#His voice alone gon put me in the dirt.

[tooshytoexistproperly]

“The Doctor will see you now..”

Harley Sawyer ref? Harley sawyer ref. This man changed my brain chemistry in the span of a few hours 😭

COME GET SOME FOOD YALL!

[marvelmymarvel]

Long Time No See (Part 1)

Kite x Freecss!Reader

Synopsis: Your brother was hellbent on finding your father, and like a good sister, you followed along to make sure he was safe. You didn't like your father, didn't like the memories of him, but there was one thing you did like... And that was Kite.

Part 1 Part 2

Ages:

Reader: 28

Kite: 28

Gon: 11

A/n: I've been meaning to write a multi-part fic... So here's a preview. To explain, Ging had the reader when he was 20, Gon when he was 37. Obviously not Canon, but in my world, it is ;) Some people put Kite at 26 but for our purposes, I'll put him at 28... It'll make sense.

The three of you landed in the middle of a dark and foggy forest. Gon was hellbent on finding your dad, the same dad that left you and him back on whale island. The same dad that you knew wasn't going to live up to his expectations. And as you took in the scene around you, you concluded that it was this same dad that wasn't here. Anger flooded your veins, knowing that Ging once again let down his son. It was common for him to let you down, this was a feeling you were used to, but Gon was different.

Your stomach dropped at the sound of Gon's excited gasp, his eyes landing on a figure by the lake. Your eyebrows furrowed and your body tensed up, fingers automatically grasping at the knife attached to your hip. "Gon... That's not-"

"G-Ging" Gon whispered out, ignoring your words and stepping forward in shock. The figure turned slightly, eyes moving between the boys before finally landing on you. The sharp gaze stayed on you as he stood and your fingers tightened around the hilt of the blade in response.

Within seconds, the man dropped his fishing pole and appeared in front of you three, causing you to stumble back in shock. Your hand flew to Gon and Killua in front of you instinctively but before you managed to pull them back, the man swiped both of their legs before grabbing your arm and pushing you to the side. Your breath caught in your throat, stumbling to a place beside him as his hand opened to conjure his nen ability.

"I got a slot machine in my mouth! It goes from 1 to 9. Each number summons a different weapon. This is my... CRAZY SLOTS!!"

Your thoughts began to catch up with the butterflies in your stomach, it was him... You knew that aura and touch anywhere.

"Give me something good...... 4!" the slot machine clown called out before transforming into a long weapon. "Damn. Bad roll" the man whispered out, not knowing that the sound of his voice alone was making the butterflies burst all throughout your body. You were frozen as you watched him move to face the gun-like weapon at Gon, your mouth opened to stop him but something told you to be quiet.

"Shut up!! You should be grateful you idiot!" the slot machine screamed out, right as the man pulled the trigger. Your body lunged into action, screaming out Gon's name as Killua tackled him away from the bullets. Dirt and bugs went flying, and the worry inside of you rose as the dust settled.

"An ant?" Killua questioned out loud. The anxiety vanished from your body, but anger quickly replaced it as you saw that both boys were safe from the attack. "ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE KITE?!"

Gon and Killua's head snapped over to you as you stormed towards the man who you called Kite. "Are you hurt?" Kite called out as he prepared himself for a very angry you, something he hasn't dealt with in a long time. Kite began walking towards the two to see if they were, in fact, okay and you were hot on his heels screaming obscenities up at him. "YOU COULD HAVE KILLED THEM!!! ARE YOU INSANE?!"

Kite stopped in his tracks, whirling on his heels to stop you in yours. Your face slammed into his chest, but you continued spewing curses up at him. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, "Would you stop? I'll kiss you into silence if I need to"

Your eyes widened, cheeks heating up in embarrassment as Gon's gasp and Killua's gag reached your ears. Before you has a chance to scold him, Kite whirled around and asked again if the boys were alright. Gons eyes were locked on you as Killua bluntly stated they were fine. He seemed to ignore the fact that Gon and Kites protective auras clashed violently, growing worse by the second. Gons was growing stronger as he tightened his grip on his fishing pole. Deciding to give your baby brother some relief, you moved from Kites side and swiftly moved to the pair of young boys.

"My poor things. Are you truly okay?" You whispered out, dropping to your knees as you yanked them both into a hug. Killua complained about the touching while Gon slowly hugged you back, eyes throwing daggers to the white haired man that threatened to kiss you. "Who the hell is he?" Gon snarled out loud as you pulled away. Your eyes widened in shock, mouth opening to scold him for his rude behavior, but all words flew out the window at the sight of him.

His teeth were barred and his eyes were full of rage, you weren't sure why he was so protective all of a sudden. It was your job as a big sister to be the protective one. Gon wasn't even looking at you, and the daggers he was throwing to the man behind you had you biting your lip. How could you tell him that the man behind you had your whole heart? That Kite was someone you loved before Gon himself was even born?

"The names Kite. What I'm gathering is that your Gings son?" Your eyes snapped shut at Kites words, what a fool... Those words may seem comforting, but you knew that it was all Gon needed to snap. "How the hell do you know that!?"

"GON FREECSS" You snapped out, hand gripping his chin as you forced him to look at you. "You know better than to talk like that. I raised you better!"

"He has your attitude... That's for sure" Kite whispered under his breath. While Gon looked like his father, he sure did have the temper of his sister. And man did he love that temper of yours. "Who is he to you?! How do you know him?! How does he know dad!!!!" Gon cried out, cheeks growing redder the angrier he got. Sighing, you threw a look over your shoulder at Kite.

Man, where should you even begin?

[forrests-waterfall]

Little!Tommy and CG!SBI // RPF

A/N : Okay so I apologize if this writing is just everywhere. I just really wanted to get this done because it was a self comfort fic aa. I’m hoping that if I do enough small writings, it’ll help me improve! (Because I took a long long break from writing before this blog pff) Hope you enjoy none the less. (Is that how you use that sentence? I dunno). Also the place I talk about Tommy wanting to see is not an actual build on the Origins SMP.

Also, not edited!! There may be misspells!! And this does not represent the entire “Tubbo replaced Tommy with Ranboo” thing at all. I don’t like those kinds of things, so please don’t relate it to that. And this is based off their Internet personalities if that makes sense??

TW/CW : Cursing, the nicknames kiddo and bubs

It was a good stream with the bench trio so far, the three of them just hanging out and poking fun at one another from time to time. Basically just the normal for the three.

It had been just them talking for about an hour or so, but they ended up deciding they were going to hop on the Origins SMP. Tubbo and Ranboo needed to fix stuff around the server and Tommy would follow them around, probably making fun of little stuff that didn’t make sense.

It was fun for all of them, especially Tommy since he hadn’t been on the Origins SMP much. It was cool to see all the stuff everyone built.

“Burn bitch!” Tommy’s avatar hit Tubbo’s with a diamond sword, making the other’s health go down. “I didn’t even do anything that time!” Ranboo let out a laugh at the other two—he then attacked Tommy’s character with his own weapon. “Sorry, Tommy! I have to do it for the content”

Tommy let out a groan, “excuses! It just cause you two are fucking married so you have to be like ‘oh I’m Ranboo, and I love a man platonically who likes eating DIRT with bees. And I must protect him’” The teen raised his voice higher so it sounded like he was mocking the other.

“Bees don’t eat dirt”

They continued messing around on the server, Tommy proceeded to do the same thing he was doing.

Though, he noticed a building on the SMP that caught his eye. He hadn’t seen it before so he had to go to it.

“Hey, let’s-“

“Ranboo we have to go over there to get the right materials”

The blond raised an eyebrow, and then went to the other’s characters.

Deciding what he wanted to explore wasn’t that important anymore, he followed them.

The other two just needed smelted stone for—whatever reason. Tommy wasn’t listening, he was focused on something else.

While on the way back to where they were, they passed by the place again. Since it was on the way, it wouldn’t be too much of an interruption to what the other two were doing. And he didn’t want to go alone, plus he needed someone to tell him what the hell it was.

“Mr.Ranboob, I think we shoul-“ “that’s cobblestone Tubbo!” The brunet looked at what the other was holding, which was definitely not smooth stone. Tubbo let out an exaggerated gasp, “what??”

Letting out a soft sigh, he knew they’d be taking another trip. So he went along with it again.

It wasn’t that big of a deal, it’s just a building in a game. He could always see what it was another time.

—————

This went on for another two hours.

Tommy continued to be interrupted due to the other two needing to do something. And he didn’t want to get in the middle of what they wanted to do.

The teen always shook it off as what he wanted to do was not that important, and it wouldn’t be entertaining for the viewers for Tommyinnit to look at a new build he hadn’t seen.

Though he’d be lying if he said it didn’t upset him.

He just wanted to see the colorful arrangement of blocks! Was that so much to ask? Plus it had some flowers around it, it was pretty!

“Alright let’s go over here” Tommy whined at another instruction, at this point he felt like an extra. Not because it was them two doing stuff together, but because he wasn’t helping. He wasn’t adding on to anything, except some commentary.

But he wanted to do more than that! But after he saw the thing he wanted to see, but that wasn’t happening. So he couldn’t help but get distracted by what his mind seemed to be fixated on. (Aka, the structure.)

Luckily for Tommy, he wasn’t streaming. So nobody could see that he had his knees up to his chest, and that his eyes were a bit glassier than normal.

And they definitely couldn’t see him chewing on his fingers with his non vacant hand.

He was tired, mentally and physically. He wanted to be listened to, not ignored whether it was intentional or not. (Of course he knows it’s not intentional, those are his best friends! But he’s still upset about it.)

The now mentally younger let out a small whine, this wasn’t fair! They were barley paying any attention to him at all. “Tommy?” The little perked his head up and looked towards Ranboo’s character. He hadn’t noticed he was spaced out for so long. “Yeah?” “You were quiet so I was just checking up on you”

Tommy let out a long exhale before speaking, “I was doing big man shit! Somethin’ you wouldn’t understand, Ran-boo”

The other two let out a fit of laughter while Tommy took his other hand away from the mouse.

Acting big wasn’t fun and just hurt him in a way he couldn’t describe. He hated it. He wanted Wilby, and Techie, and Ph-

“I gotta get off. Mum is asking me to do the dishes”

He waited for a response, hopefully they didn’t question why is was so random. “alright! Bye Tommy!” “Bye Tommy!! Say bye to Tommy, chat!”

The blond let out a few giggles before clicking his mouse and ending the call. He let out a sigh of relief and quickly opened the group chat with the other sleepy bois.

He pressed the call button, not thinking if his friends were busy or not. He just wanted his caregivers right now, that’s all that mattered to him.

He messed with his fingers nervously while listening to the call ring. Surely someone could answer, right?

His doubts were cut off rather quickly by a familiar voice speaking up, “Hey Toms! Is everything alright? It’s not usual for you to call out of nowhere”

The little let out a small whimper again, too shy to explain what was going on. Though, Wilbur caught on quickly. He immediately shifted into caregiver mode, “Bubs, what’s wrong? Did something happen during the stream, bud?” Tommy messed with his fingers some more before chewing on them once again.

“Ah ah, go get your pacifier, Toms. Then you can tell me about what happened”

The mentally (and physically) younger got up from his chair and walked over to a nearby dresser. He grabbed ahold of his red and black pacifier and went back to his desk. “Good job! Now can you tell me what’s up, bubs?” Tommy messed around with his pacifier, since he had something other than his hands to distract him.

“Tub an ‘Boo ignorin’ me” he raised the pacifier up to his mouth, “don’ think they meanin’ to though”

Wilbur nodded at the response, seeming to think for a moment. “Well, why don’t I tell Ranboo and Tubbo how it made you feel, yeah? I’ll let them know after the stream. I’m sure they didn’t mean it”

Tommy looked up at the camera, “no! Theys gon’ think I’m c’ybaby. An’ then theys gon’ be sad cause they made me sad” he curled into a ball on his chair and put his pacifier in his mouth. Wilbur let out a small “ah” to show he understood.

“They won’t call you a crybaby, Toms.” The older took a second to think, “They’ll be happy that you told them though. So then they’ll know what they were doing to make a little one like you, upset”

The little seemed to think for a moment and then nodded his head as an, “okay”.

Discord made a noise from Tommy’s computer, notifying the two that someone else had joined. The blond smiled as Technoblade’s icon lit up, almost immediately he made grabby hands at the camera.

“Techie!!”

The older let out a soft laugh, you could tell he was smiling from behind the screen. “Hey, bubs. Do we have a little kiddo today?” Tommy giggled and nodded his head. Technoblade turned on his camera, he knew when Tommy was regressed it tended to make him comfier if he could see everyone.

“I’m sure Phil will be here in just a second, I was just on the call with him” he stopped to take a breathe, “and I’m sure he’ll be very excited to see little Tom Toms”

The little let out another small fit of giggles before standing up from his chair and grabbing ahold of a raccoon stuffie. He brought it back to his desk and held it up to the camera. “Look!! His name Racco!!” Tommy excitedly announced, basically bouncing in his chair. “He’s adorable, bubs! Is that the one Phil got you?” The mentally younger nodded as he played with the Raccoon’s tail.

Tommy looked up at his screen as he heard someone join, it was Phil!!

“Phil look!! ‘S name is Racco!!”

“Oh! You already named him, huh?” Phil had ordered him a new plushie since he had been doing good. It was a small gift from the older. “Mhm!!”

“Heyyy! I thought we agreed I’d give him his next stuffed animal” Wilbur fake pouted as he crossed his arms, “you took too long” Phil replied, letting out a chuckle.

Wilbur was going to get him a new stuffie too?? Wait huh? Tommy’s eyes lit up, “new stuffie from Wilby??” Wilbur replied with a nod, “yep! We can talk about that tomorrow though, there’s someone who wants to talk to you” the younger tilted his head to the side confused. “Well, two people”

Wilbur added Ranboo and Tubbo to the call after the stream had ended (after asking them of course). Tubbo spoke up first, “I’m sorry Toms, I didn’t know we made you upset and we didn’t mean to.” Ranboo hummed in agreement, “yeah. We apologize, we didn’t mean to hurt your feelings”

The blond thought about what they said for a moment before having a fake little conversation with his stuffie. “Shoul we fo’give them? They seems sorry” he whispered to his stuffie as he made the plush pat him on the arm, basically saying yes.

The little looked back at the camera and made a thumbs up. “Is okay! I fo’give you.” He seemed to think for a moment, “I will super fo’give you if you buys me a new sweater!!” everyone in the call laughed, “will do, kiddo”

Tommy then rambled on and on about a new cartoon him and Techno watched together the other night. They all listened and asked questions about it, and Tommy eventually forgot about what happened earlier. Plus, it didn’t matter anymore. They said sorry and it was all better!!

Soon enough, Tommy let out a small yawn as his eyes threatened to close.

“Aw, is bubs tired from his long day today?” Wilbur’s voice softened as the little looked away, “no! Not tired!!”

“You sure, Toms? You can always talk to us tomorrow if you want.” Techno explained while adjusting his headphones.

“Nope! Don’ wanna”

“But Toms, you can play allllll day tomorrow if you do! Wouldn’t you want to spend more time with Racco?”

The little looked at his plush before looking back at the camera. He let out a sigh and nodded.

“Otay”

“Alright, go ahead and get changed into some comfier clothes.”

“Yeah! Me and Ranboo have to go but it was really nice talking to you, kiddo! Goodnight” Tubbo smiled at the camera before waving. Tommy waved back as the two left the call.

He then turned off his camera and changed into a blue onesie with a rocket ship pattern on it.

He turned his camera back on, “good job, bubs! Can you try and switch over to your phone for me?

Tommy grabbed ahold of his phone and pulled up the discord group chat, with a click of a button he joined the call on his phone.

He went over to his bed with the Raccoon plush and pulled the covers over himself.

Everyone had turned their camera’s off by now.

“Goodnight, little Tom Tom. Sweet Dreams. We’ll be here when you wake up”

“Ni Ni”

Tommy then closed his eyes and drifted into sleep. Today was a good day for little Tommy.

[padawanlost]

Something I've noticed recently over the past few months is this trend where people have been diagnosing Anakin with narcissistic personality disorder instead of C-PTSD or BPD, the more commonly seen diagnoses. I personally disagree, but I wanted to hear your "two sense" on the matter if you will, you're one of the best meta-writers on this site.

It’s because people don’t like Anakin as presented on screen. They want Anakin to be as selfish and arrogant as possible so they can blame him from everything that happened. If it’s ALL about Anakin than everyone else can be left off the hook. 

Anakin ‘I don’t want to be a problem’ Skywalker is clearly narcissistic. I mean, he fits all the signs:

Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

“Ten years in this place, and still he was an object of interest. Of speculation. All their hopes and dreams hanging on him like decorations on a bantha skeleton at Boonta Eve. He hated it.” [Clone Wars: Wild space, Karen Miller]

Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

“You would forgo your destiny for Padmé?” Anakin’s brows beetled in anger. “I never claimed to be the Chosen One. That was Qui-Gon. Even the Council doesn’t believe it anymore, so why should you?” [ James Luceno. Labyrinth of Evil]

Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

Anakin bumped his hand against [Obi-wan]. “Wait. Just—wait.” Embarrassed, he took a deep breath. “Look. Don’t take this the wrong way. It’s just—it’s the mission, right? That’s what matters. So—”  “Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s whisper sounded amused. “It’s fine. I was about to suggest it myself when the droids turned up.”  “You were?”  “Play to your strengths and minimize your weaknesses. That’s how a battle is won. That’s how we’ll win the war.”  Anakin had to smile. I should’ve known he wouldn’t take it personally. “Yeah. So—once I’m up and over and nobody raises the alarm, give me a five-count then follow. I’ll give you the best Force boost I can. Not that you’ll need much. Your leap was only a meter and a half behind Master Windu’s. Remember?”  Obi-Wan gave a breathy chuckle. “I remember I had nosebleeds for a week afterward. Don’t ever feel bad for being extraordinary, Anakin. Now off you go. We don’t have all night.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Take advantage of others to get what they want

“He thought of how unflinchingly loyal Anakin was to anyone he considered a friend.” [Matthew Stover’s Revenge of the Sith]

Exaggerate achievements and talents

He was the Chosen One, they told him. He was supposed to bring balance to the Force. Anakin thought that some little extra support might go with being the Chosen One, a helping hand or at least some understanding from the Jedi Council, but instead he was passed around like an unwelcome burden, ending up with Qui-Gon Jinn and then Kenobi because nobody else would have him. His chosen status meant less than nothing; it felt more like a stigma. And they wondered why he was difficult at times. Maybe they didn’t want balance, whatever that was. Maybe nobody liked a Jedi who was that different. He felt like an embarrassment to them. I do everything you ask of me. I try so hard. When is it going to be enough? When are you going to say, “Okay, Anakin Skywalker, you’re good enough”? Karen Traviss’s The Clone Wars

Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

Impatience. Concern. Relief. Loneliness. Weariness. And grief, not yet healed. Such a muddle of emotions. Such a weight on [Anakin]’s shoulders. Months of brutal battle had left [Ahsoka] drained and nearly numb, but it was worse for Anakin. He was a Jedi general with countless lives entrusted to his care, and every life damaged or lost he counted as a personal failure. For other people he found forgiveness; for himself there was none. For himself there was only anger at not meeting his own exacting standards. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

It’s not just Skywalker’s rank that makes us give him one hundred percent. It’s because he treats us with respect, and he puts himself on the line with us.” [The Clone Wars by Karen Traviss]

Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior

Having worked their way around the village, finding nothing to wake their uneasily sleeping sense of alarm, Obi-Wan and Anakin returned to the beaten-dirt square and the charter house. Its doors were open now and a woman who had to be Teeba Brandeh stood on the broad step, hands on her narrow hips, watching the children scatter across the square to play a proper game of kickball. Grinning, without bothering to ask if he might, or if it were wise, or if they had the time to spare, so independent these days, Anakin jogged to join them. After a moment’s amazed hesitation the children welcomed him with squeals of delight, rough-and-tumbled him into their midst and made him one of their own. Obi-Wan shook his head. “He’s nice,” said the girl with the bracelet and the ragged hair, wandering over to stand beside him. “Don’t be cross with him, Teeb Yavid.” Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

“Oh, no,” said Anakin, grinning. “It was fun too.”  May the Force give me strength. “And that business with the boy? Because when I said no heavy lifting I—” Anakin’s amusement vanished.  “He wasn’t heavy. These younglings are skin and bone. I look at them and—” He clenched his jaw.  ”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

Expect special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations

[Anakin] did not like the fact that he had won. It seemed wrong that he had stepped so far out of line, and yet had been retained as a Padawan. He did not like the unease this victory, if victory it was, produced in him. Above all weaknesses, arrogance was the most costly. They keep me here because I have potential they’ve never seen before. They keep me in training because they’re curious to see what I can do. I feel like a rich man who never knows whether his friends are true-or whether they just want his money. This was a particularly galling thought, and certainly neither true nor fair. Why do they put up with me, then? Why do I keep testing them? [Greg Bear’s Rogue Planet]

Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others

“I’m sorry. I’m not normally this stupid. I just—” And then she felt her face crumple and heard herself sob. Her knees buckled and she began to sink toward the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she choked. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine.” [Anakin] caught her before she tumbled completely. Lifted her without effort and carried her to the sofa. Boneless and unprotesting, she let him. Let her face turn to his roughly shirted, dirty chest and howled her rage and shame against him. Dimly, she felt his hand warm and comforting on her back and heard his soft voice saying, over and over, “It’s all right. It’s all right. You’re safe now. It’s all right.” The crazy thing was that she did feel safe. For the first time since those Separatist blaster bolts seared the air and sand of Niriktavi Bay, since she saw her friends and colleagues slaughtered, she felt safe. Then, abruptly, she felt mortified. What was she doing? Weeping like a child all over a man young enough to be her son? Where was her pride? She shifted away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize,” he said gently. “You’ve got a right to be upset. Now, where’s that medkit?”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth 

Be envious of others and believe others envy them

The Jedi Council didn’t want me, either. Being the Chosen One didn’t count for anything. Master Yoda wouldn’t train me, or Windu. Every member of the Jedi Council had had something more pressing to do than help him work out what this terrible, galaxy-changing power of his meant, and how he should live in its shadow. He still wasn’t sure. Anakin recalled standing there in that grand, polished Jedi Council Chamber, surrounded by what felt like fear, and disdain, and bewilderment—who were those Masters to feel bewildered, that the only person there who cared if he lived or died was Master Qui-Gon Jinn.  [Karen Traviss. The Clone Wars]

[Anakin] had worried that Obi-Wan did not have room for him in his heart. But Shmi’s smile rose in Anakin’s mind. Hearts have infinite room, my son. JUDE WATSON’S THE TRAIL OF THE JEDI

Behave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious

The fear and dread in her face eased, just a little. “You’re a very sweet young man, Anakin Skywalker.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

[Anakin] humbles me, sometimes. He makes me feel small. He can’t see a broken thing without wanting to fix it. [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

“I don’t know,” she said, floundering. “I can’t say I’ve ever given the Jedi much thought. I mean, not as individuals. I never expected to meet one—let alone two. I don’t tend to go places where your skills are needed. But—well—you’re gentle.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Insist on having the best of everything — for instance, the best car or office

“I’m not giving him to you,” [Anakin]’d told her. “He’s not even really mine to give; when I built him, I was a slave, and everything I did belonged to Watto. Cliegg Lars bought him along with my mother; Owen gave him back to me, but I’m a Jedi. I have renounced possessions. I guess that means he’s free now. What I’m really doing is asking you to look after him for me.”  “Look after him?”  “Yes. Maybe even give him a job. He’s a little fussy,” he’d admitted, “and maybe I shouldn’t have given him quite so much self-consciousness—he’s a worrier—but he’s very smart, and he might be a real help to a big-time diplomat … like, say, a Senator from Naboo?”Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith 

[tennessoui]

this is probably too many prompts lol but uhhh obikin: #6 meeting at a coffee shop au; #24 literally bumping into each other au; #40 exes meeting again after not speaking for years au (i'm a sucker for breaking up and getting back together again lol); #42 star-crossed lovers au; #48 meeting again at a high school reunion au

hi!! you probably forgot you sent this at all and I wouldn't blame you in the slightest. I'm pretty sure someone else already asked for 24, 40, and 42, so I wrote #6 instead! warnings for this one: bittersweet in that both anakin and obi-wan are sad, also the author is sad, also this takes place in the midwest in america (this is the first fic that is obviously set in america!!! wow!!)

6. Meeting At A Coffee Shop Diner AU (1.9k)

“Have a seat anywhere you want,” the hostess tells Obi-Wan without looking up from her phone.

Obi-Wan blinks and then looks around the deserted seating area. “Thank you, uh.” She’s not wearing a name tag.

“Angel’ll bring you the menu and take care of you, thanks for coming in,” she says, glancing up at him and then away.

Well then. Obi-Wan reminds himself that customer service isn’t everyone’s strong suit, that she might have had a rough day, that he’s here for the quick food on his way through town, that his ego isn’t fragile enough that he needs to be led to a table with a smile.

The restaurant is almost completely deserted. There’s two truckers eating their weight in bacon and eggs at the counter, and a family of four seated around a table, resolutely picking at their food instead of talking to each other. And then there’s Obi-Wan.

He chooses a booth by the window, one that overlooks the absolute nothingness of midwestern American scenery. If he cranes his neck, he can probably see corn.

God, Obi-Wan’s sick of seeing corn, and he’s only been in this part of the country for a few hours. He needs to go right through most of it to get where he’s headed. He’s not sure how he won’t die of boredom.

The thought sends a pang through his chest. It’s too soon to think of death even in an offhand way. He taps his fingers on the cover of his leather journal, before a line of dark brown under one of them catches his eye. He studies his hand critically.

It’s been two days since the funeral. Surely he wouldn’t still have grave dirt under his nails. Surely things like that wash away eventually.

“Hey,” a voice says from in front of him. A man is turned around and kneeling up in the booth in front of Obi-Wan’s, leaning over the garishly red vinyl of the empty seat with a menu clutched in one hand. His hair is short and dark blond, an undercut with a long fringe settling over his forehead. He has a nice sort of smile, one that looks genuine but doesn’t touch his eyes. Obi-Wan notices how long the man’s neck is and how predominant his collarbones appear in the loose white shirt he’s wearing, before he forces himself to focus only on his face. “I’m Angel,” the guy says, passing over the menu. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Obi-Wan accepts it gingerly. It looks like something that’s perpetually sticky. “Water is fine,” he says politely. “Thank you.”

“Will do,” Angel salutes him and ambles away. Obi-Wan watches him go before shaking his head to rid himself of any sort of thought, and opening the menu.

It’s standard food fare, of course. Breakfast options served all day if anyone were to come in and request them. Lunch and dinner options are also served all day, probably for the same reason: a diner like this can’t afford to turn anyone away, even if they want a hamburger at nine in the morning.

A glass of water clinks down onto the table next to him, making him look up at Angel, who’s looking at him curiously.

“You ready to order?” he asks, even though Obi-Wan is still very much looking at the menu and it’s also only been a few minutes at most since Angel gave it to him in the first place.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Obi-Wan asks politely. “I’ve never been here before. What’s good?”

“The water,” Angel says and then laughs like he’s said something funny. Obi-Wan finds his own mouth curling up at the sound. Sometimes people’s laughter is contagious, like a yawn.

And then Angel says, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No,” Obi-Wan admits. “North of Boston.”

Angel whistles, like Obi-Wan has said something impressive. “Boston, huh? What are you doing all the way out here?”

The pit in his stomach intensifies. He does his best not to look at his nails and the grave dirt that might still be under them. “Driving,” he finally says. “And are you...from around here?”

Angel’s eyes grow distant for a second, and when he focuses again on Obi-Wan, they’re cold. “Born and raised,” he tells him flatly. “Never got out.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to do with the sort of bitterness in Angel’s tone. It complements his own well enough.

“If you like eggs, I’ll put you in for the house special omelette,” Angel declares suddenly, all business again. “It’s four eggs, tomatoes, peppers, cheese. The usual.”

“What makes it special?” Obi-Wan asks, closing his menu and setting it down on the table in front of him.

“For you?” Angel drawls, “I’ll watch the cook to make sure he doesn’t get any egg shells in it,” and then he winks, holding out his hand.

Naturally, Obi-Wan shakes it. Naturally, Obi-Wan realizes a second after feeling Angel’s warm, calloused rough palm against his own that the man had meant to take the menu from Obi-Wan.

He can’t remember the last time he’s blushed this red, but he is absolutely regretting everything about this road trip. God, he’d pay money just to be able to leave now.

He should get in his car and drive back to Boston. It had been a stupid idea to come out here anyway, a result of stir-craziness and a desire to outrun the death of his father.

And now look what he’s doing. Shaking hands with his handsome waiter, as if he isn’t thirty-nine and perfectly aware of social norms.

Thankfully, miraculously, Angel laughs and this time it sounds real. “It’s okay,” he tells him, reaching out to pick up the menu.

Luckily for everyone involved, Obi-Wan finds it very easy to laugh at himself. “Well. It’s nice to meet you, Angel, I’m Obi-Wan.”

“I’ll go put the order in,” Angel says, “Obi-Wan.”

He’s back within five minutes, sliding into the seat across from Obi-Wan. So much for no eggshells in his omelette, but he can’t bring himself to be disappointed. There’s something magnetically fascinating about Angel. He’d like to know more.

“So you’re driving?” Angel asks, picking up a thread of conversation from several minutes ago. “Where are you going?”

“I was thinking of Alaska,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ve--I’ve always wanted to go.”

“You’re driving from Boston to Alaska?” Angel whistles, raising his eyebrows in shock. “I think the gas money alone would cost me two months of work.”

Obi-Wan shrugs. It’s not like he makes much himself as a teacher in Massachusetts. “My father was a lifelong gambler,” he discloses without really knowing why he’s telling this to a stranger. “He came into a bit of luck near the end. A bit of a fortune as well. And when he...died, I inherited it and his house.”

Angel touches his hand softly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “When did he pass?”

Obi-Wan huffs out what might be a chuckle. “A week ago, actually. It’s summer break in Massachusetts--I’m a teacher--and I suddenly had nothing to stay for, for a bit. It was either leave for Alaska or find some other way to cope.”

He runs a hand--his free hand, the one Angel isn’t touching--over his beard as he gives the man a rueful smile. “Dad always wanted me to see more of the world.”

“My mom was the same way,” Angel leans forward to tell him, as if it’s a secret. Obi-Wan feels like it is a secret, that there’s something delicate and fragile in the air. Something that matches whatever emotion is filling up Angel’s eyes. “Always telling me to leave, go get famous, go get happy, come back and tell her about it.”

“You didn’t?” Obi-Wan asks, his chest tightening at the thought that the man before him could be unhappy.

“I couldn’t,” Angel sneers, looking out the window and propping his chin on his hand. Some things must be too close to the heart to tell someone to their face. “Mom got sick. I wanted to get out, I was so close. Graduated high school, packed my stuff. I was going to go to California. To Los Angeles, really make it big.” He rolls his eyes and scoffs, as if there’s something inherently funny about the dreams he must have cherished for so long.

“Then mom collapsed going down the stairs. Just passed out in the middle of the day. Doctors told us she was sick. Then life became all about treatment plans and monitoring symptoms and getting the money for the medicines and I never left. Got a job here when I was eighteen years old, right before I graduated high school. It’s all I’ve ever known, I guess.”

“And your mother?” Obi-Wan asks, mouth dry and heart all tangled up in itself for this stranger man, for Angel with the hard, sad eyes.

“Died a year and a half ago or so,” Angel says flatly like he’s repeated the words so often in his head that the truth digs no barbs into his flesh. Obi-Wan knows that voice is a lie. How often has he looked in the mirror this past week and told himself, ‘Qui-Gon Jinn is dead’? He can’t imagine a year and a half would make the pain go away.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says seriously, reaching across the table to touch Angel’s hand this time.

Angel shrugs but doesn’t pull away. “Is what it is, I guess,” he says. “I’ve made my peace with it. And the fact that I’ll never leave this godforsaken town.”

“You could,” Obi-Wan points out hesitantly. “You could leave tomorrow.”

For a second, a wild and previously undiscovered part of Obi-Wan wonders what it would be like, if Angel did leave tomorrow--with him. If they got into the same car and headed to Alaska together and Obi-Wan wasn’t alone at the wheel and Angel wasn’t alone in this town. If Obi-Wan could look over at the man in the passenger seat, asleep against the doorway as they crossed into Canada.

Obi-Wan wonders. Obi-Wan aches.

“I could,” Angel says, laughing once. “I guess I could. I guess I just can’t think of a good enough reason to.”

There’s a call of his name from the kitchen, and Angel stands and stretches, checking the time on his watch. “That’ll be your omelette, sir, which is perfect timing considering I’m off shift as of five minutes ago.”

“Thank you then,” Obi-Wan replies, ignoring the pang in his gut at the knowledge he won’t be able to keep talking to him. “It was nice meeting you, Angel.”

Angel’s face grows dark for a second as his jaw clenches. “That’s not my name,” he finally says, scratching at his neck with one hand. “That’s just what they called me when I started working here. Angel, like Los Angeles. Cause I told everyone for weeks this was a temporary thing, you know? I’d be going to California soon as mom got better. Guess they knew better than I did.”

Obi-Wan has never wanted to kidnap a grown man away from a place more, so he hides his hands under the table instead. “Would you tell me your name then?” he asks, wondering if he’s overstepping but needing to know too much to censor himself.

“It’s Anakin,” his waiter says, sticking his hand out, no menu to grab.

Obi-Wan takes it gently, turns it over, and cradles it between both of his hands. “Then it’s nice to meet you, Anakin.”

Maybe, he thinks as he picks at his omelette and watches Anakin shoulder his way through the front doors of the diner before disappearing down the street, maybe he can stay a day in this nowhere town. Just an extra day.

Yes, he thinks, taking a sip of his water. He’ll try the pancakes next.

[bunnirs]

Someone To Fight For

Y/N L/N is the last remaining Kurta, fueled by hatred for the Phantom Troupe. They’ll do anything to eradicate their existence, even if it means dying in the process.

Kurapika Kurta X Reader

Word Count: 3,353

Your motives were clear as day. Kill the Phantom Troupe, and then yourself.

Murder was something you weren’t proud of, and would never be. That is why, to atone for your sins, you would end your life after you murdered the very people who slaughtered your tribe.

The Kurta were known to be peaceful. They were stubborn, but truly harmless. That’s why they never stood a chance against the Phantom Troupe. What or Who is the Phantom Troupe you ask? It’s a group of disgusting lowlife thieves who steal whatever they lay their eyes on. At that time, it had been the Scarlet eyes that defined your Tribe.

How you escaped was beyond your luck. They must not have noticed that you slipped away, running for your life. It must have been the fact that they were too busy gouging out the eyes of your tribe, your family. Maybe your people’s screams were so loud they couldn’t hear your sobbing, or maybe they didn’t care. Afterall, you were only a child.

That was the day you realized that your world would never be the same. That was the day you realized that you would never be able to walk freely without knowing that they were dead. So you trained, you killed, and you bled. You cried during your sleep as your nightmares materialized the very bodies of your fallen comrades, their eyes filled with endless black voids, forever missing.

As you grew up, you became stronger than you would’ve imagined. Your rage had grown over the years, silencing the screams of your past. Even as they calmed, they still rang in your ears. The begging, the crying, the screaming. It all stuck, only to be relieved at the death of their oppressors.

As the last Kurta, you had to fulfill their wish, or die trying.

That led you to now, as you stood on the roof of an abandoned building on the quieter side of Yorknew City. You had been tracking the Phantom Troupe for days now as they gathered around the Auction that was to last through September. It was the perfect time, seeing as the troupe seemed to separate regularly to satisfy their needs. You just had to pick them off one by one.

Even if their abilities were a secret, you had gotten to know their personalities and that was enough.

The numbers of whom you were watching, were #1 and #3, also known as Nobunaga and Machi. They didn’t seem to be the most dangerous of the Spiders, but even so, you could NEVER underestimate them. These monsters killed your people after all, and that wasn’t the easiest task.

Hours into your endeavor, you began to notice that you were not alone. Two more people had joined you in stalking the troupe members. From the looks of it, they seemed to be two ordinary children, besides the fact that they could effortlessly hide their aura. Would it be enough to stay hidden from their victims? Probably not.

That’s all it took for you to get closer to the two troupe members, almost afraid that the kids would get to them first. You were not afraid for yourself, no, more for them than anything. If they got noticed, they could easily be hurt, or worse, killed. It didn’t matter who killed them, it could very well be you. If they got in your way, you may not be able to restrain yourself. You had been planning this for months, and if they ruined it now, you’d be beyond pissed.

More time had passed, but that didn’t matter. Everything seemed to go by in seconds for you, your heart almost beating out of your chest as the two of the children disappeared into separate buildings. You grew nervous, hoping to whatever god there was, that the children knew what they were doing. But your prayers went unanswered, seeing as the two troupe members, Machi and Nobunaga, caught on to the children’s aura, disappearing into the very building the children had hidden in.

That’s when you decided to throw in the towel. You couldn’t stay hidden and wait till they disposed of the children, you needed to do something, and the human in you begged to help. And that’s what you did. You jumped from roof to roof, landing on the building the green boy had gone in. As soon as you landed on the ceiling, you jumped off the edge, swinging yourself through the window. As soon as you did that, your feet had met the back of the pink haired troupe member, Machi.

Much to your dismay, Troupe Member #9, Pakunoda, was also present, blocking the doorway of the child. That really pissed you off. You hadn’t noticed her, and she could’ve been tailing you this whole time, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Her aura was also joined by another, making four troupe members present. The other was most likely taking care of the other child, alongside Nobunaga.

As you disregarded your realization, you grabbed the child’s arm, skidding to the other side of the room, glancing between Pakunoda and Machi, whose face was still plastered into the ground.

“Who are you?” The boy asked, his voice in a low whisper, obviously skeptical of you.

“Your friend.” You murmured, letting go of his arm as it tensed. Hoping he got the hint, you stepped in front of him, almost in a protective stance. “Honestly, I thought I warned you about sneaking up on people.” You glanced at him, winking, hoping to god he wasn’t as dense as he looked.

He seemed to understand, nodding his head firmly. He let out a nervous laugh, putting his hand on his neck, scratching it. “I’m sorry, I just got carried away! They were worth a lot of money.. and me and Killua couldn’t resist!”

“You really are an idiot..” You grimaced, hitting his head softly, mentally kicking yourself for the display of affection. So they were in this for money.. how.. unoriginal. Of course they had bounties on their head, it wasn’t a surprise to you. They were crazed thieves who picked fights with the mafia, so it was a no brainer they pissed people off. But for kids to get involved? That was a load of bullshit.

Through the conversation you had with Gon, Machi had pushed herself up, dusting off her outfit and holding her nose. It definitely looked bruised, if not broken. This wasn’t going to be easy to get out of.

“So, you two.. know each other?” She questioned, an eyebrow raised. “I knew there were two of you, but I had no idea there was a third. Bad judgment on my part. Paku, we have room in the car for three right?”

Pakunoda hummed, nodding a yes to her question. “So they’re after us because of money? Seems a little… risky don’t you think?”

“Kids are kids.” Machi looked at her, and then stared directly at you. “We won’t have another problem will we? I really don’t want to have to kill you in front of a child.”

“The same goes to you.” You responded, shifting your weight to your other leg, crossing your arms. “So, what's this I hear about a car?”

“Well, we’re obviously not going to let you go.” Machi glanced between Gon and you, a small smirk growing on her face. “We’ll bring you back and let the boss decide on what to do with you.”

You only shrugged, glancing at the kid, whose eyes widened. You could guess he didn’t expect to get caught. You almost laughed as you ruffled his hair, hoping to comfort him. You wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him and his friend, that was for sure.

As you were loaded into the car, you could tell the white haired boy, known as Killua, was questioning your well-being. You wouldn’t blame him, not at all. You’re messing with dangerous people, and you can’t expect to trust anyone. The kid that you helped seemed to look at his friend, almost having a conversation with their eyes. That’s all it took for Killua to glance back at you, his eyes losing their hostility, and a small smile formed.

That quickly vanished when the members of the Troupe began to speak. You blocked them out, staring out of the window, watching the surrounding area become less urban. You were sure they said something regarding you, but you couldn’t care less to listen. They didn’t deserve your attention. Not now at least. You were sure that you ticked them off, seeing as one of them kept glaring at you. You hadn’t done anything yet and they were already tired of you. Good.

Time seemed irrelevant now, as everything seemed to go as it came. You were now in the base of the Phantom Troupe, the Spider tattooed freaks who slaughtered your people just for the sake of their eyes. You almost wanted to throw up as you looked at them, they weren’t scary...just ugly.

To your dismay, they decided to take the kid whose name was Gon, and force him to arm wrestle the members. You could tell he was in pain, and no matter what his friend tried to do, the Troupe was one step ahead.

What was odd, was the fact that Nobunaga was hellbent on letting the kids join. What was in store for you? You had no idea, and you didn’t care. You only leaned against the wall, picking at your fingernails, making sure they were in a clean disposition. Some of the troop members watched you, and that only made your smile widen. You hoped they remembered every inch of your face, so they could be haunted by it even in death.

“So, Pakunoda, when you scanned the three of them… what did you see?” One of the members who you recognized as Feitan Portor, Troupe member #2, asked. He said it while looking at you, holding Gon by his arms, his body bent over the table. To you, it looked wrong, but you couldn’t really suppress your opinion.

“They don’t know each other.” Pakunoda said, your eyes widening as you stared at her. Her power must be something like reading minds.. or seeing people’s memories.

“That’s odd, they pretended too.” Machi said, her voice laced with amusement. “So, you just pretended to know him?” She said, moving her gaze towards you.

“Yeah.” You said blatantly, dropping your hand from your face, the dirt now removed. “I have no idea who these kids are. What I do know, is that you guys are going to die. Doesn’t have to be today, but it will happen. I’ll make sure of it.”

They all stopped what they were doing, staring at you. Killua and Gon had stopped breathing for a second, their eyes widening as they stared at you. Wrong move.

