder at the now hunched figure of a broken, pathetic man.

“If ye had truly loved Julia, ye wouldna need tae ask.  Of course she’s yours!  But ye dinna deserve her.”

Without another glance behind him, Murtagh and his wagon began the long, arduous journey back up the path to the Highlands.

***

Jamie had hoped to gather his few belongings from the bunkhouse while the other stockhands were out in the fields, but luck was not with him. Angus and Rupert were inside, sharing a metal flask of something potent, despite the early hour.

“If it isna the teuchter,” Angus shouted with glee when he saw Jamie enter.   Word of Jamie’s dismissal had already spread amongst the labourers and Angus was delighted that the uppity young man was finally being cut down to size.

“Did they throw ye out o’ the big house, teuchter?” he goaded. “Bet they found out ye broke in more than that colt while we was away on muster.  Did ye have tae use yer spurs, boy?  Did she give ye a nice first ride?”

Months of indignity, disappointment and curbed temper ripped through Jamie’s restraint like an avalanche, burying any remaining patience he possessed.  The Campbells, Henry Beauchamp, his own parents dying and leaving him all alone in the world: for once, he just wanted to strike back and watch his opponent suffer a fraction of his pain.

Which is exactly what he did, far more quickly than Angus expected. He’d landed two hard right jabs before the smaller man even raised his fists.  Two more blows connected before Rupert’s strong arms grabbed him from behind, effectively pinning down his only weapons.  Angus drew his switchblade, a mad gleam in his flat eyes as he brought it towards Jamie’s throat.

“Angus!”  The deep voice came from the doorway, where Black Jack had returned to the bunkhouse in time to witness the fight.  “Drop the knife,” he commanded, his own blade held casually next to his thigh.

Angus considered his next move, trying to measure whether the sinister Black Jack was really willing to come to the aid of a green Highland whelp.

“I’ve done it before,” Black Jack answered the unspoken question with a snarl.  “And so help me, I’ll do it again.”

With a frustrated grunt, Angus tossed his knife aside and attacked Jamie with his bare fists.  Several blows forced the air out of the large man’s lungs and he twisted in an attempt to break free of Rupert’s surprisingly strong hold.  Pushing back against his captor’s solid bulk, Jamie raised both legs and kicked an onrushing Angus square in the sternum, causing him to fall backwards onto the floor with a cry.   The young Scot then loosed himself from Rupert’s grip, felled him with a solid upper-cut to the jaw, and turned on Angus where he lay groaning on the floor. His opponent raised a hand in mute entreaty.  Jamie considered stepping on the man’s throat but being wanted for murder was not going to improve his situation.  He instead landed one last solid kick to Angus’ ribs, reveling in the satisfying crunch, then stepped over his prone body and out the door.

Jamie needed to leave Netherton before any further calamity could befall him, but he had one last message to deliver.

“A man can be hard tae find in the Highlands,” he said to Black Jack, who still stood on the veranda, calmly carving a chunk of wood.  “Ye’re welcome at my croft anytime.”  The older man acknowledged him with a silent nod.

As Jamie rode Donas across the yard one last time, Claire came out of the manor house and stood on the front steps to watch him go.  Despite the ache he felt in leaving her, Jamie couldn’t help but smile, causing Claire to smile in return.  She lifted her hand in farewell, and he replied with a jaunty salute of his tam before riding swiftly away.

***

It was pitch black when a drunken Angus and Rupert stumbled into the Netherton stables, both looking considerably worse for wear.

“Ye see that colt, Rupe?” Angus slurred as they approached Hamlet’s stall.  “He’s worth a thousand pounds.   Do ye ken how much money that is?  More than we’re ever make working a lifetime for old Beauchamp, thas what.”

Angus grabbed a riding whip from a nearby peg and entered Hamlet’s stall, leaving the door open behind him.  A few sharp cracks and the young horse burst from the stall, cantered down the stone alleyway and out into the stableyard.  By the time the two men emerged from the barn, his black coat could barely be seen glistening in the moonlight as he fled down the lane towards the road.

“That’ll teach him,” Angus jeered.

“Yeah,” Rupert agreed.  “Who?”

“The teuchter, ye numpty.  Beauchamp will think he loosed the colt tae get even fer being let go.”

Satisfied with their final act of retribution, the two men staggered back to the bunkhouse.

