#if youre a sensitive friend of mine I suggest you do not look at those. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

creadigol · 1 year ago

Note

i adore your writing!! it's so fantastic!! could you maybe do something involving a grumpy x sunshine pairing with one of them being targeted by a killer, like in a slasher movie? but you totally don't have to if you don't want to!

Thank you so much! I must admit that I have never tried my hand at a slasher type genre, but I have always wanted to give it a go. And you must have read my mind bc a grump X sunshine pairing is my absolute favorite! I hope y’all like this! So sorry for the long wait!

Warning: There is blood, gore, and obsessive characters in this one. Please take care while reading if those are sensitive issues. Love y’all!

I decided to try this with a few original characters I made for a story I’m currently working on. So, the characters are mine, but this amazing idea is all this anonymous sender!

It was so silent they not only heard it, but felt it.

The dark of the closet was cut only by the thine stream of light the crooked door frame provided. Leo thought his heart would beat right out of his chest, but he still resisted the urge to gulp in breaths like his panic so desperately wanted him to.

How had they not seen? In retrospect it was oh so obvious. Everyone Leo had ever become close to, everyone who he had expressed even the slightest interest in romantically ended up dead or severely injured. It was a nightmare in the truest sense. But, the “accidents” had always seemed just that. Just accidents.

God, he should have listened to Joshua when he warned him. If Leo had only just listened and not been so damn trusting they wouldn’t be in this situation right now. What was wrong with him anyway? Why did Leo feel the need to be liked by everyone all the time?! He was charismatic, outgoing, an insatiable flirt, and he always connected with whomever he was with. He was extremely well liked. Too liked.

He had never meant for someone to like him that much. He had never wanted someone to become obsessed.

Why couldn’t he be more like Joshua? Joshua who had the scariest resting bitch face. Joshua who rarely laughed unless it was with his family or Leo. Joshua who was known not only to make suspects wet themselves, but his own teammates as well. Joshua, who despite being the complete opposite of Leo, was Leo’s closest friend. Leo’s best friend.

Joshua, who was with Leo now in this shitty broom closet at the shitty air Bnb with a shitty stalker looking for them.

Leo’s nervousness must have become noticeable as he felt Joshua take a deep breath behind him and place his hand on Leo’s forehead in comfort. The breath was deep, yet silent, a testament to Joshua’s years of training and line of work. Leo felt a pang of envy at his friend’s stoicness. He could feel Joshua’s heart beat between his shoulder blades as his back was uncomfortably pressed against Joshua’s chest. A position they got into when Joshua heard Eddie coming and swiftly grabbed Leo and pulled him into the broom cupboard.

Strong, steady, and calm. How did Joshua do that when Leo knew for a fact that his best friend was just as freaked out as he was?

Maybe Joshua could teach him after all this was over.

If they got out of here that is.

If they did, they might be the only ones. Eddie had done an excellent job of picking off their merry little group one by one. No phones, no help, just them and the slasher. When Eddie had suggested they take a little vacation it had seemed so fun at the time. Get their group together and rent a cabin, take some time off from their various jobs, plan what the New Years party was going to be…God, Leo should have known!

There’s a difference between a personal assistant knowing things about you, and them knowing everything about you. But Leo had never had an assistant before Eddie, he didn’t know that Eddie was too attentive compared to the normal kind.

“We’ll wait him out, then look for the others,” Joshua whispered. It was so quiet that Leo was sure he wouldn’t have heard it except for Joshua’s face against his ear.

But what would they find? Already three were dead, perhaps more. Bobby, Jared, and…and…Karen. She had been the worst of them. And why? Just because Leo dared to take a girlfriend?

He couldn’t help a tear trailing down his face as his empathy went overboard. How scared they must have been. How betrayed.

Joshua must have noticed, because his arm around Leo tightened and his face pressed closer to his ear.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll get through this. We always do,” he whispered again. Leo only nodded slightly, not trusting his broken voice to be quiet enough to respond.

Joshua seemed like he was about to whisper something else when he abruptly stopped. It took Leo a second to realize why. There in the kitchen, just feet from them, there was movement, the sound of the kitchen door closing and locking. Shuffled footsteps and a scraping sound.

What was that scraping sound?

Oh god, it was a butcher’s knife. A butcher’s knife being drawn against walls and cabinets as the holder walked by.

Eddie was in the room!

Both Leo and Joshua stopped breathing as they listened.

“Leo” came the smooth sing-song voice. “I know you’re in here.”

Leo stiffened, but Joshua held fast so no sound was made.

“Come on man,” Eddie continued. “I know how it seems now, but that’s just because you’ve always been surrounded by poisonous people. Once it’s just you and me you’ll understand. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you… And you’ll enjoy it.”

Now it was Joshua who stiffened. His grip on Leo started to shake and Leo knew it wasn’t in fear.

Joshua was pissed. Scratched that, Leo felt the heat radiating off Joshua’s face, he was furious.

The scraping stopped just in front of the broom cupboard.

“Oh, well that’s just too cute. Hiding with the brooms?”

Before Eddie could open the door, Joshua’s leg shot out from beside Leo and kicked the door with enough force to splinter the wood.

Eddie must have been close as he was shot back by the power of it and was sent tumbling into the stove.

Joshua wasted no time in practically picking up Leo and pushing them both from the cupboard, then immediately positioning Leo away from Eddie.

Eddie was a terrible sight. Covered in blood which was not his own, clutching the offending knife in a slick grip, while ginning uncontrollably in a way that Leo thought was only possible for bad actors in horror films.

“Joshua!” Eddie greeted spreading his arms out in a welcoming manner. “I should have known you’d be with him. Always together you two aren't cha?”

Leo glared at Eddie as Joshua positioned himself in a defensive stance.

“Why Eddie?” Leo asked, hoping to take the attention away from Joshua. It was easy, Eddie immediately gave Leo his unwavering gaze.

“Why what my dear?” Eddie asked.

Leo shuddered at the endearment. Something he himself had called Karen not twelve hours ago.

“Why do this? Any of this? Wasn’t I a good boss? Did I do something wrong? Lead you on in some way? What did anyone else do to deserve this?” Leo kept his focus on Eddie, hoping Joshua had some sort of plan.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Eddie actually looked concerned. “You’ve done nothing wrong! You could never do anything wrong. You just don’t know how to take care of yourself. But that’s okay! Because I do! I was made for you! I was made to take care of you! Every sunshine needs a sky to hold it. I’m your sky!”

Leo paled more if it were possible. Eddie was…Eddie was…fuck, how did someone get this crazy?

“Eddie, that doesn’t make sense. You don’t need to take care of me! You’re my assistant, not my mother!”

Eddie laughed, actually laughed. “Not your mother! Your everything! Just as you’re my everything. I know all there is to know about you. No one else could care more than I do.”

“And this is how you care?” Joshua spat. Eddie tilted his head towards him. “Look at him Eddie! He’s terrified! Is this how you want him to feel if you care so much?”

And Eddie did look back at Leo. He looked right into Leo’s terrified eyes and seemed to see them for the first time.

“Leo,” he whispered. “Are you scared of me?”

Leo nodded, his whole body shaking. “Yes,” he whispered.

Eddie lowered the knife to his side and stretched out his hand while walking towards Leo, as if to touch his face and comfort him like in some kind of sick romcom.

Just as Joshua knew he would.

The moment the knife was lowered, Eddie made it only a step towards Leo before Joshua was on him and the fight began.

It was like a convoluted and vile dance. One that Leo wanted to join in and help Joshua, but couldn’t see when or where. He wasn’t trained like Joshua, he only knew the few basic self defense moves Joshua taught him over the years.

There was no yelling or talking, just pained grunts and rage filled battle curses.

It seemed to last a lifetime.

Then, there it was, an opening!

Joshua kicked the knife from Eddie’s hands and slashed at him with their car keys to the car Eddie had cut the wires on this morning.

Eddie slid across the tile floor on his back and before he could get up and go for Joshua again, Leo hit him as hard as he could with a frying pan. It had been hanging over the oven and Leo grabbed it the moment Eddie’s eyes were off him.

Eddie only had a second to look straight into Leo’s eyes with incomprehension before flopping on the floor limp.

“Oh my god,” Leo shook as he stood still holding the frying pan. He couldn’t seem to move.

“Leo,” Joshua limped over to him. He placed a bloody hand on Leo’s white knuckled grip.

“He was going to kill you…I couldn’t…Oh my god…did I kill him?”

Joshua knelt down and felt for a pulse.

“He’s alive.” He stated. Barely, he didn’t tell Leo.

Leo saw the amount of blood on Joshua.

“Oh shit, Josh are you…where did he get you?” Leo dropped the pan and went to look over Joshua, hands hovering not knowing what to do.

Joshua only half smiled and took both of Leo’s hands in his. “Nothing serious. He was too distracted by you. I took the advantage.”

Leo pulled Joshua into a fierce hug. “Oh, thank god. Thank god, thank god, thank god.”

They tied Eddie up, searched for their friends, finally found a hidden phone to call for help, and Leo couldn’t help to continue to hear Joshua’s words from the broom cupboard. We’ll get through this. We always do. And they always will.

41 notes · View notes

nanarooincognito · 18 days ago

Text

Haunting Adeline By H.D. Carlton

My thoughts

Haunting Adeline is a very controversial book that is either loved or hated.

So let's talk about it. Quick disclaimer I do not mean to offend or make fun of anyone or their opinions. I genuinely love reading and talking about books and would like to talk about this one with you all. This book however is very dark in nature and covers some very dark things that would disturb anyone. Especially those who have gone through or seen similar things. I will list the trigger warnings from the official website and link it as well so you can fact check me if you so choose.

Child sex trafficking

Rape

Sexual Assault

Dubious consent scenarios

Blood and gore depiction

Murder

Torture

Kidnapping

Stalking

the trigger list

(This one isn’t listed but there is also a scene where a gun is used inappropriately against someone's will)

As you can see this book has some very sensitive and taboo topics and it will be damn near impossible to talk about it without offending someone but I will try my absolute best. I apologize in advance for anything I say that seems insensitive. I do not mean to upset anyone. I just want to share my thoughts and opinions on this book. Please proceed with caution and remember your mental health matters.

Haunting Adeline is the first book in the “Cat and Mouse” duet and was published in 2021. A fitting name for a book about stalking and hunting the girl who is perceived as prey in his twisted game. Obviously the big hulking scarred man with a god complex is the cat who stalks through the night to hunt and claim his prey. Its sounds fucked up because it is. It's supposed to be. Haunting Adeline is listed as a horror dark romance. It was intended for adults with darker tastes when it comes to fictional romance.

H.D. Carlton has said that she recommends that the readers be older than 18 before reading as it covers some dark topics. I do think that suppliers should make it harder for minors to find and read inappropriate material. That, however, is very unlikely as it is not up to amazon and walmart to make sure the children don’t go behind their parents backs and read things not meant for their eyes. Just like it is not the authors of adult books to parent your kids. I strongly suggest the parents pay attention and look into what their kids are reading. A goodreads account is free and would help the parents find all the necessary information needed to protect their child's innocence.

For context reasons here is what you would find on the back of the book along with a summary of what happens throughout the book. Here is your spoiler warning.

The Manipulator

I can manipulate the emotions of anyone who lets me.

I will make you hurt, make you cry, make you laugh and sigh.

But my words don't affect him. Especially not when I plead for him to leave.

He's always there, watching and waiting.

And I can never look away.

Not when I want him to come closer.

The Shadow

I didn't mean to fall in love.

But now that I have, I can't stay away.

I'm mesmerized by her smile, by her eyes, and the way she moves.

The way she undresses...

I'll keep watching and waiting. Until I can make her mine.

And once she is, I'll never let her go.

Not even when she begs me to.

The book begins with Adeline moving into her grandmother's house that was left to her in the will. Adeline’s mother disapproves of this and tries to talk her out of this. Adeline does not have a good relationship with her mother and decides to disregard her wishes and stay there anyway. Adeline was very close to her grandmother and misses her a lot. This house is an uncomfy reminder of things lost and also a safe haven. Adeline is an author and worked mostly abroad and this house is the only place that felt like home to her.

As Adeline settles into living in Parsons manor she decides to get drinks with her best friend Daya.

Daya sets her up with an acquaintance named Grayson to hookup. Adeline doesn't like Grayson at all but decides to go through with it as it apparently has been awhile. However back at Parsons Manor, Grayson and Adeline are suddenly interrupted by a loud and sudden banging at the door right before they could “do the deed.” After investigating and finding nothing, Adeline calls it off as she is thoroughly spooked and no longer in the mood. Grayson throws a tantrum punching his fist through the wall and leaving in nothing but a singler sock all while cursing out Adeline. While inspecting the new hole in the wall Adeline discovered some diaries from her great grandmother, Gigi.

We then learn that our stalker is a man named Zade.

Zade is a vigilante of sorts who hunts down sex traffickers and pedophiles to torture and kill them after rescuing the women and children. He also happens to be a super famous hacker and the head of an organization called “Z.” He saw Adeline at a book signing and fell in love at first sight. He then proceeded to use his unique set of skills to effectively learn everything about her and continue to stalk her. When finds out about Grayson he gets really jealous and bangs on the door. We later learn that he kidnapped Grayson, cut out his tongue and threatened him into never contacting Adeline again. He makes a habit leaving her roses with the thorns cut off in and around the house effectively scaring the crap out of her. As well as leaving cryptic notes like “I’ll be seeing you soon little mouse.” and standing outside her window smoking in the middle of the night.

Adeline has Daya help her set up security cameras around her house and files a few police reports.

After reading Gigi's diaries she learns that Gigi had a stalker that she fell in love with. Her mom stops by and as a last ditch effort to talk her out of living in that house she informs Adeline that Gigi had been murdered in her own bed while living here. Adelive still refuses to move and decides that she will solve the 75 year cold case of Gigi’s murder.

Adeline and Daya go out one night to a club meeting some attractive wealthy men. Adeline gets texts from an unknown phone number warning her not to let anyone touch her or she would get their hands delivered to her in her mailbox the next morning. Adeline ignores this and goes home with one of the men. Zade bangs on the door interrupting once again. The man Adeline brought home goes outside to investigate and is never seen again. Adeline calls the police and finds out that all of her police reports are missing and are not in the system. She also finds out that the man she brought home is from a well known crime family. She finds his hands on her doorstep the next day and does not call the cops because she was told that if anyone knew she was connected to him then she would be targeted by his family and friends. She instead hides his hands and denies knowing anything when his friends question her and Daya later in the book.

Zade later breaks in and plays “hide and seek” with her.

The catch is that if he catches her he fucks her. He catches her. She says no. He inserts his gun into her kitty cat against her will. She doesn't like it at first and then gives in later. She then feels really guilty and full of shame after it happened.

(I will further elaborate later)

Time goes on and instances like this continue to happen throughout the book and they grow closer as she gets more accepting of Zade and what he does. They work together to follow their own cases and grow together as a couple. Near the end Adeline accepts and trusts Zade and also finds out the truth behind Gigi’s murder. Zade leaves to wrap up his case when something goes wrong and he finds out that he had been betrayed. During this time Adeline is kidnapped leaving us with this cliffhanger into the next book.

Let me start by sharing some things about myself. One, I love dark romance books. It is not the only genre I read but I do enjoy reading it nonetheless. Two, I personally like this book but I can see the issues with it and would not recommend it to anyone unless I KNEW they would like it. Three, I personally have not had the misfortune of living through some of these things but I watched my step father abuse my mother in every way imaginable for 14 years. That last fact is relevant because I have seen first hand how this type of love can destroy someone and break them down until it's all they know. My mother is no longer with that vile man and my siblings and I are all safe. She is in therapy and I am proud of her progress.

First let's talk about Stockholm syndrome. Stockholm syndrome is a coping mechanism to a captive or abusive situation. People develop positive feelings toward their captors or abusers over time. I watched this happen to my mother and I thoroughly believe that is what happened to Adeline. After what happened with the gun Adeline felt guilt and shame. She continues to feel this after every time they have intercourse. She slowly starts to accept it and how it makes her feel over time. Before she accepts it she feels shame and as if there is no other option than to accept him. She felt as if there was no choice and no one would be able to help her get away from him.

Second, let's talk about the effect these books have on the people who read them.

I think these books help the people who read them. It helps them overcome and accept the things that happened to them as it gives them the strength to move forward with their lives because now they don't feel so alone in their suffering. I also know that this is not the case for everyone. To some people these books hit a little close to home and trigger ptsd and panic attacks. To those people it hurts them to think that there are people who could be romanticizing their trauma. As though what they went through wasn’t life changing and requiring years of therapy to get even close to recovering. I do not believe that it was the Author's intent to make those people feel that way. I think she meant it to help the first group of people feel seen. And for many it has. I do however think that she should've done more research before writing this book as I don”t think dub-con means what she thinks it means

DUb-con is a fanfiction term that refers to sex that is not explicitly consented to, but is wanted by both parties.