The Spiders turned to each other, laughter erupting from their throats. It would have bothered you had you been cornered, but you knew how to deal with them. You had trained for four years, just to kill them. It wasn’t going to stop now.

“No one’s that stupid to openly admit to wanting to kill us… so you either must be stupidly strong… or just stupid in general.” Feitan said again, tightening his grip on Gon.

“Call it what you want.” You said, sliding down to the ground, your back to the wall. “But this is a warning.” Your eyes narrowed, glancing at the members. “You don’t know who I am, but I know all about you. Do what you want with that of course.” You leaned your head back, looking at the ceiling before closing your eyes. Your aura vanished, and your eyes narrowed, a red glow emitting from them. “Just know that I’m always watching.” After that, the red vanished, and you closed your eyes.

Of course anyone in a situation like this would never willingly fall asleep, seeing as you are open and vulnerable. But of course, you weren’t normal. Your nen ability was perfect for this situation.

You called your Nen Ability: Relentless Increase. The more someone damaged you, the stronger and more immune you became. This caused a huge amount of power to build up inside of you, leaving you stronger than ever. Torture didn’t work on you, seeing as halfway through it, you were numb to the feeling and could easily overtake your assailant. So with this, you could easily stand by while the Troupe watched you. Of course, they had no idea about what you could do, so it was smart to stand by.

Your instincts were proven true, seeing as they didn’t even try to touch you. Instead, most of the members left, leaving you with the two kids and Nobunaga. It almost irritated you. This Nobunaga dude seems confident in his skills, thinking he could take care of the three of you if you tried to escape. Of course, the children proved him wrong.

They had a plan up their sleeve, and it actually worked. While you sat in the room, they broke through the wall, running in opposite directions. Since you didn’t follow their example, Nobunaga seemed to trust you. First mistake on his part.

When he left you unsupervised, you took the opportunity to break out yourself. By the time he had lost the kids, you were long gone. As you ran, you expected someone to come after you, but instead, you found the kids high tailing it out of the surrounding fence. You laughed a little, running alongside them for a while. They seemed to be high in spirit, despite the fact that they were just held against their will by a dangerous group of thieves. Kids these days never failed to surprise you.

Sure, your plan failed, but at least you got knowledge on the Troupe, as well as two kids who might know something important about them too.

On your walk into YorkNew, the three of you had made small talk, getting to know each other. It seemed to be a smooth conversation, until Killua brought up your eyes

“So… Y/N.” Killua narrowed his eyes, focusing on the ground in front of him, his hands fumbling in his pockets. “Your eyes…”

“Ah yes.” You mused, kicking a loose stone from in front of you. “What about them?”

“When they turned red…. are you by chance…?” He didn’t finish, finding the conversation almost too awkward to continue. He didn’t want to press any wrong buttons with you.

“A Kurta?” You finished for him, your eyes slightly narrowing at the word. “Yes. The last one.” You could feel the water building up in your eyes, threatening to spill.

“No you're not.” Gon said suddenly, confusion lacing his tone of voice.

That shocked you, causing you to choke on the saliva that built up in your throat. The tears in your eyes were forced out, and you suddenly fell to your knees, uncontrollable sobs leaving your throat.

“Great going Gon! Look what you did you idiot!” Killua berated him, hitting him across the head.

You clenched your fists, the sand and dirt from the road coated your palms. You began to laugh as your tears fell, washing away the loose build up on your knuckles. For the first time in a while, a genuine smile formed on your lips, your laugh gaining in hysterics. You looked crazy, but at that moment, you didn’t care. You weren’t alone.

“...I think.. we broke her.” Gon muttered.

“We?! I didn’t do anything!” Killua yelled in his face, pointing at you.

“Well you brought it up!” Gon reprimanded, knocking his hand away from you.

You slowly stood up, your legs shaking, tears continuing to fall from your face. You raised your dirt covered arm, wiping the liquid from your face, grime replacing it. “S-so… where is this… other Kurta?”

“Oh, right! Kurapika is in Yorknew right now!” Gon smiled, pointing at the city on the horizon. “He’s actually our friend! And to be honest, we were just about to go see him!”

Your face brightened, the setting sun shining down on you. “...Can I… can I join you?”

Killua and Gon stayed quiet for a moment, before large grins appeared on their faces.

“I don’t see why not. As long as you're not an idiot, you should be just fine. There’s only room for one of those around here.” He giggled, poking Gon in the side.

“Yeah! We’d love for you to join us!” Gon gave you a thumbs up, before looking over at Killua. “Wait Killua, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing! Come on slowpoke!” Killua yelled, running ahead of the two of you.

“Oh you’re so on!” Gon cheered, running after him, before skidding to a stop, looking back at you. “Come on! Wouldn’t want to lose ya!”

“Are you calling me slow?” You inquired, raising an eyebrow. “Well then, I suppose I don’t want to get lost.” You rolled your eyes, playing along with him. That’s when you started to run alongside Gon, laughing as he tried to tag Killua.

A few days passed, and it was the day that Kurapika was meeting up with Gon and Killua. It was the day that you’d finally get to see another Kurta, after four long years.

The day seemed to go on forever, only getting slower as the time grew near. Time never liked you it seemed. It made important, peaceful moments go by so fast you couldn’t even keep track of everything. But when you wanted to get over with something, it seemed to slow down just to spite you. It took four years just for you to learn that you weren’t alone, and maybe it’ll take forever just to see him. But In all honesty.. you could wait decades if it meant restoring the missing piece in your soul.

The time finally came around, and you finally saw him. He was tall, blonde, and had dark eyes. You could tell they were contacts, seeing as nothing could compare to the natural beauty of a Kurta’s irises. Just by the look of him, you already felt the welcoming warmth of home.

He made eye contact with you, and for a split second he became confused. That vanished when he saw the tears spilling from your eyes, and the red creeping up onto your normally dark irises. From the overbearing emotion you felt, your true scarlet eyes revealed themselves to him, and that was all it took for him to come running towards you.

He enveloped you into a hug, it was so tight that he was afraid you would vanish before his eyes. But you were there.. and you were real. Your eyes were real.

“....Kurapika..” you managed to breathe out, the air being stolen from you as he smothered you.

He immediately let go, letting out a formal apology. “I- I’m sorry..” he muttered, his face red from embarrassment. “I just got…”

“Overwhelmed?” You finished the sentence for him, a small smile creeping onto your face.

“Yeah.. that’s the word.” He said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

You giggled, finding his reaction amusing. “I understand completely.”

Killua and Gon were giggling as they whispered to each other, the two of them running off a split second later. That left the two of you alone.

“Do you want to.. catch up?” He suddenly said, ignoring the two boys that had left in a hurry. He knew they had done this on purpose, and he was thankful. For once he was glad they left, because now, he had you.

“You know what...” You smiled, your hand on your chin as you pretended to think of an answer. “I’d like that.”

Just for a moment, your rage had softened.. and you had someone to live for.

Taglist:

@tokoyamis-luv @imsloan

[riofann]

Rio Random 3

TW: Alcoholism

Part 1    Part 2 

You don’t hear from him for the next month or so. He doesn’t pay you any visits, no calls or texts. Nothing radio silence on his end. You contemplated calling him but what would that do? Nothing! Nothing he could say or do would make you feel any better at the moment. Plus you couldn’t just go back to him with open arms even though you wanted to. There were many levels of betrayal here and a simple I’m sorry wouldn't fix things, it couldn’t.

You were woken up from your sleep on the couch, typical for you these days. You were too afraid to sleep in your bedroom afraid that anything could happen and you being in the back of the house away from the door and windows didn’t make you feel safe. You hear the knock again before sitting up. Slowly you walk down the steps, when you look through the peephole you see Mick getting ready to break in before you open the door. 

"Hey" you say using the door for support

Rio steps into your house before speaking, irritation laced in his tone “What were you doing we were knocking for a long time"

“I was asleep, you could just break in like normal.” Mick steps in after Rio “Hi Mick” 

With a head nod Mick says “Sup”

You close the door and lean your head on it. You were still sozzled. Another thing you picked up after the great revelation. You would drink yourself to sleep every night. 

“You aiight?” Rio asks leaning to the side to look at you “Hmm!” You perk up. For a second you had forgotten he was there, you walk past him, Coconut your dog runs over to Mick who in turn gives her all the pets she wants as they retreat down to the bottom half of your home. You quickly rush over to where you were sleeping and grab the tumbler and drink the remaining liquor before rushing to wash it. Rio doesn't say anything but watches you. 

“Want something to drink?”  You turn to face him, doing your best to not look as drunk as you felt before he can answer you, grab a glass and make the infamous Bourbon on the rocks. “HEY MICK!” “YO!”  you hear him rush up the steps

“If you want food or drinks help yourself,” 

“Cool cool” he retreats back downstairs to watch the game. “Come on Coconut!” You smile

It was cute seeing him with Coconut, a Samoyed, who looked like a teddy bear had come to life with Mick of all people. 

“I was gonna say tequila”

Tequila is your favorite liquor 

You roll your eyes “Please you know you love bourbon it's your girlfriend's favorite drink”

Without speaking he stares at you making you nervous, thinking that he knew you were drunk. You quickly make conversation "to what do i owe this visit?”

“Came to check on you see how you doing, you haven't texted or called”

“You haven't done the same either” you counter

“I am a busy man”

“I have a target on my back”

He looks at you before speaking “We both do”

“Fair enough, we can both do better let's just leave it at that”

He nods in agreement “Just came to check on you”

You look at the clock on the oven “At 1:00AM”

“No better time than the present” he says flashing his infamous smile 

You nod, “I guess” your anxiety was starting to get the best of you again. You were able to pretend so long as he wasn’t around but now it was becoming more difficult by the second. 

“You aiight?” he says as he notices you taking lots of deep breaths “Yea i just need to lay down”

You walk towards the bedroom without even looking back at him, you assume that he planned to spend the night. You hear him walking behind you and you become more panicked. You rush into the bathroom before he reaches the bedroom. 

“Thought you said you were sleeping” he comments noticing your bed was made up 

“Yea on the couch!” you answer from the bathroom

He takes a seat on his side and starts to undress himself getting comfortable in nothing but boxer briefs

You sit on the toilet and do your best to calm down. You reach for the flask in the vanity drawer and  take a few gulps before you put it back in its hiding spot, a few more breathing techniques and you feel calm enough to walk out. He watches you as you walkover to your side of the king sized bed. He always hated it. It was entirely too big for two people let alone one person. 

You avoid all eye contact. If you thought you looked drunk he would definitely pick up on that. 

When you lay your head on the pillow the room feels like it's spinning before the feeling slowly subsides and you feel yourself falling asleep.

“Y/N”

“Hmm?” you hum

“I came to talk to you” normally you would be alert and waiting for him to talk but this time you’re avoiding any type of conversation 

You sigh “Your timing is impeccable!” 

He chuckles he missed you. He missed having to deal with a grumpy you, who didn’t get enough sleep, missed how you were so picky over ice cream, missed how you smelled, how your skin felt under his finger tips, missed your sarcastic mouth that always irritated him

You sit up and move closer to him grabbing a pillow to put on your knees so you could lay your head on it. “Okay i'm listening”

He says nothing but looks at you, 

“My name is Christopher”

For a second you want to thwack him with the pillow. Is this why he came over to tell you his name?! 

When you look up at him there’s a look of vulnerability behind his eyes. You get the sense that he was being truthful

“Okay what do you want me to call you then? Christopher or Rio?” He smiles lazily, he was expecting you to roll your eyes and fuss at him “whatever you want mama” he reaches over and rubs your leg

“I like Rio, maybe i’ll call you Christopher when i'm mad at you”

He chuckles “fair enough,” he clears his throat. “My name is Christopher, people know me as Rio. I am a divorcee to a lady named Rhea and we have a son together named Marcus.” 

You smile at him “nice to meet you Christopher”

“I’m single by the way so you know”

“Why are you doing all of this?”

“I don’t know how things like this go, I’ve never “dated” girls it was always we vibe together cool we together. I’m trying something different, you don't like it?”  You shrug “No its just odd......”

“I meant it when i said i cared about you, Beth and I are a thing of the past only business”

“What did you do break up with her yesterday?”

“More like a month ago” 

“How did she take it?”

“How most women do? Cry got mad at me typical shit”

You nodded “okayyy”

“Im serious Y/N I want to be with you,” 

You didn’t respond but laid down next to him, when you woke up in the morning he was gone. You sigh in relief. You didn’t want to discuss him wanting to be with you in greater detail. As far as you were concerned words meant nothing when it came to him. He always spoke with his actions. Nothing changed besides him revealing his name to you. He was back to being the mysterious person in your life. I guess since he told you the truth there was no need to pretend anymore. No late night calls asking how you were no more frequent pop ups. 

The next time he does show up, he’s nothing but irritated. Standing outside your door for almost 10 minutes knocking, just to break in. When he finally locates you on the couch there's a bottle of tequila beside you, cap half screwed on even Coconut’s excited yipping doesn’t wake you up. 

“Do me a favor find every liquor bottle you can in here and get rid of it” 

Mick nods in agreement before he returns to petting Coconut

You wake up the next morning in bed wondering how you got there the last thing you remember watching was Scandal before blacking out. You hear commotion near your kitchen area, you get scared but hear Rio’s deep voice and relax a bit. You get up and ready to go to work before walking out of the room. 

Without thinking about him you look in the cabinet that housed all the liquor

“It’s not there”

He scared you, you had forgotten he was there, you take a few deep breaths before turning around to face him 

“Where is it?”

“Don’t worry about it”

“Rio” 

“Why you drinkin’?” 

“Why not? As far as we are concerned there’s still drugs in my house right?”

He ran his hand down his chin “I told you I’m taking care of it”

“What does that even mean? You don’t text or call nothing just show up out of nowhere whenever you feel like it. What is the definition of taking care of it, if drugs are still being funneled into my house. You don’t  want me drink? When I can smell her perfume around the house after I come home from work? You don’t want me to drink? When I can see a trail of dirt going down or up the steps? At any given moment I could be ambushed by the feds or your enemies.... But you’re taking care of it?! Right? You tell me if you were me and someone kept telling you I’m taking care of it would you believe them?” He remained silent for what felt like an eternity “It's complicated”

“Then uncomplicate it!”

“So what you gon drink yourself to death?”

“YES!.....I mean NO!..... But you can’t possibly think that i am going to deal with all of this by myself without you there and a sober mind”

“Need to grow tough skin, if you wanna stick around” 

“I didn’t ask for this! All I wanted was a boyfriend not someone who is supposedly plotting my demise and telling me don’t worry about it” 

Offended he speaks before he can stop himself “And I ain’t ask to be with no drunk either”

You paused for a while and walked away. Rushing into your bathroom your hands shaking from being extremely pissed and needing that drink in the morning to take the edge off. You quickly locate the flasks in your room thankful he had yet to find those.Once the liquid poison settled in your stomach. You quickly gather the remaining flasks and stuff them in your purse before rushing out the door. You could feel his eyes on you as you left the house. 

When you return home your heart sinks to see his G Wagon sitting in the driveway. Carefully you put the flasks in your purse. You were hoping he didn't make someone follow you because your flasks were now full to the brim with alcohol. 

You open the door and Coconut runs towards you barking and hopping on you. “Hi girl, how are you? Were you good today?” You bend down and pet her, tears coming to your eyes as you realize just how much you had been neglecting her lately, “I promise i’ll make it up to you” you whisper as you continue to pet her. When you stand up you see Rio standing in your line of vision. You walk up the steps to see Mick sitting on the couch watching sports. You wave at him and take the corner towards your room. You had a short window to hide the flasks before Rio would come in. 

When you step into the kitchen you don’t see Mick on the couch instead its Rio sitting by the kitchen counter. You move slowly as you feel the alcohol racing through your veins. You pour water in your tumbler and pull out the bowl of fruit salad that you had made early in the week. 

“Not gon eat?”

It hadn’t even occurred to you that Rio actually cooked until you set eyes on the stove which had multiple pots with simmering food

“Not hungry”

“Late today” he comments 

“Yea” 

“Where were you?”  

You look at him wondering if he was just baiting you or he actually had no idea where you were

“Hello” he brings your attention back to him “Where did you go after work?” “I thought you knew” hinting to him possibly trailing you 

“What you talking bout?”

You knew this question was coming so you pulled out the pamphlet of AA which ironically was signed by the organizer. You place it in front of him. “We can’t have your reputation destroyed can we?” you spew out venom, almost like you were looking for another argument. Which you weren’t you just wanted him to hurt as much as you were. 

He  ran a hand down his face and looked up at you, however you weren't standing in the same spot you were walking back to the room. He wanted to apologize. He didn't mean what he said, well he did but he didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as it did. 

The next day was Saturday and he knew your routine to go to brunch with either your Aunt Brenda  and/or your best friend Mia. He was going to propose taking you out maybe to lighten the mood, get you out of the house so you don’t obsess over things that he was actively trying to fix. Soon after he sits down to drink his water he hears you up and an hour later the clicking of your heels on the wooden floor. 

“Going to brunch” is all you say before you begin to walk down the steps

“Think you can cancel?”

You stop and turn and look at him “Why?”

He shrugs “I wanted to take you out for brunch”

“Okay you can just join us” you offer

“Nah i just wanted it to be me and you” he is now standing in front of you and moves the hair out of your face

You nod in agreement and look down to begin texting.Aunt Brenda and  Mia could keep themselves busy anyway

“Ready?” He asked with a smile on his face  

“Yea!” you answer you walk past him and down the steps

The car ride is silent until you arrive downtown and park a street over. You let him lead the way which brings you to one of your favorite brunch spots a chic french restaurant. He remembered you talking about it and how much you wanted to come back but you and the girls were busy exploring other places. 

When you arrive you get seated, you look down at the menu before looking up at him. You kinda knew what you wanted, you had made your mind up the last time you were there what you would get next. When the waiter arrives he greets in french and you respond

“Bonjour comment-allez vous? (good morning, how are you?)” “Qu’est-ce que vous voulez boire? (what would you like to drink?)”

“De l'eau s'il vous plait (water please)” you turn to Rio. “Rio what would you like to drink?” He smirks before answering “Water”

The waiter then proceeds to tell you about the house specials for today before leaving to get your drinks

“I didn't know you spoke french”

“Yea, Krystal knew that, I guess your girlfriend forgot to mention that”

He had to admit he was lazy in his research about you, trusting Beth would tell him all about you. 

The waiter quickly returned with the water. You two were not ready so you ask for more time. 

He sighed before taking a sip of his water, You had reverted your attention back to the menu. He was really trying hard at this boyfriend thing. Majority of his ex girls were attached in some form or another to his business so it was easier to sit and talk about plans and things that needed to be fixed, than actually have a conversation. However Beth ‘Krystal’ was the last one, he was faced with the realization that someway or another that being part of the business never really made the relationship stronger in fact it made the bulk of it which he realized was not good for anyone involved.

“What are you gonna get?” he asked breaking the silence, he also hated how you could just be silent, he would rather you make small talk like Beth, whether it be joyous or filled with hate

“Im debating” 

“Between”

“Pancakes with omelette or the french toast” you looked up at him 

“Hmm” he held his infamous smile on his face the one that always made you weak to your knees

“You” 

“Eggs Benedict”

You smile at him “good” 

Before your food comes you two try at the small talk thing, out of nowhere you hear her voice

“Hi you two!”

You both look up at her it seemed like she came out of nowhere

You feel nauseous, the smell of her perfume now made you sick. “Hi how are you?”

“Having a little brunch?”

“Yea”

“Mind if i sit”

You look at Rio and before he can answer you say “Sure!” 

He gives you a look both you and Beth can read

“Here I’ll move over”  you offer as you move to the middle seat

The waiter rushes over and gets her order before any conversation takes place

“You didn't tell me our girl could speak french” “I didn’t? Must have skipped my mind”

“How are the kids Krys?” you ask

“They are good.” She says curtly before turning her attention to Rio “So uh the cookies you wanted me to bake are ready”

“I told you i didn't need them anymore” 

“But i took time off to do so can’t you just come by and pick them up?”

“I’ll send Mick” 

You sit back and observe her behavior. She had done herself up slightly more than usual, her cleavage was showing and she was accentuating it every chance she got. They continue to talk in code and it was  becoming irritating to you because you were sitting there eating your food while they could be discussing the situation in your home without you knowing. At this point you had to assume the worst. 

“Maybe you two need a bathroom break,” you interject both of their head whipped around to look at you, both looked bewildered

“Why would you say that?” Rio asked 

You shrug “it seems like there's a lot you two want to talk about clearly not in front of me” 

Rio smirked before answering

Quickly, Beth answered “Actually we could” “Nah we good, Krystal was just leaving.” He flashes her warning look before she quickly excuses herself. 

He can tell that your mood has turned sour and chucks the date as a fail. When you return to your home he speaks before you exit the car “I didn’t know” “I know Christopher,  gotta grow tough skin right?” He sighs before following you inside.

As always tell me what you think. 

