#and I feel it in my bones he's gon die

[emilysarmstrong]

Let's go! I want Lucian, Ava, Adelia, Elijah and KENJI!

Ohohohoho HERE IT GOES

Lucian:

Ava: (the fanon in question is my update of the character)

ADELIA MY BELOVED:

Baby Elijah whomstve I love so so much:

*rabid dog noises, shaking and trembling and screaming and crying and vomiting* KENJI ASSAI MY MANS

Thank yooooooou

send me blorbos for the bingo :)

[jackdaw-kraai]

I think there’s something rather strange going on with all the folks who insist that the Jedi Order in the PT was right and didn’t forbid love and Anakin should just have followed their teachings when the whole point of the prequels is that they are prequels. They come before the OT, and the OT proves the Jedi wrong. They literally do not make sense if they don’t do that.

Luke, in the original trilogy, gains his ultimate triumph, his ultimate victory, because he loved in defiance of the teachings of the old Order. He quite literally had the ghosts of the past telling him, explicitly and without ambiguity, that he has to put his love for his father aside and kill him, as is the duty of a Jedi. Luke has the weight of millennia of teachings weighing down on his shoulders, telling him they knew and know better than a young, inexperienced man barely out of his teenager years. That he should follow their teachings or be destroyed. That is an immense weight to carry, and many people would and explicitly have given in to it in-universe. What are your feelings and ideals in the face of such immense legacy, after all?

But Luke doesn’t give in.

He doesn’t bend.

He says “I may be young, and I may be new, but I believe to my heart and soul that love matters more than this legacy. Matters more than your teachings.” And he says this to the ghosts of his mentors. That is such a powerful moment and one I can’t believe George Lucas didn’t create deliberately for even a second. This young man, being told he has to kill or die trying for a system that is dead or dying itself, that couldn’t survive itself, and refusing to do so. He is the living refusing to continue the violence of a dead generation. He is the young man refusing the draft into a war the old generation started, saying “peace and love matters more than you being right.” He is the embodiment of breaking the cycle.

And the movies vindicate him.

The main villain vindicates him with his last dying breath.

Darth Vader, dying, says “You were right.” and admits he and his were wrong. The main antagonist, Luke’s nemesis, in the face of his son’s immense, defiant love, gives way and does the impossible: he comes back to the light and dies a Jedi. The very thing the old Order says was impossible.

They were wrong. They have to be. The narrative demands it, the movies don’t make sense without it.

The solution was never to continue the cycle of the old Order, or Luke would have failed there, would have failed when he said “I am a Jedi, like my father before me.” And claimed that defiant, deviant, condemned definition of being a Jedi over the one presented to him by the Grandmaster of the old Order. If the old Order was right, Luke would have to be wrong. Be wrong about love, be wrong about laying down the sword, be wrong about refusing to fight. He would have to be wrong.

But the old Order is dead, explicitly killed by a monster, in some part, of their own making. It’s members only existing as bones in the ground or ghosts speaking from beyond the grave. They did not deserve it, it should not have been inflicted on them, but the narrative is clear on this: “The old way is dead, and was dying for a long time before that. Long live the new.”

Luke is that new. Luke is the breaking of the cycle, the reforging of swords into ploughs, the extended hand. Luke says “I don’t care how much I was hurt, I refuse to hurt you back, and you don’t need to hurt me either.”

“We can end this together and choose love instead.”

And Darth Vader, killer of the Jedi, End of the Order, lays down his arms as well, and reaches back as Anakin, saying “You were right.”

It wasn’t Obi-Wan, Yoda, Mace, Qui-Gon, or even Ahsoka who achieved the ultimate victory in the end, following the tenants of the old Order. It was Luke. Young, inexperienced Luke, who saw that the age of legacy handed to him was only history, that the sword handed to him as his life was only a tool, and that the decrees of the dead were only advice. And he took it all, said “thank you for your experience, but I’ve got it from here,” and laid it all down to instead extend an open hand towards his enemy.

And his victory, his ultimate triumph, his vindication, was that he was proven right when his enemy reached back and became just another person. Just another person, just like him.

The Jedi did not deserve what happened to them, and they did not deserve to die. But the story is clear on this: the Jedi of old were wrong, and the Jedi of new, the Last Jedi, was right. No sword or death will ever end the rule of the sword or end the bloodshed. But love?

Love can ignite the stars.

[crash-and-cure]

Hallelujah (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Gif credit to @troubleinapinksuit​

Summary: In which Cinderella is a no-nonsense, semi-workaholic nurse and Prince Charming is a drug-addicted rockstar on a downward spiral and newly discovered obsessive tendencies. Truly a fairy tale worthy of sin city.

A/N: Anybody ever open up requests and then disappear for like two weeks or am I alone? I promise that the next ones should be out sooner than this one at the cost of being shorter, but I came up with the opening line and I just went off. Did you know that gatorade used to be in glass bottles? It makes sense but it’s a weird thing to think about. Why am I telling you all this? Becuase I did about twenty minutes of research on this topic for a detail that ultimately did not make it into this story so this is my way of making up for it to myself. 

Warnings: Depictions of a person experiencing and accepting death. Depictions and POV of a person experiencing an overdose. Non-consensual drugging for both Elvis and the reader. Dubious consent (Please note this is not related to the non-consensual drugging, this is here due to alcohol and false pretenses being involved). Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, and delusional behavior. Kidnapping.  Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), and worship kink. Mentions of religion that borders on zealotry and a bible quote. Self-blame. Probably more that I am blanking on. Excessive use of “Angel” as a nickname for the reader. Please do not interact if you are under 18. 

Word Count: 10.8k

My Masterlist

They don’t know, Elvis thinks as he starts to sway. These folks don’t know they’re watching a murder. 

Elvis can feel it in his bones, that this stage is where he’s going to die. To be honest he felt it maybe five songs ago. He almost takes comfort in how fitting it is, that his life was a stage and now it’s gonna end on one. 

He knows he should want to fight it, if not for himself then for Lisa, Priscilla, his daddy, Dodger, somebody else who relies on him, anybody really. But he's so goddamn tired of all of it, and he just wants to rest. 

Not even an hour ago he had learned the hard truth about that son of a bitch. How he’s lied to him for years, and how that rat bastard clipped his wings. He had originally come out here with the intention of giving a hell of a performance, firing that asshole right up here, walking off stage and leaving Vegas forever. 

But I’ll show him. I’ll show ‘em all, he thinks hazily. I’m gon’ fly away from here, maybe all the way to the rock of eternity if I can.

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says like he has a hundred times before. “Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” 

He had made that plan before his tongue started feeling like sandpaper in his mouth, his head started spinning like a top, and breathing became far more laborious than he remembers it ever being. He idly wonders if this is how his mama felt when she went. He can probably ask her when he sees her soon. Dying up here doesn’t scare him too much anymore now that he’s had time to accept that that is what's happening. So he figured if this was going to be his last performance, this was undoubtedly going to be his best one.

He never understood that phrase swan song, why sing when you know you’re going to die? But the better question now is why not sing when you know you’re going to die? Why not declare I’m dying and I want everybody to see it?

Let them watch, he thinks venomously as he breathes heavily into the mic for what will most definitely be the last time. Let them all witness what “Colonel Tom Parker” did to me.

“Ladies and Gentleman, you’ve been a lovely audience,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too slurred. “Thank you.”

In that single moment before he knows he’s going to collapse he looks one last time out into the audience he loved so much, but his blurry vision makes it impossible to see most of them. This is what he chose, this is who he chose over, everything his family, his friends, his health. The fact he can’t even see most of them, hurts him in a way that the drugs can’t mask. It’s cruel yet fitting really, this is nothing less than he deserves.

But in a sea of faces that all blur and blend together the one thing he can clearly see is you. You’re standing in the front row, your brows drawn together and concern marring your beautiful face, something he appreciates so that he can at least leave this earth knowing that at least someone cared. You're dressed in a pure white dress, something much more simple than he's used to from the women that attend his shows. Even amongst the women you’re surrounded by, you stand out as a daisy in a bed of roses, he’s glad at least the last thing he’ll ever see is something so beautiful.

It gets windy all of a sudden, as he feels cool air blow against the side of his face.

No… wait… he’s just falling. 

He hasn’t been sleeping much in the past few days, but if there was ever a time to do so, now feels like the perfect time for it. He simply waits for the inevitable feeling of his head hitting the stage, though with everything he took before coming out here he doubts he’ll even be able to feel that.

But it never comes. Instead he feels his head being cradled in a soft hand, and he opens his heavy eyelids and you’re there again. He watches as you use the table to scramble onto the stage before the curtains close, and he sees you up close for the first time. He doesn’t know if it’s from the spotlight behind you outlining your silhouette or something else entirely, but having a better look at you, your beauty goes from simple to nothing short of otherworldly. 

An angel? He thinks blearily. Mama always did say they would be beautiful. He can see that you’re saying something, but his head is too muddled to process any of it.

So you’re here to take me away from this awful place, he thinks with a small smile. He didn’t like to think about death too much before he was faced with. He is was a firm believer in a heaven and hell, and many things he’s done in his life have more than earned him a spot down below. But you’re here now so it couldn’t have been all that bad in the grand scheme of things. 

He reaches out to touch you and you grab onto his hand, look at it for just a second. He sees your worry grow as you get in closer to his face and he feels your feather-like but oh-so warm touch to his lips that feel so cold now. He feels other hands on him now trying to lift him up, and he notices his crew around him, but all he can focus on is you. It’s hard not to when you physically keep one of his eyes open, and he sees your worry go into full blown panic. 

He tries, but it’s getting hard to breathe let alone speak right now. Please, he wants to say, don’t leave me with them. All he’s able to do to convey this message is a pathetic squeeze to your hand, and suddenly you’re gone just as quickly as you came. He feels his eyes well up so afraid now he’ll die without you there. 

Everybody is surrounding him now trying to speak to him, but he’s desperately looking for you, and he feels as though there’s something he’s forgetting to do but he can’t remember what. Jerry comes into view and his mouth is moving and it looks like he’s shouting but nothing is coming out. Billy is there taking off his jacket, bunching it up underneath his head but still he can’t see you. Red’s slapping his face while Charlie’s pouring water on it, though he barely feels either of them. Everybody’s trying something, trying to save him, but he’s only concerned about you finding him and taking him away from here. 

All these hands are touching him, most of them he doesn’t know, or at least doesn’t recognize. Maybe he is going to hell or fuck, maybe Vegas is hell for all he knows. It makes about as much sense as everything else in his life, which he doesn’t need to worry about for much longer. He feels like there’s something he’s supposed to be doing right about now but he’s too goddamn tired for any of it anymore and he wants to close his eyes until he sees you once again.

You look more disheveled than he remembers and now you’re furiously swatting at all of the hands on him as you shout at all of them. He feels your hands on his chest now and you’re pressing down repeatedly, before he can even speculate what you’re doing he feels your lips on his and it’s the warmest he thinks he’s ever felt. The kind of warmth that fills up his whole chest…

Oh right… he needs to breathe. 

It feels as though he blinks and suddenly he smells the familiar tobacco scent of the casino. He still feels like he’s on his back but he’s floating and you’re above him the harsh lights of the casino floor giving him a better look at you. I was right, he thinks. You’re going to take me away from here. Satisfied with his assumption, he closes his eyes for what feels like the final time and he can feel his lips curve into a smile as your lips meet his once more. 

Suddenly what feels like a bolt of lightning strikes through him, and his eyes are wide open again. For a few seconds, everything looks and sounds so much clearer, his muscles seem to have finally woken up, and his breathing has become far steadier. Is this what Captain Marvel Jr. felt like when he would say Shazam? It had to be because in those few moments he felt as though he could take on the world, especially when he finally gets a good look at you.

You’re hovering over him and the smile you give him would have made him weak in the knees if they weren’t already so. He reaches out, desperate to touch you but he feels darkness creep back into the edge of his vision once more. He knows he’s going to pass out right before he does, but he still tries only barely grazing your neck before the weight of his arm becomes too much to bear. But his hand catches on something before it eventually gives way and it finally falls. 

He feels something in his hand but he’s far too tired to speculate, only using the last of both his conscious thoughts and strength to grip on tight to it. But he loses the strength to even keep his eyes open and he blacks out.

He can’t open his eyes, but he’s awake. Though that comes and goes and even then there isn’t much to say about it. He hears a mix of familiar and unfamiliar voices, the bed and sheets he’s laying in aren’t as comfy as he’s used to, and all he can smell is an oddly sterile smell. But something he can definitely feel is your parting gift in his grasp. Everytime he feels conscious he would focus on that and spend his energy trying to figure out what it was in his hand. 

Ironically enough what does bring him back to the waking world is when he feels a small hand trying to remove it from him. His eyes snap open to try to find the culprit only to be met with his own blue eyes staring back at him.

“DADDY!” Lisa Marie sobs into his chest. “You’re awake!” 

The next hour or so is a flurry of activity with doctors and nurses surrounding him asking him questions and checking the various machines around him. Now that he’s awake he is able to get a good look at what you left him: A small crescent made of smooth white stone and a very broken gold chain.

You were real, he thinks, practically giddy before he’s quickly brought back to Earth as he searches the room only to find you’re not there. Even seeing Priscilla after so long since the divorce doesn’t do much to soften his disappointment at your absence. 

“‘Cilla what the hell happened that night?” he would ask after Lisa had fallen asleep tucked into his side. He had avoided the topic as long as he could stand by this point, the doctors keeping quiet about it. 

She takes a long sigh, her eyes glassy, before she gazes out the window and upon seeing the International in the distance she hardens herself for what she has to say. “You stopped breathing. From what the doctors here told me, Dr. Nick gave you way too much of something and you just stopped. There was a girl in the front row that was able to keep you goin’ until the ambulance got there.”

“Who was she? The girl who saved me.”

Priscilla shrugs at this, “Just some nurse.”

She has never been more wrong about anything, Elvis decides at that moment. “What was her name?” Elvis questions, maybe a little harsher than needed. 

Priscilla looks slightly taken aback at his intensity, “I don’t know Elvis. I got here the day after you collapsed and when I learned what she did, I wanted to thank her personally. But even the guys say she was long gone by the time they got here the same night.”

This makes him incredibly sad, that you would leave him so soon after you saved him. 

“Elvis,” Priscilla says severely. “I’m not going to put Lisa through this again. So either you shape up and go to that place in San Diego, or…” she cracks at this one. “Or you’ll never see either of us again.” It’s certainly not a light threat for her to make, Elvis realizes, but nobody wants to watch a person slowly kill themself. And as he rubs his thumb along the pendant of your necklace, he realizes why you had to go.

Jerry finally came to see him the next day, looking worse than Elvis felt. Him and his father had been given the hard job of damage control for the whole incident, as Elvis has now found himself without a manager. Apparently some of the “medicine” in Dr. Nick's bag was at best less than reputable and at worst fully illegal, and when pressed Nick pointed the finger at The Colonel. Both of them were taken into custody and were currently under investigation, but considering the world of shit the two have found themselves in, it looks like their best bet will be to pay damages and more. 

In real time Elvis heard as their house of cards fell apart, and suddenly the prospect of his life didn’t seem as daunting as it did when he accepted his death a week ago. Even if he had died, this was all inevitably meant to come out, the only difference being he wouldn’t have been here to see it. 

But he is still here, all thanks to you. His Angel.

In one fell swoop, you not only saved his life, but made his life worth living again. Even if you were of this Earth, there is no doubt in his mind that you were heaven-sent. The lord works in mysterious ways and ain’t no way this was all a coincidence. You were meant to be in that audience. He was meant to have gotten to this point. You were both destined to be. 

To him the message couldn’t be clearer: He had to leave Vegas, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you.

“Jerry this is it. I gotta get clean,” Elvis says, clutching onto the token you left for him. This has been a long time coming, he didn’t listen when he was told the obvious by Priscilla, by his boys, even by himself. “‘Cilla told me about this place in San Diego, and I think I best go.”

“Course, EP,” he says with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You take the time you need, and I’ll handle everything from the outside.”

“You’re a good man,” he says as he hesitates about what he’s going to request next. Of course Jerry is no stranger to a task like this, but this ain’t like those other times. Because you’re not just some girl he wants to fuck between shows, you’re his angel. But he himself won’t be able to do this while he’s getting clean. “While I’m in there, I need you to do somethin’ for me” Elvis said, surer in his next course of action than he has been in years. 

The next few months were hard, honestly if it weren’t for knowing that he had to get better before he could see you again, he’s not sure he would have lasted. So he followed all the rules, took what the doctors gave him, went to therapy, the whole nine yards. There were even days where he could hardly get out of bed, it was so bad.