A fanfiction term ONLY. Sex that is not explicitly consented to in real life is just RAPE. Anyone with an AO3 account knows what it is and has decided if they like it or not. I first read this when I was 17. To clarify, my mom had no idea. I snuck it behind her back because I was curious after hearing about the infamous “gun scene” off of tik tok and decided to read it. At the time I thought it was hot. Not something I would have liked to be a part of in real life, but in that little paper world it seemed like since they got together in the end it was fine. After rereading as an adult my view on that scene has changed as I know more about dub-con in general. Dub-con is an abbreviation for “dubious consent.” As in you were not really sure if she consented or not. It’s along the same lines as cnc, just slightly different. She said no. She said no multiple times. There was no doubt. That scene romanticised rape 100%. Reading that scene makes me sick. I have read another one of her books and from what I remember everything was consensual. I don’t think she did enough research, but I also don’t think she meant to cause harm. I’m not excusing it, just asking that people understand that it was a stupid mistake and let her learn from it.

I do like this book. I don’t like certain aspects to it, but I do like it. I enjoyed the overall story. Adeline is funny and witty, and Zade thinks he's batman. Before I piss people off I would like to remind people that Game of Thrones exists. Game of Thrones has far worse stuff in it and has a much larger audience. It made it on screen and everytime it releases a new season everyone freaks out and gets excited. That doesn’t mean the people who read or watch it condone or promote sibling romance and rape. Before that there was 50 Shades of Gray. Also fucked up and morally wrong, but it has an audience. Haunting Adeline is meant for a very targeted audience and it’s ok if you don’t like it. It’s also ok if you do like it. Just please do some research before you read anything and don’t go around shitting on people on the internet because they like something you don’t. If they are not actually gonna cause harm, leave them be and read your own books.

Happy reading, and remember your mental health matters.

xoxo Nanaroo <3

#h. d. carlton #haunting adeline #zade meadows #adeline reilly #book tumblr #booktok #book thoughts #book talk #my thougts #thoughts #dubc0n #rape/noncon #reading #goodreads

1 note · View note

his-saiko · 2 years ago

Text

youtube

tw/cw. cigarette smoking, suggestive, fluff, comfort

disclaimer. details may be omitted to fit the character.

He puffed out smoke from his lips. I waved my hand in it as if I was playing with water. His arms and legs wrapped around me even more. He pressed his lips on my neck then bit down. I whimpered and melted onto his body.

“You okay, little kitten?” He whispered into my ear.

“What do you mean?” I whispered back and looked at him.

“Just checking, baby. You know I worry.” He said before smoking his cigarette. I let my fingers dance within the smoke he puffed out. He put out his cigarette and pulled me closer to him.

I giggled. “Babe, I’m not going anywhere.”

He turned me to him. “Pinky promise?”

I grinned. I kissed the centre of his chest. “Ab imo pectore.” I laid my head on his chest. His heart was beating a bit fast. I let my nail trail the side of his torso slowly.

He growled and flipped us so he could be on top. I chuckled. He bit down hard on my shoulder. I moaned and whined. My power, stolen from me. He kissed the most sensitive part of my neck then slowly trailed his warm hand down on my side.

“Stay.” He whispered. He grabbed my jaw and kissed me.

I whined and turned to hug my stuffed toy. He chuckled and spooned me. He kissed my cheek and cuddled with me. He pulled up the blanket to our waists. We were enveloped by silence. He exhaled sending chills over me as his warm breath slithers on my skin.

“I think I’m going to quit smoking.”

“You are?” I turned to face him. He tucked my hair behind my ear.

“Well, I’ll only smoke with my friends but if you’re around I won’t be smoking.”

“You don’t have to do that. I could just move out of the way if you want to.” I nuzzled and buried my face into him.

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid in the first place.” He pulled me closer. His warmth doing a better job to comfort me than anything else in this moment. “I want you by my side or on my lap whenever we’re together.”

“Babe, I’m not going to disappear just because our skins aren’t touching.”

“I’ll kill anyone who touches your skin.” He said with gritted teeth.

“Fine. Fine. Fine.” I chuckled and put my arm over his waist. “I’ll stay by your side all the time when we’re together.”

“Good. Can’t have anyone getting what’s mine.”

“No one is gonna steal me, dork.” I grunted.

“It’s just a precaution, baby.” He kissed my forehead.

“But if you get caught, I’ll get sad. Jail visits are difficult.” I pouted.

He smiled. “Then I’ll just stop smoking around you. See? Easy solution.”

“No more dancing smoke?”

“I can’t risk your lungs, baby. I’d rather just let you stay more in the bathtub or pool.” He kissed my forehead one more time then started stroking my ear with his thumb.

I can feel my eyelids getting heavy. “But you’ll suffer from withdrawals.”

“You don’t need to worry about that I have something more addicting than cigarettes.”

“What?” I put my leg in between his legs.

“You.”

I chuckled. “Liar.” I slurred.

“I’m not.” I heard him chuckle. Him stroking my ear was making me sleepy as it always did.

I purred. “Sleepy.”

He chuckled again. “Dummy.” He cooed. “Just go to sleep. You don’t need to complain.” He continued stroking my ear.

I closed my tired eyes. “Stay.” I slurred.

There was a moment of silence. I shifted to squeeze myself even more into his body. I felt his arm wrap around my waist. I didn’t have the energy to open my eyes. I could smell him and his scent was relaxing.

“You’re always so scared despite your headstrong personality.” He started. I didn’t have the strength to speak again so I kept quiet. “You’re so kind even to those who fucking goddamn broke you.” I felt him go tense with anger as he remembers the story of my past relationships. I groaned and nuzzled his chest to calm him down. He calmed down and breathe out.

“I know you don’t see it as much,” he whispered, “but I’m terrified at the thought of losing you. I think I get anxiety just from being an inch away from you.” He chuckled to himself.

He sighed. “You always envy me for being cool and borderline psychotic.” He chuckled out of disbelief. “How can you not see how adorable and amazing you are to me fuck…” He asked in frustration. “I never met anyone who would say anything about everything like you. Hell, English is my first language and you have more words stored in your vocabulary than I do.”

“You always ask about what I want thinking that it’s something you could give but what you don’t know is what I want is something I have to earn from you. Your love, your trust. I know you could give it to me like it was nothing but I know how hard it is for you.” He kissed my head. “I want you by my side. I want you to keep bragging about me to my own friends. I want you to see you pick up sticks, seashells and whatever for your various hobbies. I want to see you telling me that every baby you see makes you have baby fever.” I could hear him sobbing. I felt him bury his face into my hair. “Fuck, I don’t even like kids but I want you to have mine.”

“I was so lonely before you. I got lonelier when I knew I couldn’t see you and feel you then. Now that you’re here, I have no plans of letting you go.” He put his hand on the back of my head. “You’re my cigarette.” He concluded. “I think that’s how you will say it.” He comically muttered it to himself. “I want you to be my last. I hope you want that too.” He finished.

I groaned, shivered and squeezed myself into him more to prevent him from getting into a bad mood. “Cold.” I complained.

He sniffled. “Oh, sorry, baby.” He pulled the blanket to my shoulders and did as much as he could to keep me warm with his warmth. “I love you.” He finally relaxed. We both got to sleep.

92 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 4 years ago

Text

the morning after – gojo satoru ver!

warnings: slight dirty talk and suggestive content, like the yuuji one, nothing too explicit! Oh and a teasing, cheeky gojo :>

masterlist ! (photo not mine)

It doesn’t hit you until you’re whacked by an arm in the face. Literally.

You whine and push the foreign weight away that smushed your nose at the impact, less than pleased because you’re having the best of your life, but someone had to ruin it. Nevertheless, you refuse to open your eyes and settle into the warmth that encases you in that moment. It reminds you of your precious unicorn plushie you left back at your apartment; cuddly, precious, keeps the nightmares away, but the best part about this human teddy bear is that he’s all firm muscles and body heat instead of fur cotton.

Wait, what? Human?

It’s when you hear the man stirring above you with a husky groan that you freeze in your spot, eyes snapping wide open your vision blurs for a split second. The first thing you see is smooth skin and firm pecs, followed by a slender, strong neck and a sharp jawline – oh god.

So last night wasn’t a dream.

Clenching your teeth and even biting the inside of your cheeks to stop squealing – more out of embarrassment and shame than happiness, really – you slowly reach up between your squished bodies to pinch your cheeks, bringing blood and feeling back into them. No wonder you’ve slept so well last night, and as someone who prefers pulling an all-nighter until you pass out in the middle of an anime series, it’s quite rare to find a good eight hour sleep.

It’s not like you had much...activities performed that would take up too much energy. Until Gojo Satoru came, the teacher from the Tokyo school, and also the notoriously infamous “strongest jujutsu sorcerer.”

You’ve had a crush on him the moment you’ve started working as a teacher in the Kyoto school. Utahime, who was closer to him, was incredibly appalled when you told her one day about your raging crush on the white-haired man who looked absolutely breathtaking with his blindfold, but without them?

Just the thought of having seen them last night, when he was between your legs, no less, has you inwardly groaning and cringing so hard you feel so shameful that you can’t even look him in the eye. Satoru is fast asleep above you, one of his strong arms lazily draped over the curve of your waist and his fingers brushing against your bum. When you shift a little to give you both space, his fingers begin to hover dangerously close to a sensitive area and you let out a tiny squeak, muffling it with the back of your fist before he awakens.

This man had the Six Eyes – the last thing you wanted was for him to sense and notice the little things and wake up. No, you had to leave before he even gets the chance to move.

The chances of not waking him up was pretty slim, but you’ve always been proud of your sneaky movements that you try anyway. Fortunately, Satoru doesn’t seem to be a hardcore cuddler because he doesn’t pull you back when you finally slip past the sheets.

You freeze for a moment at the edge of the bed, still in disbelief that you actually slept with him. No, no, that’s wrong, you’d have slept with him anytime if he allowed it but – he actually slept with you. It’s not that you’re looking down on yourself because you’re also a special grade sorcerer and could stand your own ground confidently, but your powers when it comes to exorcising and your social skills are two different things that don’t even come close together.

You’re not worried that a special grade curse would kill you and take away your privilege of finishing that new manga you bought in your day off because you know you could handle it easily, but as a person, there’s a stark difference between you and Satoru.

True, he wasn’t exactly liked by everyone because he refused to be limited by rules and regulations, always claiming that one should not be hindered by the narrow-mindedness of the others, but it was something you really admired about him because you’re not like that. You’re old school, sticking by the book, much like his co-worker Nanami Kento who equally hates overtime, and while Gojo Satoru was loud and confident, you’re more of the person who stays by a corner during a party.

Which is exactly what happened last night at Utahime’s birthday party – aka the old wrinkly principal isn’t here so let’s get wasted type of party.

You’re not surprised that Gojo Satoru walked in, but when he did, you had to clutch your spirit water and drink it in haste because he’s got you feeling thirstier than you did last night – and you drink your water plenty. But how could you remain sane when he looked so gorgeous in just his uniform and his laughter has butterflies erupting in your stomach?

Truth was, you’re satisfied watching him from afar. It’s not like you ever plan on asking him out or being his friend because you’re sure Satoru has better things to do and prettier people to talk to, so when he sits next to you in the desolate leather couch, legs crossed over one another and his arm right behind you (although not touching, he respects your space) you nearly pass out.

One thing leads to another, and you find yourself writhing under his arms, shamelessly crying his name over and over again until the dead hours of the night that has his ego inflating.

You don’t remember how or exactly why it happened, but definitely, alcohol had to be involved. There’s no way Gojo Satoru would actually notice you, much less sleep with you, when he’s completely sober, which is why you scramble around the room with the blanket covering your bare body as you look for your discarded clothes.

If he wakes up and sees you, he’ll probably regret everything that happened last night, if he remembers any of it, anyway.

But you’re most definitely mostly sober through the whole thing, so you remember how good he was in making you feel like a goddess. The way he sucked on your neck, licking a stripe at your burning skin while his large hands groped your breasts possessively, all the while rutting in that perfect spot that has your eyes rolling at the back of your head with your nails running down his back – you shiver just thinking about it.

Gojo Satoru really has that effect on people.

You hide your flustered state and quickly pull on your undergarments, about to slip the sweater over your head, only to die on the inside because you realize you’re wearing those full cotton panties instead of sexy lingerie. With a groan, you fight back the urge to cry. But then again, who could blame yourself for not dressing sexily? It’s not like you had any idea that this would happen.

You’re halfway through your jeans when Gojo’s husky morning voice breaks through the silence. “Leaving already?” you hear him smile, although your back is turned to him, face completely morphed into terror. “Such a shame. I was actually thinking shower sex sounds nice – if you’re into that, of course.”

“Satoru,” you greet lamely with a bow, avoiding the way his stunning eyes raked over your form with an unreadable dark expression. “Uh, you’re awake, and...good morning, I guess.”

Gojo smirks at your flushed cheeks, and it takes everything not to stare at the way his biceps strain from the way he supports his head, hair sticking in every direction and looking absolutely sexy in the morning light. “Good morning to you too, Y/N,” your breath stifles, because he knows your name? “Although it would be an ever better morning if you weren’t such in a rush to leave,” he chuckles, “It makes me feel like maybe you regret what happened last night.”

Your head snaps up at his words as you shakily wiggle your arms, “No, that’s not true, I loved every second of it! It was...it was the best night of my life,” your cheeks tinge a shade darker when Gojo beams at your words, chest almost puffing out proudly. Shyly, you turn away from him and fiddle with the hem of your sweatshirt. “I just...I didn’t think you’d still want me here around, because you were drunk last night and all and I thought maybe you’ll regret it, which I don’t want to happen so yeah, I just thought I’d leave before I get to...” you clear your throat awkwardly, “...be rejected like that.”

“Y/N,” his voice falls an octave lower, the thoughts in your head growing so loud you don’t even hear that he’s already left the bed, and now he’s cradling your chin until you’re forced to witness the galaxies burning in his eyes. “You thought I was drunk last night and did it because I was just horny? That I would regret it and forget all about it?”

His proximity has your breath stuttering, your eyelashes slapping your cheeks as you blink rapidly. “Well, uhm, I’m not really your type, so I think it was safe to assume that.”

Gojo hums at your words, his calloused thumb running over your lips. A small smile flits across his face when he remembers how much of a good girl you were for him last night, obediently opening those lips up and letting him bask in the warmth of your wet cavern before swallowing all he has to give. Funnily enough, Gojo isn’t the best with his words, so he just tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before sighing.

“I wasn’t drunk,” he finally admits. The confession has you slipping from his grasp, but Gojo snakes his arm around the small of your back to pull you to him, the warmth of his bare skin seeping into your clothes. However, it’s nothing compared to the lust and adoration burning in his eyes – one you can’t properly fathom in this clouded state. “Tipsy, sure, but I assure you I was aware and sober for every little part,” his lips hover at your ear, one of his hands coming at the back of your neck to tilt your head to the side, granting him access to the hickeys he’d purposely left.

Just the sight of his markings on your perfect body has a tent growing in his pants. You feel his erection rub at the pad of your jeans, eliciting a small whine from you, and this makes Gojo resist the urge to bend you over right then and there. But he doesn’t do that, because he knows your body is too tired from his ministrations, and he’s nice enough to give you a break – even if that’s not exactly what your burning core wants at that moment.

“Like the way you clenched around my cock when I hit that sensitive spot of yours,” he laughs when you shiver at the way his breath tickles you, “Or how pretty you look when you cream around my cock, begging me to go harder because you can take it, and baby, I promise you, I loved it just as much as you did.”

Finally, Gojo pulls back, and he’s extremely satisfied when he sees how small and innocent you look just like that, as if he hadn’t just folded you in half to watch the way your pretty pussy welcome him and take him better than anyone else just hours ago.

“But,” he continues, “I think I enjoyed it a lot more, considering I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time now,” at his words, you furrow your brows, and that’s when he realizes his mistake. Gojo reverts back to his usual lighthearted self and fans his hand out almost comically with his hands on his hips. “I mean, not just the sex, though it is amazing, but having you close is what I meant. Like holding your hand or getting to kiss you,” he sighs dreamily as if you’re not in the same room as him.

“Uh,” you awkwardly begin, unsure of what to say. “Are you saying you like me?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, which shouldn’t have been such a sexy look on him, but because he’s Gojo, it was. “But Utahime said she’d cut my balls off if I even get near you. Thank goodness she was too drunk last night to ever see it, but I’m glad I talked to you. I’m just ashamed I’m only saying this after the sex but...would you like to go out with me?”

Thanks to his Six Eyes ability, Gojo is blessed with the privilege of seeing you malfunction before him as you try to find your words.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader imagines #gojo x reader smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader imagines #gojo satoru imagines #jjk gojo satoru #gojo satoru fic #gojo x reader headcanon #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut

4K notes · View notes

ohraicodoll · 2 years ago

Text

Interwoven | Chapter 1

Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating: Mature/Explicit Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Hob Gadling, Original Characters, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Calliope, The Endless, Eve, Delirium, Death, Desire Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Character Development, Established Relationships, General complicated feelings, meeting the family, meeting the friends, talk about fantasies, domestic life, fluff, past Relationships, ANGST, OFC: Dahlia, Named Reader, 1st POV

Summary: She had very few people in her life and while he denied it, Dream had so many. People that cared for him, people that warned her. Or in other terms, Dream and Dahlia's casual relationship is turning not so casual.