[votederpycausemufins]

Aaaaaa I’m posting this on mobile how do things work here? But i also have no impulse control so I’m posting anyway until waiting for a computer again.

chapter 4 of scattered au fic go! Au by @hermitcraftheadcanons and I @helleborusangel because they are frembd and I show my care this way!

“Oh sweet sweet dirt. I’ll never get mad at you again. You don’t just fill chests, you’re soft and safe.”

“Uh Ren, you good there?”

“Give me a moment my dude.” The wolf shifter replied, lying on the ground to hug it. “I’ve been stuck there since I spawned. Not sure what happened, but it looks like you found me.”

“Have you been looking at chat?” Etho asked, and Ren looked towards the ravine again. Looking back in it, Etho could see the comm sitting at the bottom. “Well, you’re not the only one in a situation like that. In fact, you’re in a better situation than most people seem to be in.”

“What do you mean?” Ren asked, and then he was passed Etho’s comm. Death messages filled the screen, appearing as he looked. Scrolling up, there were plenty more. “Why hasn’t anyone said something in chat?”

“Because he can’t. Nothing we try to type will send. The only thing coming through are deaths and achievements. I spawned with Beef and Joe at the real spawn, but we were the only ones there. I’m not sure how, but I managed to die, and now I’m here.”

Ren nodded. “Well, now that I’m on the surface, I’m gonna go get some wood enough for a pickaxe. Then I’m jumping back in that ravine to get my comm.” Etho raised an eyebrow. “Hey! There’s water for me to land in. I just couldn’t get to it from my cliff.”

“Well, I’ll join you. I don’t have any gear since I died, so we’ve got the same situation.”

Ren nodded and looked to the closest tree, part of a dark oak forest. “Hey Etho, I saw Mumbo was dealing with illagers. You think that could be the forest he’s in?”

“Maybe. But let’s start with getting ourselves geared up. It would probably be worse for him if we showed up and died before he could get out.”

“I guess you’re right.” Ren agreed as he went over to one of the trees and started breaking the logs. “Still might be good to see if the place is even there. I mean, I’m just suggesting he could be here.”

Etho shrugged. “Well, maybe we’ll be lucky. I was close to Joe and Beef, so maybe others are close to each other too.”

Ren nodded and finished gathering wood, now heading back to the ravine. Etho followed, not having crafted anything for himself, so Ren was the only one mining stone, the ninja just taking half of what Ren mined up for himself. Then both of them made sets of stone tools, going deeper into the ravine to gather coal and iron.

The two of them built around themselves as night finally fell, torches placed throughout the ravine to try and keep monsters from spawning. “You know, regen isn’t working right. So not only are we spread out, but we all have ten hearts until we die, no matter how much we eat. It might be different if we used gapples and potions, but figured you should know.”

“Thanks for the heads up man.” Ren thanked. “My guess is it’s just natural regen that’s been disabled, so apples and potions should do fine.” Then he pulled out his comm. “I hope Impulse will come out of this okay. He’s really dying a lot.”

Etho nodded. “Yeah, hopefully we can figure out what temple he spawned in.” And then he pulled out his own comm. We’ve still got coordinates, so memorizing that will be key. We’re at zero zero, so that’s easy enough to remember.”

Ren messed with his own comm. “Yeah, we’re still kind of far though. I say in the morning, we deal with checking the forest first since it’s right here.”

“Sounds good to me.”

.

.

Mumbo was backed into a corner. He hadn’t stopped trying to escape since he had gotten so close so many times. “Please, if you want me to leave, I can do that! I don’t have anything, and I’m not going to tell anyone where you are. I just want to get out of here!” He had started pleading a bit a few deaths ago, and was still doing it because it had made the vindicators hesitate for a moment.

He expected that was going to be all that would happen this time as well, but instead, the axes never fell. Mumbo had his eyes closed, but then hesitantly opened them to see what was going on. The vindicators were standing to the side, the evoker now right in front of him. He grumbled in a language Mumbo didn’t really understand, leaving him confused. “I’m sorry… I’m not sure I understand you.”

The evoker sighed and waved his arms with a spell. Mumbo held his arms up to brace himself, but nothing happened. Or at least, nothing to hurt him happened. “If you don’t want to be here. Why are you here?”

Mumbo looked up. The evoker still had what he could best describe as a villager accent, but he could understand them now. “I… I don’t know. Some friends and I were just trying to move to a new world, and instead of wherever I was supposed to show up, I didn’t. So instead I just keep appearing in that bedroom of yours.”

“And I should believe this why? Why leave a world behind? Alone I might understand, but with friends?”

“I… we… We like to explore different worlds and… help advance them.” Mumbo answered, being careful with his words which the evoker noticed. “At a certain point, we move on to try with a new world. It’s just this time, something went wrong.”

“I see.” The evoker said with narrowed eyes. “Well, empty your pocket. Prove you have nothing.” And Mumbo did just that. “Very well. You may leave.” And then the evoker cast one more quick spell and the redstoner vaguely recognized it was bad omen. Mumbo nodded and left, hearing a quick ‘good riddance’ before he finally was able to make it out of the mansion.

The moment he was out, Mumbo was glad to see it was now day at this point. He took a deep breath of fresh air before running over to a tree. Unfortunately, even though it was day, the forest provided enough cover for monsters to spawn. Before Mumbo could really react, he was killed by a skeleton and back in the mansion, yelling in frustration.

Vindicators quickly ran to the room ready to attack, but instead they were met by Mumbo, who was half yelling, half crying, and pulling at his hair. “I can’t leave. I’m never getting out of here. I’m cursed or something. Who knows if anyone’s coming to get me. I could be stuck here forever. No, I’m going to be stuck here forever. No might about it.”

There was a noise from one of the vindicators and Mumbo looked over before lying down on the wool next to himself. “I don’t care. Just kill me. I’ll just respawn here anyway. And it’s not like running will do anything.”

He closed his eyes and just waited there, but he wasn’t killed. Instead, he heard footsteps walking away, leaving him alone. Mumbo just stayed there, trying to think what he could possibly do next. His first thought was to get killed again as there was a new set of footsteps coming his way, but again, nothing happened.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Mumbo recognized that that was probably the evoker. He didn’t respond though, not really having the willpower to do so. “Even if you did, something seems to be keeping you here.”

“Can you just lock me up or something? Then I’ll be out of the way.” Mumbo replied, voice muffled by wool.

“Oh believe me, I would like nothing more than to do that. This place is outfitted with a cell. The thing is, I doubt your patron would approve of that and I would rather not get on the bad side of that.”

Mumbo paused, confused. He took a few seconds to process what the evoker had said, then he pushed himself up enough to look over at the illager. “I’m sorry, my what?”

“Oh dear void you don’t even know. Why would they even- No, questioning might make things worse. Oh void he probably got put here on purpose.” They said, talking more to themself than Mumbo as they pinched the bridge of their nose. “Look, don’t cause trouble and you can stay here. Do whatever you please if it’s going to get you to leave.”

Mumbo was still confused, but after a few moments of stunned silence, he nodded and the evoker left. Did he have any clue what was going on? Absolutely not, but at least he likely wasn’t going to die again anytime soon.

.

.

“Come on Ren, we’ve looked at every inch of the forest and the sun is going down again. Between you and me, if he was here, we would have found him. We would have found anyone if they were here.”

“I feel like I can’t do nothing.” Ren complained, tapping his foot in frustration.

“We can still get more gear and get back to spawn. That’s not nothing. The more people we can get to spawn, the better. It means more numbers so that eventually we can go help anyone who’s stuck. I mean, there’s people in the nether and end. Do you really think you and I could solve that on our own like this?”

Ren looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t say anything. He just followed Etho when he started to walk in the direction of spawn. Ren kept them supplied with food and even got them beds from killing every sheep he saw. Etho on the other hand made sure to keep wood, stone and coal stocked, gathering enough iron for them to both finish up their sets of armor and tools.

When night finally fell again, they set up another small base for the night. Etho went staircasing for more ores while Ren stayed at the base. Their original plan was when Etho came back up, Ren would switch off and take up mining instead, and they would do that until morning. But before Etho could even return once, Ren watched as the sky suddenly started to move rapidly, and before long the sun was on the horizon.

“Etho! Ethooo!” Ren shouted, running down the stairs. Further down, Etho heard the shifter yelling and immediately thought the worst of the situation. He dropped what he was doing and started going up, sword in hand ready to defend against whatever problem was happening. But instead, when he finally met up with Ren in the middle of the stairs, he was smiling and his tail wagging out of control. “The sun’s up!”

“What? I wasn’t gone that long, was I?”

Ren just took out his comm. “No, look. Grian managed to do a day shift!”

Etho read the messages on the comm.

Grian has made the advancement [Sweet Dreams]

Grian went to sleep. Sweet dreams!

Grumbot has made the advancement [Sweet Dreams]

Jrumbot has made the advancement [Sweet Dreams]

“Huh, we weren’t able to do that.” Etho said, rubbing his chin. Since they had gotten enough wool for beds, the two of them had both tried sleeping before actually mining, but nothing had happened.

“Yeah, but if at least someone can do it, that’s going to be good for everyone! I bet Bdubs is mad about it though.”

“Don’t say that. Who knows where he is.”

“Well, he hasn’t gotten a single death, so I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“He also hasn’t gotten any achievements, so he might just be stuck somewhere.”

“I guess you’re right.” Ren strugged. “Well, since it’s day, do you want to keep traveling, or are we mining some more?”

“Travel’s better. I’ll grab what’s useful and join you in a few minutes. You pack up the camp.” Ren nodded and ran back upstairs. By the time Etho finally returned with his loot, the place was mostly packed up, though the cobble walls and beds still sat there, along with a sign pointing towards spawn. “Still working on packing?”

“No actually. I’m leaving some stuff here. If anyone stumbles across it, they’ll have some supplies, a place to set their spawn, and know where to go for spawn. Plus, we’ve got our spawns set, so if we do die, we’ll be closer to true spawn when we restart.”

“Hmm, good idea.” Etho nodded, then looked to Ren. “You’ve got enough wool for us to make more beds as we go?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve got plenty. Some of it is in different colors, but if we kill a few skeletons, we can redye them to be white.”

“Assuming that still works here.”

“Yeah, if now, we throw them out and I carry around white dye to use on sheep before I kill them.”

Etho pulled out some iron. “You know we can just make shears.”

“Yeah, but we also get meat out of it. Unless you want to sit around and grow wheat. Or hope we get some apples while chopping trees.”

“Alright, fine. Mutton it is. Can you hand me over some of the wool just in case. If you happen to die, I’d like a way to keep a new spawn while I wait for you.”

“Fork over some of that iron and you got yourself a deal.” Ren said, pulling out his woll. Etho complied and the two traded resources before starting to travel once more. Everything was going well for a while, but then they passed a surface cave, and a noise from inside caught Ren’s attention. “Hey! There’s a skeleton in there!”

Before Etho could say anything, Ren was racing off to attack the monster and steal its bones. Etho followed behind to make sure the wolf shifter didn’t die, only to nearly be shot when he entered the cave. In front of him, Ren was attacking the skeleton, which was trying to stay away from him and attack at the same time. Etho pulled out his sword and helped to attack the skeleton, and soon the monster was dead.

Ren immediately jumped to grab the bones, turning them into bone meal and then into dye. Etho looked around the cave to make sure there weren’t any monsters left, and for a moment, he thought there weren’t. But then, from a tunnel off of the cave, Etho saw the familiar green face of a creeper making its way towards Ren.

“Hey, look out!” Etho shouted. Ren looked up towards Etho who was coming at him with sword drawn. The wolf shifter then turned to look the other way, and saw the creeper starting to glow. Time seemed to slow as Etho hit the creeper away with the sword, though the slash managed to catch Ren as well in the process. Though the creeper had been knocked away slightly, it wasn’t enough to stop it from exploding, so a moment later, it did that.

As the dust settled, Etho was glad to see that he was alive, and looking over to Ren, he was as well. They were both low on health, but as long as they were careful from here on out, they would be fine. But then Etho heard growling. It wasn’t the growling of a zombie, no. It was something that normally was never meant for a player.

Etho turned and saw Ren’s sunglasses cracked from the explosion. His shirt was ripped a bit where Etho’s sword had sliced into it, blood dripping from the wound it caused. The shifter’s teeth were bared, and his normally brown eyes were red. Etho tried to back up, but before he could go far, Ren attacked him.

Etho was slain by Renthedog

[tessiete]

This was for the prompt from @treescape who asked what would happen if Obi-Wan had taken Korkie back with him from Mandalore after Satine's death. I said, "Well, at the very least it would force him and Anakin to talk to each other, and maybe stop the whole Fall of the Republic from happening."

And she said, "They won't talk."

And I said, "I'LL SHOW YOU!"

But then, she was right.

I tried. THE PUNISHMENT OF SILENCE

She throws him on a ship, and says “This one’s yours,” and they’re already away by the time he comprehends she meant the pilot on board with him. 

He’s pale to the point of imagination, and trembling - a reflection of how Obi-Wan imagines he himself must look, bloodless and haunted. His eyes seem hollowed out from the shadows between stars, his hair lank and lifeless, his mouth a jagged streak of blood cut straight across his face as though his jaw has been neatly bisected, his tongue cut out, and silence fills the space between them.

But he steps away from the controls at Obi-Wan’s approach.

He says nothing to the boy as he staggers to the pilot’s seat, and straps himself in. He hears the sounds of violent retching being pulled, and pulled, and then replaced with shattered breathing, and he spares him a glance to shout, “Do you know how to man the cannons on this ship?”

The boy lifts his head. His hair has tumbled out of its militant lines to hang over his eyes like some wild thing hunted. 

“The cannons,” Obi-Wan repeats. “Can you use them?”

The boy nods.

“Then do so,” Obi-Wan says.

He turns his attention back to the front. They are approaching the edge of the atmosphere, but are still trailing the most dedicated of their enemy’s pilots behind them. He feints left, then swings back to the right, trying to shake their aim as his companion slides into the gunner’s seat, and places his hands on the controls.

A strange look falls over his face then - something cool, and placid - and Obi-Wan too feels himself steady. He ceases to think of the sweat trickling down his brow, or the ache between his shoulders, or the pounding of his heart. Instead, he is flying. They are buoyed by the wind, then freed of atmospheric friction, and at last, with a contemptuous spit of the cannons, loosed from their pursuers and the strangling grip of Mandalore.

Without thought, Obi-Wan primes the hyperdrive, sets a course for Coruscant, and presses them into the stars. The ship resists for a moment, unwilling to let go of the planet, but soon gives in, and they are thrown into the cosmic whirlpool of hyperspace where time and place fall silent. 

And Obi-Wan can think.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“It’s Korkie. I’m Korkie,” the boy gasps, his hands falling away from the console and his calm with it. “Kiorkicek Kryze. My mother - my aunt…”

He shakes his head, his mouth still open but his voice has broken into absence.

“Your mother?” Obi-Wan says. “Bo-Katan? She wanted you off the planet -”

But Korkie shakes his head harder. He swallows. He swallows again, still gaping. 

“My mother - she died. I saw - I tried to save her. I tried to help - she said you’d help her.”

He feels a creeping numbness spreading from his joints, like muscles stiffening in the wake of a blaster’s stun.

“Satine,” he says, knowing and yet unsure. “Satine is your mother.”

“Yes,” Korkie says. “We were going to leave together. She said - we’d leave together when you came.”

“Your father -?”

“No.” It falls from him like a single tear, stifled before the onslaught of grief.

This one’s yours, she’d said.

“No,” whispers Obi-Wan in kind.

And then Korkie is crying, desperate, greedy torrents of grief that stutter out between his teeth like laughter. He presses a hand to his mouth, and wraps an arm about his middle to barricade the doors, but they are flung open, and the vacuum of his heart is filled by loud, rushing sobs. 

Obi-Wan barely hears him, caught instead listening to the voices of the past. Bo-Katan’s. Satine’s. Qui-Gon’s. He unbuckles the straps from his waist, and his shoulders, and slips from his seat to stand. 

“I...I need to change,” he says. “You should get some rest. We’ll hit planetfall in about six hours.”

This ship is unfamiliar, but equally unimaginative in its design, and so he stumbles to the fresher without effort. The room is warm, but there is no comfort in sonics the way there is in a shower. There is no rhythm of water beating out its rage upon your skin, at first soothing, then numb, then painful in its insistence. There is no cleansing fall of rain, no slick of wet across your skin, no satisfying whirlpool of dirt and grit spinning out of sight down the drain. Instead, the detritus of battle falls from your body, settling like the dust of memory upon the floor.

He steps out of the fresher, and feels no different.

The cockpit is abandoned when he returns, and the galley too, and he thinks perhaps, somehow, he is alone again in space.

He presses his hand against the door to the officer’s quarters, and it slides open with a gust of wind. Inside, curled atop the coarse coverlet of an unforgiving bunk, Korkie Kryze lies asleep. His hands are tucked beneath his arms, and his knees drawn up as if he’s cold, but he does not shiver. He barely breathes. In his stillness, Obi-Wan studies him.

There is familiarity in his expression, his brow furrowed, plagued by worry even in dreams, his hair swept across his forehead. The slope of his nose. The bow of his lips, though the bottom one is red and raw as though he habitually frets at it. There is a deep, purple bloom around the orbit of his left eye, and the cracked seal of broken skin like the stain of a fist upon his cheek. Obi-Wan touches his own cheek, as though the blow might be reflected there as well, but it is smooth. His own injuries lie elsewhere.

For a moment, he debates waking the boy, debates ordering him to wash and dress, but he can’t think of seeing her again, or himself, or whichever ghost might be looking back at him from behind those eyes. So instead, he unfolds the spare blanket at the end of the bed, provided to compensate for the chill of deep space, and lays it gently atop the sleeping form.

He spends the rest of the trip in the cockpit staring out at the stars, and thinking of absolutely nothing at all.

They land on Coruscant in the middle of a beautiful day, and Anakin is there to meet him. 

“Another Council sanctioned secret?” he spits, as Obi-Wan stumbles down the ramp. “Another noble cause? What have you done with my ship?”

“I’m sorry,” says Obi-Wan, as Ahsoka shoulders her master aside to wrap Obi-Wan in a fierce embrace.

“We were worried,” she says.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

She pulls away, or he does, and her eyes catch on movement behind him.

“Korkie?” Her voice rises with surprise.

The boy still wears the grey uniform of his insurgency, though it is bloodied and torn, and he hangs over himself with his arms clasped around his middle as though to keep from spilling across the docks. He looks up at Ahsoka’s call, and blinks in the light of the day.

She leaves Obi-Wan, and he falters as she goes, moving to catch Korkie as he falls apart in her arms.

“You went to Mandalore?” Anakin asks, his voice threaded with outrage at this hypocrisy.

“I had to,” Obi-Wan says. “I had to.”

“Where’s Satine?” demands Ahsoka, from a distance. “Where’s his aunt?”

“Dead.”

Ahsoka is the first to recover.

“We should take him to the Halls, master,” she says, appealing to an Anakin still frozen in scrutinizing his own master. “I think his arm is broken, and his eye -” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, and Obi-Wan feels the focus levelled upon him strain and snap like an elastroband. “Let’s do that.”

They move slowly, up the steps, through the hangar, and past the minor customs and hazard authorities, and through the grand hallways of the Temple. Ahoska keeps her arm around Korkie’s waist, and lets him lean upon her, limping with exhaustion. Beside him, Obi-Wan can feel Anakin hovering close, but not touching, as though one or both of them might shatter with contact. He doesn’t reach out, and he is unaware of anything else until they come to the Halls of Healing and are ushered inside.

Then it is all confusion.

Korkie is pulled away from Ahsoka with a small cry as his arm is jostled, and probing fingers are pressed to his cheek. He grips Ahsoka’s hand in his own, and holds on as she tells the healers the little bit she has managed to glean since their arrival. The healers, unsatisfied, ask question after question about Mandalore, about his injuries, about the time since their occurence. They ask what hurts, and where, and how they happened. They ask if this was a fist, or a stick, or the back of a blade. They ask if he fell, or was pushed. They ask if there’s anything else, anything more, anything he’s hiding from them.

And Bant is there, too.

He can tell by the faint scent of deep sea salt, and the coolness of her hands upon his skin as she turns his face from the chaos of Korkie’s arrival to focus on her, and her alone.

“What about you?” she asks. “Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not hurt,” he mutters, the words habitual though no sound comes to fill them with weight.

She shines a light in his eyes, and he winces, turning away.

“A concussion,” she says. “At least. And what else?”

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m fine. What about -?”

“He’s being taken care of,” she replies. “Now, let us do the same for you.”

The little light goes back in her pocket, and she takes him by the hand like a child. He goes with her, willingly, casting only one look back to find Anakin, watching him as always, as he is led away.

__

The room she takes him to is small, and white, and the door shuts behind her keeping back the world with it. She guides him to sit upon a little bed that reminds him of the one he once had in Qui-Gon’s quarters, but when she puts her hands on his shoulders to lay him flat, he gasps, and resists.

“No,” he says. “No, I’m fine.”

“Okay,” she says, her voice calm. “That’s okay, you don’t have to lie down. Just look at me, okay? And we’re going to figure this out. Yes?”

He nods. He trusts Bant. “Yes.”