But it was you, his angel, that gave him strength. Those days in rehab when he felt so cold to the point of shaking, he thought of your warm touch, and he could feel himself steady. When he felt his chest getting tight, he imagined your lips on his breathing life back into him, and he would breathe easier. The nights when he could do nothing but pace around his room restless and irritable, he would press your necklace to his lips and recite a prayer to you, and he would dream sweet dreams of a life with you. He made vows of loving and cherishing you once he found you, and promises of everything the two of you would do once he got clean. How the both of you would never see that hellish place again, and how happy you would be together.

Every single success he had in rehab was because of you, but as his leave date approached he still worried about how long he would be able to keep this up without you. However he trusts Jerry, that if you weren’t already back at Graceland, then at the very least he would know where to find you.

But Jerry failed. He couldn’t find you, and Elvis’ subsequent rage was one for the history books. All of them had the gall to be surprised at his reaction, having never seen him getting so worked up about a girl.

They don’t understand, he thought. You’re not just some girl. You’re my angel. 

The only thing that was able to reel him back was their hail mary of a plan to lure you out. The closest any of them could come was that you were in some way associated with the ER he ended up at, but nothing else. He hated the idea of going back to Vegas, but if it brought you back to him, so be it. You walked into hell to save him, so how could he do any less for you?

The days leading up to his last Vegas show, he spends time with Lisa Marie, knowing that he won’t be able to do so again until he’s found you. On that last night she ends up asking for a story, and he could only really think of one that was worth telling. He told her the story of the foolish king, the evil wizard, and the beautiful angel. How the angel was sent by the lord himself to save the king from the evil wizards clutches. And it was with her help was the King finally able to banish the evil wizard forever.

“And did they live happily ever after Daddy?” she asked while drawing you as he described.

He pauses at that and looks down as he fidgets with your necklace before he says, “They sure will baby girl.”

—-----------------------

You were not having a good time. 

Of course you would be the one responsible for patching up almost ten men after a bachelor party ended in a knife fight. Only in Vegas, you think as you stitch up your third man that night. You scowl slightly at the crooked sutures before you, but you try to hide that considering that the man before you is one of the more affable (read:sober) ones in the group. 

I’m out of practice, you think bitterly. Luckily the rest of your lot seem to only have surface wounds that just require bandaging, so you don’t have to see your work get progressively sloppier. Even though you had been back for awhile since your leave, you had been readjusting to the pace of the ward, and tonight was the first night Verna, your Senior Nurse, trusted you to handle more than administrative work. 

You’re not sure if you can blame your poor job entirely on being out of practice as there is still some stiffness in your now mostly healed hand, though you’re not about to go saying anything lest Verna hear anything about it. That traitor, you think, who turned what was supposed to be a two week mandatory vacation, and added a three-month paid medical leave for a broken hand, in spite of your protests. So the last thing you want or need is more time off. 

What stings the most about the injury to your hand was that it wasn’t the initial injury that did the most damage it was the fact that you kept using it that really fucked it up. And Verna was able to point that out as a metaphor for why you were in desperate need of a break. 

Though it’s not like you had a choice but to keep using it that night. And in all honesty you would do it all over again. 

Once you finish up on the lot of them and have them on their way out, all under some light painkillers and apparently the best of friends again, you figure now is as good a time as any to take your lunch. It’s a Friday night, from experience you know things are only going to get progressively crazier tonight, and eating now as opposed to later is the way to go. So you make your way to the cafeteria for the blandest food in the world, and find your work mom. 

When you first began at this ER, Verna had all but immediately adopted you as her own, and what started out as an overbearing and slightly annoying mentor relationship, turned into a more endearing friendship than you could have imagined. Though that didn’t mean she still didn’t have those overbearing tendencies of hers, as evidenced by her previous crusade to get you to finally use your accrued vacation days. And the way she’s practically buzzing in her seat tells you that you haven’t seen the last of it. 

“What are you planning?” you question as you sit down with your food. 

“What do you mean?” she says feigning innocence. 

“You have that same look in your eye that you get when you’re scheming something that will inevitably teach me a lesson about my life and/or job,” you say, self-aware as to how these things usually go. 

“Bones, you’re being paranoid,” she all but sings, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the use of your nickname. Nurse Bones the rest of the staff call you, after the Star Trek character, and you can’t say it doesn’t fit. Abrasive and brusque is how you’re usually described by patients, and admittedly you could stand to work on your bedside manner. But to be fair it tends to be the very thing that’ll keep most patients alive. Due to your stubborn attitude, you have found that you have a knack for getting answers out of even the most belligerent patients, which has done wonders in saving time and reducing the likelihood of accidentally causing more damage due to a patient lying. 

You narrow your eyes at her, but she still maintains that innocent smile. 

“By the way, you have next Friday off,” she casually drops, while taking a sip of her coffee.

“Goddamn it, Verna.”

She puts her hands up in defense with an easy smile. “If you want you can think of it as work considering you’re going to be representing the hospital itself.”

You sigh in defeat knowing you can’t say no to her. “What is this all about?”

“Oh just about a certain rockstar who's doing his final performance in the city and he wants the entire medical staff that saved his life present,” she says, all the while, still able to maintain the coy act. 

It admittedly takes you longer than it should to put the pieces together because you honestly haven't thought about that night in a while. When your sisters had come to you with the extra ticket to the concert you had been excited for it, even going so far as to plan for it to be the kick off to the vacation Verna had been bullying you into taking. 

“You’re one of my best nurses in the ward,” she had argued. “The last thing I need is for you to get burnt out from working too hard.”

You didn’t expect much from the vacation itself, you just wanted to sleep, see a couple movies, maybe finally get around to saying yes to that drink with that cute x-ray tech. 

Only as usual the lord himself laughed at your plans. The girl you asked to sub your scheduled shift came down with a bad stomach flu, and was unable to make it, forcing you to work a double. And even when you were officially over with your shift, you were reluctant to leave due to how full the waiting room looked. If it weren’t for Verna all but shoving you into the cab meant for the International, putting a twenty in your hand, and ordering you to have fun, you probably would have skipped the concert entirely.

You were still dressed for work, so you were forced to try your luck with one of the shops at the casino, and the best you could find was a white sundress. You usually try to avoid white, because something about it being the color of your uniform just made you antsy as though you were still on duty. But the alternative was going to a show in your dowdy nursing gown, so you ended up buying it anyway. 

When you were able to meet up with your sisters, they were both in contrast dressed to the nines, making you feel even more underdressed. In spite of the less than ideal start to the night, you were determined to enjoy yourself. After all this concert was supposed to be the official marker to the start of your vacation, and it was also fulfilling one of your childhood dreams of seeing him live. And while your “love” for him had cooled since you were 12, that didn’t mean you were any less excited when one of your sisters had won front row seats to his show. 

When he walked out onto that stage all your troubles were seemingly forgotten and you could focus on this captivating man. He was nothing short of amazing to see live, and you truly believe that your younger self simply didn’t think big enough when picturing what it would be like to see him up close and personal, especially with how good the seats you got were. He took all of your expectations of it and blew them all away.

Then he started getting a little wobbly.

Then he started getting very wobbly.

Then Elvis fucking Presley had the audacity to nearly slip into a coma right in front of you. 

“Ok, but… I wasn’t officially on the emergency team, so I don’t technically count,” you say in an attempt to worm your way out of the night off, all the while stabbing at your potato salad in your frustration. 

“Ok, but technically,” she teases. “You belong there more than anybody considering you did pretty much all the work of stabilizing him.”

“I was just doing what anybody would have done,” you downplay.

“Y/N, you were literally surrounded by hundreds of people that night, and nobody acted like you did. Hell not even that doctor that was there did what you did.”

You huff at that, because thinking about that fucking doctor will always get you heated. You’ve encountered your fair share of inadequate doctors before, but Elvis’ personal physician crossed over into cartoonishly incompetent. What kind of doctor who is not only prescribing morphine, let alone over-prescribing it, doesn’t carry any goddamn naloxone on him. And just as the cherry on this very fucked up sundae he tried to use an amphetamine in an effort to cancel out the opioid effects. That is the kind of logic that has brought many users to the ER or worse the morgue, and you at least expected better from a trained medical professional. 

But nothing pissed you off more than the penguin looking man, who you would later learn is/was Elvis’ manager, asking if he would still be able to do the midnight performance. You remember just giving him a look, all the while maintaining your rhythm on Elvis’ chest, and you were able to make that man take a step back in fear. The way he stood there and watched as he shook like a leaf, you could tell whose fault this was.

Truly that entire night experience should serve as a testament to both your focus and your patience. Though you did have to remind yourself after every stupid question and comment that came from either of those mens mouths, that you had to focus on preventing brain damage in Elvis, and not try to induce it in those two. You were so fucking close to trying it when Penguin man had the audacity to criticize you on being too rough with your CPR technique, but lucky for him, the EMTs had finally gotten there. 

On the other hand, the luckiest break you had all night was that you were familiar with one of the paramedics, so you were allowed inside the ambulance as an extra set of hands, and because no immediate family could be found. After you were able to stabilize him with the Naloxone and the paddles, you were able to catch up with Verna at the ER, and warn her of what that stupid doctor was trying to do back there. 

Though by the time you had gotten there, the adrenaline had subsided and you finally noticed the throbbing pain in your hand. You had caught his head before it could hit the floor, which you knew was the equivalent to a bowling ball dropping on to your hand, so you’re not surprised that it did cause some damage to you. You put a brace on your hand and end up sleeping in Verna’s office until her shift ended and she could take you home. The injury turned out to be more severe than you initially thought, and you were put on Medical leave against your will for months. 

“How ‘bout this Bones,” she says. “As repayment for losing your necklace, you’ll be my date to the concert.” 

You know better than most that Verna is not one to be messed with, and the fact that she’s resorted to guilt tripping this early, means she desperately wants you to go. The necklace in question is the one she gave you after your first successful year in the department, something she gives all the nurses that choose to stay put in the hell that is Vegas’ premier Emergency Ward. Each one was unique to the recipient and yours, in reference to your nickname, was a small ivory stone shaped like horns held by a delicate gold chain. So delicate in fact you somehow lost it somewhere between here and the International with no clear picture as to when exactly it happened. 

You let out a long sigh before conceding. In response she mockingly rubs her hands together like a supervillain, and says, “Haha, my dastardly plan to get you to have a fun night has worked.”

“I had fun at the last show,” you argue.

“Y/N, I worry about you if that was your definition of fun.” she says, and you throw a pea at her. “Also I hear rumors that a certain x-ray tech also got a ticket.” she whispers conspiratorially. 

This does get a bashful smile out of you. If you can take one thing away from that forced medical leave was that you did end up having those drinks with Ricky. And a few more after that. And then some dinner. Currently you’re in that awkward “what are we” stage that neither of you are too eager to be the ones to define. But hopefully this concert will be the turning point for that. 

“By the way, we were asked to wear all white,” Verna casually drops, as she walks away from the table.

“Goddamn it, Verna,” you curse with a mouthful of jello.

The week passes faster than you would have liked, and suddenly it’s friday night. You didn’t really have the time nor the motivation to buy yet another white dress that would sit in your closet, so you end up once again in front of the International in the same sundress, though this time with notably better company.

Though that feeling of being underdressed is somehow worse considering who could actually afford to go to his final concert this time around. His near death experience and the accusations that his previous doctor and manager were facing had caused his fans to rally around him after this, and factoring in that this is going to be his last performance stateside, the tickets to this show were perhaps some of the most expensive in the history of Vegas. There were rumors that even the nosebleeds would cost you somewhere in the $70 range, so you could only imagine what your front row seats would have cost. But the fact that these tickets apparently sold out within minutes was a testament to how beloved he still is.

It’s not exactly a secret amongst the staff that you had been the mysterious good samaritan at the concert, but by the time you had gotten back from leave, Elvis being in your ward had become old news. You weren’t exactly eager to spill, and no one was curious enough to ask. Though you did get a few questions this week from some of the more vulgar nurses asking if you had tried to slip a little tongue when giving him mouth to mouth. You laughed it off and half-jokingly replied, how if anything he did. You’re seated between Verna and Ricky, who had the honor of making sure you hadn’t accidentally cracked a rib when performing CPR on the King, farther away from the stage than you were last time, though you weren’t too cut up about it. You’re one for one for people nearly dying when you’re in the front row, and you figure if there’s a repeat performance tonight someone else can take over this time. 

As you’re talking to Ricky as to what songs he’s hoping to hear, you don’t so much as hear but feel the familiar horns start to blare, building anticipation amongst the crowd, and evidently yourself as you’re teased over the little dance you’re doing in your seat. And as the music starts to build, you have to remind yourself that you’re still technically at a work event, so you can’t get too wild. Though with the atmosphere you find yourself in, you can’t guarantee your best behavior if you can get Ricky alone. 

Then he finally steps out and it’s just as magnificent as you remember. He looks alot better this time around, far more sure footed in his steps and the white jumpsuit with its gold accents stood as a nice contrast to his tanned skin, and you and the rest of the crowd show your love when you see the cape in all it’s angelic winged glory. Even the light sheen of sweat already on his face is doing wonders of making him look as though he’s glowing, as opposed to sickly like his last show.

Considering how well you thought his last concert was when he was high off his ass on morphine and on death’s door, it’s no surprise how incredible this one is, when he’s far more present and alert this time around. Though more being the operative word, as he does seem to be somewhat distracted this time around, and he does seem to hover around the two tables the hospital staff are at. 

You can hardly fault him for feeling a little uneasy about being back on stage again after he nearly died on one. Oddly enough you can even see the logic of having an entire medical team ready at a moment's notice for his return if nothing but for the comfort of that extra level of security. 

But you’re not here to analyze why a famous man does what he does, you’re here to have a good time, so that’s what you do; You sing, you dance, you laugh at Elvis’ jokes, you flirt with Ricky, you take advantage of your tables covered tab, the whole nine yards. All too soon though it feels like the concert wraps up quicker this time, though you figure he’s simply eager to get his world tour started as soon as possible. 

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says.“Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” This seems familiar, you think flippantly. “Before I go, I wanna give a special thanks to a few people up front here. The emergency staff of UMC Hospital, Ladies and Gentleman.” 

There is a resounding round of applause for your group as the spotlight hits the tables, and you’re just drunk enough to not retreat from the praise and recognition and simply give a cursory wave to the crowd. “But there’s one special lil’ lady here that deserves recognition. Without her folks, I can promise I wouldn’t be here tonight.”

You look around expecting to see Priscilla or maybe even his daughter somewhere around here, but you’re quickly wrenched from your thoughts as you feel the table beneath your elbows jostle a little. You look back toward the stage and find that Elvis no longer occupies it. Instead he is walking on top of your table and giving no regard to the glasses or items atop it, your co-workers acting quickly to save what they can. Before you can even put together who exactly he’s walking toward, you find the king of rock and roll crouching down before you. 

“What’s your name angel?” he asks you with the biggest grin on his face, before putting the mic in front of you. The room itself is dead silent, everybody apparently eager to hear your answer, and Elvis, even more so, with the way he’s looking at you. You even move slightly to the left in some vain hope that he’s talking to someone behind you only for the mic to follow you. Whatever drunkenly warm feelings about attention you had quickly vanished, and the only thing stopping you from crawling under the table is that you’re not sure he wouldn’t follow.

You’re floundering and also painfully aware of the seconds that are ticking away, making your pause all the more uncomfortable, and you’re barely able to squeak out your name. 

Oh my god, do I really sound like that? You think mortified after hearing your answer repeated through the amplifiers.

“Beautiful,” he says, his eyes shining and he looks at you as though you hang the stars themselves. “Folks, y’all don’t know it, but Y/N here is my very own Guardian Angel.” His statement generating “awws” from the crowd. “Last time I saw her, she left something with me and I think it’s high time I give it back.”

And with a flick of his wrists he produces a gold chain with a bright white pendant at the bottom of it, and you’re stunned when you recognize it, truly believing it was lost forever to you. It’s mind boggling to think it had been with him this entire time, having figured it was in a ditch or melted down by this point. You reach out for it hoping this will be the end of the interaction and you can begin to work on forgetting this ever happened, only for him to pull back.

“...but only if she goes to dinner with me first,” he says mischievously. At his proposition the audience responds with a series of wolf whistles and applause, which only amps up your anxiety of being seen, and it’s made all the worse when some women (some of whom you know) are trying to answer yes for you. 

Pressure and stress is something you’re familiar with, but the scrutiny you're currently under not only with your co-workers, but an entire room full of strangers makes you want to shrivel up and die. This feeling is only further perpetuated by the dazzling grin he’s giving you. Words fail you and you doubt anything that comes out of your mouth will be even the least bit coherent, so you instead shake your head in the affirmative before you bury your face in your hands.