I chewed on my lip, absentmindedly rifling through the clothes in my closet as I tried to find something decent and warm enough for leaving the apartment. The months were getting colder, too cold for the usual dresses Morpheus had taken a liking to, and it was the time of sweaters and coats and gloves to protect myself from the blistering wind. Standing in front of the closet in my bra and underwear, I sighed and defaulted to grabbing an oversized sweater and worn black jeans. It wasn’t like we were going anywhere fancy, just the usual café and I’d rather be comfortable. The dreamlord didn’t seem to mind how I looked most of the time anyways. Speaking of. His fingers skimmed the exposed small of my back, tingles spreading like a wildfire, followed quickly by his arms fully enveloping my waist and his lips finding the dip in my shoulder. I tried not to smile out of exasperation, sinking into the embrace, “If you keep it up, we won’t be leaving this place at all.” Those soft lips of his dragged up the skin of my neck, tempting me to do exactly that. “I do not see that as a problem,” Dream’s voice was low and deep and his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin. It was very hard to deny the Endless, especially when he was bare chested himself against my back and his breath was so hot on me. He was persistent and rarely told no, but nonetheless… I groaned, “It was your idea to get out and be productive, you know.” He paused in his ministrations and I could almost feel the deep sigh as the dreamlord pressed his forehead to my hair and almost grumbled dryly, “So it was.” It had been a surprise. As much as Dream was now visiting a lot more in the Waking world, spending weekends or evenings or mornings when the realm did not demand his attention, we primarily stayed inside the apartment. Even more primarily the bedroom. I wasn’t complaining, you could never say he disappointed but this was the first time he’d ever suggested actually leaving and going somewhere versus tagging along when I had to leave. The King of Dreams, while millions of years old and containing the collective conscious of living beings, was not good with humans. He tried, mostly he tried with me, but there was an innate…snobbery when it came to actually being around humans. So him saying we should go and be amongst them raised some flags. He was trying and I knew that. I could see it in the big and small things he did after months ago when things had exploded between us, blown up so spectacularly that we’d been laid bare and vulnerable in front of each other. Our own trauma and baggage. The power dynamic between us was less obvious and instead of only seeing him in dreams on his terms, he now came and saw me on mine. It’d become a nice rhythm, having him in my life. We had somehow moved beyond just fuck buddies to something complicated. Attached. We were attached to one another. I would never say dating because that sounded…too big and too trivial at the same time. Something we wouldn’t speak out loud and I wasn’t willing to look at too deeply. I smiled and turned in his arms, hooking a hand behind the lean length of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. It was meant to be a peck but he pushed and I melted in his grasp, opening my mouth and letting him devour me. His hands explored the expanse of my back, kneading as he went, and I moaned at the feel of his skin against mine and his hard frame against me. Soft taps in the living room reached my ears, pulling me back into myself. Morpheus downright growled as I pulled away, fingers flexing on my body to keep me where I was. “Don’t yell at him,” I reprimanded, giving him a final quick kiss on the lips before detaching myself fully from the grumpy otherworldly being in my bedroom. “He forgets himself too often,” Morpheus glared at the doorway though I can tell he wasn’t really that upset, just frustrated we weren’t continuing. Like a toddler mad his toy was taken away. “I promised him food at the café, Matthew’s just excited,” I replied as I slid into my jeans, ignoring the sharp blue eyes I could feel on my backside as I unfortunately put more clothes on, “And you should have let him wait inside, it’s probably cold out there in the trees.” He frowned and grabbed his dark gray shirt from the bed, slipping it over his head. I noticed for all his drama and attention to how he looks, when he was utterly comfortable he defaulted to a regular dark short sleeved shirt, pants, and bare feet. He often stayed like that in the privacy of his chambers, away from the dreamfolk but now it was the same in the apartment. It twisted something inside of me at the thought that he saw this place as a comfortable safe place away from the Dreaming. His dark coat, his armor, thrown over the couch discarded. Domestic. It was all pretty domestic which I wasn’t sure how to feel about. I wasn’t sure how to feel about a lot of things these days. It took a while to get used to the look, to see him vulnerable, but I liked it. He would never be human or even pass as human, but he was definitely less intimidating this way. I put on my forest green oversized sweater and could feel his warm hands help pull my hair out from underneath the fabric as he replied to my comment, “Matthew is a dream. He is not affected by ailments that would harm other ravens. The cold should not be a bother.” Turning around, I rolled my eyes and headed to the living room while talking over my shoulder, “Either way, it��s the nice thing to do to let him wait inside.” I didn’t even have to look at him to know he was probably wearing his disgruntled look, his brow furrowing and lips pursed. We had different viewpoints on the people in his life. While he was closest to Lucienne and was the most relaxed with her, there was still a line in the sand where I knew he would deny they were friends. She was his right hand and he cared about her opinions, but admitting familiarity and personal affection would be too much for him. Matthew was his dutiful raven but in the way humans do, or previous humans do, the more time you spend with someone you expect a level of comfort and ease around them. The raven was comfortable enough to speak his mind, Morpheus was not. He wanted the bird to do as he was told and nothing more. It was a clash of perspectives, one that I was trying to wrap my head around. He was determined to see himself as alone, only there to serve his function and responsibilities, when he was surrounded by people that cared for him. Emotions and bonds were hard for him to comprehend, but he felt so much that most of the time he didn’t know what to do with it. Sighing, I helped him get his long black coat on, smoothing down the lapels and straightening it out. Armor and persona safely back in place. He went to reach for me and I ducked out the way before he could, going instead to the kitchen window. I gave him a sweet smile while meeting his annoyed glare, opening it and letting the raven hop inside onto the kitchen counter. I was right. It was cold out there. We were going to have to sit inside the café for once because while the dreamlord may be impervious to the chill, I was not. “Thank you, Dahlia,” Matthew huffed, doing a few more hops before flying to the back of the couch. “I told you earlier you may go back to the Dreaming,” Morpheus’ blue eyes flashed, hands deep in his coat pockets. “Yeah, but you said may and Dahl said I could have a whole croissant sandwich before I go,” the raven swiveled between looking at his master and me, feathers fluffing out a bit. I could see his excitement in the way he slightly bounced on his feet and if birds could grin then he definitely would be. It’d become a routine now that when I noticed him near me in the Waking world, either to watch over me at times or when he was relaying messages to me from Morpheus, I would give him some food. Sometimes it was whatever snacks I had on me, sometimes we would walk to a fast food restaurant together and I’d order extra for him. It was a nice break from the rats and various vermin he ate most of the time. The café was mine and Dream’s place so even though we went there often, Matthew never got any food when the dreamlord was with me. But I had promised him and intended to keep it after mentioning how good their croissant sandwiches were. “We will be inside and I doubt they would care for you to be in the actual restaurant,” the Dream King argued. I frowned at him, wondering why he was so adamant to send Matthew away, and finally relented. Turning to Matthew, I gave him a sympathetic look, “I’ll order you something special and make sure he takes it to you when he goes back to the Dreaming. Does that work?” Morpheus was still frowning but gave a small nod, “When I return, I will bring you one.” Matthew huffed a little and flexed his wings, “Yeah, fine. I guess I’m good with that.” Like trying to placate two small children. Smiling softly at them both, I pulled on my socks and shoes, tapping them on the ground to get them on fully, “Alright then, let’s go ahead and head out. Matthew, try to be quiet in the hallways please.” Morpheus stopped me before I could reach the door, grabbing my large cardigan off the coat rack and making me put it on before all of us left the apartment. Matthew flew up and perched on my shoulder, feathers brushing my cheek and talons braced in the fabric as I turned and locked the door behind us. If anyone were to leave their apartment right then and there, we would definitely be getting looks and whispers. Two dark figures and their pet raven casually leaving the second floor landing. What a pair.

The air was brisk and stung at first upon reaching outside, the clouds thick overhead and I shivered a bit. Dream wrapped my arm around his and took my hand, dutifully taking it in his and placing both in his jacket pocket to keep warm. “I’ll see you both later with my sandwich!” Matthew cawed before taking off, wings flapping and leading him soaring into the sky. I laughed and then laughed more upon looking at Morpheus’ face as he watched the raven take off, a scowl turning his lips downward like he had sucked on a lemon. “You spoil them all,” he huffed, pulling me along to walk down the sidewalk towards the café. The path was a familiar one for us both, the area I lived in close to all my favorite spots. I hardly had to pull my car out of the complex garage and enjoyed the fresh air before it got too cold to walk around. I chuckled, smiling up at him with my tongue between my teeth, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You spoil me, after all.” It wasn’t an exaggeration. I sometimes thought he stressed out about my wellbeing, constantly making sure I was okay in the Dreaming as well as in the Waking world. It was like at any moment he was afraid I would fall apart or croak. But I guess that was the nature of being immortal and having a human as a companion. He pressed his lips together, face a mask of cold indifference to the outside world though I could see the hint of amusement crinkling at his eyes as he glanced at me, “That, little dreamer, is different.” His thumb rubbed over the back of my hand in his pocket, keeping me as warm as possible. For some reason, something felt slightly different about the day. There seemed like there was a purpose in his walk, in the way he kept me close to his side. And for a second I could have sworn there was the tiniest bit of…nervousness about him? It was hidden, hardly the tiniest speck, but I thought I had caught it. It was strange on him, the haughty overconfident air he held about him only serving to highlight the nerves more. I knew it was a mask, that he only gave off the appearance of being untouchable, but all the same it made me nervous as well. “Why were you so hard on Matthew? You kept trying to send him away,” I asked openly, “I don’t mind having him around.” We paused at an intersection, watching the lazy early day traffic go by and waiting to cross. He frowned, brow furrowed, but didn’t fully meet my eye, “I am with you, he does not need to shadow us like an escort. He has a place in the Dreaming he can go to instead of interrupting us.” I chewed on my lip and hummed, not quite believing that was the full story but choosing not to push it. He was constantly teetering on the line of change, of being more approachable but falling back into his Lord of the Realm status. He wanted to be obeyed, was frustrated but understandable when I went against him but much less so when his subjects did. I think I wasn’t helping sometimes, some of the dreamfolk starting to be a little informal with him while I was around. Lucienne had even cracked a joke at his expense the other week and he wouldn’t stop fuming in his quarters about it for the rest of the night no matter how much I teased. So far it was primarily the palace staff but I felt like he saw it as a spread of disobedience and I was patient zero, unfortunately. Matthew was definitely patient one. The café came into view and I smiled at the sight of the little outdoor patio, remembering that first time I had met him there when I downright almost had a heart attack. I thought he had come to murder me after not only breaking one of his rules but then yelling at him and forcing my own dream to end, cutting him off. Luckily, things had gone the opposite way. That’d been months ago, almost a handful. Disobedience. I definitely was patient zero. Still, it was cute that it was something he was nostalgic about as well and so we came back often even though he only ever drank coffee and forced me to be the only one to eat. I would have thought he didn’t eat at all if I hadn’t seen him occasionally pick at stuff in the Dreaming. I was going to get to the bottom of that eventually, his weird food habit. Morpheus let go of my hand, going to open the door for me and letting me walk into the small restaurant first. It was warm on my chilled face and smelt of fresh bread. It was lovely and my mood cheered up considerably. The place was small, more of a mom and pop style bakery than a full restaurant, and pretty empty for the time of day except for the back corner where a man was set up…and waving at us…? The stranger’s face brightened and he perked up, sitting straight in his chair, “Old friend!” Confused, I glanced at Dream as he nodded and led me over, seeming to not only know the man but having been expected. I was perplexed beyond belief, not quite sure what was happening and only tagging along because what else was I supposed to do? The man was darker skinned with longer brown hair pulled behind his ears, dressed casually in his own thick white cardigan. He was the opposite of Dream, warm and bright with a constant smile to his face and stubble along his chin against the Endless’ paleness and stoic, dark presence. But somehow, Dream almost seemed to lighten, smiling softly upon reaching the man and seeming almost relaxed, “Hob Gadling.” Finally the stranger turned to me and the grin grew, “And you must be who he wanted me to meet! Hello!” I smiled, the giddiness he radiated almost contagious. The dreamlord nodded and waved a hand in my direction, “Hob, this is Dahlia Morrowland. Dahlia, this is Hob Gadling, an old friend.” I didn’t miss the way he said friend, the pride in the world almost as if to say, “See, I have made friends with someone outside of you.” And that stuck out because there was only one person I knew of that had earned that title. The man he met every hundred years. The one he’d been meeting since 1389. This was him, this chipper man he gave golden retriever energy to the max. Who he had wanted to meet me. Who he had arranged to come here specifically to do that.

Now it was falling into place why he suggested we leave the apartment for once, why he kept pushing Matthew to leave. The nervousness. I was essentially meeting his best friend (I’m sure he would have argued against that term) and that twisted something inside of me and made my heart pound. But I smiled, laughing at the jovial man and offering him a handshake, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you!”

“Dahlia! It is a pleasure, milady,” Hob grinned again, taking my hand in his and kissing the back of it dramatically instead. Morpheus all about rolled his eyes but still seemed in high spirits, pulling out a chair for me while his friend took his own.

The waitress came over and refilled Hob’s cup while taking our order, Dream falling into the routine of ordering coffee and my usual tea and sandwich before I could even get the words out. But I let it go, feeling his hand take mine under the table and intertwining our fingers. “I’ve heard a good bit about you,” I offered lightheartedly, “You’re not quite what I expected.” Hob raised his brow and smirked at the Endless, “Oh wow, over six hundred years and not only are we friends but you’re telling people about me. What progress!” Dream smirked back, “Only so she may know I am not entirely without other human companions. You have grown on me whether I wished it or not.” “That’s the spirit,” the warmer man winked and I smiled at them both as he turned to me, “Did you know it took over a hundred years plus buying a whole bloody pub for him to admit that? Don’t know how you managed to snag him, he’s got a head harder than concrete.” “I bought three pubs,” I deadpanned, trying to keep a serious face, “And maybe broke some rules then yelled at him.” The waitress dropped off our drinks while Hob snapped his fingers and leaned back in his chair, “Three pubs. Damn, I stopped at one.” I laughed and Dream squeezed my hand affectionately at the sound, both our clasped hands resting on his thigh. His usual straight back posture was loose, long legs practically intertwined with mine under the small table. It was the most at ease I had ever seen him be in public. “So I take it you and Dream meet more often than every hundred years now?” I asked while tracing the rim of my teacup with my free hand. Hob started to answer then blinked, face blank with furrowed eyebrows as he looked from me to the dreamlord with a mix of confusion and heavy annoyance, “Dream? Is that your bleeding name? Seriously?” I paused, also looking between them both, “Wait, you didn’t know his name?” The silence was thick and Dream simply drank from his coffee cup as we both stared at him, not bothering to even acknowledge the ridiculousness of what was going on. The immortal human threw his hands in the air, sighing with aggravation but still seeming lighthearted overall, “Over six hundred years and he never told me who he was. I asked him! Nothing!” “I have many names. Lady Johanna did interrupt us the one time you pushed,” Dream shrugged and sat his cup down with an amused tilt to his lips, “If she had not, I would have told you.” His friend gave him a look that definitely said he didn’t believe him and that was hardly an excuse. I wanted to laugh and smack him at the same time. “So what have you been calling him this whole time?” I asked Hob. I would say that the situation was ridiculous and unbelievable, but this one hundred percent sounded on par with something the King of Dreams would do. Not giving any information about himself and just forgetting in general because he didn’t deem it important enough to introduce himself properly. “Old Stranger, mostly,” Hob shrugged, “Old friend after he stopped being mad at me.” “I was not-” “I know, I know!” he cut off the dream king, “That’s not what kept you away. Trapped and all that. But you were mad initially, can’t deny that! You know, that whole thing with the sand and Lady Johanna makes a bit more sense now.” Morpheus let the waitress drop off my sandwich and leave completely before continuing, having noticed the look on my face as I silently berated him for keeping that information to himself. He knew me well enough to know what I was pushing for and relented with a sigh under his breath, “I am Dream of the Endless, the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares. Now you know who I am, Hob Gadling.” “He also goes by Morpheus,” I added cheekily. “Again, I have many names,” he gave me a pointed look before nodding at the other man. I once went through a list of names for dream gods and bugged him, referring to him as a different one each time. He finally shut me up in a not so unpleasant way. Hob squinted at him as he took another sip of his drink and then at me before seeming to drop the issue with his usual good nature, “I can’t believe she knew before me. It didn’t even take her that long…though maybe if I had snogged you you would have told me a whole lot sooner.” Dream almost choked on his coffee and I let out an ugly snort of laughter, watching Hob’s grin grow at catching him off guard and the Endless try to regain his usual composure. I liked him, the way he said whatever was on his mind and took everything in stride. I’m sure after all the long years you had to, but I could see it going the opposite way. A long life leaving you bitter and angry instead of joyful. Chuckling, I replied with small ribbing at him, “Oh he told me before that even started.” Maybe having us meet wasn’t in his best interest as it seemed to come at his expense. Morpheus glared at us both. Talking to Hob was easy. The man had a way of making you utterly relaxed in his presence and was charming as all hell. I could see why someone like him had grown on even someone like the King of Nightmares. It was hard not to like him and he had this chemistry about him that made it seem like you were the center of the world when talking to him. Hob Gadling was also a shameless flirt and I wasn’t the only target as he often teased the other man as well. He asked me about myself, going off on a tangent about the printing business when I told him I was in the book publishing industry. He’d been around when printing first began and had a lot of opinions. He told stories of their first meeting, of all he had seen and learned and the various meetings between him and Morpheus. The dreamlord added bits here and there but let the man talk, hand moving to the back of my chair so I could eat, but always touching me. I could tell that he liked the mundane nature of this. Sitting in a small café over coffee with both me and his friend. And I think I could see why he hadn’t offered up who he was to Hob all these years. Though aware he was supernatural in nature, the human didn’t see him as his title or rank. He wasn’t Dream of the Endless, just another fellow immortal that was interested in his experience. The anonymity in that allowed him to be outside his reputation and just be seen as he was. I’d always seen him as Dream, but had never fully treated him as he felt his title deserved. Had argued and fought back and railed against him, no matter his station. And for all his wanting of obedience, I think he found that refreshing. Hob and I both saw him as something different. There was no line between them like there was with Lucienne and Matthew. They were just…friends. That was all.