“Now, we know about the concussion. Can you tell me if you were hit, or struck by anything?”

“I fell out of a ship,” he says, and to her credit, Bant doesn’t even pause between this question and the next.

“Were you alone?”

“No. I was with Satine. We were shot down. The ship fell, and we had to evacuate.”

The way he says it, the way he looks in this moment...Bant remembers how it was when he first came home from Mandalore, and she pulls a stool close to sit as near him as possible.

“Where is Satine now?”

He inhales sharply, the breath catching on his teeth, and tears still trapped deep in his chest.

“Do you know, I think I’m rather tired? I’d like to return to my quarters, now.”

“Obi-Wan -”

“I’d like to return to my room.”

“I know,” says Bant, taking his hand in hers. “I’m just going to give you a quick check over to make sure you’re not bleeding out anywhere, right? We know that’s very much a possibility with you, don’t we?” She smiles, trying to nudge him into something safe and familiar.

Very briefly, he smiles back, and relents. “Alright.”

“So,” she continues, pulling a holochart from a nearby drawer. “When you fell out of the ship, how did you land?”

“Badly.”

“Like how?”

“I hit my shoulder. I rolled. I tried to protect -”

But Bant cuts him off before he is strangled by memory.

“Okay, your shoulder, your ribs. How do your hips feel?”

“Fine,” he says. “I could walk after. I could run.”

“Your arms?”

“I don’t know.”

She sets her chart and stylus aside. “Can I see?” she asks.

He shrugs, but makes no objection when she reaches for the thick layer of a Mandalorian flight shirt that shrouds his torso. She lifts from the hem, and pulls the fabric upwards. His arms ache as they are drawn above his shoulders, and the high neck of the collar squeezes some colour back into his cheeks. He flinches in the chill of the room, and Bant apologises, pulling a pale green blanket across his back.

She frowns as she examines the markings upon his skin.

“Obi-Wan, that must’ve been some fall.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She doesn’t acknowledge this as she prods at him with impossibly soft, webbed fingers, frowning and tutting at each wince and grimace she elicits from him. 

“You’ve got some broken ribs,” she announces. “Some deep bruising. Let me see your hands.”

He gives her his left, and then his right when the first passes inspection. The second is not so lucky.

“This your saber hand?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve two broken fingers here,” she says. “Do you remember that happening?”

“No.”

“And bruising. Like a boot. Did someone step on your hand?”

“I don’t know.”

She taps the end of each, and he tries not to cry out, suddenly aware of the pain flaring there.

“The good news is, you’ve not lost any feeling,” she says. “The bad news is, you’re going to need a dip. I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan.”

“I don’t want bacta.”

“I know, but that concussion alone needs more sustained treatment if you don’t want to end up with some significant issues. And your hand…”

“I’m fine,” he says, pulling his hand away to hide it in the folds of the blanket. “You said I could go back to my rooms.”

“You know I didn’t,” she says. She knows him. She knows this dance, even if the steps are heavier and more fatigued than normal. She does not rise to his bait. She waits him out.

At last, his shoulders heave and droop, and he gives in. 

“Where’s Anakin?” he asks.

“Probably outside, half hysterical with worry by now,” she says.

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Where’s Korkie?”

“Who’s that?”

“The boy who came with me. He’s Satine’s - he’s Satine’s…”

She hesitates, not wanting to guess, but by his struggle she thinks the answer can only be one thing.

“Her son?”

He nods, a wordless gasp of distress breaking free of him. She wants to lean forward, to embrace him, but he’s still so distant that she knows he would not let her. So instead, Bant puts her hand upon his head, and strokes his hair over and over again from his crown to the nape of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t know she’d found someone else.”

But that’s not it. He shakes his head vehemently, as he clutches the blanket closer, and grits out a reply which Bant could not have anticipated no matter how many years of friendship lay between them.

“She didn’t,” he says. “He’s mine.”

And with that confession tumbling free, so too, comes grief, like huge rolling waves pulling him under, and spinning him upwards until he is disoriented and gasping for air. She doesn’t wait, now, instead reaching out to gather him in her arms, giving him something to hold onto, as the tides of anguish rise and rise, and eventually fall, and him with them, into a deep, exhausted sleep.

She eases him back onto the pallet, pulling the cover high, and dims the lights. 

In Admittance, she inputs her data into the medcomp, and makes a recommendation for immediate bacta immersion. Her face is somber, and stoic, showing nothing of what she feels or thinks of this turn of events. She doesn’t quite know, herself, in any case.

Anakin is waiting, his elbows braced upon his knees, one leg bouncing, standing out like a bruise against the ceramplast white of the hall.

“Where’s Obi-Wan?” he demands, rising to meet her as soon as she steps away from the monitor.

“Asleep,” she says. “We’re waiting on a dip. Where’s Korkie?”

“Ahsoka’s with him,” he says. “Did he tell you about the Duchess?”

“He did.”

Anakin nods. She watches as his jaw clenches, and the muscles there leap as he chews up the marrow of his thoughts.

“Kriffing idiot,” he spits. “I would have gone with him, if he’d asked.”

“Does he know that?”

“He should,” Anakin insists. “But he doesn’t trust me.”

“He doesn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, great job,” Anakin says, a bark of laughter punctuating his words. It rings through the vaulted ceilings of the hall, a clarion of upset. “Now he’s hurt, and his girlfriend is dead.”

“Anakin!”

But Anakin’s outrage is mounting, and gathering like an Alderaanian storm falling off the mountains.

“Oh, don’t defend him,” he says. “Don’t pretend this isn’t on him, because it is. Just like the Hardeen thing. It was his choice to go alone. It was his choice to turn his back on us. It was his choice to leave me behind. I don’t feel sorry for him, Master Eerin. I don’t. He’s done this himself.”

Bant stares at him. She says nothing. She only waits until the impact of his words rebound from the blank slate of her response and fall back on him. She waits for him to hear himself, and she knows he does when his mechanical hand forms a fist, and his shoulders turn him acutely away from her gaze. Anakin sighs, his voice turning soft, his words clipped short.

“Just comm me when he’s out of bacta,” he says. He stalks out of the Halls without a backward glance.

Bant sighs, her guard dropping just in time for her to hear the soft click of another door closing from behind her. She turns with an admonition on her lips. If Obi-Wan has roused himself to chase after his padawan, he’ll have no help from her.

But instead, it is Anakin’s padawan she meets.

“Master Eerin?” she calls, slipping out of the room behind her. “Did Anakin talk to you about Obi-Wan?”

Bant frowns, then turns a rueful eye on Ahsoka, a smile twisting at her lips.

“In a manner of speaking,” she says.

“Oh,” says Ahsoka. “He’s still mad about the Rako Hardeen incident.”

“So I gathered,” says Bant. She flicks through pages of data on her holochart, idly reminding herself of the litany of abuse Obi-Wan had come to her with following that particular debacle so recently ago. 

Ahsoka watches her intently, her head cocked. She runs her hands nervously over a lekku before she speaks again. “Aren’t you still mad?” she asks.

“No,” says Bant, looking at her again, and seeing only youth where the Republic sees a Commander. 

“Why not?”

“A healer learns only to be grateful when someone comes back from death,” she says. “It doesn’t happen often enough to grow bitter for it.”

Ahsoka nods, and frowns again. It is clear that there is more she’d say, and more she’s considered in the weeks following Obi-Wan’s undercover mission. Things that she cannot say to her master, who is still angry, or to Obi-Wan who is still too lost to guide anyone with authority. So Bant sets her chart aside, and sits against the wall, gesturing for Ahsoka to join her.

“I wish they’d talk,” she says, as she drops into the seat next to Bant. “I mean, they do talk. We had that whole mission to Onderon, and everything was fine. I mean, mostly. But then...why wouldn’t Master Obi-Wan have come to us?”

“I don’t know, Ahsoka,” says Bant. “But I do know it was never meant as a slight against you. Whatever is between Obi-Wan and your master has nothing to do with how Obi-Wan feels about you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve known Obi-Wan since the creche, and I can tell you: he’s always been like this.”

Ahsoka is silent for a moment, considering this, but before her contemplation can slide into brooding, Bant intervenes, tapping her forearm with the stylus to draw her back to the present.

“What about that young man you carried in here? Korkie, was it?”

“Yeah,” she says. “He’s the Duchess’ nephew. We worked together the last time I was on Mandalore. The Prime Minister was establishing a black market, and he helped catch him.”

“By yourselves?” she asks, caught somewhere between surprise and a familiar chagrin.

“Well, with friends,” she says. “And his Aunt.”

“Sounds like a good kid,” says Bant, then laughs at Ahsoka’s grimace of distaste. “Tell me about him.”

“Oh, I don’t know him that well,” she replies. “He was really interested in the Jedi when we met, though. Kept asking about the Temple, and lightsabers, and Jedi philosophy. He’d mentioned something about Master Seva once, but I don’t remember enough about the Old Age philosophers to know what he meant.”

“I suppose philosophy and literature classes have somewhat fallen by the wayside in the past couple years,” Bant says. 

“I guess,” says Ahsoka. “But I don’t think I’d have time to write essays while in the middle of a dogfight, you know?”

“Tell me,” she says, pushing just a little further than is probably wise. “Did Korkie ever mention anything about his father?”

“No,” says Ahsoka. “Just that the Duchess was like a mother to him. That she raised him, and he grew up mostly in the palace. I assume he’s an orphan. Maybe he doesn’t remember. Or maybe it’s too painful to talk about. I didn’t ask.”

“No, no,” Bant assures her, patting her hand fondly. “Of course not. Do you think he’d mind if I went in to visit him?”

“Korkie? He was asleep when I left.”

“That’s for the best. I just want to give him a quick check up. Make sure nothing was missed. You’d better go after your master - make sure he doesn’t blow up something we can’t replace.”

Ahsoka smiles at that, and springs to her feet eager to be directed towards some useful task.

“You mean himself,” she says. “Anything else he could probably fix.”

“Or improve.”

“Or that!” Ahsoka agrees, laughing now. She gives Bant a quick bow, then exits the hall with a quick, and sturdy step while Bant slips silently into the room at her back.

It’s quiet inside, the air is warm, and it may as well be the same room she’d vacated earlier for all the similarity of the figure on the bed. He looks like Obi-Wan - the way she remembers him. He looks like he did in those in-between years of childhood and adolescence. His hair follows the same line, his brow furrows the same way, and in the soft light she takes a small sample of his blood and confirms that which she already knew for sure.

__

Anakin is waiting for him when he wakes. He sits at his bedside, and watches as he rises up through the fathoms of sleep, buoyed to the surface by piercing shafts of light, like a diver on Mon Cala. Anakin can feel his muscles twitch as consciousness returns in the dry warmth of the palm pressed flush against his own.

“What time is it?” Obi-Wan asks, blinking him into focus.

“It’s late,” he replies.

Obi-Wan relaxes, his head rolling back to settle against his pillow. “You should go to bed,” he says, and Anakin huffs with laughter.

“We’re way beyond that, old man.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, and that’s just so typical that Anakin smirks.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“Good.”

“Are you?”

The pleasant warmth of drowsiness is stripped away in his next breath, and Anakin can feel the  air turn so cold that it raises gooseflesh across his arms, and freezes against Obi-Wan’s lips. His fingers flex against the sheets, and Anakin’s hand tightens in response, keeping him there when he’d rather turn away.

“Don’t -” he warns, but Anakin doesn’t listen. He never does.

“You were in bacta for three days,” he says. “You could have died. All because you couldn’t bear to come to me first. To ask me. To trust me.”

“I do trust you, Anakin.”

“Don’t lie to me, too,” he says. 

“It’s the truth,” he swears. “I couldn’t - The Council -”

“I don’t care what the Council said,” Anakin protests. “I would have come for you, master.”

Obi-Wan blinks rapidly up at the lights overhead. Anakin can feel as he grasps clumsily at the insubstantial wisps of the Force, cloudy and distant with sedation, and grips his hand more firmly still. He, at least, is solid.

“What of Korkie?” Obi-Wan asks, at last.

Anakin slides his hand free.

“The kid? He’s fine. A little beat up, but nothing a couple of bacta patches and some bone knitters couldn’t fix. Ahsoka’s with him now.”

“Good,” says Obi-Wan, his breaths coming more and more easily. “That’s good.”

Anakin licks his lips, and sits forward, accepting of but not resigned to the fact that he will never get an admission from Obi-Wan that isn’t first willingly proposed. He knows this. It’s fine. They can talk about the kid.

“Why’d you bring him?” he asks. “What happened on Mandalore?”

“There was a coup,” says Obi-Wan in a tone like the salt flats of the Jundland Wastes. “Satine fell, and her government was usurped.”

“By who?”

“Maul.”

Anakin spits a curse like acid, but Obi-Wan scarcely seems to note it. Instead, he keeps talking as though Maul is the least of his story.

“But he wasn’t alone,” he says. “He had his brother. And Death Watch turned the people. The city was lost. I only meant to get her out.”

“And Korkie.”

“I took him because his aunt told me to.”

“Satine did?”

“She’s not his aunt,” his master says, the admission coming like a weary sigh. “She’s his mother, and I...he’s my son.”

There are many things that Anakin feels in this moment. There is a nasty, vindictive kind of ache that licks at his throat like flames when he hears that Maul had brought his own brother, when Obi-Wan had not. There is sorrow for the Duchess, and righteous indignation on her behalf at the perfidy of her people. There is a whipping cyclone of confusion and disbelief as Obi-Wan refers to a second woman whom Anakin doesn’t know, and then a son he’s already met, but who should be impossible. And an anger as this settles in, and he realises the depth of his master’s betrayal.

“Your son,” he repeats, and Obi-Wan only nods. He rises, having nothing more and far too much to say, and palms open the door. He spares Obi-Wan only a single moment from the threshold. “You should have told me,” he says.

And Obi-Wan, still gazing at the ceiling, still gripping the pleats of bedsheets in his hand, just shakes his head. “I didn’t know.”

[justinalovee]

Now we live

Previous chapter

Chapter: 0.07

Nova stood watching as Kane tried to blend his people with her own. It was a disaster waiting to happen. She was surprised her commander had agreed to it.

“Monin.” Kane said cheerily. “I thought we'd start with a reception then move on to training. We have a lot to learn from each other. Weapons there, please. Only Ark guards are here.” Indra along with other grounders threw their weapons into a box. “Thank you for agreeing to this, Indra.”

Indra looked him up and down, before replying with a snarky comment. “We're here on the commander's orders. I agreed to nothing.”

The council meeting room quickly became full of grounders. Kane looked uncomfortable as he spoke to Jaha in a low voice. Nova tried not to smirk as she heard Octavia telling a guard to stick his tongue up his ass. She sighed listening to Kane deliver a speech about their common enemy, the mountain men.

Nova’s eyes landed on Murphy as one of the other grounders started to square up to him. She bit down on her bottom lip as she decided what to do. With eyes on them Murphy had suggested they kept a low profile with the aftermath of Finn’s death still being raw, and a part of that was not jumping in to defend each other unless it was necessary. Nova did as Lexa said and stayed away from the ceremony, but now Nova wasn’t sure if she could go back as whispers about her involvement had started to spread. Thankfully it hadn’t reached the ears of the sky clan yet.

Murphy glared at the person in front of him, “you got a problem?”

“Yu stood der watching while Ai village was massacred.” ‘You stood there watching while my village was massacred.’

Nova couldn’t hold her tongue. “Penn hod op. Yu get in em wasn’t em.” ‘Penn stop. You know it wasn’t him.’

Murphy shrugged, “sorry man. I don’t speak grounder.

Penn stepped even closer to Murphy, causing him to push the grounder back. Kane stormed over to them. “Mr. Murphy, apologize to that man.”

“For what?” Murphy asked. “He started it!”

Kane shook his head. “Two days' work detail.”

“Work detail? I just told you I didn't do it-” Murphy challenged him.

“Care to make it three?”

Penn glared at Murphy, “you can burn just like your friend.” Murphy clenched his fist but ignored the comment. He was trying his best not to take the bait.

Penn smirked, “Hei nova? ha does Ai feel bilaik a skaikru slut nau? everybody get in Yu turned bilaik bakon ona bilaik gada in kru gon Disha. cockroach. Ai wonder chit bilaik sister would fig raun taim she could-”

Penn was cut off by Murphy punching him in the face. As a riot broke out between sky people and grounders, Murphy ignored Kane who was yelling at him, and grabbed Nova’s hand and dragged her out of the room with him.

______

Murphy closed the door behind him and spun to face Nova. Who looked bewildered by what just happened. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, “I’m fine.” Her fingers trailed over the bruise appearing on his knuckles. “I can’t believe you punched Penn in the face.”

“He had it coming,” Murphy’s eyes were glued on Nova’s fingers. He wasn’t used to somebody worrying about him, she gently pressed a kiss to the back of his hand before rubbing her thumb over his swollen skin. “What did he do to you anyway?”

‘Hey Nova? How does It feel to be a Skaikru slut now? Everybody knows you turned your back on your own people for this...cockroach. I wonder what your sister would think if she could-‘

Nova shrugged, pretending the comment didn’t hurt her. “Nothing important, just that I’m a slut, a traitor, and he was starting to talk about my sister when you punched him.”

Murphy gritted his teeth. He would have done more than punch Penn in the face if he had known what he was saying. “How do you say I’m sorry in grounder?”

Nova chuckled. “I’m fiya, why? Are you thinking of apologising for causing a riot?”

Smiling Murphy shook his head. “Hell no. I just wanted to say...I’m fiya Nova.” He brushed a loose strand of hair behind ear, “you could have gotten hurt in there.”

She closed her eyes. “I’ve been through much worse, and so have you.”

Murphy gulped down, his eyes had trailed from her fingers to her pink lips. His feelings towards the grounder confused him. From the moment he let her escape the drop-ship something changed. He had never put his neck on the line for anyone before, let alone a stranger. The grounder girl who helped him live quickly became his only friend. But now? Murphy wasn’t sure if friendship was the only thing he wanted.

Nova opened her eyes to see Murphy gazing down at her. The look made her stomach tighten, her lips parted slightly as he leaned towards her.

The door to the room swung open, as Clay, a young grounder stood sheepishly rubbing his neck. “Kane en indra are lufa au Yu both. Ai heard chit happened fou, Skai boy punched penn gon defend Yu?” ‘Kane and Indra are looking for you both. I heard what happened before, Sky boy punched penn to defend you? Causing a massive fight to break out? ’

A wide smile spread across Nova’s face as she nodded, “he don dula.”

Murphy frowned as the grounder raised his eyebrows and left, “what was that about it?”

“He was asking if it was true if you punched Penn, and caused riot.” She laughed, “Kane and Indra are looking for us.”

Great, just great.

______

“Good, Fio. Who's next?”

“I am.” Octavia stepped forward, “We're supposed to train together right?”

A few grounders tutted as the sky girl argued with Indra that she should train with them. Kane stood beside Nova who was leaning against the wall. “Aren’t you going to train?”

She shook her head, “I’ve never been much of a fighter.”

“What is your skill?” He asked curiously. Kane wasn’t dumb, every grounder he had came across had a specialsed skill.

“Archer...” memories of the promise she made to Treyton came flooding back. “Let gyon au kom foutaim.” Kane raised his eyebrow at the grounders mumble. Nova cleared her throat, “We should all try our best to let go of the past. I can teach your people how to use a bow and arrow if they are interested. And Indra says it’s okay.”

He smiled, “thank you.”

______

“I take it you don't approve.” Murphy did his best to Ignore Jaha. “I asked you a question.”

Murphy stopped mopping and turned to face Jaha. “Who cares what I think.”

“I do. That’s why I asked.” Jaha looked back at his people and grounders training together. “So what do you think?”

“I think the grounders can go to hell.” The moments the words passed his lips he regretted saying them. Murphy didn’t hate all grounders, he was pissed at them getting special treatment. “Most of them anyway.”

The chancellor waited until the hallway was clear before following John further into the camp. “I got you off work detail.” He watched as the teenager screwed his face up. “You knew my son and I'd like you to take me to his grave. Now that there's a truce, it's safe for me to go see the body.”

“Then get somebody else to take you,” Murphy spat.

“I'm told the graves are unmarked. You can show me which is his.” Jaha offered Murphy a gun, which he accepted. “You can hold a mop, you can hold and gun.”

______

Murphy scoffed as he watched Jaha kneeling at Wells grave. He had no sympathy for the man who killed his father. “Are we about done? We got to be heading back.”

Jaha didn’t take his off Well’s grave, “How well did you know him?”

“Well enough to be hung for his murder.” Murphy paused, “Clarke sugarcoated it for you didn't she?”

“What happened to my son?

Murphy sighed, he didn’t want to relive one of the worst days of his life. “Twelve-year-old girl stabbed him in the neck with a knife she took from me”

Jaha shot his head up. “Why would she do that?”

“She couldn't kill you,” he shrugged. “Yeah, so you got a lot of blood on your hands, Chancellor. Every single one of them including your son would still be alive if you hadn't sent us down here.”

Jaha stood up and clasped his hands behind his back. “ If I didn't send you, they would've died on the Ark with the rest of us and we would've never known that Earth was survivable. Their sacrifice is why we are here. Good can come out of even the darkest acts, John.”