“She said yes folks,” he says, his grin going from ear to ear at this point, and the crowd goes wild. This is all punctuated by the return of the music as Elvis winks at you and makes his way back to the stage. The music itself stands in stark contrast to how you’re feeling, sounding bold and triumphant, as you’re escorted backstage trying to hunch in on yourself and avoid being seen. You’re even more mortified as you recognize the lyrics he’s singing, and you purposefully try to avoid looking at him. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help

Fallin’ in love with you

You’re used to the break neck speed that comes with the territory of working in the ER, but even this is going far too fast for you. Not even five minutes ago you were trying to figure out if you were too dressed up for a burger with Ricky, now you’re standing alone in a penthouse suite waiting for the most famous man in the world for a … a date?

Oh god Ricky, you remember. How are you going to explain this to him? Things were going so well, and you planned to finally sleep with him tonight, but now this happened. And oh… fuck, that’s what people are going to assume what’s happening right now isn’t it? Given Elvis’ reputation, you can deny until you're blue in the face that nothing happened and you’re still unlikely to be believed. 

…Because nothing will happen, you’ll eat, you’ll make small talk, he’ll thank you for your part in his life being saved, and you’ll never have to think of this night again. It wasn’t so much that the necklace meant that much to you, but you weren’t exactly in a place to say no to him at that moment. So maybe if you leave right now…

Your fleeting thoughts of running are interrupted by the hand suddenly on your shoulder, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Woah there angel, settle down now. It’s just me,” he says softly. 

That’s hardly comforting, you think. You open your mouth determined to leave at this point only for him to hold up a finger to you before grabbing a folded piece of paper from the piano and handing it to you. You’re hesitant to open it until he says, “my daughter begged me to give this to you if I ever saw you again.” You unfurl it to find what is clearly a child's drawing of an angel with a nurse cap, though with seemingly your general coloring as well as your necklace. The bottom reads “thAnK U 4 sAVing mY dAdY, love lisA.” You can’t help but crack a smile at this, and you feel yourself lose some of that tension you walked in with.

He seems pleased with your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck as he explains how his daughter came up with the angel moniker for you and it kind of stuck for him, considering how he didn’t know your name.

“It’s fine,” you wave away. “I get trying to explain it to her in a way she’d understand.”

“She’s been sayin’ for awhile now that she wants to be a nurse when she grows up,” he admits with a bit of a chuckle. You can’t help the way your heart melts at that. “Hope you don’t mind, I ordered food already. I-I figured you’d wouldn’t want to eat so late.” 

“I don’t mind,” you reassure, amused at his slight stutter. “The job’s made me a bit of a night owl, so I’m more on lunch time right now.”

“Guess we got time then,” he says, settling down with a bottle of wine at a table by the window. 

“I guess we do,” you say, unable to hold back a smile..

The longer you stick around though, the easier it is to talk to him, his hair is messy and he’s out of the jumpsuit so it’s easy to forget that you are talking to the one and only Elvis Presley. So engrossed in your conversation you hardly notice when the food arrives, and the two of you hardly touch it. He looks at you with that same dopey smile as you talk about your life, your job, anything really. And he reciprocates talking about the places he’s been, the places he’s going and beyond. He even bashfully admits he came back to Vegas for the last time in order to find you and thank you properly. 

“I swear Angel, I tried lookin’ for ya after I got out,” he sighs, sending a dirty look at the city right outside the window, his face highlighted by the neon lights below. “I was afraid this godforsaken city swallowed ya whole.”

“Yeah Vegas’ll do that to you,” you commiserate with him, a smile on your face gazing out the window. “It’s an absolute cesspit here.” 

“You ever think about leavin’?”

“No, not really,” you say, hardly needing a second to answer, as you take a sip of your drink. You grew up here so you hold no illusions to the glitz and glamor that the city holds. Not to mention your job primarily consists of dealing with patients who are often the byproduct of this awful city. But this is still the city where you were born, where you’ve made your life. A life you’re honestly proud of.

He looks taken aback by your response, and in that moment you have the pleasure of seeing a man who has been nothing but confident and sure of himself stumble over his words. “Re-really? There ain’t no place in this whole world y-you’d rather be.”

“Nah,” you say casually, holding two fingers up. “There are two types of people who live here, ‘This place is a pit and I’m leaving’ or ‘this place is a pit and I’m never fucking leaving.’ No real reason beyond just… liking it here,” you guess shrugging your shoulders. “Besides, I just got back from medical leave, I think I've had enough of a vacation for awhile,” you say, your drink having loosened your tongue.

“What happened?” he asks, his brow furrowed, looking genuinely concerned for you.

“Oh, umm…” you say, sucking your teeth. And that’s really the elephant in the room neither of you are addressing. The fact that you’re only here because of what you did for him. “Well I kinda broke my hand… that night… when I caught you.” You follow this with perhaps the most awkward laugh, which you quickly cutoff when you see the guilty look on his face.

As you're floundering for some sort of recovery, he gently takes your previously injured hand in his, as he places a small kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry I put you through so much trouble.” he whispers against your hand. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” you say, trying to even out your breathing, suddenly going from pleasantly to too warm in a matter of moments. “I would have done the same for anybody else.”

“But not anybody else coulda done whatchu did.” he says. “It’s almost sounds like it was all meant to be,” 

“That’s one way of looking at it,” you say, sipping your drink. “But if this city has taught me anything in all the years I’ve lived here, it is that luck, good or bad, has its hands in almost everything.”

“You’re too good for this rotten city,” he says, softly rubbing his thumb along your knuckles, his ocean blue eyes piercing into your own. “Y/N, this city ain’t good for no one,” he says. “You gotta get you outta here.” 

“Elvis…” you say, putting down your drink. “I’m not saying this city is good, but I’m not saying it’s all bad. It just… is. And I’m fine here. I’ve built my life here and I’m really not interested in leaving.” 

“Not even for me?”

That catches you off guard and you’re at a loss for words, because who says that to someone they’ve only just met. And instead of giving an actual answer, you give a short, nervous laugh, and make a comment as to how funny he is. Though internally you’re questioning if his eyes have always been this intense. 

“You know when I was in rehab,” he trails on looking at your connected hands. “That necklace a yours, got me through some of the darkest times I been through.”

You swallow thickly at his admission. “Well rehab is one of the hardest things to do. If you want to hold on-”

“No, no Angel,” he chuckles in that deep baritone of his, as he removes the pendant from his wrist. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to give it back.” He stands up from the sofa, and holds out his hand to you. “But first, I at least want to see you wearin’ it.” 

You’re not really thinking anymore, or maybe your thoughts are being drowned out by your pounding heart beat, as you stand up and turn away from him, allowing him to put it on you. Whether it’s the heat radiating off of him from his close proximity to you or the way his hands feel brushing lightly against your neck, your decision is made even before he plants a kiss behind your ear. 

Your relationship prospects with Ricky are shot, most of the people you work with saw you leave with him, and they are all gonna assume what they want about what the two of you did. So why not do what you’re going to be accused of? Really there are other reasons not to, but they all die as soon as your lips meet his. 

It only occurs to you now that this is not the first time this has happened, but you could hardly compare either experience. The mouth that ravages your own is worlds different from the cold lips you breathed life back into, and you find your hand even wandering into his open shirt as you relish in the now strong and steady heartbeat beneath your palm. He stops at that, noticing what you’re doing, and you see his eyes go glassy for a moment before he goes right back to kissing you, though this time around it’s slower, more… tender, as he leads you back to his bed.

He probably has reasons of his own for this, though you struggle to understand them. Initially you think, rather crudely, that since he’s leaving in the morning, never to return, you suppose you’ll be his final ‘what happens in Vegas.’ But everything he does once you’re in his bed doesn’t quite match up with this assessment.

The way he touches you, it’s not sex, it’s not fucking, it’s not even love making, if you had to call it anything, more akin to worship. Leaving not a single inch of your body untouched as he undresses you, he takes his time to kiss every spot and blemish on you, even paying special attention to the hand he had inadvertently broken, as though in penance. He whispers something into your skin with each kiss, and you’re not able to make out what, but he has an almost reverent tone, as though he were praying. Though any curiosity you had for his words is quickly lost when you feel him bury his face in your cunt. 

He’s still fully dressed, you notice, the silky caress of his shirt on the back of your thighs, as you feel his wicked tongue spear inside you. The idea of being so exposed is usually horrifying to you, but now, here with him, you don’t even think about that, truly lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, and you’re sure to be very vocal in your appreciation. He eventually removes his mouth, and you let out an embarrassing little whimper at the loss until you feel the cool metal of his rings brushing your burning core. You can only imagine what kind of image you make right now writhing and unraveling on this man's fingers, wearing nothing but your necklace. From the pleased rumble that emanates from his chest he approves wholeheartedly as he sits on his knees to get a better look at you. He even goes so far as to readjust your necklace so it rests prettily between your breasts, looking for that perfect image of you. 

Much of the night proceeds like that, his own pleasure apparently put to the side, as he adjusts you into whatever position he cares to see; sideways, on all fours, above his face, on your knees with your hands holding the headboard, standing up with your back against the window, etc. For his part, he simply watches you fall apart over and over again on his tongue, his fingers, or whatever body part of his you wrap your legs around. 

You begin to suspect that this is some fucked up form of repayment for what you did, and several times through out you quite literally paw at his belt in an attempt to get him to join in. Each time he gently takes a hold of your hands, reassuring you each time he’s focused on you alone.

What finally gets him to crack is when you beg tears streaming down your face, “please I need it,” your voice whiny and your eyes frantic to behold all of him. You bring your mouth to his as you whisper, “I need you.” He’s quick to strip down after your plea, and seeing him fully leaves your mouth as dry as the mojave. For both personal and professional reasons, you’re no stranger to the male anatomy, but seeing his is… baffling, simply put. 

You feel like a teenager fantasizing in your room about your favorite celebrity again, simply due to how perfect this all feels. Too perfect in fact. You’ve lived long enough to know that things that are too good to be true, usually are, especially in this town. But these lessons are far from your mind as he goes at an agonizingly slow pace to push himself into you, reaching depths you’ve never even imagined ever reaching. You’re left a panting mess beneath him savoring the delicious stretch he’s causing you, and you’re only quieted as he takes your lips once again. 

Once you’ve had time to adjust to him being buried to the hilt within you, you beg him to move as you feel that knot in the pit of your belly begin to form once again. He seems charmed by how needy you’ve become, going at a near snail pace within you, telling you to say how you were his. So desperate were you, that you agreed without even thinking about it. 

He rewards you with a sweet kiss, as he starts to pick up the pace. You throw your head from side to side as aching whimpers escape your lips, eyes squeezed shut because dear lord, does he know how to move his hips. He takes a hold of your chin, “look at me Angel. Look only at me.” he orders, his lips barely brushing your ear. You're in no position to argue, and especially as he pins your wrists above your head.

He’s so beautiful, you think to yourself as you open your eyes to see him; the light shimmer of sweat on his brow, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, truly this man is too good to be true. But as he picks up the pace to be far more brutal and punishing, you become lost to all the sensations he’s causing you. Despite the tears streaming down your face you can’t say you’re not enjoying yourself, reveling in his incoherent whispers in your ear and begging for him to fill you up over and over again.

By the time you both finished, the two of you have been at it for what feels like hours at this point, and it is only now as the early morning rays of the sun hit the side of his face do you realize how late (or early?) it is. And as he takes in the image of you below him in the light of day for the first time, your angelic image is only further cemented in his mind, he gives you a tender kiss as he has the curtains closed and he’s absolutely sure of what he has to do next. 

You wake up to the sound of voices and rummaging in the other room, and the taste of regret on your tongue. Regret tastes a lot like dehydration, you think, helping yourself to both the full glass of water and the tylenol on the nightstand. The curtains and your pounding head make it impossible to tell what time it is or how long you slept. You know you’re in no condition to work, but contemplate going anyway, as you can only imagine what kind of shit you’re going to get from doing so. But with the state of your back right now, you don’t really have a choice. 

You’re using the low light peeking beneath the door to gather what you can of your outfit, though as you blindly scour the room, you would settle for your dress and purse at this point. Your head is fuzzy at best so you hardly notice that the white dress you put on is completely different from the one you arrived in, nor did you pay any mind to the salty aftertaste on the back of your tongue that the pills left. 

There’s no getting around that you’re about to embark on the most humiliating walk of shame in history, but you were at least grateful that he hadn’t been there when you woke up. You’re glad to have avoided that awkward encounter at the very least. But this small mercy was quickly snatched from you as you open the door only to walk right into the back of the man you were hoping to avoid. 

Wait… how did I miss that? You think blearily. You don’t have the luxury of an answer as he quickly turns around and you watch as his face lights up upon seeing you. 

“Sorry for waking you Angel,” he says, as he wraps an arm around your waist to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Just had to pack up a few things before we go.” While you aren’t someone prone to having one night stands, you also can’t think of anything to say to this man whom you’re never going to see again. At least he won’t see you, while you’ll probably have to live the rest of your life seeing him as a celebrity. 

“It’s fine” you say as you look around the room behind him for your purse. A hopeless endeavor as there are far too many men in the room, who all quickly avert their eyes from you. Though you do see it’s well past sunset, and that just adds to your embarrassment. 

“How ya feelin’ Angel?” you hear from him as he puts a hand on your forehead. The cool metal of his rings feel heavenly, but you are also a woman on a mission. The mission being get the hell out of here. 

“I’m okay,” you answer, pulling away. “I-I hope you don’t mind I used the aspirin on the nightstand.”  

You see his smile lift ever so slightly at that, “That’s why it was there Darlin’. Why don’t I take you home now?”

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” you wave away as he’s walking you to the door. 

“You don’t gotta worry Angel,” he reassures you, his arm already slung around your shoulder. “I don’t mind one bit. Hell it’s probably on my way.” 

“...ok.” You answer, unenthusiastic at the prospect of having to see him more. But being seen by others as you are right now doesn’t sound any more appealing.  

As you're making your way down the hallway with him, you remember your purse that is back in the room. And as you swivel around, you feel the night hitting you all at once, and you’re forced to lean on Elvis to keep your balance. He catches you and with an arm around your waist he helps you to the elevator. 

“Wait,” you say weakly. “My purse.”

“Don’t worry, Angel,” he says, kissing your hand. “It’s downstairs already.”

That’s not where I left it, you think, when you do in fact find it already in the backseat of the town car. You tell the driver where your apartment is before pressing your head to the cool glass of the window, your eyes closed. Even with the tinted windows, the neon lights of the strip are doing a number on your eyes (later you would wish that you had chanced it and gotten one last look at home). You don’t understand how you’re this tired considering how much you’ve already slept and you simply lean in further into him, waiting for that aspirin to kick in. 

You’re not sure as to how much time passes, but eventually he does help you out of the car and up some stairs. You’ll kick yourself later for not realizing sooner where you were until you felt Elvis start to buckle in your seatbelt. You open your eyes, but even with your blurry vision you recognize that this is definitely not your apartment. 

You struggle at your harness, but your fingers aren’t cooperating whatsoever and you’re left helplessly pawing at it. You see others enter but your pleads that you have to leave fall on deaf ears as they all conspicuously avoid looking at you. 

You don’t understand why you’re like this, because other than the drinking from the night before you hadn’t had anything other than… the aspirin. 

How could you be so stupid? How could you have walked into this trap? Why did you think you could trust him? You start sobbing as you hear the cabin door close, because you have no answer for any of these.

“Please I have to go home,” you weep.

“I am takin’ you home Angel.” and you have no choice but to lean on him as he brings you closer.

Finally once you’re in the air he unbuckles and stands the both of you up. Men you vaguely recognize from the hotel, all again avert their eyes as Elvis proceeds to walk you down the aisle and you beg them to help you. You’re still feeling the effects of whatever he gave you so you don’t really put up much of a fight until he opens the door and you see a bed on the other side.

“I ain’t gon’ hurt you Angel,” he says soothingly. You don’t believe him. “I know you’re mad right now, but I know one day you’ll forgive me. Because this is for your own good.”

“Why?” you sob into his shoulder as he lays you both down. “Why me?”

“Because the lord himself brought us together, Angel.” he says and you see that manic look you’d only gotten glimpses of in your short time together on full display. “And what God has brought together, let no man separate.”

“What?”

“Angel I know you may not believe in all of it,” he says, rubbing your cheek. “But I don’t believe it was just a coincidence that you were there that night. I know someone up above sent you to look out for me. And I ain’t gon’ let you slip away again.”

This man… this man had no issue ripping you away from your life all under some delusion that you needed saving, because that’s what he needed. You’re under the control of a man that cast you as his savior… and god forbid should you ever turn out to be otherwise. This is your life now, because no good deed goes unpunished. 