Hob was ranting about the people that bought out the White Horse Inn where they usually would meet, complaining about how it was supposed to be flats but there were disputes and the project was pushed to the side for years.

“I had to buy a whole pub just in case this one decided to show up,” he ranted, hands waving around as he talked, “All that money and what happens? That bloody inn just sits there! I could have bought it and fixed it up but it's too late now, I own one already. What would I do with a second pub? I’m a history professor, I don’t even run the first one!” “Maybe if you had, you’d be on your way to three pubs and could have learned his name faster,” I teased with a grin. Hob leaned forward, pointing a finger accusingly at me, before cracking a smile at Morpheus, “I like her. You should both come by The New Inn tomorrow evening, the new cook actually serves decent food now. I live above it and can smell it most evenings. The last cook…” He let the sentence fade off with a grimace. Dream glanced at me in a silent question to see if I was interested and I winced, smile dropping a bit, “Uh, actually I can’t tomorrow night. I already have plans to go out with my friend Anissa…” His glance became more of a pointed look, brow furrowed. I hadn’t told him that, had actually been actively avoiding it and hoping he was just too busy to want to do anything. The last time I’d gone out with my coworker had been when she tried to set me up. She, to put it mildly, didn’t approve of this half-way relationship with Morpheus. In her defense, I didn’t tell her much about him. She knew I had a sort of casual relationship after my last one fell apart and had encouraged me to have some fun, but Anissa had heard and seen some of the trauma I went through in my past. She knew that hurt and wanted something better and more stable for me, seeing that whatever this was with the dreamlord it was becoming complicated.

Unfortunately, Cameron, another coworker who had a crush on me, was caught in the crossfire when Morpheus caught him flirting with me…It had been ugly and he had quit the following week, avoiding me fully. I hadn’t gone back out with her in a while and felt guilty about it overall, though I knew it wasn’t my fault. But this was a special occasion which is why I was also avoiding bringing it up. “I did not know you had plans,” Dream commented, blue eyes searching and almost knowing there was a reason for that. I always told him when something came up, even if it was as dumb as needing to do errands or clean the house or stay late at the office. “Um,” I swallowed, staring at my empty teacup to avoid his stare, “I couldn’t say no, really. She kinda sprung it on me but she wants to take me to get some drinks….for my birthday.” If looks could kill…oh this was gonna be an argument at home.

“It’s your birthday?” Hob asked innocently, not acknowledging or downright choosing to ignore the tension between me and his friend. My throat felt tight and I forced a smile, avoiding Dream’s look even as it burned into me, “Uh, it’s tomorrow. I don’t really have any family so usually I don’t celebrate but she wanted to take me out. It’s nothing big, just a few drinks and that’s it.” There was a small silence and I could feel his gaze on the side of my head as he took in that not only had I not mentioned going out but that it was my birthday tomorrow. It didn’t feel like a big deal to me, the day having stopped being a big deal after my parents died, but probably the fact I hadn’t offered this info had hit a nerve. Morpheus’ low, dark voice cut through the silence like a knife, the words a proclamation, “We will go as well.” My head whipped to him too suddenly to be subtle, eyes wide, “What?” Hob caught on a lot quicker than I did, nodding along and joining his friend in the ambush, “Uh yeah! Why not! We can both pop in as well, help celebrate. It’s your birthday after all!” The traitor. I couldn’t read Dream’s face which was a rarity these days. Usually I could figure out what he was feeling even if he stayed stony faced, but this time I couldn’t and that made me nervous. Not only had he just agreed to go out to a bar tomorrow, dragging poor Hob into it, but he knew Anissa wasn’t his biggest fan. Him meeting Anissa. Oh lord. But I couldn’t tell Hob no. Dream, yes, but the other man was still a stranger mostly and I couldn’t be rude. He knew that, the ass. Politeness would always win out in these situations and it made me want to fight him even in front of his friend. I instead groaned internally. I didn’t want this to be a thing and now it was going to be. Wonderful. “Uh yeah, sure,” I sighed and felt the tense hand on the back of my chair relax the slightest bit, “You can meet us at my place and it’s a short walk from there. Everything’s walkable in this area.” The waitress came and and while my nerves were still shot, Morpheus remembered to add an extra sandwich to go before Hob then paid for the whole meal. I protested but he waved me away, very obviously seeing something was up and being sure to get my number so I could text him my address and details. And though I knew we were going to be having a discussion at home, I eased a little bit at seeing that the dreamlord had remembered Matthew’s sandwich of all things. It was stupid and little but either way he kept that promise even if he was reluctant to make it. He couldn’t be that upset with me then, right? If he was, he wouldn’t have bothered with something so trivial. We all stood after Hob paid and the extra sandwich was brought. Dream made sure I put my coat back on, ever the protective guardian of my poor fragile human life. His body was a little stiff but he didn’t deny me his hand as we walked out, clasping it tightly. “Well, Dahlia,” the other man shoved his hands into his jeans against the chill air and grinned, “It was very nice to meet you. I wasn’t too sure what to think when this guy showed up and wanted me to meet someone, but I’m glad he did. It’s nice to finally talk to someone about ol’ mysterious here.” Dream rolled his eyes but let himself smile softly at the man, “I merely believed you two would get along and I was not wrong. Whether that appears to be a good thing for my person will remain to be seen.” Hob winked at me, smirking, “Eh, he likes us.” I smiled at that and blushed a bit, “It was nice meeting you too, Hob. I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.” With a pat on Morpheus’ shoulder in a farewell, the man nodded and walked in the opposite direction. The air around us cooled a bit more from the lack of his presence and whatever was building had returned in the silence as we watched him walk away. His hand was still in mine but he was stiff and we remained quiet most of the walk back. He didn’t offer any thoughts on the meeting, didn’t look my way, only kept moving back to the apartment. A block away, I swallowed nervously, fighting the impulse to pull into myself at the anxiety of not knowing how he felt, “Are you mad at me?” I hated that. That dumb insecurity, that reactionary need to placate at the slightest hint of aggravation. I was working on it more and more, getting through the trauma response and it helped that he’d been more mindful of his anger, but old habits die hard for both of us. He was quick tempered and I was nervous around anger. He kept walking, my hand tucked into his pocket again, and lips thin but only said, “No.” I wasn’t sure if the one word response was better or worse. The anxiety grew and grew as we reached my door. I tried to even my breathing as I unlocked the door and we slipped inside, him helping to take my coat off but keeping his own on. That wasn’t a great sign, armor still firmly in place. “Okay, let’s hear it,” I blurted and put my hands on my hips to try and brace myself, “You said you would talk to me through stuff and I know you’re not happy. So…you first. What’s wrong?” Dream turned and faced me and I hated that this felt so similar to our last big fight when he’d been waiting for me in my living room. We were in the same spots, squared off, but at least the intensity of that rage was nowhere to be found. “You did not tell me tomorrow was your birthday.” I blinked, not expecting that to be what he brought up first. I was almost certain it was about going out with Anissa, of him being worried that I would be hit on and be around other men and the jealousy he still held there. But my birthday? “That’s what you’re upset about?” I responded before I could fully comprehend. In hindsight, it sounded a little demeaning but I had been prepared for far worse. He slightly glared, stars flashing in the hidden depths of his ice blue eyes, “You purposefully kept the information from me.” “You make it sound like I lied to keep you from knowing,” I sighed and shook my head, “I just didn’t offer up the information. It didn’t seem important, I don’t even really acknowledge the date myself.” It was semantics and we both knew it. A muscle pulsed in the sharp angle of his jaw, skin becoming more otherworldly and losing its color as he struggled to hold onto a mortal appearance, “Truly, why did you not tell me?” There were advantages to having a mostly blank book in the library of the Dreaming. I was a Dream Walker, able to be lucid and navigate the dreams of others at will. The only one allowed to grow into the power as Morpheus had been locked away most of my life before he could tamp down on it like he usually did with other Dream Walkers. The library had a hard time writing about my life and so my book was blank until recent years when the dreamlord had been freed. While he could easily learn about every other person, know their history and aspirations and experiences, he couldn’t with me…which meant I could keep things to myself. It frustrated him to be equal to me in that aspect. He often felt like he was constantly stumbling across something new when it came to me so yes, this was a nerve. I think he didn’t do well with the unknown and I certainly fit in that category. I sighed, some of my frustration leaving me and feeling exhausted. Morpheus cared. He wouldn’t be upset if he didn’t, but it was hard to make myself care about myself, “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels weird to acknowledge considering the only people that gave a shit died a long time ago. Aiden…never really so I learned to just…treat it as another day. And now it feels extra weird to bring up because…” I paused and he took a step forward, meeting my gaze and pushing me to continue. I didn’t miss the brief flash of anger at the mention of my ex’s name, but he pushed it down and out of view. Talk, we said we would talk it out and I had to make good on my end too. Nodding, I let my arms fall to my side with a ragged exhale, “I’m human. You’re not. A birthday seems extra ridiculous when you consider how long you’ve lived and how little I have.” There. The ugly truth we both hated to acknowledge. I was a small blip compared to the expanse of his life. A few months we had known each other. That was all. If it all ended I would hardly be a footnote in the pages of his life while he’d be a whole chapter. It didn’t feel good. Morpheus frowned and some of the tension left his shoulders as he stepped forward, cupping my cheek with his hand, “Time moves no faster for my kind than it does for you. If anything, the years you have lived are all the more precious because of their nature. Your presence in the universe would be greatly missed if it were not for your birth and it is no small thing to ignore. You deserved to have had it acknowledged even after your parents passed.” There was a hard lump in my throat and I swallowed thickly, not knowing what to say to that. I was working on not feeling so small against him, but it was hard after years of being demeaned and made to feel like nothing. Sometimes he didn’t help but other times he made it seem as if I was a diamond amongst the rubble, more precious than anything in existence. His hand moved from my cheek to under my chin, grazing the line of my jaw and lifting my head up to meet his gaze, “It is your turn to communicate. Did I make you upset earlier?” He was trying. The concept of talking it out was new mostly because with him he talked and everyone else listened, not speaking back. He was a monarch, he didn’t have to communicate. I grabbed his hand and held it, stepping a little closer, and chewed on my lip, “Not upset, a little caught off guard. I didn’t know we were meeting Hob and it threw me off a bit.” Dream hummed, nodding, “You get anxious with uncertain circumstances so I had hoped if you did not know, it would avoid that feeling for you. Hob Gadling is a good man and I did not want you nervous at all-” “It’s okay,” I interrupted, smiling softly at the fact he had considered and even thought through how best to make this meeting go okay, “I get it. Thank you for being considerate. And he is a good man, I’m really glad you wanted me to meet him. He’s very charming.” I grinned up at him and the heaviness dissipated completely as I watched him relax. Leaning up against him fully and wrapped an arm around his thin waist as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “He should be a good intermediary for tomorrow, whatever that shall bring,” the dreamlord muttered against my hair. I almost groaned, switching back to that topic. “Are you sure you want to come? Anissa is…opinionated,” I grimaced, “She’s nice and a good friend and won’t start anything on my birthday and in public, but I can’t guarantee she won’t make some comments.” Anissa, for the most part, was the only friend I had. After leaving my abusive relationship, she was the first coworker that reached out on a personal level and made sure I was okay. She was the oldest of three kids and I felt like she saw me as another sibling to take care of and protect. She was a good friend, just a little pushy. I wanted them to get along, but I could more easily see them butting heads. But he nodded, bending down until our lips were close and his forehead was against mine, “I have faced far worse than a protective human woman, little dreamer. If that is what I have to deal with to be at your side tomorrow, then I will.” I melted and grazed my lips against his, sliding my hand along the skin of his neck and into the soft wisps of his ink black hair, “Okay. Tomorrow you meet my friend then.” And when he kissed me, I let the worries fade away, wrapped entirely in the warmth of his touch and the urgent way his fingers clung to me. I knew eventually we’d have to have a further discussion about what this was between us. I was the first person to be introduced to Hob and he had made that decision purposefully. Had wanted us to meet and I knew the reason was more than simply proving he was friends with other humans. This thing was no longer just him and me but now almost going public, showing the other people in our lives the connection. He hadn’t hid the type of relationship we had from Hob, hadn’t shrugged me off as only a friend. He made it clear that I was his, that silent claim obvious in how he touched and handled me. It had changed in the past few months but I could feel that possessiveness there as he took off each layer of clothing, discarded his coat to the ground and almost threw my sweater across the room in his eagerness to get to my bare skin. The silent beat of the words mine with each press of his lips along my neck and soft kneading of my breasts. The word echoed back as I scraped my nails along his scalp and grinned at the delicious moan that dragged from his mouth. Couldn’t be more pleased to make the sound come from the King of Dreams as I sucked on his lower lip, biting it gently with my teeth. He was mine to have for now. We didn’t make it to the bedroom, falling onto the couch bare and vulnerable and desperate for each other. I knew his body well now, the lean hard muscles of the form he chose to show me. So thin but utterly decorated in corded strength, nothing but long limbs and fingers and pale skin. He was more than a god but I could see how he could be mistaken for one, seeing him beautiful and naked above me. I would gladly worship him every night. His eyes were blue in the Waking world but sparkled like the universe, dark with lust but completely otherworldly. I moaned his name as he filled me completely, buried deep and fireworks of pleasure flaring along my body. My fingers dug into his back as he pulled out almost entirely before entering me again slowly, an inch at a time. It was torture in the best way. Agonizing and wonderful and I wanted him to move and never stop as well. In and out, one delicious inch by inch. I wrapped my leg around his waist, urging him deeper, nails tearing at his shoulders as he pressed open mouth kisses along my neck, gripping my thighs as he lost himself in me. I would never get enough of him, couldn’t imagine not having him around or touching him, laughing at the too serious look on his face or the small dances of emotion in his features. I never wanted to forget the smell of night sky and wind and dreams and possibilities. Pleasure rose and rose and sweat slicked our skin as he finally went faster, harder, my moans rising as his control finally seemed to snap. It was a wave that crested into me hard, pulling me under until all I could taste was the tang of his skin and the warmth of his release in me as we crested into our orgasms together. I was floating, lost in his pants and heavy breathing, his mouth finding mine and kissing me slow and steady until I was back down into my body. Everything tingled with electricity and I combed back the wild tangle of his hair from his face, dotting his cheeks and eyes and forehead with small kisses as he rested head against my naked chest. He braced himself above me, strong arms on either side to keep from crushing me under his weight. “Can you stay for much longer?” I asked in a breathy whisper, still feeling my heart beat rapidly. My fingers combed through his hair, twisting around the unruly strands. He almost purred at the touch and I knew from experience he loved when I ran my hands through it. “Only a little,” he murmured, sitting up a bit to meet my gaze, “I must return to the Dreaming and may be busy tonight if you would like to assist Lucienne in her duties or explore the realm. But I shall be back tomorrow evening.” I sighed but nodded, knowing he couldn’t stay here forever. He was needed and I’d already had him for most of the day, I couldn’t be selfish. With a small grin, I blinked up at him, “Plus you have to deliver Matthew’s treat.” He fell back onto me, groaning into my skin while I cackled at him. The sound quickly turned into a delighted squeal as he moved in me with renewed hardness, biting down gently on my neck and holding me close. We had time. Might as well make the most of it.

40 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

Text

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Names and Faces

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Word Count: 6,477

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

It goes like this:

Nobody wants to separate Anakin from the children in his care until they know more about why he’s here. The gamble paid off, to some degree, and he thanks the Force that it did.

He hasn’t felt that cold in years.

He knows the logic of why the Mandalorians he’s fallen in with aren’t doing anything yet. He’s an obvious Jedi, and they don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing. Hedging on the Mando’a and the cultural obligation to childcare hadn’t been anything close to sure, but it was... enough. He got lucky that these Mandalorians leaned on those obligations, at least to the point of keeping them all in the same room. He can sense that much, even before he opens his eyes, and he has to be grateful.

The looming hypothermia had probably nudged things in his favor.

Anakin opens his eyes to a guest room of a cell, something well-furnished and cozy, but definitely not meant to be something he can escape from. His saber is gone, and there are Force-nullifying cuffs on his wrists, and he’s pretty sure they’ve taken his--yep, vibroblade’s gone.

Fuck.

His body doesn’t want to move, and he’s still shivering a bit, but he’s mostly back to normal. When he sits up, he notices that there is, in fact, only one Force-nullifying cuff. They detached his arm.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep and tells himself it was probably medically necessary. Large pieces of metal aren’t great for maintaining homeostasis. He’ll get it back.

Probably.