Hamlet came to a halt where the lane met the road, looking left and right as though considering the best route to freedom.  A faint scent, friendly and familiar from hours spent being curried and spoken to gently, wafted from the north.  With a toss of his regal head, the colt turned and galloped towards the Highlands.

#my writing #outlander #fanfiction

[thatmomwitchfriend]

What if the apocalypse never happened? Would Joel still meet Ellie?

Heart to Heart

A 'The Last of Us' fanfiction

read below the cut

Worried, Joel glanced down at his daughter as she curled into his lap for their movie night. He had been worried for her ever since her mother. But, now she was his to care for, and his alone; he would be damned if he would fail at this. Sarah had been draw into herself lately and hardly seemed to want to talk to him about anything. Usually she was this vibrant young woman, full of love and joy for the world around her. 

He had been watching her the past few days, and had decided that what they needed was a day out. He was pulling her from school the next day to take a hike and go out for lunch. She deserved it, after all she had been through lately. Poor Sarah, he sighed as he thought again. A soft snore startled him from his pondering and drew his attention back down to the beautiful girl, now asleep, in his arms. “That didn’t last very long.” He muttered, turning the TV off and hoisting her into his arms as he stood. As gently as he could, he carried her upstairs to her own room, tucking her into bed with a soft kiss to her forehead. The walk over to his room was short, but felt so long in the silence of the house. With a sigh, he fell into bed, slumber taking over in no time.

~~~~~

The following morning, Sarah woke up in a frantic state. Her alarm hadn’t gone off and she was LATE for school. “Dad! I’m late for school, come on!” She was running around the house, trying to gather her backpack and supplies. Joel sat calmly at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee and reading the morning paper. “I already called you out, sit down and have breakfast please.” She passed, looking at him with confusion painted across her face. “You…called me out?” She asked, slowly sinking into the chair across from him. He nodded, continuing with his coffee. “Why?” She asked, grabbing the box of cereal from the table next to her. He simply shrugged.

“I felt like it. Plus, you needed a day off. I’ve noticed that you’re slowing down a little and you seem really tired.” He explained, looking over the rim of his coffee cup at her to gauge her reaction. She looked back at him, a smile touching the corners of her lips. “So, what do you want to do today?” He asked, putting his now empty cup down. She thought for a moment, spoon hanging in the air between her mouth and the bowl. “Uh…I don’t know. Can we start with, like, coffee or something?” She asked, spooning cereal into her mouth by what seemed like the shovel full. Joel nodded. “Sure, you like that cafe downtown, right?” He asked, taking his mug to the sink and folding his paper up before pushing in his chair. Each movement seemed calculated based on his daughter. He was watching her like a hawk as he moved, and especially as he spoke. He didn’t want to upset her more than he imagined she already was. 

She nodded lightly, polishing off her bowl of cereal as if she hadn’t eaten in a week. She looked up at him as she got up. “I’m going to shower and get dressed.” 

“Right. I’ll clean up down here. Take your time, ok?” He took her bowl from the table and rinsed everything out, continuing to putter about the kitchen while she was upstairs. Slowly, the sink began to build a stack of dishes that Joel gave up on trying to ignore and loaded into the dishwasher with just enough time for Sarah to be finished up with showering and getting dressed. He nodded over at her and grabbed his keys off the table with his wallet. “Ready to go, kiddo?” He asked gently.

A nod was all he needed to start out to the truck, Sarah following behind closely. She hopped up into the truck, buckling her belt before he even had the chance to correct her on not doing it. The radio was turned to her favorite local station and the pair set off, singling loudly to the songs they knew and loved together. The road was fairly empty on their way to the small cafe, traffic only picking up slightly as they came into the downtown area that held the majority of the people and patrons for the cities major shops and restaurants. 

Right before his eyes, as if in slow motion, he saw it happen. A smaller car cut the truck off, stopping short with no space for Joel to brake. His reflex was for his daughters safety. Arm flying wide across her chest even though she had her belt on. But, nothing could stop the other truck that the sedan had cut off from slamming into Joel’s vehicle from the passenger side. A scream was cut short by the crunch of metal and shattering of glass. Airbags deployed. Chaos surrounded the single father as he yelled through the ring in his ears. “Sarah?! Sarah!” He leaned over, reaching to feel his only Childs face, over her shoulders and down her arms and hands. Nothing seemed broken, at least that he could tell from the outside. She looked up at him, coughing as if it were hard for her to breathe. Blood sprinkled over her lips. 

“Daddy?” She coughed again, more blood coming up over her lips and chin. “It hurts.” She cried out. He could only nod, eyes welling with hot tears. “I know. You’re gonna be ok. It’s ok baby girl, I’ve got you.” He whispered to her. Sirens wailed closer and closer. The father could do nothing but watch as death slowly beat the paramedics to his daughter. A kiss to the forehead was followed by a heart-wrenching cry. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” 