“You and me, Angel.” he says merrily into your hair, holding your hand that rests above his heart, giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. “Today we’re flyin’ away for good.”

Taglist

@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz  @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale @j-v-9-2  @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates @immi547 @thatbanditqueen   @marriedtoeddie ​@cuteejeno  

[soulc-hilde]

Ch. 05 - Locked Down

Pairing: Jey Uso / Josh Fatu x Aries / Ezmeralda Bey

Synopsis: Devoted to her craft and her family, WWE Superstar Ezmeralda has a library of accolades accomplished on her own and by the side of her family like never before. As she leads the Women's Revolution to glory, romance seems to find her at the most unexpected moment... in the ring.

Warning(s): SFW, OC is a black woman, swearing, WWE-canon violence, Non-scripted fights, body shaming, body insecurities, WWE's consistant misogyny is blatant until later chapters, etc.

Cross-posted: Wattpad

Ch. 01 | Ch. 02 | Ch. 03 | Ch. 04 | Ch. 05

Atlanta, GA 

Unfortunately, Ezmeralda couldn't attend Jojo and Eva's housewarming party as she originally planned to spend time with her family and spend some time with a certain man. For the afternoon, the triplets had set out to teach their eldest nephew, Leon, how to drive and out of all the cars they had, Ezmeralda's had to suffer.

And to think, she just replaced the breaks on her Ford F-150. 

The custom painted evergreen and silver accented truck was filled with Ezmeralda, Ezra, Ezekiel, Leon, and their older brother and his father - Elijah while Josh and their other older brother, Emry, sat in the bed. Pulling into the empty parking lot, the boys begin to set up their own course of cones while Ezmeralda turns on the cameras.

Once everything was set, they begin the video with Ezmeralda in the passenger seat as Leon takes over the driver seat. Emry and Josh sit in the backseat while Ezekiel and Ezra sit in the bed of the truck. 

"Alright, nephew," Ezmeralda starts. "If you can drive a pickup truck, you can drive damn near any car on the planet. Now, with my truck, the gear shift is in the steering column. That is known as a column shift, not every car has this design, but the function is universal. You just grab and pull down."

Leon nods, "okay." 

She points at his feet. "There are only two pedals. On the left is the brake which your foot's already on and the gas is on the right." Emry cuts in, "no, the brake's not... what?" 

Josh laughs, trying to appear relaxed. "Nope, she's right. Brake's on the left, gahdamn."  "Yuh," she resumes her lecture. 

"So, when you remove your foot from the brake, the car will move. Not full throttle, but it will roll forward. Go ahead and give it a little, right now." He begins to press on the gas, forgetting to shift the vehicle into drive. The engine revs, its healthy growl was loud and deep as it settles in their bones.

"Oh, it's still in park," Emry notes. "Ok, a little rev. Little rev. How'd that feel though?" Leon laughs, "that felt like it was about to take off."

Ezmeralda shakes her head, "gahlee, you got a heavy ass foot. I know y'all felt that shit." The two men laugh, Josh's eyes widening with fear he tried so hard to play off. "What you mean did we feel that? Hell yeah!"

"Aye, son," Emry leans forward, tapping Leon on the shoulder. "You remember that episode in Spongebob? Where they were like 'big toe. Only the big toe?' You gotta do that, son. Do that, just your big toe." 

"America," Ezmeralda huffs, rubbing her face with frustration. "We gon' die. And I just fixed my truck, too!" 

Ezekiel and Ezra sit in the bed, chewing on honey buns while singing: "Guess who's gonna die, tonight? Uh, die tonight."

Ezmeralda's House

After spontaneously gaining the car back with no markings and unanimously declaring that Leon could not drive until he's reached the age of 40 which is a good age seeing as the whole Bey crew would be dead and gone, Ezmeralda and Josh decided to have a little date night to about, well, them.

"So," Josh starts, sipping some of the peach flavored Moscato. "When you think about us and our relationship, where do you see us? What do you see?"

Keeping her eyes on her plate, Ezmeralda nods and takes the moment to answer. "I can see myself being happy when I think of us. I don't know if it's because of how long we knew each other or what, but there's an unsaid understanding between us. Like, I know what you're thinking or feeling before you even say a word and vice versa."

"Before you, I never thought of myself with someone and felt real happiness and infatuation," her voice falls into a whisper as her face slowly begins to turn red. "Seeing the way you get along with my family, treating them as if they're yours and the way you don't judge me for my career and my looks. I just... I feel loved."

Josh grins, taking a hold of her hand from across the table. "Baby, gon'head and look at me," he coos. Once her toffee brown eyes meet his dark ones, he begins to speak. 

"Ezmeralda, since like '08, you've been my rock. Now, don't tell Jonathan that cause he'll throw a fuss, but from the moment we stepped into FCW and you became our mentor, I'd fallen in love with you." Her eyebrows raise, ellicting a soft chuckle.

He shrugs, "I already had a little celebrity crush on you beforehand, but seeing you in person, watchin' you work in the ring, and getting to actually have a conversation with Ezzie - The Chaotic Beauty instead of Aries - The Future Hall of Famer... I knew I had to make you mine."

"It for sure doesn't help that our families are so connected, girl, you can't get rid of me even if you tried," Josh giggles. "I know being vulnerable ain't your thing and expressing yourself like this is something new, but I want you to know that I see you. I see the effort you put in letting me know that you're feeling me, too. I see you opening your heart for me despite your fear. And I appreciate you, okay?"

A tear escapes down her cheek as she nods. Josh's grin, if possible, stretches even further as he walks around the table and pulls her into a hug. "I appreciate you, boo," he pecks her on the forehead. "And I love you." She whispers in his chest, voice trembling with her tears. "I love you, too."

"Joshua," she sighs, a timid smile taking over. "As a little girl, I've always wanted to find happiness like parents have and that includes their marriage, you know? And for the longest, I could never find it. I never found someone who looked at me like I was something valuable or treated me like so. I was always too masculine or aggressive or looking for too much - hell, there's one who complained that my family and I was too close!" 

Ezmeralda bites her lip, "and for a long time, I believed that my career was going to be my first and my last love. I even made a to-do list of accolades I wanted to do before I retired or died, but meeting Josh was like a blessing, I guess. My first love introducing me to, probably, the love of my life. I'd say that it's very poetic."

After dinner, the two were cuddling on the couch, watching tv. "Since TJ and Nattie's bachelor party's comin' up and we're officially locked in," Josh jokes with a light giggle. "How do you wanna go about the vacation?"

"For one, we can definitely share a room," Ezmeralda hums. "Ezra's bringing Charlene, rightfully taking personal time for themselves from the kids, while Ezekiel's a freak. I'on't, no, we're not kids being forced to share a room anymore." Josh laughs, shaking his head at the adorable yet disgusted grimace that takes over her round features. 

"Okay, what else?" He laughs. She adds on, "we can fly out together. Instead of us meeting down there, you can just bring your bags over here and then we can leave together." 

He nods, "say less. I'll probably start packing either tomorrow or the day after." Josh leans more of his body weight onto her as an exaggerated pout shifts onto his face. "You gon' help me, boo? You know, I forget things. Please?" 

"Yes, yes," she laughs, pushing him off. "All up on me." He kisses his teeth, side eyeing her. "Girl, please. You love when all this delicious caramel is all up on you," he rubs up and down his puffed out chest. 

Ezmeralda snorts, her head falling back as the outburt switches into a hyena laugh. "Get away from me before I kick you out my house, JJ!" He shakes his head, smiling. "Nah, come on and get you some girl. Last night, you couldn't get enough," he begins climbing on top of her as she screams, laughing. 

"Omg! Josh!" She laughs. She wraps her thick thighs around his waist and her arm around the back of his neck, rolling their bodies off the couch. He begins fake choking, arms wiggling as he goes to tap out. "Nah, go to sleep. Take yo' Niquil."

Las Vegas, NV

Touching down in Vegas, both the bride and groom's parties road to the hotel in a shared limosine. As they infiltrate the hotel, rowdy and disturbing the poor patrons, they make their way to Natalya and TJ's room. The room was decked out with a bar and an open space living room where everyone settled for the moment. 

Josh and Ezmeralda sit down at the table as Jojo and Justin check out the shower room with a stripper pole incorporated in the center while Bri and Nikki sit with Bryan, accidentally popping open the bottle of champagne. Ezra and his fiance, Charlene, sat beside, laughing at the chaos that surrounds them.

Nikki starts a quick toast, "oh, here's to boners, shit. Bachelor and bachelorette, yay!" Everyone laughs, joining in. 

After everyone settled into their rooms, they decided to head down to soak in the pool. Ezmeralda was dressed in an emerald bikini with gold accents, the swimsuit came in a set with a sheer skirt, and matching flip flops. Her and Charlene walk side by side, flanked by Josh, Ezekiel, and Ezra. Both of their men kept an arm around their waists, eyeing down any man who dared look their way. Ezekiel, on the other hand, trailed after them mindlessly as his hands rub over his pecs and his torso, hoping he didn't appear ashy. 

The group settles beside Trinity and Jon's shared layout. While Jon, Ezra, and Ezekiel set out for the water, Josh lays beside Ezmeralda, his eyes staring her down. "Look at you," he hums, moving his sunglasses up. "All glowy, girl yeh look goodt."

She laughs, nudging him with her shoulder. "Boy, hush," she playfully scolds. He shakes his head, "you want me to be quiet while you here, lookin' like a full course Michelin Star meal."

He leans over her ear, "I won't lie, though. Some folks got one more time to be starring like they got eye problems or else they really gone need that vision checked." She snorts, smacking his chest, "ignore them. At the end of the day, you the one that finna eat this meal."

"Oh," he leans back, eyebrows raised. "Is that so?" She raises her eyebrows, shrugging. "Depends... if you're hungry." He cheeses, nodding. "Girl, I'm always hungry." 

She shakes her head, "well you just ate breakfast this morning, so you gone have to wait. In the meantime, gon'head and take yo' ass for a swim. You look dehydrated." Charlene snorts, leaning away from them as Ezmeralda lightly pushes the younger Fatu away from her.

Pre-Game | Hotel

Everyone was dressed and back in the party room, pre-gaming before the parties were to separate for the night. Ezmeralda dressed in a dark purple dress that stops at the knee with a cheeky slight on the side, the top of the dress was off the shoulder with thin long sleeves and paired with black booties. They all cheer Nattie to take a shot before mingling.

Trinity, Ariane, Nikki, Charlene, and Ezmeralda sit on the couch beside Bri, talking. "So, are we gonna see Bri Mode, tonight?" Trin asks. The twin smirks, "maybe not tonight," before taking a sip of her champagne. 

Ariane and Ezmeralda laugh while Trinity groans. "She's like, 'maybe not tonight,'" Ariane mimics the Bella twin, the group laughing. 

TJ calls for a toast, raising his pink solo cup. "A toast to Natalie Neidhart, who has definitely kept me level," everyone 'aw's at his moment of vulnerability. "And from flying off the deep end. And, the one person who's the reason I'm still here and still kicking, so..." Everyone raises their glasses, sending their praises for the childhood sweethearts. 

Nikki then stands, walking off to the side. "I'm sorry, but, us girls, are getting ready to go to Chippendale and we can't be late for the show. We love you guys, but you gotta go." 

Josh shakes his head, arms gripping Ezmeralda's waist. "Y'all really kickin' us out, twin." Nikki shrugs, laughing, in response. Josh turns to the older woman, pecking her on the lips repeatedly. "You just gone let her kick us out?" 

Ezmeralda shrugs, laughing, "aye, that ain't my fight, Uce." He playfully glares at her, pinching at her sides. "Girl, shut up and give me my kiss." She does so, laughing against his lips. "Be safe, alright? And call me if you need, I love you."

"I will and I love you," she whispers, gently backing away. She watches as he leaves out the door with the rest of the men, trying to ignore Trinity's bouncing eyebrows.

While Jojo couldn't participate in the activities because of her age and Eva personally stayed away from alcohol, the two decided to just walk around and enjoy each other's company while the others partied and enjoy the show. As the night continues, Bri becomes lost in the alcohol and the music as her, Nikki, and Ariane dance on top of the mini tables in the section. She even ran across the couch with the drink in hand. 

"Oh, Lord," Ezmeralda laughs, shaking her head as Nikki falls off the couch. Trinity shakes her head, "y'all we gotta wrestle next week." 

Before the girls... Bri, could get too far gone, they decided to retreat back to the bachelorette room where they continued to drink and have fun in a safer space. Bri and Ezmeralda sit beside Natalya, noticing that her mood turned dark quick. 

"I don't know what it is," Natalya laughs, "but Brie, Ezzie, please don't get mad at me.  I know you guys are gonna get so mad. But, I honestly can't get Jaret out of my mind. I don't know what it is and what's wrong with me?"

Both women's faces drop, eyes slightly widening at the bomb. They don't say anything yet, allowing the woman to continue. "I don't know why, but I wanna text back and Nicole told me not to text back. But I already have."

"This is your bachelorette party," Brie points out. Nattie takes a seat, "Yeah, I feel so overwhelmed to be honest. I feel like there's nobody on the planet that I love more than TJ. Bit, I feel like I'm not ready for it." Her phone vibrates. 

Brie and Ezmeralda follow her to the master bedroom. "What's wrong with me?" She asks, eyes tearing up. "Like, I wanted to have this fairytale wedding, but part of me is like so scared." 

"When we were seeing the Chippendales, I was not looking forward to it. But when we went there, it was something fun, right?" Brie speaks. "The way the guys looked at you and it was like... ugh and you're just like, 'whoa.' You feel wanted. And you just feel like, 'wow, in these guys' eyes, we're it.' And that's what Jaret's making you feel."

Ezmeralda chimes in, nodding. "Nattie, you and TJ have been rocking with one another for 13 years," her eyebrows raise, "there's some marriages that don't even last that long, but y'all have. You guys have spent so much of your lives with one another, that a part of you becomes jumpy when this new spark of attention is given to you."

"Once TJ had his injury, your relationship took a bump and he wasn't willing to actually hear you. Instead, he kept shoving you onto the back burner. So, when a guy like Jaret comes through and he's saying all these nice things, he's giving you the attention that TJ should be."

Nattie nods, "and it's funny to me because no matter how many times, Jaret tells me all these nice things, at the end of the day, it's just TJ that I love. A part of me, though, feels like, scared to totally seal the deal."

"And you have the right to be," Ezmeralda smiles. "For all these years, you both had the opportunity to leave one another. Try to find someone else to start over with, but you didn't because y'all are meant for each other. With marriage, that's not something you can just get up and leave when things become tough."

Nattie nods, wiping her face. "I think I'm just becoming overwhelmed with everything." Ezmeralda nods, "that's okay, I'ma head to my room with Josh. Have a goodnight, Nattie."

Ezmeralda makes her way out, reaching the hotel room. Unlocking the door with her card, she walks in, trying to be as silent as possible with every step. Just as she turns the corner to the bed, Josh's body flashes from behind the wall as he screams. Her body freezes, leaping in the air as a delayed shout explodes from her lungs. 

"Oh my God," she pants, hand over her heart as it pulses against her ribs. Josh laughs, clapping his hands before pulling the woman into his chest. "I'm sorry, mamas. I'm sorry, I had to."

Calming down as her soul returns to her body, she sends a chop to his chest, teeth gritted together. "Joder tu madre, cabron!" She curses as he laughs, following her to the bed. "I'm sorry, baby!" He apologizes once again, collapsing on the bed beside her.

"How was your night?" He asks, lightly stroking her exposed thigh. She smiles, "it was good. Brie went into Brie Mode, I ain't never seen someone run across a couch with heels on and a full cup of liquor in hand." 

He laughs, shaking his head at the image that pops into his head. "Y'all was cutting up, huh?" She shakes her head, "I was not cutting up, sir. Do not add me into that equation, I was innocent."

He hums in disbelief, pulling her in closer. "However, I ain't worried about all that. Since you back and we both got some energy left, how about that meal I was promised? What's on the menu?"

She hums, making her way to her feet, slowly stripping herself from the dress. "The chef has yet to prepare the food, sir. Not even the meat has been cleaned." He jumps to his feet, "don't even worry about the mean. Salmonella ain't never killed nobody."

"Shut up!" She laughs, backing up for the bathroom. "Just wait, it won't take long, just like 20-30 minutes." He takes slow steps forward, "nah. I want my meal now." He goes to lunge but she evades him, ducking into the bathroom.

As she goes to shut the door, he bursts through, arms wrapping around her naked waist. "Joshua!" She screams as he kicks the door closed. 

◼︎◼︎◼︎

How are we liking the story so far? I've always wanted to do a fanfic based off of Total Divas since I got into wrestling, but nobody was making Jey Uso fics except for like a few quick imagines on Tumblr.