“Ah!”

The voice makes him jolt, and his eyes fly open.

Two cribs, one much bigger than the other. Both are occupied. The larger one has bars, and through it...

“Snips,” he breathes, lurching to his feet and then crashing to his knees, about as graceful as a newborn eopie.

“Bah!”

“Just--just one second,” Anakin grits out, grimacing as he tries to pull himself to standing again. The fact that he’s down an arm doesn’t impact him much, but the shakiness of his legs is... a problem.

“Owwww,” Ahsoka coos with an exaggerated grimace, reacting to his pain with the innocent sympathy of a toddler. She looks, what, two? Maybe? He’s not sure if there’s anything particular about how Togruta babies age. She’s too young for words, clearly.

“I’m fine,” Anakin assures her, even as his heart sinks. She’s Ahsoka, clearly, he knows her in the Force and it can’t be anyone else, but her memories...

She recognizes him, but that’s not saying much.

He manages to get over to the chair next to the crib, but doesn’t trust himself to take her out right now. The snow and the mess of a fight before that haven’t been kind to him. Instead, he just sticks his hand through the bars and lets her grab at his fingers.

He can’t help but smile, really. She’s adorable, and she’s so damn happy to see him.

“Skyguy!”

“Oh, so you are talking,” Anakin says, part of him relaxing just a tad. “I was worried.”

“Mine,” she stresses, patting at his wrist.

“Yeah, your Skyguy,” he says. So she remembers... some things, at least. “And you’re my Snips.”

She squeals and yanks on his hand, just enough that the Force-suppressing cuff clanks against the bars of the crib.��“Sky, Sky, Sky!”

Oh, she’s precious.

“You having fun?” he asks, filling the air with words faster than his head can fill with doubts. “Has everyone been nice?”

“Mmmmm,” she grumbles, falling to her butt with a huff. “Doc!”

“Oh, a doctor?” he asks, wondering at his own tone. He never expected to be one for baby-talk. “Was the doctor mean?”

“Cold!” she tells him. “Cold here!”

She taps at her chest, right where someone might check her heartbeat or breathing; the metal would be cold, and also necessary. He doesn’t fault anyone for it. Considering how poorly Anakin had fared, he’s just happy they’re all alive and mostly fine.

He doesn’t know what year it is. He knows he’s not in the year he should be. He’s vaguely aware of the name Jaster--one of the Mandos had said it while bringing him in--but he doesn’t know when Mereel’s reign ended and Fett’s began. He does know both are supposed to be dead.

Has Anakin been born yet? Has Ahsoka? Hell, has Obi-Wan?

Can he give out any real names?

A series of small, upset noises start coming up from the other, smaller crib.

He stands, but Ahsoka clings to his hand and refuses to let go. He can’t pry her off, not without his other arm, but he pulls away with quiet reassurances that he just has to check on... on...

Her brother, he says, aware that there’s more than a slight chance someone has the room bugged. He’s a Jedi in Mando custody. They aren’t stupid, and neither is he.

Obi-Wan’s the most likely to have already been born. Having the same name and face will draw attention, will cause questions, but... he can’t just rename his master like a recently-adopted pet. That’s just... wrong.

Anakin’s less shaky than when he first woke up, but he still has no way of safely picking up the kids. He reaches into the small crib, something twisting behind his sternum, and tickles under Obi-Wan’s chin.

The baby--the infant--looks up at him with wide eyes, too blue for the Obi-Wan he knows, but full of wonder and--

Love, the Force whispers through the cracks in the effects of the cuff.

“Love you too,” Anakin whispers, though he wonders if Obi-Wan would really feel like this as an adult again. Babies love easily, he thinks, and he’s the only adult that Obi-Wan knows right now. Maybe it’s just chemicals.

He stands there for longer than is probably a good idea, with the state of his body, but he can’t help it. Obi-Wan keeps grabbing at his finger and kicking with tiny legs, and sticking a tiny, tiny fist in his mouth as he tries watches Anakin.

It’s all Anakin can do to mutter a stream of meaningless nonsense as he struggles not to cry. He’s always had too many emotions, and right now he’s the only person these two can rely on. He’s the adult.

The door whooshes open.

“The medic said you were awake.”

He knows that voice. He closes his eyes and doesn’t turn, because there are a million feelings in his chest and he’s not sure which one is going to come out first.

“Sky?” Ahsoka questions, likely feeling his worry. “Issokay! Good!”

No, she wouldn’t have the mind to recognize why this familiar face she knows as friend is quite the opposite.

Anakin turns away from the crib, and smiles. “Mando.”

“Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the teenager in the door says. He’s not wearing his bucket, but the rest of his armor is in place. Anakin would peg him as younger than Ahsoka was, before. Not by much, but... fourteen, maybe fifteen. The face is painfully familiar, and stays utterly neutral as he answers the question Anakin didn’t ask. “We found your Ident card after you passed out.”

Cool, so, Anakin definitely can’t change his name.

“Are they yours?” the teenager that will one day create an army says.

“They have no one else,” Anakin tells him. It’s true enough. Still, he gets the feeling that’s not what Fett’s asking. “They’re family.”

Jango squints at him. “I was told Jedi can’t have families.”

Anakin’s mind flashes to Padme and the fantasies he’d long harbored of children born free, and tears himself away. He can’t think about that right now. He can’t think of who he’s--

“Jetii!”

Anakin’s head snaps up, and he realizes he’s shaking. Fett’s not neutral anymore, just... concerned.

“I’m fine,” Anakin spits out, and leans on the crib behind him. He can hear the little ones whimpering. He has to pull his thoughts in and bundle them up into something that won’t hurt the incredibly Force-Sensitive babies behind him. “I’m--I’m all they have. They’re all I have. Are the exact words important?”

Fett doesn’t grimace, exactly, but his expression isn’t pleasant. “I guess.”

Anakin waits to see if there’s anything else coming, but no. Just an awkward silence. He holds onto his frustration, but it still gets the better of him.

“What are my chances of getting my arm back?” he asks.

“Hm?”

Anakin waves what’s left of that arm, the tied-off sleeve flapping about. “My arm. If you don’t want to give me mine back, can I at least have some kind of placeholder? I can’t pick up the babies without worrying that I’m going to drop them.”

“I can ask the medics,” Fett says. He stares at Anakin for a little more, and then asks, “Aren’t you going to ask about our plans for you, or...?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you already would have,” Anakin mutters. “Right now, these two are my only priority. I’m more likely to keep them safe and alive here than I am if I try to break out. I can be patient. I would also assume they wouldn’t have been left in a room with me, alone, if any of us were in danger of medical complications.”

Fett flushes and turns. “I’ll tell buir you’re up and active. There’s a nurse droid in the hall, I can have it handle feedings until you get an arm.”

“Thanks,” Anakin drawls, aware that he’s a little bitchy right now, but not in any mood to temper himself.

He settles himself on the floor next to Ahsoka’s crib, lets her play with his hair while the nurse droid feeds Obi-Wan, and then feeds Ahsoka herself. Anakin thinks he could probably pull the droid apart for an escape attempt if it came down to it. He hopes it won’t be necessary. He’s barely existing in the moment as it is. The droid asks Anakin if he needs anything, and he... shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps some non-perishables,” the nurse droids suggests. “Ration bars, for if you are hungry before one of the Mando’ade returns.”

Anakin shrugs again. “Alright.”

He ignores the droid after that. He’s only mostly cut off from the Force by the single cuff. He can’t blanket his Master and Padawan in his own Force presence, try to make them feel safe and calm with the fact that he’s here and ready to protect them, but he can monitor them. He can meditate, even if it’s not the way he prefers to do it. He doesn’t have the strength for moving meditation right now, but a regular meditation... he can do that.

He needs to do that, because no other stress relief option is available to him right now.

Anakin lets himself feel the babies fall asleep, the two of them radiating contentment and warmth. He lets himself trust that, for the moment, he doesn’t need to worry. He lets himself sink into an absence of thought, and then the Force guides him deeper still.

“Anakin!”

His eyes fly open.

This is not the real world.

This is not the room-cell in the Haat Mando’ade base he’s managed to stumble across.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, a smile hidden in a beard and worn laugh lines about his eyes. The right age, the right size, reaching for him and--

There’s only a moment’s hesitation for Anakin to process, and then he sprints forward and yanks his Master into a hug.

“You’re good,” Obi-Wan mutters to him, rubbing his back as they both sink to their knees. There’s a click of bootheels against the empty white not-space that they’re in, and Ahsoka buries herself into their sides. Anakin pulls her in a little closer too.

They stay that for longer than is maybe necessary, but Anakin’s stress levels are sky high right now, and he needs this. A hug, even one that’s technically only taking place in his head, is important.

“Sorry, Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispers. “Thinking in the real world is... really hard right now.”

He pulls away from the desperate hug he’d started them off with, rearranges things so he’s leaning against Obi-Wan, lets Ahsoka lie down with her head in his lap, on her back and legs stretched out across the white nothingness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Anakin says. “I mean, Sith stuff, probably, but... we’re in the wrong year.”

“I’d wondered,” Obi-Wan admits. “I thought it odd that I couldn’t feel the clones, but I only have so much energy to think right now...”

“Please tell me there’s a way to fix it,” Anakin begs. “I can’t be the adult, Obi-Wan. I haven’t even been born yet, that’s how far back we are. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t just bang around making bad decisions without you there to pull me back and--”

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“We’re in the Force,” Anakin says, just a little hysterically. “We don’t need to breathe!”

“Actually, I think we’re in your head,” Ahsoka says. She’s pointing and stretching her feet like a dancer, but looks up to grin at Anakin like the little shit she is. “You’re the only one whose brain is big enough right now.”

“Hey,” Anakin complains, putting his entire palm over her face as revenge. She giggles and swats him away. “That any way to talk to the guy who taught you how to kill five guys in one move?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and runs a hand over her montrals, smiling when she wriggles and makes a little chirruping noise.

“She’s not wrong,” Obi-Wan says. “Though the phrasing was unfortunate, it does stand to reason that as the only person without the brain of a toddler, you’re hosting. Our minds can’t handle the strain of our own selves, let alone sharing space.”

“Infant.”

“Hm?”

“Ahsoka’s a toddler. You’re an infant. Maybe six months.” Anakin grins, just this side of brittle. He doesn’t want to joke about a problem he can’t fix, but what else is there? “You’re the literal baby of the lineage now.”

Obi-Wan sighs over the riot of Ahsoka’s laugh. “Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Master,” Ahsoka assures him. “Skyguy’s gonna take care of us until we can fight again.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing slightly. “I am sorry for you being put in such a position, Anakin. It’s certainly not an easy one.”

Anakin wishes he could say that his immediate reaction isn’t a sense of hurt, a you don’t trust me, a you don’t think I can do this, a you’re disappointed someone else wasn’t here to handle things instead.

He wishes he could make that claim and have anyone believe him, but they are in a shared meditation, and in this moment there are very, very few secrets. He does not make the effort to hide his reaction in time, and Obi-Wan catches it.

Anakin turns away as Obi-Wan’s face fills with surprise and horror. “Anakin--”

“Can we just pretend you didn’t feel that?” Anakin asks, and flinches when Ahsoka pops up from where she lies and scurries around to hug him like a vise. “Can we just pretend I’m not--”

“Dear one, there are very few people I would trust as much as you in this,” Obi-Wan says. “Those who match up are largely the people who helped me raise me when I was actually this age.”

“Being completely reliant on your padawan isn’t--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, cutting him off there. “I can trust you to care for me in ways that don’t just come down to making me a useful general again. I already trust you to risk your life and safety and freedom to see us survive, given what little I remember of that storm.”

“You handed yourself over to Mandalorians you knew nothing about so we’d be safe,” Ahsoka mutters into the fabric somewhere over his ribs. “That could have gone really badly, and you still did it because you were worried about us.”

“We trust you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling Anakin to his chest and resting his chin on Anakin’s head. “We know you.”

“You don’t even know what happened in the storm,” Anakin mutters. “You were asleep.”

“I caught enough listening to the doctors,” Obi-Wan says. He runs a hand over Anakin’s head and through his hair. “You did well, Anakin.”

Anakin wonders why they don’t do this in real life. Obi-Wan doesn’t usually hug him, let alone cuddle. Maybe it’s because they’re all stuck in too much truth in this shared meditation, and the other two are currently stuck in child bodies that crave physical affection in ways they don’t realize they’re expressing in here as well. Maybe it’s the stress.

“What even can you hear?” Anakin mutters, still in Obi-Wan’s arms. Ahsoka giggles at him, nuzzling into his side in a way he doesn’t think she’d ever let herself, normally.

“We can’t really think in the real world right now,” she muses. “Only when we’re sleeping, and probably when we’re meditating once we’re bigger. If I try to think too hard, my head hurts worse than that time Ventress got me in the head with the back of her saber.”

“Everything takes up more space than it should,” Obi-Wan adds. “It’s... all of my senses are bigger and brighter and take up more of my attention, but they aren’t very clear, really. They’re just more. I can’t focus on anything, either, except... well, the feedings.”

Ahsoka makes an annoyed noise. “The whole diapers and bottles thing is really embarrassing, by the way. Only here, though, I barely notice when I’m awake because...”

“Because you’re a toddler,” Anakin says drily.

She huffs. “How would you feel if you were stuck like that?”

That’s fair.

“I don’t remember much,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “But part of me recognizes familiar things, even if I can’t quite make the connection.”

“Was that Fett, earlier?” Ahsoka asks. “Because I thought I saw a friend, and I pretty much forgot the face as soon as they left, but--”

“It’s Fett,” Anakin confirms. “But I guess that’s good to know? You saw his face and your baby brain just assumed it was one of the clones?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we know we trust you,” Obi-Wan adds, and tightens the hug when Anakin stiffens. “Anakin, I can barely understand the world around me at all right now. It’s like being on the painkillers that don’t knock you out but leave you saying only the most ridiculous things that come to mind. You have a general understanding of what’s going on, but all your emotions are too much and the room spins, you can’t stay on one track mentally, you can’t remember what you’ve done and what you haven’t--”

“You can’t control your bladder,” Ahsoka mutters, just a touch spitefully.

Obi-Wan grimaces and nods. “An unfortunate commonality in the experiences, yes. What I was aiming to address, however, is the fact that I only remember a very few things with any reliability. Most of my adult mind, so to speak, appears to be stored in a stasis form in the Force itself, because the infant mind can only handle the barest edges of who I am. But what that infant mind knows, and what I remember thinking once I have some sense of my full self in sleep, is that there is no one I react to as positively as you, Anakin.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ahsoka interrupts, “but can’t because he’s trying to be a serene Jedi Councilor who definitely doesn’t break the code, nosiree, is that we don’t remember much about ourselves when we’re awake, but we remember you, and we know that we love you, Skyguy.”

Anakin stares at her, and then twists around to look at Obi-Wan instead.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka croons. “Stop being emotionally constipated. We’re literal babies right not, which sucks, but we’re like 90% emotion. Tell Skyguy.”

“Yes, er, Ahsoka was not incorrect,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard and refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I, that is to say, we...”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka says, a touch sharper than she might have dared if not for the reversal of their ages.

“I do love you, Anakin, and it’s one of the only things my child mind knows consistently.”

The Force does, in fact, sing with the truth of this. It circles them like a delighted tornado of emotional reality, pulsing like a coat of positivity.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hugs him as tightly as possible.

“Oh! Oh dear, I--Anakin, really, this isn’t news.”

“Master Kenobi, you’re allergic to actually talking about your emotions. Let him hug you.”

“Anakin, I’ve raised you since you were nine, it would be nearly impossible for me to not care, why are you--”

“Master Kenobi, stop questioning him!” Ahsoka whines. “It’s affirmation time.”

“Ahsoka, have you been spending time with the mind healers again?”

“I was a teenager in a warzone and also Barriss bullied me into it for my own good.” Ahsoka shrugs. “I learned some stuff. You two should have gone, too. You were more karked up than I was.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan scolds.

“What are you going to do, spit up on me? You can’t exactly make me run laps, Master.”

“Both of you shut up,” Anakin mumbles, and tries to push as much of his own affection as possible into a little ball of feelings that he can just drop on the two of them while he’s still in his own brain and not somewhere he can’t touch the Force. “Just--just shut.”

Apparently, Anakin’s feelings are a lot, because Ahsoka bursts into tears and Obi-Wan zones out so hard Anakin starts worrying about him.

They’re in a mindscape, a thing that he didn’t really think happened, but does. He shouldn’t have to worry about his--

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling him in tighter. “Why did you...”

“Skyguy, I don’t think you planned on putting in the part where you worry about nobody loving you back as much as you loved them,” Ahsoka says, raw and uneven. “Because, uh, we got that? Skyguy, that’s really wrong!”

Oh shit.

“No, you were... you were not supposed to get that,” he says, just a little strangled. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t--”

“Be our dad.”

Anakin stares down at his Padawan. She stares determinedly back.

“What?”

“Fett asked if we were yours, and you edged around the question by saying we were family, but he was asking if you were our dad. I’m guessing you didn’t want to claim that when we couldn’t agree to it, so I’m telling you now: do it. Adopt us the Mandalorian way or whatever. You were already my older brother, basically, this is just a step sideways in how we talk about it.”