~~~~3 years later~~~~

Alarms rang in Joel’s ear, waking him for the morning. He groaned as he pulled himself out of bed, feet hitting the floor with an audible sound through the quiet of the morning. Across the hall, the closed door with the pink metal name plate caught his eye. A sigh heaved it’s way out of his chest as he stood to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. “Mornin’ baby girl.” He tapped the door lightly as he shuffled his way down to the kitchen for his coffee. 

He sat at the table with his coffee and laptop, checking his emails. None were of any importance. Ads from Home Depot and Lowe’s. But one caught his eye, the subject line was what caught him. “Organ Donor Recipient: Ellie Williams Contact Request Form”. His heart nearly leapt out his throat, while at the same time it seemed to dry up like a desert. His hand shook as he clicked the email, opening it into a new window.

“Mr. Miller,” it read, “my name is Ellie and I’m the lucky kid that got the short end of the donor list for a heart. I wanted to thank you, even though that seems sort of redundant. I guess I should be thanking Sarah. I was hoping I could meet up with you with my mom for lunch at the diner on Main Street? I understand if that’s too much to ask, but I hope you’ll reply soon.” Tears sprang up as he read. The email was signed with a little smiley face next to the kids name. Ellie. That was the name of the girl who had gotten his own daughters heart. Of course he had signed her off as an organ donor. Why wouldn’t he? Sarah would have wanted that, she had spoken so many times about becoming an organ donor once she was ready for her license. 

Joel didn’t know what to say. To be honest, he took three days to make up his mind, and two more to write the email response. Before he sat down to write up a response, he poured himself a coffee, similar to when he had first read it. He had read it 106 times since then, he had counted. He took a deep breath as he sat, fingers hovering over the keys as he formulated his response.

‘Ellie,” he paused again. “I’d like to apologize first for my delay. It took a while for me to process that. But I would love to meet with you and your mom.” Short and sweet. “Give your mom my number and she can give me a call to schedule around your school. Thank you for the opportunity.” He signed the email simply ‘Joel’

“That should do it.” And with a final nod without giving himself the chance to think twice about it, he clicked the little send button and listened to the quiet swoop of his OS sending out his email to the waiting little girl. The girl who literally had a piece of his daughter inside her. “I need a drink.” He grumbled, heaving himself from his seat at the kitchen table to head for the liquor cabinet.

Faster than he expected, the little ding of the new email notification sounded. “What the hell, doesn’t she have anything better to do?” He asked himself, carrying his bottle of choice back to the table with him.

“Joel,

I hope it’s ok to call you that. My mom said she would call you once she’s off work. Thank you so much, I can’t wait to meet you.

Ellie :)”