Murph groaned as Jaha started to walk the wrong way, “Camp you is that way.”

“We'll rest at the dropship for a while.”

“Suit yourself.”

______

Murphy shook his head as Jaha continued to offer him food. “You sure? You must be hungry?”

“No one gives anything without expecting anything in return.”

Jaha looked at him with a blank expression on his face. “That's a cynical way to go through life, John.”

“You pull me off work detail, you offer me food. Why are you being so nice to me.”

The chancellor cleared his throat, as if was getting ready to deliver a speech. “Everyone deserves a second chance. That's why we sent the hundred to the Earth in the first place.”

“What a load of crap. You didn't give a damn about us. You still don't, that's why you're not fighting for those kids in Mount Weather.”

Jaha gave him a disapproving look. “I have to think of everyone. I know you don't want to hear this but sometimes you have to sacrifice the few to save the many. Like I said, good can come out of even the darkest acts.”

Murphy shook his head. The only person who treated him like a human was Nova, she showed him kindness when nobody else did. “Then you can take it from me, I was pardoned, slate wiped clean I'm still treated like dirt.”

“You made mistakes, so have I.”

Murphy glared at him, “I'm nothing like you, Chancellor.”

“No, we both should have died several times over. We both suffered at the hands of the grounders. We both have been betrayed and imprisoned by our own people.”

“So there's no place for us,” Murphy said sarcastically. “Great thought you were supposed to be inspiring.”

“There is a place for all of us. When I first landed on Earth I met a woman who spoke of a place beyond the dead zone, a place where everyone is accepted, a city of light.”

“Sounds like a fairytale.” Murphy continued to listen to Jaha’s rambles about a better life, while trying not to think about what could be happening back at camp.

______

Murphy awoke in the drop-ship to the sounds of others talking. What the fuck? He jumped to his feet, “Hey what the hell is this?”

Jaha stepped to the side to reveal a small group of people standing outside. “We're going to the City of Light.”

“You're going now? There's a million ways to die out there.”

“If it's not your time, nothing can kill you. If it is your time it only takes one.” Murphy opened his mouth to reply when Nova came into view. What the hell was she doing here? Jaha smiled at the young man’s expression. “I thought you might want some company Mr. Murphy.”

Nova quickly hugged her friend before turning to face the strange man who had asked her to join them. “Do you even have a map?”

“Nope.”

Murphy wrapped his arm around Nova’s shoulder. “Then how do you know where you're going?”

“I don't, but I won't be moved by fear. You want to stop being treated like a criminal. You gotta stop thinking that's what you are. Take this leap of faith with me, John Murphy and let me show you there is so much more for you than this.”

Jaha started to lead his ‘people’ away. Murphy and Nova watched as the group started to fo further into the forest. “Why did you come?”

“Jaha...your leader said he knows what I’ve done...he apparently knows how to make the pain stop.” She blinked away tears, “I feel so guilty. Every time I see your people...I see his face everywhere I look.”

“So you want to go?”

Nova bit down on her bottom lip. “I-I don’t know. I’m not going anywhere without you, if you stay I stay.”

For the first time in hours a smile pulled at the corners of Murphy’s mouth. He weighed up their options, they could return to camp Jaha and risk others finding out what Nova had done, or take a chance. “What the hell,” he shrugged. “My people hate me, and Lexa has practically banished you. Let’s see what this place has to offer.”

Nova leaned up and kissed him on the check. Murphy locked his own fingers with hers, as they started to catch up with the group searching for the city of lights.

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 5

Prompt: “take me instead”

Read on AO3

Read My Mind

Obi-Wan could feel them before he saw them. Bounty hunters lurking in the shadows, stalking him and Satine as they walk through the busy market. He grabs Satine's arm above the elbow.

"Obi wha-"

"We need to go."

She looks up at him, her crisp blue eyes looking into his as though she can read his thoughts-- sometimes he thinks she can. She nods, and he guides her swiftly from the main stretch. He senses them at the main chokepoints, probably hoping to catch them as they leave. Obi-Wan has a feeling they aren't monitoring the less accessible methods of exiting the market, though. They cut down a tight path between a fruit and a leather stall. Both of them have to turn sideways in order to fit between the buildings, but Obi-Wan moves his hand from her elbow to intertwining his fingers with hers. To make sure she stays near him.

"How many?"

"At least four."

"Is this a way out?"

"Oh no, I felt like taking us to a dead end so we can be promptly trapped and captured," Obi-Wan replies dryly.

They emerge into the back alley which is much less crowded than the main market.

"Can we call Master Jinn for help?"

Obi-Wan swallows hard. Maybe they could... if his commlink hadn't been pickpocketed off him nearly as soon as they entered the market. He hadn't yet told Satine this fact, embarrassed that he somehow managed to be distracted enough to allow someone to steal his communication device.

"If I had my commlink..."

"If?" she stops, looking at him with that accusatory face. "So we're flying blind?"

"We're not flying blind, I'm here,"

"Oh right."

He still holds her hand, pulling her closer to his side in a playful nudge. Even when they're in certain danger he can't help the smile across his face as he tries his best to feign outrage.

"I'm more than capable of protecting you!"

"We're really testing that theory as of late, aren't we, Ben?" she says with a wry smile.

Obi-Wan is confident they can get out of this. They just need to get out of the market and make a break for their camp to warn Qui-Gon. He noted an old farmhand's entrance when they arrived-- boarded up, but with old rotting wood that he knows his lightsaber will be able to cut right through if it doesn't come right off with a simple tug. He continuously scans the area as they swiftly weave through the backstreets. Obi-Wan can't deny the feeling of danger is steadily growing by the second.

He lets the pit in his stomach fester until he sees the passageway he saw earlier come into view. Obi-Wan lets go of Satine's hand and jogs ahead, prying on the wooden planks. The first comes off easily and he throws it to the ground at his side to get started on the others. As he pulls the next plank off, a chill runs down his spine. In his mind's eye, he sees it before it happens.

Obi-Wan shifts his grip to the end of the piece of wood and whirls around, putting as much force behind the swing as he can before smashing it into the head of the bounty hunter that is still in the midst of recovering from his jump from the rooftops. He staggers to the side in surprise, grabbing for his blaster, but Obi-Wan's lightsaber is out in an instant.

"Satine!" he yells, seeing a flash of blonde hair in the corner of his vision. The next moment he feels her hand brush against his waist as she lets him step in front of her.

"Not leading us to a dead-end, huh?"

Obi-Wan blocks a blaster shot that comes from above, jetting one hand out to press her tighter behind the shield of his body.

"Is this really the time? Work on that door."

The one he took out at the beginning now has regained his footing, pulling out a long knife. As Obi-Wan has to deflect a shower of blasters from now two bounty hunters on the rooftops, the other slides across the ground below the blade of his saber and nearly drives it into the padawan's stomach. Obi-Wan has to twist uncomfortably to get out of the way, his back ramming into the wall beside the door. Satine looks at him with wide eyes, still pulling at the third wooden plank. Seeing her ignites his energy once again and he jumps back into action.

This time he manages to deflect a number of blaster shots back perfectly. He hears groans of pain, one falling from the rooftop and hitting the ground with a solid thud. The bounty hunter doesn't move. Through the Force, he can feel the life presence of the other fade into nothing. His attention goes back to the knife-wielder, who looks shaken by the two that now lie dead. Still, he lunges forward, and Obi-Wan reacts accordingly. He twirls his lightsaber to slice off the blade of the knife, but that doesn't stop the bounty hunter from pulling out a blaster with his other hand. At point-blank, there is nothing the Jedi can do besides slice off his hand completely, and so he does. A horrible scream fills the alleyway as the bounty hunter's arm drops from his body at the elbow. It takes only a few moments for his consciousness to leave him as well.

He thought it was over, but a whimper behind him makes his stomach drop with the realization.

Obi-Wan turns around to see the fourth has finally made an appearance. He holds Satine tight against his chest, a blaster against her temple, and a sinister grin on his face.

He's a Kiffar man, with dark skin and hair similar to Obi-Wan's friend Quinlan. Geometric red tattoos cross his face like a mask over his eyes, with more up both of his arms. "I must thank you for taking care of my competition for me. You've just grown my pocketbook considerably, Jedi child."

"But you forget, now, it is two against one," Obi-Wan says, holding his lightsaber up in a ready position. The Kiffar just chuckles.

"You forget I have a blaster to your girlfriend's head," he presses it harder for good measure, making Satine cringe in pain. "So what's going to happen is, I am going to take her and get my money. And you won't be following me. Unless you want her death on your hands."

He considers his options. If he makes any aggressive moves, he will kill Satine. If he lets him take her, they will lose her before he can get to their ship and find Qui-Gon. He swallows hard, his eyes flickering to the terrified woman. She looks at him with pleading eyes. Expecting something. Expecting a plan. He told her he would protect her, and now she has a gun to her head. He messed up this time, and now he must fix it.

Obi-Wan knows what he must do.

He raises his other hand slowly, deactivating his lightsaber, and letting it drop into the street.

"Take me instead," Obi-Wan says, keeping his hands up in surrender.

"Obi... no," Satine says in a low voice.

The bounty hunter cocks his head in intrigue. Obi-Wan has a feeling he knows where he is going with this.

"And why should I?"

"I assume you know all of our bounties. I also assume you are a smart man. You let your counterparts take the brunt of the fight while you laid in wait. You looked for the greatest reward for the least risk. You only have the ability to take one of us to not be outnumbered and risk losing both of us."

He smirks. "Out with it boy."

"You saw the damage I did alone, and I am only a student. My Master has the power and training to take out ten of you without breaking a sweat, and us together, we can take down twice that. So take me. You eliminate the possibility of having two Jedi coming after you, and you will get a better bounty from the Jedi Temple for my return than your employer wants for some runaway of a clan leader they are going to kill anyway."

Oh, Satine is angry. He can feel her outrage through the Force, but also her sadness. Because she knows, as Obi-Wan and the bounty hunter do, that he is right.

"How do I know this isn't a trick?"

Obi-Wan's lips press into a thin line. "If you take me, and do not hurt her, I will not fight you. I will leave my weapon, and come willingly. Just..." he looks into Satine's wide eyes. "do not harm her."

There are a million other things he wants to say as he looks at her struggling against the grip of the bounty hunter. Some that he can't say because it will reveal too much of him and some things he can't say because he hasn't yet figured out how to actually admit them to himself. But in the split second they have before the Kiffar makes his decision, a look is enough. He looks at her as though she can hear the things that run through his mind whenever he thinks about her. A part of him has always hoped that maybe she does have those mind-reading powers they often joke about because then she would know the internal tug-of-war raging within him. She would know that love is currently winning, and he has no idea how to come to terms with that.

The bounty hunter doesn't reply, but he does throw a pair of electrocuffs into the dirt at Obi-Wan's feet.

"Put them on, Jedi child."

"No!" Satine bellows as he leans down to scoop up the shackles. "Don't do this,"

Obi-Wan doesn't reply. He can't if he's being honest. He just looks back at her teary eyes with his deepest sympathies. I'm sorry, he projects to her. She doesn't have to be Force-sensitive to feel his regret for putting her in this situation.

He steps into the body piece and pulls it around his waist, and then slips the cuffs on, tight around his wrists. When he holds up to confirm they are secure, the bounty hunter activates the electric field and throws Satine roughly into the street, ordering her to stay put.

"Let's go then," he says, tugging at the cuffs. Obi-Wan looks down at Satine, using everything within him to not fall to his knees beside her and draw him into his arms one last time.

"It'll be okay, my darling," he says as he is forced to pass right by her. I love you and will return to you.

"If you aren't dead by the time I get you back, you will soon be," she says, wiping away a tear.

He smiles through the thickness growing in his throat. "I will make sure you have the honor."

[anari3l]

stirrings

WORDS: 2249 /// PAIRING: Arthur Morgan x Reader (Harlow as surname) /// Part of ongoing fic, Humors of Whiskey /// also posted on AO3

Humors of Whiskey [1] [2] [3] /// Wildflowers [1] [2]  

“Barnaby.” 

The dappled grey Norfolk Roadster whickered, bobbing his head up and down as you said the name, a large smile on your face. 

“Barnaby.” Arthur’s voice held a hint of amusement, almost a laugh, as he repeated the name. The stablehand smiled brightly, leading the horse towards the center of the stable.

“I like it,” you hummed, taking the reins from the stable hand and leading your brand new horse out to the sunny Valentine street. “Doesn’t he look like a Barnaby?”

“If y’say so,” Arthur hummed, cigarette between his lips. 

“Take care now!” the stablehand bidded as you left the building.

The Norfolk had put you back almost $200. Plus a brand new saddle, blanket, tack, and saddlebags.  You had lost the saddle, and all the gear as well when you left Eugene, nursing a dislocated shoulder on the back of Arthur’s horse, and since then, had been borrowing horses from the camp or riding with Arthur into town when needed. You missed the freedom of having your own horse, however. Since you had turned sixteen, you had always had your own horse to care for. 

“Thank you, Arthur,” you started, petting your hand along Barnaby’s neck. 

“Quit thankin’ me. I ain’t done nothin’.”

You smiled, running your hand over Barnaby’s neck some more, fingers toying with his long mane. “You helped me, patched me up when I hurt my shoulder, took care of Eugene … brought me into town, so I could buy a horse. You’ve helped plenty.”

“Agh, that ain’t worth thankin’ me for,” he groaned, running a hand up into his hair as he removed his hat. 

You sighed, pulling yourself into your saddle, adjusting the skirt you wore as you settled, reins in hand. “When are you gonna realize you’re a good man, Arthur. I mean, even as kids you always kicked yourself.”

“Maybe one day.”

He looked away, down to his hands holding the reins as Calliope shifted beneath him, hoofing at the dirt. You could see the self deprecation oozing off his shoulders as he sat in the saddle.

“One day, I’ll make you realize it,” you groaned, kicking Barnaby into a trot. “I’ll meet ya back at camp.”

***

“Miss Harlow!”

You jumped, shifting to lean against your arm as you looked over your shoulder. You had been quietly reading a book against a tree, Jack sitting beside you making flower chains. Miss Grimshaw was striding forward, the stern look of your mother figure ever recognizable. She rarely used your name; you had grown used to her calling you dear or dearie, and the mere sound of it always had you at attention. 

“Yes, Miss Grimshaw?”

The stern gaze lessened, her features softening as she neared, looking down to you with a small smile. “Dutch wants to speak with you, dear,” she smiled, running a hand over Jack’s hair as he held a flower chain up to her.

“Thank you, Mister Marston,” she smiled, bending at the waist to accept the gift. 

“Miss Harlow’s got one too!” Jack smiled. “And I made one for momma!”

“Go on, then,” you smiled, urging the child in the direction of camp. “Your momma’s gonna love it.”

You rose to your feet, watching Jack run off to Abigail as Miss Grimshaw tutted. “Off with you, now,” she urged. 

You smiled, and headed for Dutch’s tent. Arthur, Bill, and Charles were sitting around outside, listening as Dutch spoke, cigar in hand. 

“Mornin’ boys,” you smiled, folding the book into your hands as you stepped up. 

“Ah, our little doe, Miss Harlow,” Dutch smiled. “The mastermind for this robbery!”

“You found this out?” Bill asked a bit incredulously. You had grown used to the men viewing you as nothing more than a wash maid over the years. Dutch knew better. You may have worn a skirt, but you were just as valuable as an enforcer and scout as Arthur and Charles. 

“Yes I did,” you hummed, jutting your chin up. “Ready to head out?”

“You would be correct, dear,” Dutch smiled. “Good luck. I trust you can handle these men.”

Charles and Arthur smirked as they stood, starting for their horses. You met Bill’s eyes, smiling as you stepped past, setting your book on the camp table. “Of course I can, Dutch!” you smiled back to the gang leader. “Keep up, Williamson!” 

Arthur helped you onto his horse, settling you behind him on the saddle. “So, how do you want to play this?” 

You glanced over to Charles and Bill. “The man who gave me the information said it’d be guarded pretty well,” you started. “I’ll play the damsel, get them to stop, and you three take out the guards.”

“How much is supposed to be on this coach?” Bill asked over his shoulder.

 “It’s payroll for some shipping company in Saint Denis,” you answered. “Driving through the Heartlands to Lemoyne. From the sounds of it: a lot. Should be able to catch it just over the state line.”

“When the shootin’ starts --” Arthur started.

“Run for cover. I know,” you interjected with a scoff. “This ain’t my first robbery, Arthur.”

You felt him chuckle, your hands placed on his sides to steady you in the saddle. “No, it ain’t.” 

The hill you stopped on overlooked a main road, the Lemoyne state sign off to your left. You dropped from Arthur’s horse, stepping up to the ridge as you looked up the road. “Alright, boys, they’re comin’ through,” you hummed, turning and smiling to the men. “Wish me luck!” 

***

“I got a girl in Berryville! Can’t be screwed cuz she’s too damn ill! I don’t go down there no more. There’s a blue horse laying outside her door!” 

You smiled brightly, leaning into Karen’s side as the two of you sat on the log in front of the fire, both of you leaning heavily against the other, a bottle of whiskey being passed between the two of you. Your voices were loud enough to be heard throughout camp, but somehow, even in the drunken haze the two of you had fallen into, the others hadn’t told you to shut the hell up. Yet.

You and the boys had returned that afternoon after robbing the payroll stage, pockets full and a smile gracing Bill Williamson’s face as he admitted you did a good job. 

It was Karen’s bright idea to drink and have fun. It had been a while, and you agreed it had to help lift the camp’s spirits somewhat, especially when Trelawney’s information about Sean being moved by bounty hunters had entered the camp gossip stream earlier that day. 

“No, no!” you laughed, waving a hand in front of your face as you screwed up the line, laughing raucously with Karen. “I got a girl in Berryville!”

“Can’t get it in cuz she won’t stay still!” Karen finished before taking another deep swig of whiskey.

Arthur sighed, leaning on his elbows at the wooden table. The poker game had dissolved almost an hour ago, cards and chips stowed away. Dutch’s tent had been closed, but the lamp was still lit, and those still awake lazed around the fires, watching the stars. “Shut them up, please,” John sighed as he landed in the seat beside Arthur. 

“Give it a try,” Arthur smirked, turning from watching your duet with Karen. “You and I both know that bottle will be thrown at our heads.”

“It’s one in the mornin’,” John groaned, leaning against the table. 

Arthur groaned, pushing from the table with an agreeing nod. “Alright, alright,” he waved Marston off as he stood. 

You were practically laying against Karen’s shoulder, watching the dying fire as you sang mismatched verses of O, Mollie. 

“They say I drink whiskey, my money’s my own! And them that don’t like me can leave me alone … ” You laughed, hiccupping into your hand as Karen hummed along.

“Alright, ladies,” Arthur’s voice startled you as he stepped up, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in your hand. “It’s gettin’ real late.”

“I’ll eat when I’m hungry,” you carried on, a large smile on your face, hand tightening on the bottle of whiskey as he tried to take it away. “I’ll drink when I’m dry! And when I get thirsty ... “ you trailed off, watching as Arthur successfully pried the bottle from your hand and dropped it to the ground. “I’ll … I … forgot the words ...”

Arthur laughed, ducking his head with a small shake of disbelief as he watched you look around your seat for something your drunken brain made up. Karen hiccupped beside you, pushing to her feet. “Goodnight, Mister Morgan!” she smiled, voice much louder than normal, as she leaned into his side and bopped her finger to his nose. “Goodnight!” 

Arthur caught her around the waist as she stepped by, guiding her until she started to walk towards her tent. “Alright, come on,” he started, reaching down for your arm. 

You stumbled as you got to your feet, leaning against his chest with a hand laid over his suspender strap. “I think … I’m drunk,” you laughed, pushing off of Arthur as you tried to step away. 

Arthur’s arm wrapped around you. “Again,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Ain’t ever gon’ be surprised when the two of ya are together. Drinkin’ the camp dry.”

You laughed, turning to face him as he neared, wrapping his arm around your middle. “You should join us sometime, Arthur!” you started, jabbing your index finger into his chest to punctuate your words. “Have some fun! Stop fretting over robberies … and Dutch’s words … and us girls.”

“I don’t fret,” Arthur argued. “But you are sloshed, sweetheart. Time for bed.”

You pouted, stumbling as you stepped away from Arthur. “Rrriiiigggghhhttt,” you droned, waving a hand in the air as you walked. “Frettin’ over me … runnin’ after Mary … helpin’ raise Jack … always frettin’.”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as he watched you. Stumbling forward, hand landing against the bark of the large oak tree, you bent over at the waist, vomiting up your stomach contents into the dirt. 

“Alright, that’s it,” he sighed, stepping up and pulling your hair out of the way. “Ya need t’ sleep. And eat. Come on.”

“See,” you started, wiping your chin on your sleeve. “You’re frettin’ again.”

“Sure.”

He guided you to your tent, making you sit down on the edge of your cot before standing and producing a chunk of bread from his satchel, wrapped in an embroidered handkerchief. “Eat.” He didn’t order, but even in your drunken haze, you could hear the sternness in his tone; the caring nature that was Arthur Morgan. “You’re gonna have a hell of a headache in the mornin’.”