He stares at her a bit more. He doesn’t have words, and his emotions are such a cyclone of conflicting thoughts that he’s surprised the Force hasn’t tossed him out.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be born, but if I am, then I need a name so I don’t have the same one as future me,” she says. She takes his hands, holds them tight and leans in close. “You’re going to be raising us anyway. The Force already made it clear there’s no fixing this, we tried asking while you were unconscious, it wants us to grow up the long way. You’re going to be our dad. Just make it official. Make me a Skywalker.”

Anakin sits up straight, looks her up and down, the determination and affection and--

He turns to look at Obi-Wan. “Master?”

“...yes, Anakin?”

“I know she said ‘we’ and ‘us,’ but I’m not letting anyone speak for anyone else. Not for something this important.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and then rearranges himself to something a tad more formal. He takes one of Anakin’s hands in his own. “Anakin, we’ve been family since you were nine. This is just redefining the terms. We can adjust as we go forward, but for all intents and purposes, the majority of the time, I will be that youngling in the cot. For all intents and purposes, I will be your child, and... and I would be honored for you to make that official.”

“Even if it breaks the Code?” Anakin presses.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan says, almost but not quite overriding Ahsoka’s, “This doesn’t break the Code.”

They both turn to look at her. She shrugs. “What? You guys are always arguing about it and Skyguy was married. I went and did some digging about what is and isn’t allowed. This adoption would be skirting the edges of some rules, since we should be taken to the creche to be raised in a communal manner, and official adoptions are discouraged for reasons relating to later padawan stuff, but since the Force is also insisting we stay with the Mandalorians, I think it qualifies as an exception and will be treated as such, retroactively, by the Council. You also won’t be able to take either of us as Padawan once that time comes. It does not, however, violate the Code in and of itself.”

“What the hell, Snips?”

“I’m impressed, young one,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile Anakin can feel. “I could have expected to see you in court in a few years, with an argument like that.”

“You knew I was married?” Anakin squeaks.

“Rex isn’t a very good liar,” she says. She then droops. “Or, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. He tried, at least, but I caught on. That was against the Code, though. Just so you know.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face, tries very hard not to think about what and whom he’s left behind. He can save that breakdown for later.

He chances a look at Obi-Wan.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“You’re not mad?”

“I knew you and the Senator were close, considering all the kissing you did in the Arena,” Obi-Wan says drily. Anakin isn’t stupid enough to ask how he knows it’s Padme. “I didn’t know you were married, and am a little disappointed you didn’t at least tell me, or consult me before you did it, considering you were still a padawan... but no, I’m not mad. Even if I were--and I am not--we’ve time-traveled, so I’m fairly certain that qualifies as annulment. It’s a non-issue.”

Anakin pushes down the tidal wave of grief for people who haven’t been born yet, and just breathes instead. This is important. This is too important for him to just kriff it up.

“Names,” he says.

“I still want part of it to be ‘Soka,’ if you don’t think it’s too risky.”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a smile. “Almost every time I’ve posed as a Mandalorian, since my first mission with Satine, I’ve gone by Ben. It would be fitting that, now that we’re here and apparently staying, I take the name for real.”

Anakin nods. He closes his eyes, and breathes deep, and thinks that they may be among Mandalorians on a world of snow, but he has the desert in his bones and will never forget it.

“Ahsoka Tano, sister of my heart,” he says, hoping he’s getting the words right, and takes her hands in his. It’ll have more meaning here and now, where they’re both of full mind. He holds her gaze. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my daughter, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Sokanth Skywalker, she who slips through every hunter’s trap, and you are my child.”

She smiles brightly at him, and looks like she might cry. He presses his lips to her forehead. He turns to his Master. He hesitates, because it’s one thing to redefine his little sister, but...

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father of my heart,” he says, his voice catching where it shouldn’t. He can do this. It’s weird but he can do this. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my son, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Ylliben Skywalker, he who hunts the monsters of the darkest nights, and you are my child.”

The man before him almost laughs, well aware of how absurd it is for Anakin to be the one adopting him, but keeps it limited to just a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips. Anakin presses his lips to his teacher’s forehead.

He pulls both of them in close. Padawan and Master. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

Daughter and son. Soka and Ben. His.

“I’m still gonna call you Skyguy,” Soka says wetly. “But Mas--um, Ben. Ben can call you buir, all the Mandos are gonna love it.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says. “I’m going to be telling you Tatooine bedtime stories, by the way. You’ll remember creche stories as you grow, but these’ll be new.”

“I do believe that would be appropriate,” Ben says, laughing just a touch. “I also think we should perhaps disband this, unless you have something else to address. You’re going to be dealing with two very cranky younglings soon.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have headaches after this,” Soka laughs, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we got what we ne--”

“No, shut up, what you do mean, headaches? You said that was only when you were awake!”

“I mean, we’d be sobbing after like three minutes if we were awake,” Soka says cheerfully. “This way, it’s been like... an hour or whatever between all the talking and the hugging and the crying and the feelings, and we’re just gonna be grumpy.”

“Oh my--wake up!” Anakin growls at both of them. “I’m responsible for you now, wake up.”

He ignores Soka’s laughter and drags himself back to wakefulness. Behind him, he feels slight confusion and pain mixed with love and delight. Ben starts fussing.

Anakin drags a hand over his face and groans. He gets to his feet, nods to the nurse droid, and steps over to the cribs.

“Can we put them in the same one until I get my arm back?” he asks. The droid obliges, moving Ben to Soka’s crib. She immediately crawls over to him and envelops him in a hug. She pouts up at Anakin, eyes going watery, and he drops into the chair next to her and offers his hand through the bars. She grabs it.

“You’re going to be trouble for a long, long time, huh?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles at her. Yes, trouble in spades, his Snips.

He starts telling her one of the fables of Tatooine, the really sanitized ones meant for children her age, before they got to the slave stories and haunt-tales. She falls asleep for real, no Force Shenanigans, shortly after. Ben is dead to the world by that point, making small snuffling noises whenever the blanket tickles his nose.

Anakin knows he’s got the galaxy’s dopiest smile on his face. It’s fine.

It’s a few more hours before someone stops by. He’s used the fresher by that point, helped the nurse droid coax Ben through a feeding, and helped Soka play with the little stuffed eopie they’ve given her.

“They got names, aruetti?”

He looks up and over. “Yes.”

The middle-aged man ambles over, arms crossed. “Jango said you claimed to be all they had left.”

He is. “They’re family. I’ve had a few hours to think it over, now that I’m not getting shot at or dying in the snow. To any system that allows it, I’ll be their father.”

“No chance of returning them to their people?”

Anakin shakes his head. “Soka has none who would recognize her, and I already--I already babysat her regularly, and she thought of me as a brother. It’s an easy next step.”

“And the human?”

“I... the master-padawan relationship is often one that is compared to that of parent and child,” Anakin says carefully. “My own master was like a father to me, and Ben is... Ben is all I have left of him.”

There. Not quite the truth, but... technically not lying.

Ben makes a small noise in his sleep, fussing, and Anakin reaches through the bars to brush his thumb across the infant’s chubby cheek. He smiles helplessly as Ben whines and curls in tighter on himself, pressing a tiny fist to his mouth.

“You’re good,” Anakin whispers. “We’re fine, Ylliben.”

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” the Mando says. “But I do believe you’re doing what you can for those kids.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anakin agrees, finally looking away from his... his son.

Mine, the greedy krayt in his chest whispers.

“When are you planning on going back to Coruscanta?”

“I’m not,” Anakin says, standing and looking the man head-on. Anakin’s taller than him. That’s usually useful. “I don’t know why, but the Force wants me to stay here, or at least with the Mandalorians.”

“You want me to believe that you support my cause?”

“I don’t know your cause,” Anakin admits. “But I don’t like Death Watch, and I know you don’t either. Nobody on Coruscant is going to know to miss me, and the Force is warning me away from trying to go back. Whatever it is that needs doing, I’m supposed to be doing it here.”

The man steps forward. “Anyone tell you who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m Jaster Mereel.”

Good for you, Anakin thinks, and doesn’t say. “I’m pretty sure you already know my name.”

“I do,” Mereel says. “Wanna tell me how a Knight with a seemingly valid ident card claims nobody will know to miss him?”

“No.”

Mereel doesn’t even blink. “Try that again.”

“It means exactly what I said,” Anakin says. “The ident card is real. My training and rank are earned and deserved and bestowed by protocol. All of it was done at the Temple in Coruscant, but if you phone up the Temple with my name and face, nobody will know who I am.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why,” Mereel grouses. “What’s stopping me from calling them up anyway and asking them to come fetch your hypothermic ass?”

“...the fact that I already offered to help you?” Anakin manages. “I... I did say that part, right? That I’d help?”

“What’s stopping you from wanting to go back? And don’t give me any of that ‘will of the force’ banthashit.”

“I broke the Code,” Anakain says. The words sit heavy in his mouth, but one of his violations is lesser than the other, and-- “I married, and we’re not supposed to do that. She’s... not around anymore, but it still stands that I did it.”

The Tuskens weigh on his mind, suddenly and intensely. He hasn’t thought about them in ages, has always pushed those memories down, down, down, but--

“And they won’t take you back?”

“They might,” Anakin admits. They probably would, with his full title and everything, especially if he told them about the future. “But they wouldn’t let me keep the kids.”

Understanding flickers. “Not allowed kids?”

“It’s not... technically against the code,” he hedges. “But they’d find out about my marriage while investigating my past--” maybe, he’s not sure what kind of investigation they’d justify for a complete stranger of a knight, especially to confirm the future, but if they had a psychometric so much as touch his saber or arm, once he gets those back, there’d be a risk, “--and after already breaking the code by marrying, they’d be far less willing to bend the rules about the babies.”

He doesn’t realize how likely the risk is until after he says it, because he’s just been focusing on staying alive and following the Force, but.. they’d want the kids in the creche. He’s broken the code enough that any investigation they set to prove he’s legitimately a Jedi Knight that isn’t recorded and isn’t in the system is going to uncover something through the Force. They might not let him keep his family.

“What are their names?”

“I already--”

“Jango kept his last name,” Mereel cuts him off. “Did yours?”

Anakin looks the man in the eye, and then attempts to cross his arms in response, to mirror the pose and hold his ground. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten that he’s only got the one arm, which is really kriffing irritating.

“I gave them my name,” he says. “They’ll know where they came from, but they are mine.”

Yeah, no shit they’ll know where they came from.

Mereel’s face twitches, but the man is unreadable in the Force. Still, there’s something in the air... “So, those names?”

“Sokanth and Ylliben Skywalker,” Anakin tells him. He spells it out when the droid asks. He assumes it’s just for the medical data their droids are collecting.

“How well can you fight without your laser sword?”

“You mean unarmed?” Anakin asks, and then smiles brightly and tauntingly and waves his empty sleeve around. Mereel does not appreciate the humor. “Pretty well, but I do better when I have the Force, and am not still recovering from hypothermia. And I’m a fair shot with a blaster, but no specialist.”

Mereel eyes him for a moment, and then nods. “One of my snipers is Force-Sensitive. Never was enough to get more than some basic training in mental shields and the control to not hurt herself, but when we mentioned bringing in a Jetii, someone asked her what she thought. Came by the room while you were unconscious and said she thought you felt sad, angry, and desperate... but that she had a good feeling about where you’d be going.”

“Sad, angry, and desperate?” Anakin repeats, a little offended.

“You act like a veteran, kid,” Mereel says. He shrugs. “Damn near everyone that goes through some kind of war has all that going on. S’normal. You got Kamira’s approval, though, and that means a damn sight more. Keep your secrets for now. We’ll get there eventually.”

No we won’t, Anakin thinks. Out loud, he asks, “So, how much of what kind of work would I have to do to borrow a ship to Tatooine and earn enough to free a slave girl?”

#disaster lineage #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #jango fett #jaster mereel #time travel #mandalore #tatooine #de aging #babies #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies

630 notes · View notes

silver-wield · 2 years ago

Note

Story time! I legitimately liked Clerith at one point. A LOT. I played the original game back in the day and I wanted to join the Clerith community. I did so on Discord and nearly instantly was put off by several things within the community, but I pushed it down and told myself I was overreacting. First, it was small things - like how they loathed Team Four Stars' parody videos because of how they treated Aerith. (1)

when in reality all of the characters were given shitty attitudes and backstories because ya'know it was a parody! It felt hyper-sensitive to me for no reason, so I kept it to myself that I loved the video series and went on. Next was how they hated Tifa and willfully misinterpreted canon and characters. Believe it or not I genuinely like Tifa - she's complex and has beauty and brains and brawn so I don't see anything to dislike. But I couldn't exactly say that to them, and any suggestion (2)

that Tifa was a good character got major pushback. I shut up. What really pushed me over the edge was one user I can't recall the name of so I won't guess, but she was a bigwig. I wanted to join a specific part of the Discord. It was advertised as "debate friendly" so I thought - okay finally here is my shot at speaking my mind while not being dog piled. I asked to join and she said basically she had to verify I was a real person so she needed my real Facebook. (3)

A little creepy, and a little odd I thought since I had been in the group for over a month and had caused no trouble (I learned quickly what was and was not okay to say) but I gave it to her anyway. Keep in mind I was a minor at the time. She came back to me and said "You look like my relative." This tells me she was snooping on my page since at the time my profile picture was actually my cat and any pictures of myself were buried some ways back. (4)

About an hour later she told me she denied my request to join because she saw where I had posted Tifa fanart months ago, and since my Facebook was only two years old (again, I was a minor and had only been allowed to get FB roughly two years prior to this) that she was convinced I was a troll. Insert youvegottobekiddingme. png here. I told her she was paranoid to which she went off on a paragraphs-long spiel about how the Clerith community has been prosecuted by Clotis for ages. (nearly done)

I eventually got tired and blocked her and removed myself from the group. Because of that, and another encounter I had much later (in which my sexual identity was mocked) and an encounter a friend of mine had in which she was goaded into crying over her dead husband when she dared suggest that even if Cloud did love Aerith it's cruel to want him to stay single and mourning for the rest of his life, I have thoroughly decided I cannot stand Cleriths. They made me dislike Aerith. (fin)

Sorry for the late reply, anon. I wasn't ignoring it 😅

Tbf I don't like Machinabridged either, but my response is to just ignore it exists. I don't think I've even watched the whole thing. I've never gone off at the team behind it, but then I rarely give a shit because whenever I do I get slammed by tons of people. So, always remember to never express an opinion that differs from the masses, but if you do express it don't expect anyone to be on your side even if they claimed to be your friends.

Yeah, asking for personal info is a huge red flag for me. Nobody needs to know that unless they have plans to use it against you later. That's why I never give out personal info to people. Cleriths generally use it to make sure people don't stray from their hard-line hating. "If you like Tifa, we'll tell the fandom who you really are" kinda shit mentality.

Honestly, it sounds like you were in the cult's discord. Those are things I've heard them do to people. They're legit terrifying en masse. I mean, most large groups are, especially when one person weaponises them against a single person. Fandom and social media shouldn't be a numbers game that people then utilise to push down those with lower numbers than them, but that's what it is.

What's funny is their behaviour makes people dislike Aerith, so you'd think they'd care about how they come across. But then again, they don't even like her, she's just a straw doll they shove in front of them so they can throw shit at people from behind her and then say she's the reason for their actions.

#ship war #for the fandom

7 notes · View notes

piecksz · 4 years ago

Text

pet. | (m)

pairings: yelena x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, non con, oral sex (female recieving), fingering, intoxication, gun play, violence, slight degredation, explicit language

words: 2.3k+

summary: hange sends you to investigate her suspicions about yelena’s loyalty to the military, but unfortunately for you, she’s already ten steps ahead.

You should have known better.

Maybe if you’d been more wary she wouldn’t have had the advantage, but you weren’t. Instead you’d been unsuspecting, accepting her blithe invitation to talk about military proceedings over a drink when it hadn’t been your original plan because Hange’s directives were simple. Suspicions had been propagating amongst the higher-ups that the anti-Marleyan volunteers were planning an underhanded coup, and at the forefront of the insurrection was their ringleader, Yelena.

Your orders were to meet with her and solicit information that could have given Hange and the rest of the authorities a lead, so you thought nothing unsavory of Yelena suggesting you two meet at a bar. She offered to cover the tab, and you figured it would be easier to seek out details if she had some alcohol in her system, but Yelena was observant, much more than you had been. She knew the basis for the occasion, and so she coaxed you into one glass after another until you’d grown so tipsy that you didn’t realize she never took one sip.

Afterwards, it didn’t take much effort to convince you to come back with her to her place, accommodation she’d been provided as a guest on Paradis. The minute she lured you inside with the promise to take care of you until you were sober, she seized your arm and forced it behind your back into a nearly impossible position. With the weight of her body, she drove you into the wall, effectively cornering you with the threatening barrel of her gun pressed into the underside of your jaw.

She lowered her mouth to your ear. “The military doesn’t trust me, do they?”

You only grunted in pain, pointlessly writhing in Yelena’s hold.

“And here I was thinking we were just starting to become friends.” She sighed. “They’re smart not to.”

You said nothing, already realizing it was futile to try and prove that you had no ulterior motives for meeting with her, she already knew everything you presumed she didn’t.