I'm happy that my man is getting his shine in the spotlight; however, it's coming at a great cost because he still has yet to win a solo match for a solo title whereas Baby Fatu is spearheading a main event storyline with Roman, chasing after the title and he's only been in the main roster for about a year, I think. 

Like, what's the purpose of being Main Event Jey Uso if y'all not finna give him a winning chance? He's leaving his family for damn near 5 days a week to put that work in and nothing to say for it except the crowd reception. 

And don't even get me started on the rumors folks have been starting about his marriage. Like, Ms. Takecia has never been one to have her face all up in a camera even before Jey's big solo push. Even at events such as HOF, there's photos on Pinterest of her posing with Trinity and Galina, but there's none of her being caught on live camera because she's not into it. 

But she was there by Jey's side in one of those WWE vlogs, her and both of his sons. Leave that family alone and stop making lies about his marriage because Takecia is that man's high school sweetheart and doesn't owe y'all her damn appearance. She's living her life as a wife and a mother, leave them alone!

[timeskip]

Deleting this scene from a fic WIP so you get it ^-^ (no character death here, but it is discussed)

---

Killua clutches his wound. His eyes flutter closed, the back of his head leaning gently against the rubble.

“Killua,” Palm says softly. “Stay awake.”

“So annoying,” Killua says, just to bother her, but cracks open his eyes to see her face. Her hair has retreated, so instead he stares at that strange crystal ball on her forehead. “I’m probably going to die—you know that, right?”

Palm winces. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice wavering.

“It’s—” Killua waits until the wave of pain recedes before he keeps speaking. “It’s not your fault. It was that ant behind you, right? I could tell something was—was different. About you.”

Was it this obvious when he broke through Illumi’s control? He thinks about needles and blood, about his brother’s fearsome aura. The ant had a pretty nasty aura too. Killua feels like vomiting just thinking about it—or maybe it’s the injury again, slowing his ability to process things.

“Yes, Pouf was controlling me,” Palm says. “But I broke free because of you. Let me save you. Let me repair what I’ve done; I can stop the bleeding and take you to safety.”

Killua weighs his options. He thinks about himself, about his wound, about the slow building dread in his bones. There’s so much more he could do for Gon now. He’d told Meleoron that he might die with Gon, and now he won’t be able to.

More than his death itself, that’s what hurts. He can’t stop the beginning of tears from leaking from his eyes.

“You should help Gon,” Killua says, pushing himself up against the wall. He might crumple at any moment, unstable feelings flowing through him. He swallows down any self preservation instincts that remain. “I was serious—he’ll definitely feel better if he knows you’re okay. And—and with how things are going, he’s going to die, and it’ll all be my fault.”

He wants to at least leave help for Gon. Something will be left behind.

“I’m saving you,” Palm hisses. “I can help Gon afterward. Pouf was using me to get closer to him, and I’m not going to put him in danger now by messing with his emotions. Right now you’re what’s important—Gon would agree.”

Killua sucks in a breath. “He wouldn’t.”

“He would.”

Killua had thought that all his tears were used up, falling onto the floor at his knees before Palm had injured him. Now, Palm grips at his arm to help him stay upright, and Killua truly feels like this is the end, tears he didn’t know he had in him soaking his cheeks. “Gon is focused on Pitou. There’s no room for me in there.”

Palm just shakes her head.

The next thing Killua knows, she’s wrapped him up in her hair and he can’t move. He can’t even struggle to free himself, to try to get to Gon—what would Gon think, watching Killua die in front of him? That he wasn’t as useful as he thought he would be?

Killua cries against Palm’s back. He doesn’t know if they can save him when he gets to safety—maybe the last thing he’ll ever see of Gon is his back, sitting next to Pitou.

He gladly would’ve died for Gon. Right now, he supposes he almost has.

[redemn]

it's  rare  he  comes  out  of  a  fight  without  getting  a  bullet  or  two  into  him  ,      or  catching  a  few  bruises  in  various  places  .      this  one  hadn't  exactly  been  a  good  fight  .      lawmen  on  his  tail  never  is  .      and  even  with  cole  by  his  side  ,      he'd  managed  to  take  several  shots  in  his  arm  and  shoulder  and  a  good  hit  right  in  the  pelvis  ,      somewhere  close  to  his  hip  bone  ,      but  close  enough  down  toward  his  thigh  that  he's  pretty  sure  nothing  has  shattered  .      he's  been  on  his  back  for  a  good  half  minute  now  ,      good  forearm  covering  his  wound  .      ouch        that's  all  he  can  think  right  now  .

@colecassiidy  .      ❝  don’t  die  on  me  now  .  ❞

❝        i  ain't  gon'  die  on  you  !        ❞        no  ,      he  certainly  won't  die  on  cole  when  he's  howling  so  damn  loudly  about  how  wrong  cole  is  .        ❝        what  you  take  me  for  ,      a  fool  ?      only  grazed  me  .      didn't  do  nothin'  serious  .        ❞        but  damn  ,      if  it  doesn't  hurt  like  the  devil  .      he  feels  like  he's  just  been  impaled  by  a  bull  ox  and  spiked  straight  into  a  tree  .      that    …    probably  would  have  been  better  .    

groaning  ,      he  rocks  back  onto  his  back  ,      leg  lifted  ,      unwilling  to  stretch  it  out  for  fear  of  causing  himself  any  worse  pain  .        ❝        yeah  ,      you  wanna    …    auch    …    get  my  bottles  outta  bo's  saddle  bag  ?      and  a  whiskey  .      we're  gonna  have  to  move  ,      and  i  ain't  holdin'  us  up  if  i  can  help  it  .        ❞

╰ ゜TLOZ : TP STARTERS.  /  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

[rossellini-tyrell]

My glorious return to writing?? Preview below

It's there he sees it, the harsh taupe line cutting a swath across alabaster skin. A flash through the ample arm hole of Killua's tank. It's merely a glimpse, just for half a second or so, but it's then that Kurapika's blood chills where it sits in his veins, his throat dries, crackles, the gasp cut off, dead on his tongue. It all clicks into place. A visceral ache, a profound sorrow deep in Kurapika's bones. A little boy with hair like fresh straw and eyes like the winter sea standing in front of a bathroom mirror a lifetime ago, wind crushed from his lungs in a way he'd always remember the first time he- "Oh, Killua," he laments. The name tumbles forth from his lips like a prayer, so profoundly sad, reverent, where Killua freezes in place, snaps his head about his shoulder to take in Kurapika's expression. (CONTENT NOTE: THE CONTENT BELOW THE CUT CONCERNS A CHARACTER BEING OUTED AS TRANSGENDER AND MAY BE UPSETTING TO SOME READERS)

It's in the heaviness of Kurapika's eyelids, the softening of the lines around his mouth that Killua realizes he knows. "W-why are you looking at me like that?" Killua shudders. Skinny arms cross in front of his narrow frame, as if to defend himself from an attack that isn't coming. "Oh, Killua," Kurapika murmurs again, mouth forming around the syllables like they're precious. Without permission, Kurapika pitches forward and gathers Killua into a bear hug; soft fuzzy platinum hair tickles his cheek. Killua tenses immediately, his first instinct to claw his assailant to tatters, leave them here on the tatty bathroom rug. Kurapika's hold is unyielding, and it's surprisingly warm, warm like the way Gon's arm feels around his shoulder when he's dragging him off to Watch this! for the eighteenth time, even though he knows whatever Gon has to show him is going to be lame, but he does anyway because it's Gon. This hug is, perhaps, even better than Gon's, although he'd die before he'd ever admit that. But right now, he's scared, confused, embarrassed because fucking Kurapika of all people read him like a book, and he breaks. "I-I don't understand-" he blubbers. The first tears are hot against a ruddy cheek. "I know, Killua," croons Kurapika. One elegant hand fists in the scratchy fabric of the tank. "I know." What in the fuck could he know? Killua screeches in the recesses of his mind. It comes out instead as a sob, a high, pitiful wail that's muffled in the plush folds of Kurapika's sweater. Kurapika pets his head, lets his nails drag lightly on Killua's scalp as he hugs him tighter. It's here, bracketed between the Kurta's knees on the bathroom floor, shorts long since cast aside and forgotten, that Killua shatters, and Kurapika somehow holds the pieces together.

Five minutes pass. Ten, Fifteen, maybe. Killua's not counting. He stops hiccoughing long enough to notice he's ruining Kurapika's expensive sweater with his tears and snot. Kurapika seems nonplussed by this, only hums what might be a childhood folk song of his, gently cleans up his blotchy face with some toilet paper.

"You d-don't know, Kurapika," croaks Killua. Kurapika sets his mouth, shakes his head to and fro, golden hair bobbing along. "No, Killua, I know," he insists. It's then when he takes hold of the loose neckline of his top, and pulls it down enough to expose his chest. Except where his chest should be, there's the sheen of tightly-stretched fabric, the subtle hint of rolling curves where there should be none to speak of. Killua finds himself gaping and flopping about like one of Gon's trophies.

"You have...you...you're like me?" he sputters. Kurapika's lips quirk into a soft smile. The one he reserves for Gon, for Leorio, and now, for him too. "It would seem so," he affirms. "The bandages you're using to bind with are showing clear through your shirt, by the way, that's how I deduced you were also transgender."

The Zoldyck startles, recoils to cover his torso as if he were naked. "Is it really that obvious??" he squeaks. Killua's expression scrunches up into something so fearful it causes Kurapika's chest to squeeze, so much that he never wants to see the boy's face do that ever again in his life. "No, no!" Kurapika rushes to clarify. Two hands find Killua's tightly fisted ones, he presses his thumbs in as if to say please, oh please, and is rewarded when the boy unclenches and lets him take his clammy, tremoring hands in his own.

"Hey, no, Killua, I wasn't implying you're not passing; I truthfully had no idea until now," reassures Kurapika, features softening. "I only noticed because when I was your age, I used to do the same thing. You're doing great, I hope you know that." Killua eases a bit. The compliment makes him feel muzzy on the inside, not the way Illumi's would leave slimy trails wending about his brain, nor the way Gon's would make his heart tap-tap-tap against his ribcage. "T-thanks," he chatters. The Zoldyck averts his eyes. "And, um, I'm sorry for freaking out on you."

Kurapika sniffs a grin. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sure making that discovery was understandably frightening," Kurapika's voice is warm, tinged with humor, a familiarity he's only shown for his friends, guarded from outsiders. "I certainly was, and I'd at least been prepared!"

[cheemken]

Hey Knight how would you rank the champions based on how chill to aggressive they are when provoked. Could be any of your AUs

Like who be going

“We have your financial information, says you’ve spent 8,000 pokedollars on ____”

“A girl/guy gets to treat herself/himself sometimes”

And who’d just react with threatening the person back (most likely Lance)

Also one more thing I’d like to add about your Body Swap AU, we got Diantha and Leon angst, but imagine Wallace. He’s gotten so used to caring for himself (and his niece) without his parents since he was young, that he probably cries when Cynthia’s grandparents do something remotely nice for him

Mans never had the love he’s always wanted and now Cynthia’s grandma and grandpa are giving him that parental love, even if they don’t know it’s him and think it’s just Cynthia

Ohoh my lil shit Diantha hcs time to shine owo hahahaha

Look, ik the fandom holds Dia in such a high regard, that she's an angel she probs has the patience of a saint, but she is such a lil shit in my hcs. Ofc, she's not gonna actually scream it to the public, if she's gonna do anything she's doing it disguised, if anything she'd let her mons mess w them, let Gengar get info abt them, and she'd blackmail em. She would, that is my truth. She thinks she's not petty, but she will wish harm onto anyone she doesn't like, she honestly pushed someone off the stairs once bc they were pissing her off and no one ever found out it was her. They didn't die, just broke a few bones hahah

The threats, yeah, I feel Cynthia and Lance would, even Iris at a push, bc these two are like her role models let's be real hahaha these three would plan the most meticulous revenge plan party ever and they'd be front row seats watching the one who pissed them off fucking vibing w whatever prank they pulled. Or really, just using their Champion status to scare them, even using their aces. Like, ofc, you'd really go against champions w Pseudo legends as their aces? One of which can mega evolve, the other has a z crystal, and the other can dynamax

Hau and Geeta and Steven are probs really passive. Like I imagine Hau just ignoring it or like really not paying much attention if someone tries to mess w him, thinking it's just some joke, or rather it's a waste of his time. Why ever waste your time engaging in petty arguments when you can just eat malasada right? And then there's Geeta who's probably so used to it by now that she'd really just ignore them and stop Diantha from letting her avenge her in some way. It bothers her sometimes, truth be told, but she really just bury it deep along w the things she doesn't wanna remember anymore. Steven really doesn't bother w them, it honestly just goes into one ear and then goes out the other, like he really doesn't give two shits.

I think Leon just tries to not think abt it. Like yeah they're just messing w him on purpose yknow, there's no need to play along, he's better than that. But the moment someone messes w his partners or Hop, he's gon go batshit. Like, think of someone making fun of Hop, and then there's Leon behind them, looking like he was ready to kill, and Hop had to calm him down bc the person messing w him was on his knees apologizing. Idk, he's the type who doesn't care if he's being messed w, but he's also really protective of the ones he loves, so as long as you don't mess w them, he's just chill hahaha

Wallace would be petty as fuck, but he wouldn't voice it unless someone attacks him first. Like, he would insult you and your entire bloodline and it will hurt. He knows how to break a mfer, he'll go for you clothes, your looks, your background, anything really. He won't stop until he sees them cry and run away from embarrassment and he's there shaking his head, "pathetic."

~~

Anyways on to the body swap au

No bc I have been thinking abt Cynthia and Wallace while drawing them bc there's just cjmxnxnd a lot going on w them I might post more later hahaha

But anyways yeah definitely tho, Wallace would cave in

Like the first day, when he finally composes himself and such, got dressed, went downstairs, and Cyn's family was all there, waiting for him. Carolina smiled at Wallace all "you gave us quite a scare, dear. You know, Bugs can't really hurt you," she softly said, then patting the seat next to her, Wallace sat down. Across him was Cynthia's sister, across her grandmother was her grandfather. It was nice, so to say, they had a quiet breakfast, small talk here and there, then it got to the topic of the Champions.

Her sister looked at Wallace, a smirk on her face, "pfft, how's it going with you and your crush anyways? Finally got Dia the big shot to fall for ya?"

And Wallace shoots back, "oh, doing better, really. I'll be asking her out soon"

"hah! Bet!"

And just cjmdnd ough to him it feels like talking to his own sister again, he misses his own sister so much. And looking at Cynthia's own sister, looking at that fire in her eyes, the way she'd tease and smile and laugh, it reminds him so much of his sister. And his mind drifted off to a thought, a possibility, if his sister was still around, would she get along w the other Champions? His friends? He's sure they'd love her. She was quite a strong Ground type trainer before she retired. Before she passed away..

And then breakfast was done, they're all cleaning up, her sister was off, going to Sandgem town to prof Rowan to help him w research. Wc left Wallace w Cyn's grandparents. And just chmdnd it was so soft yknow, Carolina was there looking up at him, all "you're not gonna follow her, dear?"

"huh..?"

"ah, you and Chandra would always race out the house to get to Sandgem, but maybe you're tired, dear."

"yes, love, Cynthia has been working hard with her Champion duties, plus with all those meetings too, I'm surprised you Champions can handle all that, Thia my dear."

"that's true, well then, worry not dear, you can just rest today, if any person from the league comes here, I'll tell them off," she laughed, then she pulled Wallace close, "you just go and rest, my dear!"

When Wallace went back to Cynthia's room, the dam broke, he was there crying, holding himself close. It was such an experience for him, feeling that kinda love from family. And it hurts him bc his own parents weren't like that, but he wished they were. He wanted to be selfish, just this once, just this once Arceus, he wanted to be selfish and just bask in their love and let them take care of him, even tho he's just pretending to be their granddaughter

[thenasoneshots]

Thomas Oneshot - (Y/n)'s Candy Store

Requested?: No

Prompt: None

Type of oneshot: Songfic/Fluff

Song Used: Candy Store - Heathers

Timing: Modern AU

Reader's Relations: Washington’s Daughter

Warnings: Swearing, implied Lams (John being a gay mf)

Other notes: Reader is seen as the ‘mythic bitch’ of the school. Being able to do whatever she wants because Washington is the headmaster (hehe)

------------------------------------

“-and then I punched him in the face. Again. Like when is  he going to fucking learn that I don’t like him romantically?” I finished, banging my head on the table, the rest of the Hamilsquad sitting around me in the lunch hall, John on my left, Laf on his other side, Alex opposite me and Herc sitting opposite John.