You picked at the bread, chewing on it slowly as you sat on your cot, head already pounding. “I … heard ya saw her … Mary … in town.”

Arthur nodded, standing at the opening of your tent. “Yeah, I did,” he answered. “And her brother, Jamie.”

“She was always nice,” you hummed, tossing the half eaten chunk of bread onto the small wooden crate acting as a table and reaching for your small pillow. 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Get some sleep,” he added after a moment, pulling the blanket over your shoulder as you slumped onto your pillow, snores almost immediately filling the silence of the tent. 

***

“Son of a bitch,” you groaned, leaning bodily against the support pole of your tent. 

Arthur glanced up from his spot by the cookfire, bending at his waist to pour himself a cup of coffee. You stood against your tent, hand placed over your eyes as the morning sunlight hit you. Your hair and clothing was disheveled from a drunken sleep, and the pounding in your head was worse than Uncle’s snoring. 

“Mornin’, sleepin’ beauty,” Arthur smiled, stepping up and holding out his coffee to you. 

“Shut up, Arthur,” you groaned, taking the cup. 

“Strauss should have some tonic for that headache o’ yours. Or I could go see if Pearson’s got any fresh offal for ya …”

At your visible retch, Arthur chuckled and trailed off. You covered your mouth, wiping the coffee from your lip with the back of your hand before looking up to glare at the man in front of you. 

“You’re mean.”

He shrugged, taking the now empty cup from you. “Could say I’m frettin’ over ya ‘cause you drank Uncle under the table last night.”

You groaned, shoving the heels of your hands into your eyes. “Shut up, Arthur.”

He chuckled heartily, relaxing back as he hooked his thumbs into his belt. “I’m sure it’ll happen again,” he smirked, nodding to the main campfire where Karen sat with Javier and John. “We’re headin’ out to find Sean.”

You managed to chuckle, squinting up at him in the morning sun. “He’ll have the entire camp drunk if you bring him back.”

“Almost a guarantee,” Arthur smirked. 

You stepped past him, patting a hand against his shoulder. “You’re frettin’ over us all again,” you mumbled as you stepped past him. 

“Only you,” he countered. “Better eat something for that hangover.”

“I know,” you groaned. “I’ve been drunk before.”

“It ain’t a camp secret, sweetheart.”

You looked up to him, a small smile lighting your face. “You’re mean,” you repeated, with a small chuckle. “But you’re … right. I guess. Go get Sean back, Mister Morgan. Fret over someone else for a bit.”

“Will do,” he smiled. 

[desdemonafictional]

Guess WHAT I’m doing hxh fic again, we’ll see if it goes anywhere, but here’s a bit of action/adventure

--

Gon had left his home island in the eastern sea and arrived on the mainland just in time to catch a ride on a caravan headed west, towards the capital of the Seaside Empire. The last letter his aunt had received from his father was marked with the seal of the Capital, sent almost twelve years before, and attached to a dagger that Mito had presented to Gon, reluctantly, on his birthday. 

“So what did the letter say?” Kurapika had asked him, as they sat around the campfire that first night with the caravan.

“Well…” Gon had shrugged with some embarrassment. “It said I should take the dagger for an inheritance and not chase after him, since he’s as good as dead to me now that he left me behind for someone else to raise.”

Kurapika’s eyebrows went up. “And yet here you are, chasing after him.”

Gon wrinkled his nose. “I just don’t think it’s a very good trade! I’m going to find him, and give him the dagger back, and make him show me how to be a treasure hunter like he is. And then it’ll be fair.”

“Suppose he doesn’t want to teach you?” Kurapika asked.

“He will,” Gon said, with perfect confidence. “I’m his son! When he sees how serious I am, he’ll have to do it.”

On Kurapika’s right, Leorio was slumped back against a stump and examining the dagger in question, holding it up against the firelight. “Sure doesn’t seem like anything special,” he remarked. “Maybe it’s just some junk he picked up. Maybe he isn’t even a real treasure hunter.”

“He is!” Gon said. “Everyone says he was an amazing treasure hunter, even before he left! He killed a dragon when he was only fifteen years old! That’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Since that first night, on the coast, their caravan had come many days travel deeper into the mainland. The passed through the swamplands, through a great rushing river that had carried away a dozen less cautious of their fellow travelers , and was passing now through the Ruined Lands, a wilderness spotted at every turn with the wreckage of some ancient stone empire.

About a day’s journey into the Ruined Lands, the poplars and willows and birds gave way to a standing stone circle straight in the middle of their path.

“At this point,” the head of the caravan—a seasoned merchant from the north—announced to the group at large, “we’ll have to go around! It’s bad luck to travel through the circle, and the road ahead is rife with all kinds of danger. They say a dragon lives inside one of the burial mounds that way, and the last thing we want is to be noticed by a dragon.”

There was a ragged shout of boos from the crowd. With their many pack animals and unwieldy wooden cartwheels, none of the travelers relished the idea of lugging their possessions through the narrow foot trails and underbrush of the forest.  While they were embroiled in argument with the head of the caravan, Gon and his friends hung back from the mess and surveyed the hill with the  standing circle with some interest.

“I suppose the road must lead through it for a reason,” Kurapika said, considering the deeply worn ruts in the turf at his foot. “Maybe there was originally a pilgrimage that ran this way.”

“Pretty impressive it’s still standing,” Leorio said. “But I’m more interested in those burial mounds he mentioned. I wonder if they’ve already been looted, or if there’s still any treasure left in there.”

“Did you miss the part where he mentioned a dragon?” Kurapika asked dryly. “Or can’t you hear anything past the sound of cash registers?”

While Leorio scoffed, Gon scaled the side of a vardo wagon. From its curved wooden roof, he was able to see past the circle and into the countryside ahead, where the heather gave way to woods again.

There was sudden shouting and banging from the other side of the wagon, and Gon slid across the roof just in time to see a trio of travelers shove the caravan head down onto the turf.

“Listen here,” one of them said, while the other two bore down on the more experienced traveler, “we’ve got an appointment to make in the capital, and we’re not about to lose a day mucking around in the shrubs with all these donkeys and chicken coops. You’re gonna take us through the straightway, and you’re gonna do it now.”

Gon climbed to his feet. “Hey!” he shouted down. “Leave him alone, he’s just doing his job!”

In a moment, Kurapika and Leorio had rushed around the side of the vardo to see what the fuss was about. Leorio stiffened; Kurapika reached for his batons. Immediately a handful of random travelers reached for their own weapons, short swords and hooks and hammers, and closed ranks around the belligerent trio.

“Everyone, please,” the caravan head said, one elbow planted in the dirt. He lifted the other hand in a plea for peace. “A caravan should never quarrel within itself. We are all we have out here in this wilderness.”

The skinnier one of the trio planted his boot in the man’s back and ground down. “Fine by us, we don’t want a fight. We just wanna get going. You gonna do the smart thing, old man?”

There was a tightness in the air, as Leorio and Kurapika both drew themselves down into a coiled stance, ready to spring. The share of travelers who had sided with the trio, more than a third of the whole group, also tensed.

“Yes,” the headman said, at last, “fine, we will go on with the straightway. If that’s what the group wants, that’s what we’ll do. Let me up.”

The tension remained, as the trio let the headman up and the man brushed himself off. Gon jumped down between Kurapika and Leorio, who were putting away their own weapons with some reluctance.

“That isn’t right,” Gon said. “He’s the most experienced traveler, if he says the road is dangerous, we should be listening to him.”

“I agree,” Kurapika said. “All the same, there’s strength in numbers. I would be hesitant to break off from the caravan, even if I knew the way to the capital perfectly myself.”

“We’re at the mercy of the whole stupid mob of ‘em,” Leorio agreed, his eyes narrowing.

And it was on that grim note that they set off again, amongst the rolling coops and covered wagons, and passed beneath the wide stone lintel of the standing circle.

Kurapika, as he had eventually revealed, was on his way to the capital to become an enforcer; that was to say, a warrant officer, a hound of the empire. Leorio was traveling to find a doctor willing to teach him medicine, and hopefully apprentice himself to the craft. Neither could afford to delay their travel another season, even if the caravan they found themselves attached to was in conflict with their own principles.

In the woods deep beyond the standing circle, beneath the canopy of seasonless beeches, Gon paused mid-step and turned his head north.

“What?” Leorio said, bending down. “You hear something?”

“What could he possibly hear over this racket,” Kurapika murmured, as the coop of squawking chickens rolled along behind him.

Gon shook his head. “I smell…” He frowned. “I smell sweat. And old blood.”

Leorio and Kurapika met each other’s worried gazes at the same time. “Let’s get the headman,” Kurapika said, just as the first arrow flew out of the treeline and embedded itself in the post of the chicken coop.

In the same moment, the three of them grabbed hands and threw themselves through the gap in the train of wagons, taking shelter behind the wall of the next vardo as a hail of arrows punched into the whole north facing side of the wagon train.

“Bandits!” Kurapika shouted, his voice almost lost in the eruption of chaos.

“We need to get out of the open,” Leorio said. The checkered brocade of his carpet bag swung as he gestured to the southern treeline. “We’re sitting ducks out here.”

“The headman,” Gon said, suddenly. “We have to get him.”

“Gon, we don’t have—” Kurapika looked down just soon enough to realize Gon was no longer there, “—time. Oh.”

He looked at Leorio. Leorio let out a sharp breath and then straightened up. “Tell you the truth, I wouldn’t feel right leaving the guy either. He tried to warn us.”

“Yes,” Kurapika said, turning to the front end of the caravan. “Yes, I suppose so.”

The whooping, mounted shapes of bandits were pouring out of the woods—probably not more than a dozen, but in their staggered chaos they had the feeling of being an endless flood to the unprepared travelers. It was pandemonium as Gon and his friends raced to reach the headman; animals in disarray, humans shouting and scrambling for control of them. A mule tore free of his leadline and broke for the southern woods, scattering wax-wrapped packets across the ground as he went.

They found the headman slumped and clutching an arrow embedded in his upper arm, blood blooming through his blue wool sleeve. He looked up as Gon reached him, confusion and pain in a mixture across his features.

“Let us help you, sir,” Gon said, and braced the man so that he could get to his feet again.

“Do you know anything about these bandits?” Kurapika asked. “How they operate?”

“I don’t know this band,” the headman told them, his voice tight. “I don’t know if they kill travelers or leave them alive.”

“Well let’s not stick around to find out,” Leorio said, and tossed his carpetbag against his back.

Kurapika hooked the headman’s uninjured arm over his own shoulder and then they were off, darting across the ditch and over the shoulder of the road. There was a shout from somewhere behind them; a twang, and the dire whistle of fletching passing through air. Kurapika was caught with dread—what could he do but keep going, even with the weight of the headman dragging him down? They had rescued the man, it would be the height of dishonor to abandon him now.

The whistle broke suddenly into a gruesome thock as it hit human flesh, but it was neither Kurapika nor the headman who cried out. Leorio let out a pained grunt, from much closer behind Kurapika than he had been before.

They hit the treeline. Another arrow embedded itself in the trunk of a tree, and then they were safe among the old growth of the forest, beyond the reach of arrows. Kurapika could finally turn his head and see what had become of Leorio.

White faced, grimacing, Leorio was only a few steps behind. At first there was no sign of the arrow, but then it dawned on Kurapika that the shaft of the arrow had passed through the carpetbag over Leorio’s shoulder and buried itself in his shoulder blade.

“Oh,” Kurapika said. “You’re…”

Leorio’s grimace twisted into something echoing a smile. “Don’t sweat it,” he said. “It’s not that deep. Better me than you guys, anyway.”

“Leorio…” Kurapika said.

Gon appeared at his elbow, making a thoughtful circle around his back. “We need to get that loose. Normally it’s better to leave them in, but the shaft is pinning your bag to your back, and you won’t be able to let go of the handle or the weight will snap it.”

“We can’t do it out here,” Leorio retorted. “Who knows if they’ll send someone after us. We need shelter, somewhere defensible.”

Gon tapped his boot a couple times, and then he said, “I’ll scout ahead, I’m faster and uninjured. You guys just keep moving south, and I’ll find you again once I’ve found a place.”

“Very well,” Kurapika said. “Go on ahead. I’m sure with your experience you can find something suitable for all of us.”

“You sure?” Leorio said. “That just leaves the two of us.”

Kurapika smiled at him, just past the bend of the headman’s elbow. “I think we’ll do just fine together.”

Leorio went red. Kurapika started moving forward again, leaving him where he stood.

[thehomierobbstark]

Kissing Strangers II: Communication

Shame [Prelude] // Kissing Strangers [Part I] // In The Cut [Side Story]

A/N: Annndd we’re back yall!! I know I disappeared for a long while this time, but I’ve been writing and strategizing in the background and I’m hoping I can publish at least some of the things I’ve been working on very soon. Forever thankful for your patience. Forever grateful for your support. Always humbled by the fact you guys allow me to do my thing offline and come back when I need to. Y’all are unreal, and the love is very very real, and I don’t think I can ever put into words how much all of you honestly mean to me ❤️❤️❤️. Anyway. Back to this story.  A tiny insight into just one of the things I’ve been struggling with and trying to overcome this year, so I decided to put it into a fic and share it with yall. As always, thank you for the support and I hope you enjoy!!!

Warnings: Minimal Erik appearance, this is mostly x reader based. We on some Softgirl shit this chapter ya’ll. There is a POV change at the very end, hopefully it doesn’t read too confusing.

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!!  x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

Sidenote: No tags this round until I can get a few more pieces out but all new stories will be linked in my bio!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“…You know I still don’t see what the problem is, Y/N.”

You throw your head back, silently groaning to keep your friend on the other side of the line from hearing you.

You knew you should have called Simone instead.

“Um, hello??? Did you forget you had me on speaker phone, bitch? Don’t be grumbling under your breath at me goddammit, you know I’m right!  And don’t you dare call Simone ass either after we hang up. I love her, but she’ll have you overthinking and seeing problems that aren’t really there. You know how them Scorpios be.”

You mumble a defeated ‘fine, OK’ at her and grab your phone, relocating yourself over to your vanity table to continue your conversation while you do your hair.

Reaching up, you tug the t-shirt wrapped around your head free as your damp curls fall over your face, turning around to drape the wet shirt over the back of your chair.

Tying the front of your hair up in a bun, you grab your spray bottle and one of your brushes and start to spray and detangle your hair, the leftover conditioner in it from the shower helping to make the process easier.

As you gently smooth your brush through your curls and fall into your hair routine, you start to ponder on your current predicament, allowing your friends wise words to penetrate your mind.

Maybe you were overthinking it.

“Don’t get silent on me now, Y/N. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

You take a deep breath, trying to filter your thoughts and make some sense of them.

“I don’t know, Kay. I don’t really know how to explain it. I just feel like he’s not…interested.”  You shrug your shoulders even though you know she can’t see it, not really knowing any other way to explain yourself.

“Okay.  And what makes you say that?”

You inhale, taking a small scoop of leave-in conditioner and working it through a section of hair while you think.

“I dunno. I feel like when we do talk, its great, and there’s a connection there. But sometimes there’s these long periods of absence with no communication, and when that happens I feel like I’m always the last one whose reached out, you know?”

Raking your fingers through your curls one last time, you watch your coils shrink up in the mirror, the tights spirals coming to life after their first layer of moisture.

Unclipping another section in the back, you scoop some more product into your hands, repeating the process.

“Okay, I can feel where you’re coming from. But let me ask you this: what do you mean by long periods of absence?”

Your hands pause in your hair, and you bite your lip, knowing your next words are gonna make you sound like a complete dumbass.

“Uhh…”

“Yeah?” Kay prompts you to continue.

“Umm.. like… two or three days… sometimes?” Your voice gets really small and high pitched at the end, knowing you were being a little ridiculous.

“…Girl.”

You add some additional info, hoping maybe it will help your case.

“Sometimes it’ll even be a whole week tho, too!”

“Y/N.”

“…yes, Kay.”

“You know Erik is in the military, right?”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at the reminder of a fact you knew and thought about often yourself, especially when it came to this issue.

“Yes, I know that Kay.”

“Okay, then you also know that he probably has a lot on his plate and he’s most likely constantly busy all the time.”

You kiss your teeth, absentmindedly running your fingers through your hair again, more-so in a frustratedly-busy way than in a hair-care way.

“Yes Kay, I know that. But come on now.  Let’s not act like people aren’t constantly on their phones all the time nowadays.  Not to push the tiresome ‘millennial narrative’, but who goes days without checking their phone anymore? It’s not like that nigga is out fighting a war, he’s doing combat training.”

You can hear the undertone of complaint and whining in your voice, and you absolutely hated it.  Here you were, a Communications major and Black Women’s Studies minor, and you were getting bothered some dude you kissed once, (okay, twice) wasn’t talking to you enough.

You had yourself fucked up.

You hear chuckling on the other end of the phone and your internal rage subdues itself for a moment, irritation taking its place.

“Damn, Y/N.  You must really like this guy.”

You cross your arms, slouching down in your chair while you pout, having too much pride to grace her with a response.  She continues, already knowing the look on your face.

“In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you get so worked up over someone. He must really be something special.”

You grab your phone, holding it to your face and practically yelling into it.

“HELLO!! Did you not just hear what I said? I just told you this nigga is borderline ignoring me and you just called him ‘special’!”

More laughter takes over on her end again and you toss your phone back on the table, finishing your section and unclipping the last one in the back, muttering under your breath about Erik being a special piece of shit.

Once Kay finally recovers from your mini tirade, she speaks once again, full of a wisdom and knowledge you knew your stubborn ass needed to hear, even if you didn’t want to at the moment.

“He’s not ignoring you Y/N, and you know that.  The only reason you feel like this is because you have strong feelings and you’re not sure if they’re being reciprocated or not, and the long distance certainly doesn’t help.  Have you told him how you’ve been feeling?”

You sit there and delay a moment, nestling a little more into your stubbornness because of the fact that her words just punched a hole right into the wall of insecurity you’d been maintaining over the years.

She waits for your response, already knowing the answer.

“….No.”

Her voice softens.  “Okay, but how do you expect for him to know how you’re feeling if you don’t tell him?  You’re letting yourself overthink and go through all of these emotions by yourself, meanwhile he’s half a world away thinking that everything is fine.  If you don’t clue him in to what it is you’re going through, he won’t be able to help.”

Finishing with the bottom half of your hair, you wipe your hands off on the damp t-shirt and unwrap the rest of the hair on the top of your head.  You frown at her last statement, not liking the way it made you feel.

“I don’t know if he should even have to help me with any of this though, Kay.  I mean, these are my issues.  I’m the one whose clearly having trouble with this, it’s not fair for me to ask him to help me figure my shit out.”

She makes a hum of acknowledgement while you continue expressing yourself.

“I mean, how would I feel if some dude came to me with a mountain full of problems expecting me to fix them?  I’d fucking laugh in his face and walk away.  I can’t ask that of him.” The more you thought about it, the more you realized that you had a lot of unresolved issues you were still healing from.  What kind of person would you be if you involved yourself with someone else, knowing that?

“Okay.  I can see where you would think that, but you’re thinking about it in the wrong way.  You think that if you open up to him and tell him what you’re feeling, that it’s the same as asking him to fix your problems. But you’re not like that, Y/N. In fact, you’ve never been like that.”

You think a moment about what it is she’s saying, trying to decide whether or not you agree.  

“I mean, think about it, Y/N.  When have you ever asked someone for help?  I mean genuinely stopped and reached out to someone else, or even told them when you’re having trouble with something?  You don’t, hun.  You’ve always dug your heels into the dirt and rolled up your sleeves to get it done by yourself because you don’t trust that someone else can really be there for you the way you need them to be.  No matter how many people you have in your corner ready to fight for you.”

You think about all the lectures and scoldings you’d gotten from friends and family over the years because of the times you’d soldiered at something alone rather than take the help that was offered to you.  You’d felt that if you always needed someone else to help you get through something, then what did that say about your own strength and ability to take care of yourself?  You’d rather die struggling than ever give someone else the power to say that you wouldn’t be anything without them.

“Look, Y/N/N.  I know this is really hard.  And I know this is something you don’t like to talk about, but if you like this guy as much as I think you do, you’re gonna have to learn how to let go and trust that you and Erik are building a relationship where you can truly depend on each other. That includes communicating your feelings even when you’re not sure how the other person will receive them.

It’s gonna be scary as hell, I won’t lie.  But you gotta know deep down inside that love can’t exist in the same place that doubt lives.  You gotta trust the process.”

You’d stopped doing your hair completely now, sitting back and twirling a finger around one of your strands while Kay talked.

It wasn’t like you didn’t understand exactly what she was saying.  Kay definitely had the bulk of experience between the two of you when it came to romantic relationships, and the thing you’d come to really admire about her throughout the years of your friendship was her ability to always put herself back out there once again with an open heart and mind, no matter how badly the last relationship may have ended.

Your own inability to deal with your emotional vulnerability was something you were far too aware of, and you’d seen it affect your personal relationships time and time again,  your current situation with Erik just being the most recent example.