“At least I weeded out their pet.” She prodded the hollow cavity where your jawbone met your neck with the cold metal. “What do you say to becoming mine instead?” She thumbed over the gun’s cylinder, clicking the plate into place before teasing the trigger.

You sent her a malicious glower over your shoulder, eyes blazing with animosity. “Go fuck yourself.”

Yelena’s eyebrows lifted in surprise at your rancorous choice of words, but her expression quickly melted into a duplicitous grin. “Is that a yes?” She nudged her gun against the side of your throat, an understated reminder that she still had the option to censor you with a single bullet.

You stuck your chin out in resistance yet remained silent. Compliance was your only alternative, but nothing made you sicker than the thought of submission.

“Good girl,” Yelena chuckled. She released your arm and stepped back, continuing to stand with the firearm pointed in your direction. “Shirt and pants. Off.”

Her command was curt, and it had you carefully turning to face her. “Yelena—”

“Pets don’t talk.” She flicked her gun to the side, emphasizing her instruction. “I need to make sure you’re not concealing any weapons.”

You hesitated, but quivering fingers traveled to the buttons of your shirt, undoing each of them one by one. Your movements were slow while you tried to stall as much as possible. If you failed to report back to Hange in time, they would conclude that something in your job had gone awry, then they’d come looking for you.

“Faster.” Yelena’s eyes narrowed. She must have sensed your deliberate pace.

Calculating bitch.

You shrugged your shirt off, tossing it on the floor beside you before working yourself out of your pants and discarding them in the same heap.

“Happy?” You held your arms up, turning around once over so Yelena could see that you didn’t possess any visible weapons.

She flicked her wrist down to your feet. “Shoes too.”

Your irritated look slackened at her awareness, still, you slowly bent down, reaching your fingers into your boot until they closed around the smooth wooden handle of a switchblade. You pulled the weapon out, briefly considering the odds of successfully landing damage if you lunged at her from where you were. You decided against it, knowing that it would take less time for her to activate the trigger than it would for you to attack.

Yelena held her hand out, and you reluctantly pressed the blade into her palm. “It would be a shame if I cut you up with your own knife, wouldn’t it?” She snapped it open, studying its whetted edge with eagerness.

Your eyes widened at the mention of her threat, and you backed further up against the wall, arms wrapped about your body in a miserable attempt to offer yourself some decency.

“Don’t look so scared. I won’t.” She retracted the blade and slid it into her pocket. “I have other plans for you. You’re gonna tell me everything I want to know.”

“Or else?” you combated.

Yelena grinned with amusement. “Or else? Dauntless are we? I admire that.” She took a long stride, closing in on you with her imposing height. “You’re gonna tell me everything I want to know if you don’t want your brains on my wall.” She tapped her gun against your cheek.

“You’re not gonna kill me.”

Yelena raised her eyebrows at the way you underestimated her vice.

“Commander Hange and Captain Levi wouldn’t let you see the light of day.” You chuckled. “And after they’ve been such kind hosts to you, is that any way to repay them?”

She pretended to muse over your reasoning, and then she shrugged. “Should I get my information another way then?”

You tilted your head to the side, now at a loss for words. You drew your brows together and shook your head, unable to discern what she was hinting at.

“It was easy getting you this far.” Yelena’s rich voice was strangely comforting as she spoke into your ear, the melodic rhythm of her voice lulling you into relaxation. “Your heroism is cute Y/N, but you’re not as smart as you think you are.” She coiled a strand of your hair around her lithe fingers before her hands traveled down to your chest.

“You think all your decisions are yours, but they’re not.” Her touch trailed along your breastbone, ghosting over the skin of your stomach until she met the thin fabric of your underwear.

Your mouth ran dry at the feeling of Yelena’s fingers while they lingered along your waistband. You tried to protest, but your words were stilted.

“Nothing is. Not even those thoughts in your head, someone put them there.” she whispered, dipping her hand into your underwear while pushing her gun’s end into your temple. She delighted in your afflicted expression, eyes welling with hot tears but still soundless. She skimmed over your clit lightly, watching how your body twitched in response, and she hummed at your quiet feedback before circling the sensitive swell of your cunt with her middle finger.

Fearful of grabbing Yelena’s hand to cease her movement, you cupped your unsteady hands over your mouth instead, trying to smother your panicked sobs.

Her fingers slid down to your pussy’s orifice, forcing just the tip of her finger in and growing amused at how your hole tightened desperately with every small ministration. “You’re merely a puppet on a string—easily controlled.” The mention of her last word had her pushing two fingers up into your entrance, eliciting a strident cry from you.

Yelena moved quickly, long and lean digits thrusting in and out of your hole while your body quivered under her commanding strokes. She worked you in steady pulls, curling her middle and ring finger up against the sensitive center of your core. Her movements were effortless and adroit, playing you like an instrument while listening to your airy whimpers of indulgence—the music.

“Not even a minute ago you hated me, but your lack of resistance says otherwise.” She sunk her fingers again until she was knuckle-deep.

Your feeble pleas for Yelena to stop suggested something entirely different from the way your wet and needy walls tightened around her touch while your vocalizations grew louder. You undulated your hips in tight, urgent circles, shameless in your pleasure until you felt your orgasm tickle the bottom of your spine. A sweaty hand slid over the lapels of Yelena’s blazer, gripping the fabric while you fought to keep yourself upright.

“Take my advice.” She brought her face closer to yours, lips hardly brushing over the streaks of tears that painted your cheeks. “Being so naive will only get you killed.”

She slipped her hand out of your underwear, her fingers covered in a gossamer layer of your arousal, and the sudden absence just as you had reached the cusp of your orgasm caused your pelvis to jolt. Through glossy eyes, you looked at her own, your hold on her jacket tightening. “Please—”

Your fingertips slid down to your clothed folds, gingerly skimming over the fabric to imply what you wanted. With a sober mind, you wouldn’t have dared admit that you were surrendering to the enemy, but the residual effects of the alcohol in your system blurred all your coherent thoughts, and all you could focus on was your desperation for a climax.

“Yelena, please—”

Yelena’s hand closed around your wrist, and she forcibly pulled you off of her. “Don’t beg. Have some self-respect.”

She withdrew her gun from your forehead, ungodly eyes never leaving yours. Her pinched expression relaxed back into her classic inscrutable appearance, and she slowly lowered herself onto her knees in front of you until the top of her blonde head just barely peeked over your midriff.

The sight of seeing her shorter than you for once would have been comical if it weren’t for the aching between your thighs that took priority.

Yelena wrapped an arm around the back of your knee, and hoisted your leg over her shoulder. The hand that clutched her gun pushed it into the curve of your hip bone, spawning a small whimper of discomfort from your throat.

She glanced up at you before leaning in and lolling her tongue out, delivering a long wet lick up from your entrance to your clit.

“Oh my god—” Your words were breathless and waned into a decadent purr as Yelena continued to circle the sensitive bud with the authoritative head of her pink tongue.

With a final and potent flick, she lapped your clit into her mouth, methodically oscillating between sucking and kissing your glistening cunt until she discovered the best combination to draw out the loudest moans. The fingers she dug into your thigh migrated to your backside and pressed into the skin of your ass instead. Yelena nudged you closer to her until her nose gently grazed the skin of your pelvis every time she shifted against your center.

You whimpered her name again while your restless hands slid over your chest, tugging at the sheer material of your bra and weighing your own breasts in your palms. “I’m—”

Yelena trailed down to your hole, teasing and prodding while she dragged her touch from behind. She rested her fingers against your clit, massaging it alongside her tongue’s performance to excite you into greater stimulation.

“Yelena—” You swallowed thickly. “I’m—close—”

Half-delirious with lust, the other half—inebriation, your hand settled behind her head and you rolled your lower body against her mouth, allowing the dual sensation of her fingers and tongue to send you over the edge. Your climax surfaced in two waves, first presenting itself as a tiny shiver that painted your skin in goosebumps, but the second had you crying out fervidly while your body descended into uncontrollable spasms.

“Yelena—fuck—”

Yelena continued to urge her tongue deeper, penetrating the depths of your cunt and relishing in the way your walls tightened around her slippery muscle before she withdrew from between your thighs.

The strength of your orgasm had your knees buckling, sending your back sliding down the wall until you collapsed on the floor. Your fingers scratched pathetically against the wood surface while you quivered from the aftershock of your climax, and your heavy breathing didn’t relent. You stirred briefly, drifting in and out of clarity until your eyes flitted open to see Yelena rising to her feet in a squatted position.

She observed you thoughtfully, her warped smile matching, yet at the same time contrasting, her seemingly kind eyes. It appeared she had discarded her previous plan to pry information out of you, and debriefing you wouldn’t have been worth the effort seeing as how you could hardly form an intelligible sentence.

Yelena reached out to grab your chin, forcing your lips to part wider with her thumb, just enough for her to slide the barrel of her gun into your mouth.

The metal was leaden against your tongue and it’s sharp flavor was unpleasant, making you tug your head in the opposite direction, but Yelena’s grip was unyielding. You looked onward at her as a new surge of tears flooded your waterline, and your helpless cries were muzzled by her weapon.

She rested the end of the barrel against the roof of your mouth before clicking the hammer and rotating another bullet into place.

You strung your eyes shut, waiting for the deafening sound of gunfire, quick pain, and then terrifying silence, but when nothing came, you carefully opened your eyes, wondering if you were already dead.

Rather, you were still met with Yelena’s squinting eyes, and she hummed before pulling her gun, now daubed with your saliva, from your lips. Her eyes drifted to the floor, and she stretched a hand out to grab your bundle of clothes from your side. She held them to your chest, and you hesitantly accepted them, hugging the articles to your stark frame, then Yelena rose to her feet, peering down at you with self-approving satisfaction.

“Give the military my best.”

#yelena smut #yelena x reader #yelena x reader smut #attack on titan smut #aot smut #attack on titan x reader smut #aot x reader smut

1K notes · View notes

fixyourwritinghabits · 4 years ago

Text

On Publishing Trends and You: Are You Even Allowed to Write BIPOC Characters Anymore?

Okay I’ve seen this both willfully misinterpreted and unintentionally so, but ultimately it seems to be summarized as thus:

Waaaah, meanies on twitter say white people can’t write stories about people of color!!

Or something to that affect. Look, it’s really hard to have sympathy for this viewpoint because it requires taking things so out of context you’ve twisted yourself into a pretzel. Let’s look at publishing trends and how we got here, starting with:

Own Voices: The #OwnVoices hashtag started as a way for marginalized people to pitch books based on their own experiences. Thanks to the great work of DVPit, Disability in Kidlit, and We Need Diverse Books, and others (please feel free to give shout-outs in comments/reblogs). To say OwnVoices is the main drive is misleading - a lot of great work has been put into increasing diversity in publishing before and after the OwnVoices movement, it’s just one of the more visible marketing techniques for how books are promoted today.

So how did an effort to promote marginalized people writing stories from their own perspective become ‘white people aren’t allow to _____ anymore’? GOOD Question! First, let’s look at some statistics:

Boy, that sure looks bad, huh? Well, wait, I’m sure the statistics have improved immensely -

Huh. Well, that’s some improvement. A whole .1% for Indigenous folks and hey, non-human characters more than doubled what the hell.

So you’ll notice two things right off the bat - first, this conversation is mostly taking place around Children’s/Middle Grade/Young Adult books. While it’s true diversity is also lacking in Adult books, it’s very important to provide young readers with books that not only appeal and reflect their own experiences, but are not actively harmful, unintentional or otherwise.

The bulk of this movement - from what publishers are buying, what agents are looking for, and what the twitter conversations are about - are focused on kidlit, because kidlit tends to be stories focused on finding your identity and yourself. One way to focus these personal stories is to not only promote and encourage BIPOC authors writing BIPOC centered books, but to take a step back from these spaces to allow those opportunities to exist. That’s why #OwnVoices will continue to be a big factor in publishing.

Now, the next reaction tends to swing for the bleaches:

This means all my characters have to be white or twitter will hate me forever!!1!

No, it doesn’t. Publishers/Agents/Readers still want diverse stories. What it does mean is that you have to be mindful of how you’re including BIPOC in your stories. You might have seen some of this discussion (possibly out of context) about the authenticity of dotting your stories with people of color with no thought to why they exist in your story and how they experience events. Or, as a friend of mine put it, making “ambiguously brown” people in fantasy, and both these criticisms have real merit. If you’re not considering how all your characters dwell in the world you create, be it a normal high school or a dragon fighting competition, you’re doing both yourself and your readers a huge disservice. It is worth it to take the effort to make your characters believable people, and not just existing for brownie points.

(Also, twitter can be an absolute pit of vipers and while it’s important to follow publishing conversations there, you must keep in mind that not everyone is acting in good faith and it’s more important to look where there is genuine conversation rather than focus on a small group of people being particularly nasty. If it is negatively affecting your mental health, bail out.)

So, to sum up:

Is it true I can’t ever make my main character a BIPOC if I’m a white author? No one can ever ‘make’ you not do anything. All people are asking is for you to consider why you’re telling this story from this perspective, who you’re telling the story for, and if you might be unintentionally contributing to a wider problem of a lack of diversity in publishing.

Is it true I can’t write ANY BIPOC characters? No. What is true is that you should give all your characters a good level of thought and if you have worries, seek out critique partners or consider hiring a sensitivity reader* for your work (*this is entirely dependent on where you are in the publishing process. It is a waste of money and time to pay someone to do a sensitivity read on a first draft. You might not even consider this step until you have an agent or have gotten a lot of feedback suggesting it.)

What if my story has multiple POV? Again, you’re going to have to cycle back to why you’re making the choices you’re making, and who you’re writing for. There is always room for nuance and you’ll find plenty of multiple POV books written by white authors with BIPOC characters. The question boils down to the story you’re trying to tell, and why.

What if I’m writing Adult fiction? I’ve left Adult fiction out of the above conversation because it is mostly centered on kidlit, but there still is a nuance conversation to have about making space for BIPOC authors. I’ll link some perspectives below.

One last important note is that by focusing this conversation on what white people can’t do, you are once again stripping the focus of the conversation from the BIPOC perspectives on it and centering it on whiteness. You can’t change how many diverse books are published or how we give all readers the narratives they need. You can work on how you contribute to it and hopefully for the better.

An Updated Look at Diversity in Children’s Books (where the above graphics were sourced from)

Why Do White Writers Keep Fictionalizing Black Experiences?

The American Dirt Controversy: Lessons for Writers on Getting Cultures Right (Adult fiction)

Racism vs. Representation: The Missteps of Naomi Novik’s A Deadly Education

Who Gave You the Right to Tell That Story? Ten authors on the most divisive question in fiction, and the times they wrote outside their own identities. (Adult Fiction)

Videos:

Here are some great videos from BookTuber Withcindy, someone I highly recommend following:

Should white authors write non-white characters? *A closer look at the Whiteness of Addie LaRue*

What happens when you try to be inclusive, but mess up anyway? *A closer look at A Deadly Education*

387 notes · View notes

obae-me · 4 years ago

Text

Upside Down CH-1

Author’s Note: Hi, yes, hello, welcome to the fic series that no one asked for! Do I have other things I need to finish? Yes! But has this been the only thing on my mind for the past four days? Also yes! For some reason I was incapable of writing anything else! Thanks, brain, for this out of the blue obsession!

Tags: Reverse AU

Word Count: 4587

Next Chapter

Hell Away From Hell

Wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was a mistake. It had to be. Although, with every clink of your restraints, your reality was becoming ever clearer. The chains rattled, echoing down the hall like a set of twisted wind chimes. Ones that sung of your dismal fortune. The demon ahead of you yanked the lead attached to your cuffs, sending you stumbling forward. You bit your lip to keep from cursing. Steading your body, you took their less-than-subtle message and picked up the pace. Keeping your eyes glued towards your destination, your stomach sank to your knees. Why? Why had you been brought to the castle? You hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, not anything to warrant being escorted by the palace guards in chains. And as they led you silently inside, past the polished halls and gaudy antiques, your fate pounded just fervently in your mind as your heart was in your chest.

They were going to present you in front of the prince.

It was torture in and of itself just making it to the throne room. The worst part about it all was your rampant imagination. You could only imagine what type of horrific techniques the prince was aware of. Halting in front of the large double doors, the demon behind you moved to open the entrance. Holding it open, the guard tugging you along guided you in. You managed to take only a few steps inside the room before you were practically thrown inside, your body tumbling over the ground. Both the guards smirked at you, flashing their pointed fangs in their conceited gestures before shutting the door, leaving you alone inside.

“MC.” All the air inside your lungs had conveniently escaped. Lifting your chest off the ground, you tightened your lips as you met his gaze. Those glistening emerald eyes pierced right through you. Quickly, you lowered your eyes, attempting to show as much respect as you could to gain his favor.

“M-my lord.”

The melodic note that left his throat was a mix between a laugh and a coo. “Now, now, none of that groveling. I had you brought here to ask you a favor!” You could hear him stand to his feet, and you watched his shoes approach, clicking against the marbled tile. Then, you felt the smooth skin of his hand caress your right horn. The sudden sensitive feeling had your tail rapidly twitch and tuck under your leg. He pushed your horns back, raising your chin so you could look up at him. His dark hair drifted down across his forehead, curling around his horns that curved above his head like a broken halo, his face soft and inviting, and yet your gut wouldn’t let you believe it. “Please, from now on, just call me Simeon.”