He nodded and swigged from the bottle, still gripped in a white knuckle fist by the neck. “Ok then. I guess we’re doing this.” He left the email pulled up, open on his desktop as he walked away and towards the living room. He would have to work on reminding himself that, no matter how kind or gentle this kid was, she was not his Sarah. Nobody could ever be Sarah.

~~~~~

The morning came for Joel to get ready to meet Ellie and her mother. He knew they were meeting at a diner, but somehow he just wasn’t hungry. Joel was always hungry. Odd. He shook it off as he brushed his hair in the bathroom mirror and ran out to the truck. He was running late. He never ran late, but he chalked it up to nerves. His truck ran like normal after the repairs, oddly enough. He was on edge his whole way there, he had been ever since the accident. This was the farthest he had gone since then. Traffic was light, which only had him more on edge. His eyes were alert on every singe driver, no matter how far over they were from him. 

Eventually, he arrived to the diner safely. His eyes scanned the tables lining the window. They must be farther in. He heaved a sigh and hopped out, boots crunching on the gravel of the parking lot, heading in he told the girl at the hostess stand that he was the third for a party of three. The girl was chipper as she grinned. “Oh, yeah! She’s been going on and on about how she’s getting her donors dad. It’s so sweet of you to do that for her.” She motioned for him to follow her, leading him through the diner to the back room where the tables were a bit further apart. He could see two heads, bent together and whispering. As he cleared the corner closest to them he cleared his throat. “Afternoon, ladies.” He called. The younger, more brunette of the two, whipped around to see him. She took him in with a wide smile and tears in her eyes.

“You came!” She shouted, jumping to her feet. “Can I hug you?” She asked, hurriedly. He nodded lightly, not exactly knowing what to expect; when he was offered a huge though, he relaxed. He hadn’t had a hug from someone of Sarah’s stature in three years. His arms opened of their own accord, and no sooner were Ellies arms wrapped around his neck tightly. She sighed heavily and gave him a quick squeeze before letting him go. “Come on, sit.” She was all but bouncing with energy. Joel smiled over at her mother, nodding a quick hello as he slid into the booth across from her.

“So, tell me about Sarah.” A beat of silence. “Please.”

#Joel miller #Ellie williams #the last of us #custom #fan fiction #fanfic #request #custom fan fiction #open request #open requests #requests #requests open #TLOU

[natequarter]

13 and/or 14 for humphrey & sophie if you’re up to it !

14: bruised / kissed

Sophie raised an eyebrow as her husband stumbled into the hallway, looking as if he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards. Knowing him, he might well have been.

"Er, evening," he said, swaying slightly. "Nice out there, isn't it?"

She frowned at him, but said nothing.

"I'm fine," Humphrey said, looking about as far from fine as it was possible for one person to be. "Fell off my horse, that's all."

Sophie was aware he'd been out of the house for a few days on ... some kind of business, though she didn't know exactly what because she hadn't really been listening. The point was moot now; he was back and, apparently, injured.

"Just need to sit down," he said, apparently oblivious to the fact that she hadn't said a word. Humphrey drew up a chair, and practically collapsed onto it in relief.

Sophie shook her head in despair. She couldn't just leave him here, not when he could barely stand.

She sighed, and offered him a hand. He looked at in confusion.

"Take my hand," she said bluntly.

"Oh," Humphrey said. "I see."

Clearly he was too out of it to notice she'd spoken in English.

Sophie half-guided and half-dragged him to his bedroom. She debated for a moment taking him to her bedroom, but that would make for an awkward conversation when he inevitably came back to his senses.

"Sit down," she said, and bit back a sigh of relief when Humphrey sat down on the edge of his bed without falling over.

The last time she had spent any considerable amount of time in his bedroom must have been years ago, and indeed she had almost forgotten what it looked like. Since it looked much like hers, only with a few different decorations, this was no real loss.

"My head hurts," he muttered. "And my body."

She debated, for a moment, calling for some kind of medical practitioner, but decided against it in the end. He was most likely just rattled; at worst he would have a headache for a few days.

Now that Humphrey was out of the way and unlikely to fall over, risking further injury, Sophie was uncertain as to what to do. She could leave, yes, but that felt oddly cruel. Had their roles been reversed, she knew that Humphrey would not have abandoned her.

(Sophie acknowledged that thought with a hint of bitterness. She was perfectly capable of decency, but not of the endless compassion that Humphrey seemed to hold. It was a mystery to her how he managed it.)

"'m tired," Humphrey mumbled, leaning into her side. This tore her quite abruptly from her own thoughts, and she realised he had nearly fallen asleep. It was odd, having him so close even for such a short amount of time. She wasn't used to it.