“I wish I was you, (Y/n). I would-”

“We all know, you’d ‘kill to have a guy look at you the way Jefferson looks at me’. You keep saying it, John,” I interrupted him, patting his shoulder, “Don’t worry, if your crush doesn’t man up and tell you he likes you back, I’ll make him,” I continued, sending Alex the side eye of ‘I fucking know you’re bisexual you little fucker. Tell him’.

“(Y/n)... don’t look now, but I think we might have a problem… In the form of a magenta and macaroni-loving piece of shit.”

I rolled my eyes and lifted my right hand up to my face, hoping Jefferson wouldn’t be able to tell it was me if he couldn’t see my face. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

“Well, hello there, Darlin’.”

“Fuck off, Jefferson. I’m not interested.”

“How did you know I was gon’ ask you out, Darlin’?”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated, before standing up, muttering a ‘watch this’ to my friends, “Are we gonna have a problem? Have you got a bone to pick? You’ve come so far in my books, why now are you pulling on my dick?” I asked, grabbing the cane he always carried around, using the head of it to bring his face closer to mine before pushign him away from me, “I’d normally slap your face off, then everyone here could watch,” I continued, using my hands to indicate the entire lunch hall where the majority of the school was seated, finishing off their lunch, most of the tables being cleared, “But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice. Listen up, biatch!” I exclaimed sitting on the table my friends were seated at, “I like! Lookin’ hot buying stuff they cannot. I like! Drinkin’ hard, maxin’ Dad’s credit card. I like! Skippin’ gym, scaring her,” I sang out, pointing over to one of the random girls in our year, “Screwing him,” I continued, sending Laf a wink, considering our past hook-up history, it was fun, “I like! Killer clothes, kickin’ nerds in the nose!” I continued, hopping off the table and pretending to kick Jefferson in the nose.

“If you lack the balls, you can go play dolls, let your mommy fix you a snack! Or you could come smoke, pound some rum and coke in my Porsche with the quarterback! Woah! Woah! Woah!

Honey, whatchu waitin’ for? Welcome to my candy store. Time for you to prove you’re not a loser anymore, then step into my candy store. Girls fall at your feet, pay the check, help you cheat. All you have to do is say goodbye to Shamu. That freak’s not your friend, I can tell, in the end, if he had your shot he would leave you to rot! ‘Course if you don’t care, fine! Go braid his hair, maybe Sesame Street is on, woah! Or forget that creep and get in my Jeep. Let’s go tear up someone’s lawn. Woah! Woah! Woah! Honey, whatchu waitin’ for? Welcome to my candy store you just gotta prove you’re not a pussy anymore then step into my candy store. You can join the team,” I continued motioning to my friends, leaning on the cane I’d taken from Jefferson a few minutes prior, proving I was not planning to return it once I’d finished my fun by messing with him, “Or you can bitch and moan. You can live the dream or you can die alone. You can fly with eagles or if you prefer; Keep on testing me, and end up like her!”

At this moment, James came running up to Jefferson, seemingly out of breath, “Thomas, look! Dolley invited me to her party! This proves she’s been thinking about me!” (I hate being mean to Jemmy, but I couldn’t think of anyone else to use)

“Color me stoked!” I heard Jefferson mutter, proving he was still trying to get on my good side, knowing I’d been the one to send James the small note, me being able to imitate anyone’s handwriting.

“Woah! Honey, whatchu waiting for? Step into my candy store! Time for you to prove you're not a lame ass anymore! Oooh woah! Woah oh oh! Then step into my candy store!” I finished, posing whilst holding the cane in both hands (think the end of ‘What’d I Miss?’) before sitting down and finishing off my lunch.

“Okay, fine. Point proven. I’ll leave you alone.”

----------------------

I had been sitting on one of the benches outside, taking in the summer air, when I heard muttering from behind me, “No, you tell her!”

“She’ll be more annoyed if it’s me!”

“She likes you best, John, you tell her!”

“What?! Are you trying to get me killed?”

At this point I got annoyed with the four of them ruining my peaceful break from the school day and stood up, walking over to them, “What are you boys muttering about?”

“John’s got something to tell you, (Y/n)! We’ll leave you in peace!” Alex shouted, pushing John forward before grabbing Laf and Herc by the wrists and dragging them off, leaving me and John alone.

“Listen, (Y/n). Please don’t kill me for this but… the thing is… w-we don’t want to be your friends anymore!” he sputtered, probably trying to get it over with as soon as possible. That was a dagger to my heart. I knew I was a bitch sometimes, but I didn’t realise it was to the point where it made the Hamilsquad scared of me. I nodded, trying to hold back the tears, “Okay, I understand.” I saw John breathe a sigh of relief as he ran off in the direction Alex had dragged the other two off in. I just returned to the bench I was sitting on and sobbed. Not caring any more.

“(Y/n)?”

“Fuck off, Jefferson. I’m not in the mood for you to ask me on another date right n-wait did you just call me by my first name?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for always pestering you about a date, but that’s not the important thing right now. What is, is you tellin’ me why you’re upset. I've never seen you cry in all the years I’ve known you.”

“Because I didn’t have a reason. I should have known. I should have known those little pieces of shit were only being my friends because they knew it meant they could get away with any prank they wanted to.”

“What?”

“Laurens just came over and told me they didn’t want to be friends anymore. No one likes me for me, they just like me cause of my dad, speaking of, I need to talk to him, if you’ll excuse me,” I spoke, standing up and starting to walk off, before I was grabbed by the wrist, “(Y/n), wait. Please don’t say that. I know one person who likes you for you.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“Me.”

I just looked at him in shock, yes he’d been constantly asking me out, but I thought it was just because he was trying to get in my dad’s good books or something, “Y-you’re serious?” He nodded and brought a hand up to my face, wiping the tears from my cheeks, “Honestly. I swear on my life, I like you for you, not the persona you put up in school.” I smiled and placed a hand on his cheek, my eyes flicking between his eyes and lips, but before I had the chance to ask, I was beaten to it, “(Y/n), if you want to kiss me, you don’t need to ask.” That was all I needed, and I wrapped my arms around his neck letting the cane I’d stolen from him drop to the ground, as I felt his arms wrap around my waist.

“Wow… That was… Thomas, can I tell you a secret?”

“Hm, of course, (Y/n).”

“That was my first kiss.”

“H-how?! How can you never have been kissed before? You’re gorgeous,” Thomas asked, a shocked look on his face. I just sighed, “No one’s ever wanted to kiss me before, well not strictly true, I’ve never let anyone kiss me. Yes, I’ve had a boyfriend in the past, but I didn’t trust that he wasn’t using me for my father, so I never let him kiss me, and then he broke up with me…”

“I promise I will never do that to you, (Y/n). Ever.”

MEANWHILE

“What?! She’s giving him a chance?! I cannot believe this. I thought he’d never want to talk to her again if we broke her walls down!”

“That was your plan, mon ami? You broke her apart by making John tell her that we didn’t want to be her friends anymore, just on the off chance that Jefferson would see she’s ‘not as strong as he thinks’ and leave her alone?”

“Laf, this is not the time. Go and talk to her. You were her second favourite after John, who she’s never going to want to speak to again.”

--------------- BACK TO YOUR POV

I smiled sitting next to Thomas at lunch the next day, James and Aaron sitting opposite us, the former having forgiven me for my comments towards him.

“So remind us again how this happened,” Aaron asked, motioning towards mine and Thomas’ intertwined hands.

“Because Hamilton and Laurens and MASSIVE DICKHEADS!” I shouted the last two words, turning around and facing the two boys I used to call friends.

“We said we’re sorry, (Y/n)!”

“Sorry doesn’t make everything better!” I retorted, sending them both the middle finger.

----------------------

“Thomas, stop, we’ll get caught!” I whined out as he pinned me against my locker kissing my neck.

“But I’ve missed you.”

“We’ve been away from each other for one lesson!” I retorted, giving him a quick peck on the lips, “I’ve got to get to History or else my dad will have my head.”

“Since when did you care about what your dad said, (Y/n)?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” I muttered, kissing him again, “Now, let me go and I’ll think about letting you properly meet my parents.”

“Okay, Darlin’,” he replied, standing up and letting me go with a final peck on the lips.

---------------------------END OF ONESHOT

I had no idea where this was going all I had when I started writing this was the ‘Candy Store’ idea, and then it spiralled into the reader not being as tough as she puts on.

[susie-dreemurr]

Dungeon meshi live-blogging ep 12 to 14

Ep12

Man. They need to go back???? To get someone to revive her????

Lets go Marcille is a dark prohibited magic bitch

The way she got so serious, ist so unlike her

I can feel the tone is finding its way back to lighthearted but like. They talking about their friends bones so it still feels uneasy

Lmao Chilchuck such a mood.

NOT THE USUAL cheery presenting good THING BEING USED FOR FALIN AND THE WARG’S SKELETON 💀💀💀

Woahhhhhh dark magic being used changing the atmosphere woahhhhh so cool

…Fullmetal vibes

Holy shit poor Falin. The way she’s talking all slow and her eyes look so dozed off…

She came back wrong I can Tell.

I’m eating lunch rn I fucking. I thought the stomach hungry noises from Falin were MINE’s.

THE BATH SCENE. I heard of this from The Posts…. Okay so far it is in fact very yuri damn

Oh fuck the dark magic

Elf lore 👀 👀 Elf lore 👀👀 also hints of Marcille being fucked up <3333

“Até magica de recuperação pode ser usada como tortura!” Marcille eu não acho que isso vai ajudar a convencer o Chilchuck que você não é do mal

AH FUCK SENSHI WAIT NOOOOO—-

The Falin has become Anime Main Character

Glad to see everyone was thinking the same thing as me. The Falin has become a Cannibal 🙏

FALIN. FALIN ASKED THEM IF THEY ATE FISHMEN ALL EXCITED. FALIN NO.

Ah. Chilchuck really said we are NOT keeping this a secret. Laios you WILL tell everyone about your freak monster sword

… did it run away from her because she was revived with parts of the dragon?

They are Gon coded fr fr (cheery whimsical anime protagonist that you slowly start to realize that their fucked traits aren’t just anime logic, they rly ARE fucked up)

A CHILD??? Ghost child only Falin can see pog

LETS FUCKING GOOOO ITS THE ELF THE WHITE HAIR ELF

(Post finishing ep 12… Laios how do you have a bit of knowledge of a dog’s bone structure. Remembers “why is everyone so soft hearted towards mammal animals?” … LAIOS HOW DO YOU HAVE A BIT OF KNOWLEDGE OF A DOG’S BONE STRUTCTURE

Ep13

Sell some meat to the first person you see

Oh fuck Falin Came Back Wrong momences

Girl looks like a ghost.

OH FUCK

OH JESUS

LETS GOOOOO AS I THOUGHT THE PAST SHIT IN THE PAINTING IS RELEVANT. Also a character’s motivation being so rooted in the far far past feels cool love it when they do that

Me when. Me when 👀

The fact that episodes 1 to 10 were very slice of life is so funny now. Marcille is currently going insane.

“Your Majesty will return soon ^-^” I’m sorry Crazy Mage but unless you cooking some fucked shit up then your king is Dead fr fr

THE GHOSTS MVP’D LETS GOOOOO

Wait where is Laios— oh he’s here. He didn’t have any dialogue rn so I thought he wasn’t there djdjjdjdjf

Girl what

Senshi mvp’d lets gooooo

LMAO you can always count on Marcille to be grossed out by monster food

lmao the fucking Orc being like YOU FUCKING MET HIM

That fucker lmao

That may be selfish but that’s pretty fair of Chilchuck. That was very scary and they just met the CREATOR of the dungeon, ofc he wants to get the ppl in the party with him to safety but he almost died fr fr

Chilchuck 🤝 Namari in my mind

“Falin is probably already dead, we need to dip man it ain’t worth it there ain’t much hope for that”

…I just remembered. In the intro we were told the king said that the “crazy mage” took over the kingdom and asked for help, then died. Yet said “crazy mage” is eagerly waiting and looking for the king. 👀

“There were some people who abandoned the party, but thinking about it now, maybe they were the same ones. Maybe I should have been less stubborn and followed their example” I get you’re kinda breaking down but NOOOOO Chil don’t think like that :(

Him recounting the stories and smiling softly at the memory yet the room is empty ough

He doesn’t want to see them die :(

Wait fuck let him ponder some more what the hell is that dragging body thing

Ngl while the tone whisplash from ep 1 - 10 is Getting Me at the same time it’s kind of a smart choice to let those be so light hearted because it gets us to care and bond more with the characters, therefore when Shit Hits The Fan we feel more for them because we remember the fun times and we’re like “they don’t belong here (dark tone)”

How is Marcille gonna take this… she was kept unconscious in this scene for a reason right. Is she gonna react poorly

(Again talking after watching the episode… letting the boneless dragon hams go down the drain of blood with that familiar title card of “here’s the food of this episode tee hee” is rly just the show letting us know like. Yeah you remember those lighthearted fun times? Yeah no it’s jover)

Ep 14

Ngl I would NOT blame him for being into Namari because same she’s so hot. I mean what who said that

… are they gonna get wiped again because that’d be funny as shit. Like I know this guy will be relevant but still

Ahhhh I see

It’s kinda funny to see this group because like. In any other anime this would be our main characters but we’re stuck with The Freaks and I wouldn’t have it any other way

I hope this mc vibes guy is Unhinged in his own way also because the face he made when he was about to kill was not normal

Okay Ngl ever since I first saw him I thought he had freak vibes glad to see I was right

Fucking SAVAGE. Okay maybe they wouldn’t be the protagonist group normally protags aren’t that morally… *remembers the Other anime I just watched*…. Well.

Lmao the protag energy of having a moral reason for exploring the dungeon meanwhile OUR protags are just like. Me like money and adventure and food ^-^. I’m glad for our protags

Blue eye guy: if we steal from them we’ll be just as bad as them! Anyway let’s dump their corpses on the river so nobody can find and resurrect them ^-^

Aside from the fact taht they just brutally murdered some ppl they are way too normal anime group we need to get back to our people soon

This mf is a stalker fr fr there’s no way he just casually knew all of that

HE REALLY WAS STALKER HUH.

… they are gonna get wiped again arent they

Why all the protag mfs have those internal monologues in fights it’s a curse fr fr

[obiwanobi]

Regular universe or Jedi but ennemies au where Anakin and Obi-Wan are sent to Tatooine to negociate with the Hutts and for some reasons it turns out to be a trap and they are in a very very bad position (with no weapon and no comm)and one of the Hutt,like Gardulla, recognize Anakin Skywalker from when he was a child and decide to bring « The Hero with No Fear » on his knees by threatening Obi-Wan in huttese (so he doesn’t understand what’s going on )… And Anakin, who sworn to never feel like a slave or kneel in front of anyone ever again, fall to his knees because… well he also swore to himself to never let anything happen to Obi-Wan

It’s a bit dark but I’m in the mood for hurt/comfort (especially Obi-Wan comforting him) soooo 🙄 aaaaand I also love situations where either Anakin or Obi-Wan goes to extrem length to protect the other one and put themselves in a vulnerable spot (that clearly shows attachment)🙄🙄🙄

I Hope you are doing okay Clem :)

this is very 🥺🥺 I do like it for the Jedi but enemies AU because I love moments of vulnerability in this AU, so let's mix all of this with a lot of angst, a bit of unrestrained violence, and a surprising aftertaste of unexpected support! (it got a bit long, so under the cut for the rest)

Obi-Wan is the first to be captured by the Hutts and someone puts an electro-collar on him and suddenly Skywalker's face goes blank.

And that's how he ends up on his knees. In front of a Hutt. Again.

Obi-Wan doesn't know that Gardulla is saying that once a slave, always a slave, and he should get used to being back where he belongs, but he can tell from Skywalker's face that he's spiralling right now and no amount of reassurance that they will find a way to contact the Order or get out of there can bring him back.

Does someone (Ahsoka? Rex? another Jedi?) launches a rescue mission, and it of course ends up in people shooting at them and entire buildings falling down? I don't know, but I really want Obi-Wan having to convince Anakin that they need to escape now, and no you're not going to spend your life as a slave in a kriffing Hutt's palace, no you weren't always meant for that Skywalker, come on, I am not leaving you here, you know Qui-Gon will send me so many disappointed looks if I leave his Chosen One to die in such a ridiculous way. He almost has to drag him out because Skywalker isn't in his right mind, but at least he isn't resisting.

Until they come across Gardulla trying to escape.

the Force swirls around them suddenly and Obi-Wan doesn't have to rush Skywalker out because he's jumping on the Hutt with a war cry, grabbing the first chain he can find and before Obi-Wan can stop him, Anakin has strangled their captor to death. (Somewhere in another universe, Leia Organa feels very proud.)