It was rare for you to catch feelings for someone, and to be honest, the fact that you and  Erik had made it this far into whatever it was you guys were doing had you shaken to your core.  Every moment and interaction with him was completely new for you, and your uncertainty with navigating this new ‘thing’ was starting to show with your recent anxieties about the situation.

You really wanted to believe that Erik was feeling you, because it was too late to deny your feelings for him.  But there was a tiny little voice in the back of your head always saying something to keep you guessing, making you doubt whether or not what the both of you had was even real.

It was time for you to make a decision.

“Y/N? Y/N? You still there?”

You blink yourself back to the present, clearing your throat and picking up the phone, taking it off speaker phone and holding it to your ear.

“Yeah, I’m still hear, Kay.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah.”  Your voice sounds far away, still deep in thought as you reflect on the mental hurdles your mind was trying to overcome so you could figure out how to move past the fear holding your heart hostage.

“Well okay, girl.  I don’t want to hold you up, but I want you to think about what I said some more, OK?”

You chuckle a little, nodding your head as you answer your friend.

“Okay, Kay. I will. I promise.” You add on the last two words, knowing that if you said them, she would believe you.  You always kept your promises.

“Good. I expect a full report tomorrow morning when I call you before work!” She laughs too, halfway serious.  “…And Y/N?”

“Yeah, Kay?”

You can hear her quiet back down a little, the soft tenderness of her voice seeping back into her words once more as she spoke.

“Do me a favor please and try to call him, okay? Just, try and talk to him, at least once.  That way when you hear his voice and listen to what he says, you’ll know whether or not what you feel is real.”

Your breath gets heavy and your heart skips a beat, almost feeling it in your throat.  Call him?  You hadn’t thought of that. Come to think of it, you’d never called him.

Other than the last time you saw him in person, pretty much all your communication had been through text except for the occasional video message.

“Can you do that, Y/N?” Your best friends compassionate voice speaks in your ear, and you swallow thickly, nodding your head.

“Yeah, I can do that I think.”

“You promise?”  

Damn.  Should’ve never said that shit.

You roll your eyes, stifling a deep breath.  “Yeah yeah, I promise.”

“Good!” You can practically feel her cheesy ass grin through the phone, already knowing it was plastered on her face triumphantly from giving you the challenge.

“Love youuu,” she sings out over the phone, and you kiss your teeth, groaning.

“Love your annoying ass too. Now get off my phone, wasting all my damn minutes.”

“Bitch, now you know damn well you ain’t got no one else to talk to to be kicking me off like this.”

“GOOD-BYE KAY.”

After a few more rounds of back and forth and finally hanging up (but not before agreeing to call her back in the morning with allll the details), you walk over to your nightstand and plug your phone in, returning to the vanity to finish your hair.

After slathering your strands in a second coat of hair cream and deciding against using a gel this week, you glance at the clock, noting that the night was still young and you had time to cook and clean the kitchen like you’d planned.  Tying your hair up in a high pineapple, you slip on some fuzzy socks and head to the kitchen, stomach grumbling hungrily.

~~~

A couple hours later you plop down onto your bed, completely exhausted and ready to relax.  Pulling your bowl of shrimp scampi over to you, you spike a shrimp with your fork, popping it into your mouth while you flip through the channels to find something to watch.  

Your eyes glance down to the time on the cable box, seeing that it was only about 7:30.  

It should be about 10:30 where Erik is, now.

The thought had crossed your mind before you could even stop it, and you close your eyes, willing yourself to get control over your thoughts.

You promised Kay you would call him.

Goddammit.  You slam the remote down on the bed, it making a soft thud against the comforter, and you sit up, placing your bowl onto your nightstand and picking up your phone, unplugging it.

You twirl it around in your hand a few times, trying one last time to try and find a way to talk yourself out of it.  

But of course, the one time you actually want the nagging little voice in the back of your mind to say something, she’s as quiet as a mouse.

Before you can second guess it, you quickly open your phone and tap the screen until you reach Erik’s contact, finger hovering over the call button.

It’s time to make a decision, Y/N.

Fuck it.

Taking a deep breath, you press the phone icon, pressing the phone to your ear as you wait for the call to connect.

When it starts to ring, you tense a little, bringing your knees to your chest as you wrap your arm around them, feeling your nerves start to creep up on you.

By the third ring, you wonder if maybe you caught him at a bad time, remembering what he’d said to you once about having a strict bed ti-

“Hello?”

You pause, your mouth agape as your eyes widen, your words getting stuck in your throat.

“Y/N? Are you there?”

You open and close your mouth, not sure what to say.

“Babygirl?”

You finally get the breath back in your lungs, and you speak.

“Yeah, yeah I’m here. Sorry, I just, I didn’t know what to say. I…I’ve never called you before.” You give a weak chuckle, your fingers winding themselves tightly around the hem of your shirt.

“I know. Is everything okay? Are you okay?” You can hear the worry in his voice, and you could kick yourself for accidentally making him panic like this.

“Yeah I’m okay, Erik.  I’m okay.”

“Okay, good.” You hear his voice calm a little, followed by a whoosh of breath. “What’s up then, baby?”

You feel your insides warm at the pet name, your cheeks twitching at the corners into a small smile.

“Nothing, I um…”

You fist your free hand into a loose fist, twiddling your fingers against one another as you struggle to get the words out.

Just say it.

Closing your eyes, you try again, clearing your throat.

“I uh… I miss you.”

~~~~~

Three thousand miles away at the Natick, MA US Navy Department, Erik stands outside the Naval Operations building, the rough sound of two M1161 Growlers noisily passing by in the background.  

It had been a tough week, much like the past four that he’d been struggling to get through without losing a part of himself in some way.  He knew you always went to bed early for work, so he’d been putting off talking to you for another few days until he had time that he could set aside and devote to just you.  

But here you were, on his line, calling him out of the blue.  And the sound of your voice was the sweetest thing he’d heard all deployment.

His cheeks ache at your confession, much like his heart, and he bites his lip to keep from smiling like a lovestruck teen.

“I miss you too, babygirl.  More than you even know.”

[bloodshot-interactive]

Our Love is Nothing but a Game

A one-shot drabble about how Bliss and Madison’s breakup went down. Be warned of implied sexual themes

Story under the cut

The Grand Metropolis skyline illuminated brightly with pride throughout the late night sky as the motorcycle sped ahead of the other vehicles on the road. Madison was clearly upset as he drove his way to a bar. Not only does he like and want to drink, but it was also his way to cope, to let loose and clear out whatever was holding him back.

Speaking off holding back.

He got reminded of what happened earlier…

Flashback a few hours…

As Madison returned to a cheap hotel from his gig, the entire suite was quiet. He assumed Bliss was already asleep so he walked further to the living room calling for Bliss that he was home. No response. The only noise was a cheesy old sitcom on TV.

“Come on, Bliss…” he muttered under his breath as he picked up the remote from the table and turned off the TV. He walked over the only bedroom in the suite.

Bliss wasn’t sleeping. She wasn’t there at all. The only things left lying about on the bed was a small note and a banquet of pink and red roses. The raven’s brow was raised as he picked up the note and read it.

“Sorry Maddie. It’s time we move on...” followed by a kiss mark…

End flashback...

He sighed, rolling his eyes as he parked in front of the bar. He took off his sunglasses, and stuffed it inside his leather jacket before walking inside. ‘Don’t worry about that, just have fun…’ he thought to himself.

Everyone at the bar is living lively, having a chill time talking, laughing and dancing, lights dimmed purple, magenta and blue. Madison sat down at the barstool and waved at the squirrel tending the bar.

“Gimme a glass of whiskey, extra ice” he ordered to the squirrel, and with that they were quickly right on it as requested. They slid the drink over to Madison as he caught it. Taking a small sip of the drink, the bird smiled. Cold. Exactly how he liked it.

As the raven turned around to watch everyone having a good time, he saw a couple making out in the corner, and another pair leaving the bar, happily drunk, holding onto each other for dear life and giggling at whatever. He sighed, leaning back on the counter, taking another sip. He really wished it was him….and Bliss.

There's a sudden faint floral smell in the room. That fragrance was all too familiar to him. Putting his drink down, he hopped off the barstool to follow it.

Is that really who I think this is?

That can’t be. Right?

The floral smell got stronger and warmer as he stood at the round table staring directly at who it belonged to. Madison’s eyes widened. Heart skipping a beat.

It was her.

“Bliss?”

As the moth was in the middle of her waiting daze, surrounding herself in heavy pink smoke from her e-cigarette, she turned to the voice belonging to the familiar raven. She tilted her head and gave him an unnoticeable, fake smile, her small, crimson sunglasses gave off a shine from the dimmed multicolored lights.

“Ohh, hi, Maddie! I didn’t think you’d find me here of all places. What brings you here?”

Madison folded his arms and glanced away at the silk moth. “Ah ya know, just trying to let loose, meeting new people, just vibing… ya know?” He chuckled sheepishly, hiding the fact by how hurt he was. He’s having the urge to ask her a question, biting his lower beak.

Bliss chuckled softly, taking a drag of her e-cig. She then blew out more smoke as she spoke, “That's good to hear. You deserve to vibe after all that hard wor—“

“So what’s up with the note?”

The moth’s antennae flicked at the sudden question from the raven. She switched her e-cig off and stuffed it into her hot pink purse. “Excuse me?”

Madison’s voice was a bit firm, held out his hands for gesture as he leaned a bit forward, “The note! And flowers on the bed. You left me!” his arms drooped down in a bit of defeat “Why? I thought our relationship was strong.”

“The note…” the silk moth thought for a moment with a mutter, “Oh right, the note! Yeeeaah, about that” she pushed her sunglasses down a bit, her pitched black eyes staring up at the bird. She clearly has no pupils but Madison can tell she was looking at him. “I got bored. So I left.”

“Bored…?” He muttered monotonously in question

“Yup” she laid back on the cushioned seat, one leg over the other, giving the raven a cold smirk, “honestly, I never actually loved you. I only wanted you for your money, but it seems like you have nothing left on you after you waved goodbye to that degenerate gang of yours. You really believed that our love lasted that long?”

“I DID!!” The raven’s yelling caught everyone’s attention to the former couple. They all stopped talking and everything they were doing, even the music came to a halt. All eyes are on them now. It made Bliss flinch quite a bit but it didn’t bother Madison none.

His feathers bristled, leather gloved hands clinched to fists, “You think our relationship is a game to you?! I put so much effort on my love for you! I gave you everything you wanted!!”

Madison’s brows furrowed with the sign of confusion and anger but didn’t break eye contact with Bliss. The poor guy was heartbroken. “Bliss! I loved you!!”

The silk moth frowned and turned away, crossing her arms impatiently. No response.

“I spent most of my money on a fancy dinner, an amusement park, the goddamned movie theatre! And on top of that, I ditched my fucking gang so I can spend more time with you while on a solo gig!” Madison facepalmed at the last thing he’s ever done. That was the biggest mistake on his part.

“My boss is gonna want me dead by now…!”

Bliss turned back to Madison, a sultry, cat like smirk returned to her face, “That's good! Dirt cheap men like you deserved it. Anyone I touch will suffer beautifully. And you’re one of them. I can see it on your pathetic little face...” her dangerous smile grew wide.

The raven was disgusted by her statement, “So you want me dead after everything we had together?! Are...are you fuckin’ hearing yourself right now??”

“Nope.” The silk moth got up, snatching her overcoat and purse off the seat, “I honestly don’t have time to deal with you right now. You men are nothing but sorry excuses who don’t know to treat a lady. It’s over between us. At least there’s someone else out there with better class!” As soon as she’s out of her seat, she sees someone calling her name. Her wings fluttered as she flew quickly away from the bird, calling out sweetly to the one bulky grey wolf. “Big Daddy~!”

Madison looked on at his ex and that wolf in disbelief.

“Aye, there’s my lil’ Creme Puff! Sorry I took so long, hadda take care of some business.” the wolf gave the moth a toothy smile, gently squeezing at her ass with a hug. He then took a look at a confused Madison across from him. “That bird botherin’ ya?”

Bliss’s gloved claws gliding elegantly, at the wolf’s broad chest, nonexistent hues staring pleadingly at him, “Oh Big Daddy~ indeed~! That mean ol’ bird won’t leave me alone!” She pushed herself against him, “Please, Big Daddy, make him stop!” As her silky, seductive voice and wanton touch puts the wolf under a spell, his clawed hand gently slides down at the moth's soft hair with a huff, smirking at her.

“Aight, let Big Bad handle this one. Ya stay put, my lil’ Creme Puff” the Wolf, known as Big Bad walked over to Madison, towering over him. “Ya gotta problem with my girl?”

“Your girl?” Madison scoffed and folded his arms, grayish blue eyes locked at Big Bad orange ones, “You mean, my girl, right. You hardly ever met her!”

“Oh yeah?” That’s when Big Bad grabbed Madison by the collar of his jacket, bumping each other’s heads. “Lemme tell ya somethin’, buddy, Bliss is my girl now. So ya betta stay away from her, or else we gon’ have some problems, ya feel me!?”

The raven growled in anger as he looked over at the wolf’s shoulder and spotted Bliss, who’s smiling deviously at the both of them. He looked back at the Wolf and pushed him away. “Yeah, I understand perfectly. Though, I got one advice for you, my man. You better keep ya eyes open, ‘cause you’re dealing with something that you’re gonna regret!”

“Tha fuck’re tryin’ a say?” Big Bad’s orange hues staring up and down at the bird, looking to punch this guy senseless.

“All I’m saying is, to her, you’re nothing but a pot of gold, but she’ll leave you to rot if you ain’t got shit for her like she did to me just now. So you better count your fucking days, bucko, you’ll be biting the dust before you know it!”

As soon as Madison was on his way out, he was grabbed from the back of his jacket by Big Bad, and was tossed towards the very back where the DJ was playing his tunes, crashing forcefully at the wall in the process. Everyone gasped and muttered about as to what’s going on.

Madison slowly sat up and took out his handgun

from inside his jacket. This caught everyone’s attention. “That does it, you’ve crossed the line!!” But before he attempts to pull the trigger, Bliss was in the way, hugging Big Bad lovingly, pecking kisses at his face. Madison lowered his weapon and stuffed it back into his jacket in defeat.

“Oh~ Big Daddy, you’re such a big, strong man~! You're turning me on already!” Bliss’s voice was too sultry, too sweet to resist, but her stare at the poor raven was deadly and devilish for sure.

“Heh, what can I say, they don’t call me Big Bad for nothin’ ya know?” The grey wolf wrapped his arm around the silk moth before they left the bar. “Let’s head over to my club, too many creeps n’ freaks up in this joint”

Watching this newfound duo leave, Madison brushed himself off in anger and kicked the dirt off the floor. He aggressively took off his jacket and threw it to the floor. He noticed all the patrons, even the DJ and the bartender were watching this in concern and fear.

“What the fuck are are you all looking at??” He muttered, grabbing his jacket off the floor and stormed out of the bar.

Driving back to the hotel, he smirked and started laughing to himself. What a fool he was; and to think he and Bliss had something special and now he’s been played. He should’ve listened to ZigZag and Diesel about leaving the gang, but he was too blindly in love with the moth that he had to. Now he’s a dead man walking and he had to figure out ways to not be seen by the bikers to get himself killed. Fuck that! He’s not gonna take shit from anyone. He’s gonna let everyone in Grand Metropolis know that he’s not a game, that he’s not the man to mess with.

And he sure as hell, karma will soon creep at that Bitch.

Their love was nothing but a game...

[thebellamybarnesarchive]

POPSTAR AU SOUNDTRACK...SPOTIFY

tw: it’s terrible. no synergy. idkwtf i’m doin’.

@k-harding

THE END by Alesso and Charlotte Lawrence

welcome to the mess, slipping on my mini dress, i don't wanna party, but don't wanna be alone

           credits intro as kemper walks down busy city streets, magazines everywhere showing popstar bellamy clearly having a mess of a time. some articles focus on excessive drinking, others who she’s dating now that she’s split with long time on and off partner, but kemper is rushed. food in his mouth, guitar case in one hand and his phone in the other. his background is a picture of himself and a girl but all the messages read that he can’t miss a meeting. he’s rushing in the direction of a studio. from the tape wrapped around his shoes and the broken handle of his guitar case he needs this break.

Happier by Marshmellow and Bastille

i want to raise your spirits, i want to see your smile, know that means i’ll have to leave.

           kemper is in a recording booth being watched by a collective of producers and executives, his manager messy like him but among them. eventually the background audio is cut and kemper stops as they ask he come out, low audio playing beneath. they’re willing to sign him but they have a clause, that he needs to collaborate with one of their artists - bellamy. they don’t explain much but as he discusses with nicky, his manager, he’s given the run down on the failing popstar. since her break up she’s missed concerts, put her whole album on hold, and is costing the company extraordinary amounts of money. the tabloid he’s handed says it all. but it’s only one song.

fake smile by ariana grande

if i'm hurt, i ain't gon' lie about it, arms crossed with the attitude, lips pouted, if i'm mad, i ain't gon' lie about it.

           one song, bella is in her own recording studio, her gold and platinum albums hanging from the walls. one of the producers is saying this is the only way the company won’t sue her for breach of contract but she’s a mess. evidently hung over she is seated on the floor eating a bowl of various fruits, large bottle of water next to her. for a moment she fights back but eventually concedes, lyn is with her, insisting she doesn’t need to do this but bellamy knows she has to.

jawbreaker by Machine Gun Kelly

would it kill you to smile? let me occupy your mind.

             having pulled herself together to get working with kemper they’re put together in a large studio, larger than the one he has for his own album. she keeps getting distracted though, asking for different water, pulling out her phone. the more she refuses to work, the more irritated he becomes until he leaves the studio. one song is one too many with her.

Mood Rings by Relient K

‘cause they’re those girls, yeah, you know those girls, that let their emotions get the best of them.

               to let off some steam kemper goes to one of the local bars, after having a few drinks with nicky who insists that all the experience he’s getting now will be able to turn into some great music later kemper decides to get up on stage. drunk as a skunk he sings an off the cuff sort of song about the kind of person bellamy is. unfortunately for kemper he’s being filmed

I Don’t Exist by Olivia O’Brien

even tylenol can’t fix me, ‘less it’s mixed with whiskey.

             when the clip goes viral bellamy goes mia. kemper is told by record executive to go home, she won’t be coming in and they’re done running damage control for her, instead they’re going to focus on getting him promotion for the clip. he gets a text he’s been booked for a late night talk show and heads into the studio late to try and work on something new. no matter who she is a sober kemper knows performing that song again would be wrong.

Too Good at Goodbyes covered by Madilyn Bailey

'cause every time I open up, it hurts, so I'm never gonna get too close to you. even when I mean the most to you, in case you go and leave me in the dirt.

             kemper enters one of the smaller recording suites but finds bellamy inside, wrapped up in one of her exes shirts with her legs curled beneath herself, bare feet against the seat, she’s singing a song vastly different from the ones on various pop albums that have made her career iconic. kemper standing behind the glass can’t help but watch as she cries, guilt building more and more until she catches him.

Beautiful Disaster by Jon McLaughlin

and every magazine tells her she’s not enough, the pictures that she sees make her cry.

           joining her in the booth he apologises but she does too, explaining how lost she’s felt since her ex left, how he was what made her music good, because no one could actually want to hear her voice. obviously he disagrees, the pair pushing through to start writing their song together, until finally she’s fallen asleep on his lap.

My Favourite Part by Mac Miller and Ariana Grande

you just don't know how beautiful you are, and baby that's my favorite part

           for the next few days the pair are constantly together, either working on their music, or running around the city. getting ice-cream, watching movies together on his futton, going to stores together. The story in the media doesn’t shift however. bella is a reckless popstar ready to bring the up and coming artist down.

Messages From Her by Sabrina Claudio

just reminiscence of the best parts of my youth, i wish i was her for good

             bellamy can’t ignore the publicity she is inflicting on kemper, the articles saying he’s doing things he isn’t, simply because he’s around her. her diva attitude seems to resurface, she stops showing up to the studio, goes out at night and locks everyone out during the day. kemper can’t get through to her on his own and when he sees an article claiming she’s been seen again with her ex he hopes he has one last way to reach her.

Bad Reputation by Shawn Mendez

mistakes we all make them, but they won't let it go, no, 'cause she's got a bad reputation

          kemper’s interview arrives, he’s instantly asked about her and quite immediately insists that she’s hurting, that she can’t even try to be happy without people who don’t even know her trying to hurt her, trying to force her into a role she never wanted to have. he describes the person she actually is and the person he won’t let himself become just because of media. performing his song he sings directly to her. bella is watching from her apartment, wearing kemper’s denim jacket and crying softly.

Wildest Dream by Taylor Swift

he said let’s get out of this town, drive out of the city, away from the crowds.

           when kemper leaves the studio it’s raining, bella is waiting on the street, sleeves of his jacket covering her small hands as she shivers from the freezing evening that pours down onto them. she’s ready to say she’s sorry but he’s already closed the distance between them, lips catching her own, lifting her small self up onto her toes so she can remain within it. the paparazzi are still taking photos but neither of them pay them any mind. they have one another.

We Belong by Dove Cameron

you’re the one now i’m certain.

          credits bitches.