It was a shame; having his companionship was rather pleasant. But she'd made the decision to avoid him, and after decades apart, it would be difficult to go back on that decision now.

Sophie shifted so that she was sitting on the bed, rather than on the edge of it, and—carefully, so as not to wake him up—moved Humphrey so that he, too, was actually on his bed.

She relaxed and ruffled his hair slightly, thankful not only that he was asleep, but also that no one else was watching.

He had very soft hair. She'd never realised this.

When she was absolutely certain that Humphrey was asleep, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, still running a hand idly through his hair. That was supposed to serve as a kind of cure, wasn't it? Of course, it held no actual healing properties, but it was meaningful, a gesture of kindness, of care, of love. Sophie wasn't sure she'd ever be able to manage the latter, but she could definitely try at the first two.

He deserved to have some of his own kindness returned. She'd done a terrible job of that in the past, but it was better to change late than never.

For now, she decided to stay by his side as he slept, to keep guard until the night was over.

Just in case.

(link)

#asks #humphrey bone #sophie bone #bbc ghosts #Hair Is The Highest Form Of Intimacy. anyway goodnight #fic

[sennamybeloved]

2 years ago today, i fell in love with two of the most wonderful people i have ever met.

it feels like just yesterday i was laying on my friends bed, scrolling idly though league’s universe page when something urged me to reread Senna’s lore page for the first time since her release. i distinctly remember hoping from her page to lucian’s, then back again, over and over again until something just clicked inside my brain.

on my way home, i couldn’t stop thinking about them. as i went about my night, i couldn’t stop thinking about them. when i got into bed, i remember staring up at the ceiling and essentially thinking “well, shit” because i knew that this couldn’t mean anything good.

a few days later, i finally let them take over my brain for good, assuming that the fixation would only last me a few short months.

as is evident by this post, i couldn’t have been more wrong.

they’ve seen me through a lot, the two of them. they caught me at a point in my life where i was floundering and hopeless. i’d hit one of the lowest lows in recent memory and i didn’t really know what to do with myself. i was left alone with my thoughts, lacking a healthy outlet for my most unpleasant feelings. there was sadness, there was anger, but most of all, there was this strange, all-encompassing emptiness. i was, to put it lightly, fucking miserable.

but then they came along. as foolish as it sounds, they were my saving graces; they gave me something to think about other than the thoughts in my head, something productive to do with my hands, a way to experience love when i wasn’t feeling loved myself.

their love was a warm embrace that drew me in and wrapped itself around me, refusing to let go for as long as it burned.

and oh, how it burned. i began carrying a certain warmth in my heart that i’d never felt before. perhaps it was the added self confidence that being able to love myself through them, or perhaps it was just my love for them. it was likely a mixture of both, but it continues to burn to this very day.

through the entirety of our first summer, when i stayed up all night pursuing the deepest corners of the internet for pictures of them i’d never seen before, into the fall, when i’d sit at my desk with my headphones in, neglecting my work to instead stare out the window and daydream, into that winter, when i reached another low that they assisted in pulling me out of once again, into the following spring, when i’d hold me friends hostage rambling aimlessly about my life for them, into the summer when i finally got to see them again, into the colder months that all blended together, muddled by sadness and fear, but they remained by my side regardless. to now, where, despite everything, they’re still here with me.

they may be fake little people living fake little scenarios in my silly little brain, but that doesn’t diminish the impact they’ve had on me. honestly, without them, i don’t know where i’d be right now. they’ve done so much for me in the two years we’ve been together, and i love them for it. i love them for everything they do. i just love them. i love them a lot.

so, on that note, happy anniversary to us! here’s to two very long but very enjoyable years together ♡

#this is so cheesy godddd #i meant to post this earlier but o #i forgetted #* 💚 / death is drawn to life . #* 🖤 / a steadfast heart . #lotus gushes #lotus rambles #self ship community #self ship anniversary #self shipping #【 🌿 】 ✦ * · ˚ — i live to let you shine │ polyship: lucian + senna .

[theboysfromaustin]

NOTE: There are gay-related slurs in this. The characters using them are not good people. If you can't handle it, skip this.

----

January 20, 2009

Jeremy sighed softly, heading up the path to his house - the house he'd grown up in, the house he and Meredith had shared for many years.  He paused - the kitchen light was on, and he knew he'd shut the lights off.  Must be a short, he thought as he unlocked the door.  Tomorrow, he'd have his first nurse visit.  He decided that, since he was alone, he should have someone who could come check on him.