Obi-Wan takes a second to look at Skywalker still panting over the Hutt, still pulling on the chain now crushing bones and tearing skin in a morbid noise echoing in the empty hall, still yelling some words in a language Obi-Wan is, for once, happy not to understand. He sighs.

Skywalker has to be dragged away from the dead body.

"Did you tell them?" Skywalker asks him hours later in a hoarse voice, once they're safely back on a Republic ship on their way to Coruscant.

Obi-Wan waits until he manages to disconnect the collar around Skywalker's neck to reply, watching it falls on the ground next to his own collar removed by Skywalker a few seconds ago.

"That I signed you up to teach the meditation class for younglings for the next month in my place? No, I thought the Council didn't need to know such trivial information."

He can feel Skywalker's heavy gaze on him, but doesn't look back. His hand is still on Skywalker's neck, rubbing slowly. He isn't sure how to comfort him in any other way.

"Hmm." Skywalker leans into his hand, finally closing his eyes. The skin of his neck is probably going to stay red and tender for some time. "I guess I can do that."

There are many things that Obi-Wan should add. Reproaches and reminders and questions and worries.

He lets Skywalker lay his head on his shoulder instead.

[the-last-kenobi]

I know I have already requested a fic based on one of the dialogue prompts, so you don't have to answer to this ask if you don't want to. It's just that I would love another angsty story with Qui-Gon and padawan Obi (the way you portray their father-son relationship just melts my heart and breaks it simultaneously). I don't have a preference for any specific dialogue to be included. You as the writer can choose anything from the prompt list. Whatever you think would suit your story best. Thanks again!

Thank you!! <3 Always happy to get requests from you! Oh, author’s choice. Now I gotta make a decision... hm.

I decided to go with prompt #1!

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

-

From the very first moment, Qui-Gon had looked at him and seen Xanatos instead.

From the dueling mats in the Temple, to the rundown transport ship, to the wastes of Bandomeer, Obi-Wan had never really been Obi-Wan to him — just another phantom of his former, cherished apprentice, another reminder of his failings as a teacher.

Obi-Wan knew there had been times when it had been different.

In the mines — his small, trembling fingers sore from slave work pressed against the collar fitted around his throat, his breaths coming shallow but steady as he prepared to press it, to erupt, to shatter himself into billions of fragments just to open a door for Qui-Gon Jinn — there, then, it had been different.

Qui-Gon had seen him, and apologized to him, and praised him.

Offered to be his Master.

Yes, of course, yes.

But despite their bond being sealed and the training begun, after that it felt like two steps forward, five steps back, one step forward, standstill.

Qui-Gon could not seem to comprehend that Obi-Wan was not Xanatos.

He was surprised in his habits, that he hated waking early but enjoyed it once he was up. That he ate light, small meals often throughout the day instead of three large ones, and wouldn’t touch a heaping plateful no matter how hungry he was. That he was tidy in his clothing and writing but usually forgot to make his bed until the end of the day, when he wanted to climb into smooth, tidy sheets instead of a mess.

And he seemed ready, at all times, for Obi-Wan to do something… evil.

Not just wrong, or reckless, or crazy.

But as if he expected his thirteen-year-old Padawan to dramatically drop a facade of innocence like a masked villain dropping his disguise, and prove to the Order that he was capable of incredible harm.

It was worse after Telos.

One might have thought Qui-Gon expected Obi-Wan to announce himself Xanatos’ heir after the older man had flung himself into a pit of acid rather than face justice.

If Xanatos had lurked between them before, he positively pushed them apart after his death.

And then…

And then Tahl died.

And it was Obi-Wan’s fault, his stupid broken bone and his stupid inability to take care of himself or be left alone in a war zone, and she was dead. There would be no more hastily made dinners shared with laughter and teasing and her telling stories from her childhood with Qui-Gon while Qui-Gon cringed and shook his head and looked at her as if she were his favorite star, and no more basking in the light she seemed to share.

And when Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, sometimes it was clear that he could only see the love he had lost, and her lying dead before him.

And wishing it had been Obi-Wan who had died instead.

Obi-Wan could never decide which was worse.

When his Master looked at him and saw Xanatos instead, missing Obi-Wan entirely and both loving and loathing the face he saw instead —

— or when he looked at him and saw him, saw Tahl and the role Obi-Wan had played in her death, and wished to the gods that Obi-Wan had simply never been.

To not be seen at all?

Or to be seen and to be despised?

You look right at me, Obi-Wan wanted to say. You look at me but you’re always seeing someone else.

But Obi-Wan loved his Master. Loved him like a son loves a father, like a good student loves a great teacher, and he could not stop loving him and wanting to be loved in return.

He could not even bring himself to try stopping.

And Qui-Gon, it seemed, could not bring himself to see Obi-Wan differently than he did. Maybe there was simply nothing more to see.

After awhile, Obi-Wan stopped hoping, and simply pushed himself to keep going, regardless of what he received in return. It was enough to be his Master’s Padawan, to have those rare moments of perfect harmony.

He stopped checking to see if his Master was pleased with him. Stopped looking for signs.

Qui-Gon Jinn would never need him, but he needed his teacher, and so he would not complain.

And this state of being went on for years.

And years.

The first thing Obi-Wan registered was the sound of beeping. The whirring of machinery, the quiet hum of droids working nearby.

There was something foreign, uncomfortable and plastic, in his nose and his mouth.

His whole body ached, but at the same time he was so comfortable and so very very tired that it felt as if the bed he was lying on had half swallowed him. He couldn’t so much as lift a finger if he tried.

That’s odd, he thought hazily. I’ve never had a bed try to eat me before.

And that is when he heard it.

Qui-Gon, muffled by a closed door or even two, his voice raised as Obi-Wan had never heard it.

“—you insisted on speaking to me about this right here and now, then the burden is on you! I won’t lower my voice just to appease you, Mace!”

That’s not good, Obi-Wan thought sluggishly. Master is going to get himself in deeper trouble with the Council again, and I can’t help him if a bed eats me.

A pause, and then Qui-Gon shouted, “I don’t give a damn!”

Obi-Wan smiled inwardly. You never do, you rule-flouter.

Another voice rose sharply through the haze, but Obi-Wan could not make it out. Qui-Gon spoke again, anger bleeding into borderline rage. “Look where your priorities got us! I warned you, I told you not to send him in there alone, and did you listen?” The voices drew much nearer as Qui-Gon continued to yell, and he was getting nearer, too.

Obi-Wan frowned. That sounded bad. Who was it that Qui-Gon did not trust to go alone, and what had they done wrong?

“You sent him when I was away and couldn’t do anything to prevent you! You went behind my back! Obi-Wan could have died!” Qui-Gon roared, very close by.

A strange stillness fell, a quiet, like the sudden disorientation after turning off music or a bright screen and blinking in the darkness.

Me.

“He could still die,” said Qui-Gon, much softer, and his voice broke. “My Padawan could die in that bed and you want to talk to me about mission parameters now?”

I went alone somewhere and he did not want me to go. I did something wrong.

“Qui-Gon,” sighed Mace Windu. “No. We just wanted to—”

“I know what you wanted,” snapped Qui-Gon. “I’m not leaving his side, and I’m not discussing anything not related to his health, do you understand?”

A familiar voice that Obi-Wan could not place a name to spoke up just then, mediating. “Peace. Your volume and aggravation are disturbing other patients. Master Jinn, go sit with your apprentice and be still.”

“Thank you, Healer Che,” Qui-Gon murmured.

A door opened. Very close by.

Footsteps approached Obi-Wan where he lay motionless, sunken into the bed and burning with dull physical pain and a much sharper pain called shame.

Qui-Gon sighed somewhere nearby.

And then, to Obi-Wan’s astonishment, he felt warm breath ghosting the top of his head and then a dry-lipped kiss was planted on his forehead, paternal and solemn, a benediction.

“Foolish boy,” Qui-Gon murmured, and the bed shifted as he sat on its edge, one arm coming to curl around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Rushing off on perilous solo missions as if I wouldn’t notice.”

Obi-Wan waited, a strange breathless hope inside him, like small child expecting a gift, a silly and wondrous feeling.

“Sometimes I think you don’t know that I love you,” Qui-Gon said. “Go easy on your old Master, Obi-Wan, he’s a very foolish man and you’re going to give me heart problems before my time.”

A sturdy, rough-fingered hand began rubbing absently up and down Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“You are remarkable, Padawan mine. Don’t forget that.” Qui-Gon’s voice broke again.

With an almighty effort, Obi-Wan struggled within himself, searching for strength. When he found it, he seized upon it, and with all he had he reached out along his decade-old training bond, trying to connect with his Master.

A flash of surprise, recognition, relief, joy.

Qui-Gon actually let out a strangled sob; the arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders tightened fiercely.

“You’re going to be all right,” he said aloud. “In fact, I expect you’re going to be incredible, one day, my Padawan.”

Obi-Wan could not muster the energy for a smile, but he tried; and perhaps Qui-Gon understood, because the last thing Obi-Wan felt before darkness pulled him back under to the impenetrable sleep of drug-induced relief was the warmth of laughter against the top of his brow, and another paternal kiss.

[willowcrowned]

Hi, I just found your blog and I love it! I have nevere laugh so hard thanks to chewku and I started reading some of your others AUs. Can I ask you if you'd like to continue a bit the Gray Apprentice AU? The one with Obi-Wan both a sith and a jedi? Pretty please? I would love to see hin and Maul bicker for everything but then they form a brotherly bond and Maul gets adopted by Lord Zannah.

Okay, thank you SO much for reminding me that this AU exists because I love it very dearly (to the point where at one point I was starting to write full-on scenes and stashing them in a word doc for later). You can ABSOLUTELY have a bit of the Grey Apprentice AU

-

Obi-Wan, unlike his master, isn't really one for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. During tenure as Qui-Gon's apprentice, he's had a firsthand view of what results from judicious snooping, which is mostly messes that he’s had to help clean up, and that has never endeared him towards the practice, but this is different. This is more than justified. After all, it’s not often that one gets to look at a rival Sith’s ship, especially when that rival Sith is trussed up in the hold like a Takodana chicken on a festival day. 

Unfortunately, Maul’s ship is disappointing. Obi-Wan has long done away with his notions of Sith caves and fortresses dripping with filth and darkness, but he’d at least been expecting something more interesting than a closet full of black tunics and half a burrito wrapped up in the fridge. There should at least be some weapons— a few poisons, maybe, or a cursed pike if he’s lucky; Sith tend towards backups, and that extends to weapons as well as plans.

He frowns, looking around the hallway. He’s checked all the places he would hide things— inside the engine’s wiring, behind a second fake panel that is itself behind a wall panel, and even in the vents (though those are fairly obvious, and therefore a last resort)— but he hasn’t found anything. Obi-Wan reaches out with his senses, calling for the Dark in the hopes that the Sith-blessed weapons will call back, but there isn’t any response; the entire ship is peaceful, almost blank. 

Obi-Wan slaps a hand to his forehead, swearing. He’s been looking at this as though Maul is a fallen Jedi. Of course he’s not going to bother hiding the weapons carefully, he’s just going to mask them with the Force. Instead of looking for where they are, Obi-Wan should be looking for where they aren’t. 

He reaches out with the Force again, and finds several deeply suspicious blank spots. Obi-Wan grins. Perfect. 

Which is, of course, the moment Maul has to wake up and start making noise. Obi-Wan sighs. That’s the trouble with kidnapping people. They never let you look over their things in peace. 

By the time he gets to the hold, Maul is screaming (presumably with rage, though the bindings, physical and Force-created, are keeping him from moving even his face). It’s a rather funny scene— it’s always amusing to watch someone used to having power suddenly have access to none of it. It’s the panic, really, sort of like a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. “Hello there.” 

Maul, predictably, screams. 

“You know you’re just going to damage your vocal chords if you keep at that,” Obi-Wan says, undoing the bindings on Maul’s face, mouth and lips included. “Can we have a civil conversation now?” 

“I will defeat you, Jedi,” Maul hisses, eyes blazing with fury. “You will know the pain of my saber as your flesh is rent apart.” 

“Haven’t we already been through this?” Obi-Wan sighs. “I defeated you on Tatooine. You can’t seriously be expecting a do-over.” 

“I will tear you limb from limb. I will break every bone in your body, and feed the splinters into your muscle. I will pierce your skin with one thousand needles, crush your brain inside your skull. I will—” 

Obi-Wan gives him a flat look. “You’ll do nothing until I undo your bindings, which isn’t going to happen if you keep up with that.” 

“My master will come for me.” Maul’s eyes are filled with such fervor that Obi-Wan almost feels bad for him. 

“Maul,” Obi-Wan says, looking at him with a sincerity he hopes displays how utterly stupid he thinks it is that they have to have this conversation, “do you really think your master cares if you live or die?” 

“I will tear your beating heart from your chest, rip your spine through your back—” 

“Yes, yes,” Obi-Wan says, “we’ve been through this. I’m sure you know many ways to kill me gruesomely.” He huffs. “I mean, fuck’s sake, he’s already grooming a new apprentice. He won’t be finished cooking for another year or two, but you’ve not got more than a couple months before your replacement waltzes in and kills you.” 

“I have no replacement,” Maul growls. 

Obi-Wan wants to feel cheered that Maul has stopped issuing death threats, but the murderous intent gathering around the other man is somewhat dampening his triumph. “Yes, you do.” 

Maul opens his mouth, but before he can argue, Obi-Wan continues. 

“He’s been laying a trail, you know. Your killing my master was supposed to be the final straw for him to finally immerse himself in the darkness. Of course,” Obi-Wan adds, not very contrite, nor inclined to fake it, “he was then supposed to track you down in a little while, and kill you— for the light, of course. All that would be left then is the sacrifice.” 

“You lie,” Maul spits.  

“No,” Obi-Wan says, exasperated, “I don’t, and I know you know that because I can feel you listening to the Force to check. Sidious is going to do away with you, sooner rather than later, and you’re not prepared to face him.” 

Maul’s eyes widen, the implications finally settling in. 

“Work with me,” Obi-Wan offers. “Help me kill him before he can get rid of you.” 

“This is a trick— you want me to give away my secrets, to betray my master, to turn us against each other to take us down.” 

“Well, yes, that was the general idea.”  

Maul’s expression doesn’t change, suspicion still clouding his features beyond all else. 

“I’m offering you the chance to save your life,” Obi-Wan adds, gentler.  

“Very well.” Maul grits his teeth. “But know this, Jedi, after we have disposed of him, I will come for you and your master, and I will make you watch as I kill him. 

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, disgusted. “Banites.”

[killuaisaprincess]

Non-Breath Oblige

Bisky was a good, calculated choice. Alluka and Nanika both love Leorio, and Killua does too, not that he’d admit it out loud to the old man, but Leorio couldn’t fight them. He would try, but Killua doesn’t want anything to happen to Leorio. If worse came to worse, and he has to confront his family…

Alluka likes Bisky too.

“Thanks…”

The air just feels so tight and heavy. He can’t breathe, he doesn’t want to breathe, but it’s a necessity. Bisky tilts her head towards him, and he just freezes. His own hands aren’t his, and his feet aren’t his, and he can’t ground himself to anything.

“I’m sorry.”

Of course, she’s disappointed; why wouldn’t she be? Why wouldn’t anyone be?

He grips the fabric of his shirt, the fibers itching against his skin; as he tilts his head up, the sun blinding, he can’t breathe. His throat burns, his head pounds, and he blinks back the tears.

“I…“

“I-I couldn’t do it.”

So hit him for it. Punish him for failing. It’s the least he deserves. He’s a failure of an heir… failure of a friend… maybe they were right to hurt him. Maybe he should’ve never left home… his father was right. Bisky was right. Everyone was right. But he can’t go back. Seeing Alluka and Nanika happy…

He loves them.

He hates himself.

“Sorry.”

He tries to be as blunt as possible, but his voice wavers and tears roll down his cheeks.

“Sorry… it took me so long… but I kept my promise…”

He left Gon’s side.

He slumps down to the floor, tugging at the ends of his sleeves. It won’t hurt. Not compared to how much he feels like he’s drowning. Like his lungs will never get a breath.

The pain doesn’t come, just a firm but gentle hand resting on his head.

“I am the one who is sorry, Killua. I failed you both as a mentor.”

His skin itches. He’s gonna drown. He’s gonna drown.

“N-no… I…”

It’s not your fault. His whole life, he’s been told he doesn’t deserve friends. Shouldn’t have them. They were right. He should’ve listened.

“I just…”

He wished he had listened. His own body is fighting him and tearing him apart. Some part really wishes he had left. Then maybe he wouldn’t feel this pain! Maybe it’s selfish… but if he had just left. Gone back home… Illumi could stick more needles in him, and he’d just forget it all. Forever… But he can’t do that to them. His sisters. He would’ve never remembered… if he had gone. He wants them to have a fun life…

It just hurts so much sometimes. He feels like he’ll die.

“I… I’m sorry.”

He whispers in a breathy voice, biting down on his lip till he can taste copper.

“If that is what you feel you need to say, but Killua… It is not your fault. I am sorry I put that burden on you.”

Her words have a sternness to him that runs cold to his very bone, but her fingers hold a gentleness, resting in his locks of hair and playing with them.

He supposes they are the same.

Liars. And terrible at expressing themselves. But he knows she cares.

“Thanks, old hag.”

She doesn’t hit him for once.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

He’s drowning.

The cold metal railing of the balcony is harsh against his feet, the wind whipping and hitting his bare legs, pain tingling right down his spine, a shiver coursing through his body. It felt like a harsh whip against his legs. He stares blankly at the light scars, wrapping his arms around himself.

The sun is coming up.

He looks down.

Just do it! He wants to do it! He can’t take it anymore!

Everyone! Everyone would have been happier! If he’d just never been born…

Everyone… All those people he was forced to kill. Gon. Gon. Gon would’ve been happier if he had never been born. Gon might’ve died with Kite, but what if he didn’t…? And it was all his fault. His fault. Everyone would be happier.

Maybe even Illumi. Maybe Illumi would be less twisted. Maybe Alluka and Nanika would’ve never been locked up… his fault…

Gotoh…

He can’t-

He wants to die.

Killua can’t anymore; once he dies… can he breathe again?

He falls backward, landing on the balcony, pain crashing through his body and breaking at his ankle. He sits up shakily, breathing heavily, and tears blur his vision; he can’t tell if he broke it; he can only see the mix of red and purple against his pale skin. Everything hurts too much to tell… he can’t. He’s gonna die. He hates it.

He can’t-

He digs his fingers into his hair, pulling and tugging, sobbing.

“Hey, buddy. Hey.”

Leorio…

Everything feels distant except his voice and warm, kind hands gently prying his fingers from his hair.

He’s so selfish. How could he…? Leorio already lost a friend, and Alluka… and Nanika… it just hurt so much-

“…’m sorry…”

imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay, buddy.”

Killua recognizes the texture of the chalk that Leorio pushes into his hand; he hated it originally; it made his skin itch, he just wanted to scratch and scratch until he bled, but now there’s a comfort to it, and a weight that makes him feel like he is here.

“Why don’t you draw me a nice picture, okay, buddy?”

“…okay…”

A small breath into his lungs.

Leorio always treats him like a child. Killua doesn’t hate it. When he’s done, and it looks no better than a five-year-olds, and he sniffs and rubs his sleeve under his nose, Leorio just pats his head and tells him it’s amazing and takes a photo on his phone.

Killua’s not stupid; he knows it’s a way for Leorio to keep track of when he does this…

“…’m sorry…”

He doesn’t deserve Leorio.

He doesn’t complain ever, and even when Killua buries his face in Leorio’s pajamas or his expensive suits and cries, he never minds.

“Hey. Don’t apologize, buddy. You don’t ever have to apologize for being you to me. I love you.”

“I-I love y-you t-too.”

He can barely say it between hiccuping, but he means every word.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ��

“You’re doing that on purpose!”

The screeching of his best friend makes him laugh.

Killua takes another bite of the takoyaki, grinning.

“Oh, come on, no, I’m not. Besides… everyone knows you’re the best squid!”

Killua looks down, smiling and placing his skewer to the side, his red friend's eyes widening and filling with tears.

“D-do you mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

He smiles softly, swinging his legs back and forth, letting the edge of his sandals hit the cement.

“Killua. Gon is going to be here. Will you be okay?”

A cold slender hand rests on his shoulder, and he kicks some of the dirt, inhaling. Shouldn’t he be asking her that instead? She was obsessed with Gon once. Maybe that’s another reason… they somehow ended up friends.

“Palm. I’ll be fine…”

She sits beside him quietly with a pensive look as she covers one of her eyes.

“They will be arriving soon.”

“Yeah...”

Iklago jumps up, sitting on his other side, placing a tentacle-like hand on his knee.

They sit in silence. But it’s all Killua needs.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“You look pretty, big brother!”

Killua gingerly takes the straw hat from his sister's fingers, admiring the pink ribbon around it. Joy pushes up in his chest, and he smiles, placing it on his head. It complements the long white sundress he is wearing, with the tiny pink lace in the front tied in a bow.

“Thanks, Alluka, Nanika; I love it.”

He stands up on his tiptoes, patting her dark locks before letting his feet sink into the sand. Everytime he sees them; his heart just fills with so much pride and joy. All the suffering in his life was worth it, just for that.

She puts on her own hat, the ribbon split in colors, red and blue, and marches off, humming.

Killua guesses he better go too.

He feels the ocean pulling him in again…

Killua looks over at the waves crashing down, grabbing the top of his hat as the breeze picks up.

He’s okay.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Woahhh! Killua, you look really pretty!”

Gon still has that same smile. Those same warm eyes. And he’s saying things that should make Killua’s stomach twist and his heartbeat flurry. It’s Gon. It’s Gon. The anxiety, the thought would drown him…

It doesn’t. He swims up past it.

Gon’s smile… his words… him… Killua doesn’t feel any anxiety. Sadness. Fear. Butterflies. He doesn’t feel anything.

He smiles; a polite one. Not like the ones he gives Alluka and Nanika, or Ikalgo and Palm, or Leorio.

“Thanks.”

He turns on his heel, looking as Ikalgo jumps up and down.

“Killua! Come on!”

He takes a step forward in the sand, running forward, laughing, letting the breeze whip up his dress and tangle his hair, and...

He doesn’t look back.

[x-childish-x]

obi wan x femreader fanfic idea where they go with padme to mustafar to confront anakin. after force choking padme, anakin’s like “you turned her against me! now i shall take away what you love most” and at first obi wan’s confused, “what i love most?” then he realizes anakin’s talking about reader. reader starts to be force choked by anakin and then obi wan says prompt #22 from the main prompts.

What You Love Most

Pairing: Obi-Wan x fem!reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Warnings: force choking!, angsty Anakin, fluff, soft!Obi-Wan, Padme dies

Word Count: 1,476

A/N: Hello lovely Anon! This was really fun to write, and was such an incredibly interesting idea! I really hope you enjoy this and that it's what you wanted. Thank you so much for the request! Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated and welcomed! (e/c): eye color

Summary: Anakin tries to get revenge for Obi-Wan "turning" Padme against him, and you're both left to deal with the aftermath of the Sith's decision.

(gif not mine!)

You glanced toward C-3PO before rushing out of the ship after Padme. You watched as Anakin wrapped her up in his arms, your arm slowly twitching back towards your lightsaber, but you forced yourself to remain calm. Padme was your best friend, you knew you couldn't harm Anakin while she was still here, but everything Obi-Wan told you made it extremely tempting.

You stopped a few feet away from the pair, listening silently, and at the mention of Obi-Wan's name, Anakin's gaze flicked up. His eyes landed on you. His glare was so intense it left you feeling nauseous, feeling like Anakin thought you shouldn't be alive. You gave a soft nod of acknowledgment to the younger boy, your face neutral as he looked back to Padme.

As Anakin's speech continued, you felt yourself getting more riled, the idea of justice getting hard to keep away. Padme turned her head, using her peripheral vision to ensure you were still behind her as she slowly backed up, realizing how crazy Anakin was beginning to sound. Your hand locked around your lightsaber hilt as Anakin yelled at Padme, the urge to protect her taking over your body, not causing you to spare a glance back at Obi-Wan, who had now made his presence known.

"You're with him!" Anakin growled, "You brought him here to kill me!"

"Anakin, stop!" You yelped as he began force-choking Padme.

You went to unleash your lightsaber, prepared to battle the new-come sith, but you felt the force wrap around your waist and begin yanking you back. Obi-Wan's yell for Anakin to let Padme go filled your ears as you realized Obi-Wan was pulling you further away from the deranged boy. He was trying to protect you, pull you out of the line of fire.

A cry escaped your lips as you watched Padme fall. Obi-Wan flinched slightly at your cry, standing in front of you in an attempt to shield you from Anakin.

"You turned her against me!" Anakin screamed, his eyes filled with rage, "Now I shall take away what you love most!"

"What I love most?" Obi-Wan questioned, watching Anakin slide off his robe.

Anakin's eyes locked on you, watching you fight against the force around your waist, trying to get to Padme as tears streamed down your cheek. Obi-Wan's eyes widened, immediately filling with anger and panic as Anakin raised his hand and your gasp filled the air. Your hands fly to your throat, desperately trying to get away from the force on your neck, as the force on your waist drops, and you try to gasp for air.

“If you don’t let her go right now, I swear I will break every bone in your body," Obi-Wan practically growls as he yanks off his robe, his hand flying to his lightsaber.

Your vision is beginning to fill with spots. Your body is panicking, going into fight or flight mode as it tries to keep you alive. Anakin, the little boy you helped Obi-Wan train, is trying to kill you. You realize, as Obi-Wan's eyes meet yours, your hands feel numb now, and your legs surely wouldn't hold you up if it wasn't for Anakin's force around your neck.

Without wasting another second, Obi-Wan lunges at Anakin, shocking his old Padawan, who didn't expect his Master to make the first move. The shock makes the younger boy let go of you, and you crash to the ground, a wretched gasp for air leaving your lips. Tears begin to rush quicker down your cheeks as you struggle to gain focus again, your vision completely blurry as your ears just barely register the sound of lightsaber's clashing together. You struggle, trying to crawl to Padme at the very least, but instead, the darkness consumed your vision before you could.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

You groaned slightly at the feeling of your body being moved, jostled awake by the movement. 

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan's voice whispered, his eyes locked on your face in worry.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, "Obi-Wan?"

You winced. Your voice sounded terrible. Cracking and hoarse, you sounded like you'd screamed for hours, making Obi-Wan frown, "Yes... I'm here."

"Don't..." You winced again, your throat burning, "Leave me."

Obi-Wan nodded. The distraught look on your face was more than enough to have him cradling you in his lap as he flew to Master Yoda. You'd fallen unconscious again, and although your force life was strong, Obi-Wan was immensely worried about you. He handed you off to Bail Organa, rushing back onto the ship to get Padme. 

The next time you awoke, you felt significantly better than the last time, and you smiled as R2-D2's beeps filled the air. Looking down, you spotted the droid at the side of your bed, whistling and beeping far too fast for you to understand, as you were still learning binary. 

"Good morning, sleepy," Obi-Wan teased, a smile on his lips as he entered the room.

"Morning," You mumbled back. Your voice sounded much better but was still sore, making you wince, "Thanks for saving me."

Obi-Wan walked further in, coming to sit on the side of your bed and grab one of your hands, "They said your throat will still be sore for a while."

You nodded, squeezing Obi-Wan's hand as a desperate feeling filled your body, "Where is Anakin? And Padme? What happened? Where are we?"

"Calm down," Obi-Wan smiled, projecting calming feelings through the force to you, "Anakin's... he's gone. I had to... he couldn't be saved anymore."

You frowned, squeezing the man's hand once more as you pushing comforting feelings to him, "I'm so sorry, Obi... I know how much he meant to you."

Obi-Wan simply nodded, nodding his head, "(Y/n)... Padme's gone... she passed during labor."

You gasped, your eyes widening in horror as you looked away from the older man. You supposed Anakin's visions had been correct. Padme was sentenced to die, but Anakin had never realized he was the reason she died in all his visions. Tears filled your eyes as Obi-Wan shifted, standing up.

"She... she left something for us-- for you. She asked if you would..."

You scrunched your eyebrows, confused by Obi-Wan's sudden nervousness. He quickly left the room before returning with a small bundle of blankets in his arms. Your eyes widened as Obi-Wan walked closer, and you realized what was inside the bundle of blankets.

"She had twins. They're being separated for safety, but... she asked if we'd take care of him, of Luke," Obi-Wan spoke softly, leaning down to show you the sleeping baby boy in his arms.

You reached out, taking the small baby from Obi-Wan, scooting over to allow the older man to lay beside you, "Normally I would expect to be married, hell even have at least gone on a date, before having a baby."

Obi-Wan smiled slightly, knowing you felt honored that Padme had asked you and Obi-Wan, "That could be arranged."

"Is it true?" You rasped, gently brushing Luke's tiny baby hair with your fingers. Obi-Wan hummed, watching you in awe, "That I'm what you love most... as Anakin said. Is that true?"

Your eyes flicked up to Obi-Wan, and he immediately felt himself smiling, getting lost in your beautiful (e/c) eyes. How could he not be in love with you? He grew up with you in the temple, trained with you, went on missions with you, and it was always you. Even his old master, Qui-Gon Jinn tried to get you two together, but Obi-Wan had always insisted there was a code to follow. But... not anymore. 

"Of course, you're what I love most," Obi-Wan smiled, "I have been since you slammed me to the ground on my first day of lightsaber training."

You laughed lightly, looking back to the baby in your arms as you smiled, "I love you too... it scared me, knowing I couldn't help you against Anakin."

Obi-Wan flushed. The idea of you worrying about him made him frown. He turned, lightly kissing the top of your head as he had many times before, only this time it was different, "There is never a need for you to worry about me." 

You sighed, knowing Obi-Wan wouldn't admit that he'd been scared of fighting Anakin also, "So, it's just us three now?"

"Just us three. I was thinking, we could go to Tatooine, build a life there, raise Luke."

You smiled, sure this wasn't what you wanted. No, you wanted Anakin and Ahsoka bickering over who could hold one of the twins. And you wanted Padme here, watching everyone coo over her babies. You wanted to be teasing Rex about his armor scaring the children. But... this would do. This, just you and Obi-Wan and Luke, was more than perfect. As long as you have Obi-Wan by you, you knew you could handle anything thrown your way.

[urlsaremeaningless]

fnaf song sentence starters 

I never thought I'd be the one they call the enemy

Come join the fun

Keep an eye on all your toys, 'cause some don't look the same

We never gave you permission to be taped, dude

Stop getting in my way

Hello? Did someone get the message?

I'm just trying to show you how your flesh will be rotting

We removed his squishy casing

By the time you realize it there is nothing of you left

Every battery fades and drains

Nah, I ain't falling for your traps

Look, running is just something that you can't do

But sometimes to do some good you've gotta be the bad guy!

You'll be so happy just as long as you survive the night

I'm not allowed to cry, 'cause they told me I would die

Can't help but notice that you're home alone

In my opinion, you're much too kind

How long will you last through these memories of the past?

There was a full moon in the sky

Take a journey through the night

We have a few rules & if you break them, we will have to break you :)

Why do you want to stay?

You thought your safest place to breathe was right inside your room

I want to throw you out just like my broken tv

Hope you'll be taken apart

I don't wanna hear no more complaining

Suicide didn't work so what the fuck are you gon' do if you can never hurt?

It's not that we don't trust you, we do!

I'm so glad to have an other member of the band

It's not worth losing sleep

It's not the first time you'll die

And ended up replacing it with scraps that we had found

Ain't going home so l better go big

The story must be told

You should have looked for another job

I'm not the bad guy

I've lost my patience

You'll forever be part of this community

Your fate will lead to doom

We tried to fix him up but it was all in vain

It's never up to me or you

Is this where you want to be?

I'm passing down this golden opportunity

You're one of us now

It's great to see new faces around!

Can you hear my call?

I'm not a psycho but I've got a purple heart

I hope you die in a fire

Hope you'll get shot and expire

You're feeling your heart stall

I just want to see your guts rain like it's grape juice

Even the tiniest little mistakes, can leave behind the messiest stains

I think I see a bit of flesh inside the new guy!

You were very brave

Hope you'll be stabbed in the heart

Every toy eventually breaks

We ain't blind we can find where the tape's viewed

I'll take you away to our enchanting land of play

My condolences...But honestly you're not gonna be missed

They bite you to the bone

I was never one to say this ain't a game, dude

Get inside that suit?

You seem acquainted with those doors

When faced with friendly singing animals you never caved

We said farewell and had him terminated

You thought you were alone

I really hate you

Your life is no longer safe

What is that I spy?

There's so much satisfactory in this

Nice to meet you, are you new in town?

Just don't break the rules & play nice

You've got some skin that needs removing before we start

But, what a shame! A crying shame!

When I've got a problem, I usually cut it off

Forgive me for being suspicious

Don't lock us away!

He sang just fine and played in time

There's no escape but then who would wanna leave?

What the fucking hell is that?

I'm just a bit surprising

Now you know the gist of it

This can't be real, this can't be right