He missed Ian.

He missed Ian's family. 

Jeremy headed for the kitchen to check the light.  He turned the corner, freezing.  “You really are back.” “That's a shame, innit?” “Don.  Henry,” Jeremy's voice was clipped, “How terrible to see you.” “Awww, you've been gone well over a year, aren't we friends?” “No.  Not for a long time.” “Where you been?” Don tapped his fingers on the table.

“Traveling.”

“How's Ian?”

Jeremy froze.

Henry grinned, “That's a real cute photo of you two.” Jeremy inhaled sharply, eyes going wide.  “Should have figured you liked it up the arse.  It's disgusting - you and Ian together…” “That fucking poof ran off to America.  We should have drowned him the last time…” Jeremy stepped back, “You…Ian's more man than both of you…”

“Is that what he told you while he bummed you?” Don sneered. “He loves me. He cares about me…” “He ran away like a coward for 30 years!  I saw the other photos, he likes ‘em young, eh?” “At least his family loves and respects him.  Your brats are as bad as you, and Don, you cheat on your wife every chance you…”

Jeremy was shoved backwards into the wall, dishes and photos rattling as Don pressed one hand into his chest.  The redhead smirked, feeling his heart race out of control, “Where is he?” “I-i…h-h-had to come home, f-for M-m-meredith…” “Did she know you're a fag?” Jeremy looked away, still ashamed he'd kept the truth from her.

“She didn't…” Henry said in a sing-song voice, “She deserved better, Jezza.” “Why are you doing this?  I'm already dying,” Jeremy spat.  “Not fast enough for our liking.  Maybe we'll go find Ian.  I think he'd like to see us.” “Don't you dare do anything to him!  I don't give a shit what you do to me, leave him be!” Tears were streaming down his face.

These two must have found his spare key while he was away.  He knew this might be it, they might take out all their pent-up rage on him.  His only regret now…

Not staying.

Henry stepped up, staring him down.  Jeremy glared back, refusing to show any more fear.  “You chose him over us.” “You two let yourselves become hateful.  You threw away your friendship with Ian, and with me.” Don whistled, “That would have been real poetic, I'm sure, but I couldn't hear you around the cocks in your gob.”

Something snapped.

He lunged forward, driving Don back, fists raining a volley of blows on him.  Henry lunged, but Don yelled something that made Jeremy's blood run cold: “Don't leave any suspicious marks!  It has to look like an accident!”

Jeremy chose to fight.

Breathing heavily, lungs burning, he rained punches on Don, skirting by Henry.  “You fat little cunt!” Henry caught him by the arm and back of the shirt.  Jeremy struggled, glaring at both of them, “You'll both burn for this.” “You're a degenerate.” “You should have stayed with your faggot lover, Jezza,” Henry tightened his grip, grinning. 

Jeremy braced himself, but wasn't fast enough to react as Henry drew him back, and slammed him into the corner of his kitchen table.  His forehead hit just above the left eyebrow, his glasses clattering across the floor.  There was a vicious crack as flesh and bone split.  Jeremy slumped to the floor, vision fading in and out.

“Let's go.”

“They'll think he fell.”

“Ngh…” Jeremy tried to reach his glasses.  He heard them leave, but couldn't get up.  His head hurt, and he couldn't focus, “Ian…help…”  Blood was streaming down his face, and he sighed, resting his face on the floor.

Jezza!

Come on Jeremy, we're goin' to Quack's!

Jez, I…I'm so happy…

I love you, Jeremy.  I…will…

I will always love you.

“Ian…I'm sorry, baby…” Jeremy sighed deeply, “I'll see you again…I'll wait for you…”  He shut his eyes one last time, giving in to sleep, alone on his kitchen floor, life ended by his former friends.

Nobody would ever know the truth, not even Ian.

#oc #original character

[strongbrew-hamstery]

I can hardly believe it's going to be #Whiskyjack, aka #Jack Jack's birthday in just two short days! This video is from last week, she had just woken up for breakfast so does look a little bit of a ragamuffin, but took this photo on the 9th so you can see just how well she's aged!

Jack was an instant keeper, sometimes you really just know. Hamdad fell in love with her too. Something about her expressive little face, love of humans, and ridiculously large ears drew us to her.

A proper dame now, Jack has been loved by many including @caits.bam.fam! I still giggle thinking about her cheesecake resurrection. Hoping a solid diet of cheesecake will help keep her with us for some time now.

Jackums does have something abdominal going on - my expectation is uterine cysts, but it's not something we could confirm without diagnostics which isn't really feasible given her age as it wouldn't change prognosis or how we treat it (palliative). But, we will keep her comfy, filled with snacks, and should she need our help to pass with dignity and without pain, we'll cross that bridge. 💗 She's a good girl and very well loved, and I'm glad to see her still enjoying all the things a hamster would. Though, her wheel is simply a pantry but that has been a fairly consistent wheel usage for her for ages. 🤭

Oh, and audio is my Jackie Ham song, and why she was the momma to the Great Big Puppos. 💗