Simeon hummed as he lifted his tea cup to his lips. He had been hospitable enough, but you still couldn’t shake this feeling of unease. Plus...what he had brought you in to ask you was...well, something short of insanity. You continued to rub your wrists where your constraints had been. And as much as the prince of hell apologized for his guard’s brutish behavior, you had a feeling it was purposeful. A message of sorts. Even now, as he had his little servant bring in sweets and tea as sickly sweet as it could get, it all tasted bitter to your tongue. “So let me get this straight,” you started. “You want me to be a member of this…”

The prince tilted his head, eyes practically shining. “Restoration program.”

You cleared your throat after the little scone this blonde demon had given you made your throat run dry. “R-right. And I’m assuming I don’t have a choice in the matter?”

His voice was soft, but the light reflecting off his horns and his fangs suggested another answer. “We all have choices, MC.”

Swallowing your nervousness, you lowered your head again. “But, with all due respect, sir...why? Why a restoration program?”

Another voice chuckled behind your figure. “Because, why not?” You strained your neck, getting a view at the newcomer behind you. White hair, a mischievous smile, and something unknown swimming at the back of those dark eyes. Not only that, but the figure was wearing clothes as pure as clouds, with a certain glow to him.

Simeon stood, hand out to greet this person as if they were an old friend-and for all you knew, they might’ve been. “Solomon, how good to see you.”

The new guest-now known to you as Solomon-beamed. “Likewise. You’re looking well.” He turned, giving you a once-over to take you in before nodding. “And you are MC, yes?”

Glaring, already feeling your skin about to burn, you leaned away from him. “And you’re an angel.” Your distrustful attitude let him frown for just a moment, but whether it was just his angelic nature or his personality, that smile was right back on his face.

“Yes, well, the plan requires an angel, so Simeon personally asked me for my hand in this matter.”

The both of them could tell that you were unbelievably confused, so Simeon gestured for the angel to take a seat at the table. “Luke.” The prince gestured to his small servant, the one who had not only brought you sweets but had taken the liberty to be staring you down the entire time. Finally, he turned his attention away from you. “Please do me a favor and get our new guest some refreshments.” The lesser demon squinted at you, nearly growled at the angel, and then took his leave with rapid little steps. Simeon laughed quietly to himself. “Don’t worry about him, he’s not used to others quite yet. But, MC.” With your name mentioned, you straightened your posture. “I’ve been planning this for quite some time. It’s been a desire of mine to bring the three realms closer together.” You couldn’t help but wonder why, what purpose it served, but you kept your mouth shut. “And while I’ve started to make decent progress fixing the old wounds between the Devildom and Celestial Realm, most of my kingdom and Solomon’s people refuse to make connections with the humans.”

Mortals...even just the mention managed to leave a heavy pit in your stomach. “If I may speak.” You waited for the prince’s go-ahead before speaking your mind. “What would be the point of connecting with the humans? They serve little purpose. They’re either so corrupt they destroy their own kind or they think they’re so pure they isolate themselves or get themselves killed in the name of their twisted justice.” Speaking so passionately against the idea, you didn’t realize your nails had grown into talons, leaving marks in the wooden table. You took a breath, reclaiming your typical form. “They can’t even do themselves any good, what makes you think they’d be good for our realms?”

Solomon, an expression of understanding mixed with pity, bounced a little in his seat. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” He turned his head to Simeon, who was nodding at you with a bit of approval.

“That’s what this plan is all about. Testing them, observing them. We’ll be watching these humans, and at the end of this project, we’ll be able to determine if they’re ready and worthy of being brought together with us.” The ruler crossed one leg over the other, his tone making it sound as it was as simple as eating pie.

Setting down the fork to your pastry, you felt a sense of dread wash over you. “And by we you mean?”

“Why, you and Solomon of course! A demon and an angel, both working together to restore the bond between the human world and ours! The Demonic and Angelic Restoration program! Or D.A.R. -dare- for short.” If it weren’t for the horns, you’d almost think this demon was an angel with the way he eagerly talked about restoring bonds and bettering the nature of the realms. But, then you felt nauseous.

“What...what exactly do you need me to do to help with this...program? And why me?”

It was actually the angel that spoke up. “I’m sure you’re aware of the Morningstars?”

It was such a silly question, you ended up scoffing. “Who doesn’t down here? Those brothers are filled with so much corruption and chaos they end up fueling about half the lesser demons down here...why?”

They both straight up ignored your question and instead asked you some of their own. Simeon leaned forward, looking at you intently. “It took me quite a bit of time to find you MC. Most people don’t know you exist, and those that do hardly know your name. You simply are known to most as Isolation. Is it true that you’ve never made a pact with a human? Rumor is that you even refuse to subsist off their sins. And you’ve never taken a soul? That’s typically unheard of nowadays.”

Shifting in your seat, you gave it to them straight. “It’s true. I do whatever I can to avoid contact. Haven’t even seen a human in the past millennia. Haven’t talked to one in about twice that time.”

Clapping his hands together, Simeon let out an amazed sigh. “Perfect. You will be able to have a fresh eye! A clean slate. An unbiased--well, mostly unbiased opinion. You won’t be tempted to corrupt them, you’ll give me honest answers.”

“Plus,” the angel agreed, “if you have the strength and willpower to live without human sustenance and influence for this long, you probably will have the patience to keep from killing them. If anyone could manage to live with the Morningstars, it would be you, from what I’ve heard.”

You were grateful you had put down your drink a while ago. Your breath caught in your throat. “Wait, excuse me, what did you say? Live...with the…”

“Mr. Morningstar!” A laugh, a handshake, even a pat on the shoulder, it nearly made you ill watching the upcoming king of the Devildom greet a human like this so casually. You couldn’t help but sneak glances at this mortal...one of the Morningstars, the eldest. The one who fueled the most demons without even knowing about it. People down in the Devildom called him by Pride. A human world CEO-whatever that meant. He was powerful, influential, not to mention ridiculously rich. And he’d do whatever it took to keep his status, even at the misfortune of plenty of other people. His suit and posture told you pretty much all you needed to know about him. A fancy well tailored pitch black suit, a striking red tie with a subtle but regal diamond design, diamond cufflinks, the works. It was as if dust and winkles knew to avoid him entirely. His hair was as dark as his suit, save for the ends which were greying. He didn’t seem that old, so you wondered if it was intentional or simply stress. You thought you heard someone say that once, that humans could get grey hair from stress. Did they all possess capabilities to change their hair based on their emotions? That human lady you saw outside the building with the blue hair must’ve been feeling something intense.

“Mr-” The human you had come to see was cut off.

“Please, you know to call me Simeon by now!”

The mortal cleared his throat. “Simeon…” The human glanced at you, and raised his chin as he took Simeon by the shoulders and brought him away from you. If you had been a human, it would’ve been a decent tactic to keep you out of earshot. Unfortunately, you could still hear everything they were saying. “I know you have good standing with the company, and I’m pleased to know you respect and trust me with such a task, but...this is far from business.” You could feel his eyes on you. “I have to respectfully decline your request. I don’t think I can allow them to live with us for a year. You know my family.”

“It would only be for a year, and I know you have plenty of room in that house of yours!” Simeon laughed a bit and then lowered his voice. You could feel the alluring pull of his influence flood the space. The human stiffened, his intuition picking up on a shift in the room. “Besides, Lucifer. You know I wouldn’t ask for a favor like this without some proper and well deserved remuneration. Listen...I happen to have something on the head of that business owner that’s been butting heads with your company. Wouldn’t it be nice to have them completely out of the picture? Not only is that increasing your profit, but if they happen to...I don’t know, completely go bankrupt, that little building of theirs on the corner of Main is some prime real estate.” Reaching into his pocket, Simeon pulled out a small...plastic...rectangle of sorts, with metal on one end. “I got everything right here.” Smiling, one hand firmly against Lucifer’s upper back, he looked him right in the eyes and whispered something you knew would have this human caught. “You can’t let them bother you like this. You need to show them and everyone else who you are, and that you’re not to be messed with.”

It took the mortal a moment of internal struggle. Decline the offer and figure things out himself without assistance? Or swallow the smallest bit of ego for self satisfaction? Either way, this mortal was past helping. Already drowning in pride. Eventually, he gripped the object, tucking it into a pocket beneath his suit jacket. Despite being handed assistance, he still found a way to be demanding. “Alright, but no more than a year, and if I feel like anything is going awry, I’m sending them away. Is it really too unreasonable to just set them up on their own? Surely for you it’s no problem.”

Backing up slightly after his incentive worked, Simeon shook his head. “I would feel endlessly guilty leaving alone, desolate, isolated, after what happened. Poor thing...they haven’t even said a word to me in days.” That last part wasn’t a lie. You’d nearly refused to say anything to him since being dragged to the human world. Prince or no prince. “My poor cousin, suddenly losing all their family like that. It’s tragic, isn’t it? Losing people you love?”

Lucifer, with his arms folded, let his hand tightly grip the fabric of one of his sleeves. His eyes lowered the slightest touch, his jaw tightening. “It...is...I know it all too well.” You caught a hint of some emotion from the mortal.

“Then you know that what would be best for them right now is company. Trust me, I wouldn’t have brought them to you if I didn’t think it would help. Besides, this is a win for all parties involved, right?” Simeon gestured to the gift Lucifer had tucked away, and the last string of resistance had been snipped.

Sighing, the human looked at the luxurious watch on his wrist. “I’ll take them home. Let my brothers know what’s happening. Is it too much to assume they’ll be better behaved with a guest in the house?”

Laughing once more, the prince shrugged. If only Lucifer knew who he was in the presence of. “You’ll all just have to find out!” Patting the other man on the shoulder, Simeon then came over to you with his arms outstretched. “It’s all settled, MC!” He pulled you into a hug, taking the time to speak quietly to you. “Remember to keep your identity a secret. I’ll be checking up on you and Solomon once a month for a report. Keep them safe. Play nice.” He pulled apart, coming around behind you and settling his hands on your shoulders. “And remember, what Mr. Morningstar is doing is unbelievably nice, so make sure to thank him and keep yourself out of trouble.”

You broke your vow of silence out of irritation. “I’m not a child you’re sending away to school. I know how to keep my own head on my shoulders.” You attempted to brush his hands off but the grip was tightened. Swallowing your frustration, you kept yourself from grimacing, looking at the fabled Lucifer Morningstar. “Thank you...for letting me live with you.”

For a human, he had a tenacity for picking up on things. He noticed your lie, giving you a stare down of his own before grabbing his phone. You only recently figured out what those devices were. Simeon had made sure he gifted you one of your own, since apparently it was the main source of communication in this realm. Too strange, but you picked it up fairly quickly. Lucifer just raised his head and pressed his cell against his ear. “Just make sure you refrain from being as irksome as my brothers.” The line he was dialing picked up. “Yes, have a driver prepare to come pick me up. And someone please contact my brothers for me so they know I’m bringing home a...guest.”

It was going to be a long year…

The...metal contraption rumbled, making your head feel light. Without magic to get around, they had to use...these things. The movement slowed till it came to a stop. Looking out the pane of glass, you peered forward to see what the issue was. A big red circular light shone a bright crimson in front of the lane. Was it a threat? If so, why was the world seemingly filled with them? Then the eye turned green and the long carriage rumbled back to life. It was completely different than the last time you had been here.

“Before you even step foot in my home, we need to set some ground rules.” Even just the sound of his voice almost physically rubbed you the wrong way. You bit the inside of your cheek. Play nice, the prince had said. How long could you keep your patience around these mortals? You looked up at him, feeling him stare you down to the corrupt depths of your soul. “Since you’re going to be living with us for so long, you’re going to have to follow the same rules I give my brothers? Understand?”

Was this all worth it? Would having your soul be torn to shreds be that bad? “Yes.”

He nodded, then decided his attention would be better focused towards whatever he had on that electronic device of his. He gave you orders without even looking at you. No wonder all the lesser demons who fawned after him were so pretentious. “No parties. No pets. You can stay up however long you want, but you must be back at the house no later than midnight. You can have your own room but you must keep it clean, don’t expect me to hire a maid for you. You’re responsible for looking after yourself. I might be providing a roof over your head, but anything you need is up to you. You break anything, you’re responsible for replacing it. Just use the basic level of common sense and we should have no trouble. Hopefully the year will be over before we—oh excuse me.” Without another word he picked another call, his third one since you’d been blackmailed into this ride. You just gave a gentle sigh and stared out the window. Just a few days ago you’d still existed in your botherless existence. A personal utopia of your own making. Now you were in this...hell away from hell, the scent of smog and exhaust still burning the inside of your nose.

The rest of the ride was spent with you trying to think of ways to escape this fate, but finding none in sight. You didn’t need to fully see the building to get this overwhelming wave of impurity. The tempting allure of sin. Practically a demon buffet. These morons were just screaming to be killed or worse, eaten. Even just approaching the gate to the driveway, you could see remnants of spirits, demons without full forms clawing at the fence. Wisps of black sinking into their sidewalk. But not even those, you could smell the presence of other lesser demons...but more dangerous ones. Outside the gate were small crowds, not too many, but enough to safely conceal their presence. Photographers, journalists, fans, wherever they were, they were eager to get in. And amongst the rabble stood demons pretending to be mortals in an attempt to sink their fangs into one of the Morningstars. You slunk down in your seat, trying to conceal your presence, but you were sure they’d be able to feel you. The car slipped past all of them, approaching the first set of gates. Whoever was patrolling the vehicle pressed their fingers against a small pad attached to a pillar by the gate. It waited for a moment, then made an affirming noise before the gate swung open. The cries of mortal and hidden demons alike pleading for the smallest sliver of attention from this human made you feel sick.

Despite having nearly ignored you the whole time, Lucifer scoffed. “You’ll get used to it.” The curved metal fence shut behind you, and the sound of the crowd slowly faded as you pulled up in front of the massive house. If anything, it reminded you a little of home. It was an old fashioned looking house, but fanciful nonetheless. With dark stone, piercing towers, arched windows, and an overall gothic aesthetic. You managed to take a moment to breathe. At least there was one silver lining. Lucifer stepped out of the idle vehicle first, paying you no mind as he approached the steps to the door. Slightly panicking, you tried simply pushing the door before noticing the small handle. Pulling it unlocked it, and you rapidly exited, feeling the motion sickness fade with your feet on the ground. You followed the mortal to the door, and was slightly pleased when he put his phone away to open the door, leaving it open for you. Lucifer shut the door, a small high pitched noise ringing through your ears. You turned and watched him mess with a little panel near the door. “Our security is top of the market. I make sure the code is changed every day, so if you’re not inside by midnight, I hope you enjoy camping.”

You were about to speak up about that, but both of you were bombarded with noise. A noise you would later learn to get used to. “Oi! Lucifer!” A bundle of energy came racing down the stairs. Wild hair, dark skin, rings on nearly every finger, you recognized this individual without having to ask his name. You could feel the influence. Greed. Demons almost loved this brother more than Pride, because from what you’d heard, he’d make deals impulsively with demons without knowing their true intentions. As long as money or something expensive was in front of him, he’d jump for anything. It had gotten him in more than enough trouble, and it made him too much of a prime target. At least Lucifer knew how to look over his shoulder. The second brother confronted the eldest. He didn’t even glance at you. “Hey, I need some cash! For some reason my card keeps declining...you can spot me right?”

Lucifer didn’t even hesitate. “No.”

“Eh? Why not?! I did that thing the other day for you, remember?”

“Hm?” Lucifer tilted his head, taking the time to recall-or pretending to. “Which thing would that be? Would it have been before or after you stole and immediately maxed out my card?” Lowering his eyes, the older one gave off a menacing smile.

Mammon took a step back, muttering. “O-oh you found about that, huh?”

The smile turned into a full on yell. “Of course I found out! I got a call from the bank as soon as they saw the purchase! What exactly do you need a golden tiger statue for, Mammon? Seriously, you’re absolutely ridiculous! I returned it by the way, and in the meantime I cancelled all your cards.” Mammon went to open his mouth in anger but didn’t have the chance to say anything. “You can try to find some extra work to pay off all the bills you’ve left me with. And if I think you’re ready, I’ll reopen your accounts in two months.” The effort of shouting sent Pride’s eye twitching. He lifted a hand to press against his forehead, the blood draining from his face. You shifted ever so slightly in your spot and he groaned. “Right, you’re here. Mammon, this is MC.”

Eyebrows raised, he jumped a little when he finally spotted you were in the room. “Wait, wait, wait, that whole thing with someone staying with us for a year wasn’t a joke?”

“No.” Although the slight warble to his voice seemed that that fact was just now settling in. “It wasn’t. And since you’ve so kindly volunteered yourself, you can take their bags and show them to their room.” He simply turned. No welcome, no tour, no warmth in those cold eyes of his.

“Hey! Come back here!” Yet the younger sibling showed no signs of chasing after him. “Lucifer!” His older brother just quickly headed up the stairs and disappeared into the house. Was it really going to require a full year of observation? Just from what you were seeing right now, you wanted nothing to do with humans. Nothing. Mammon ran a hand through his hair, one of his strands getting stuck in one of his rings, but he tugged it out without noticing, like it was a daily occurrence. “I can’t believe this.” You could watch as the anger started to swell within him. “Screw this, I’m out of here!” You were ready for him to leave, to give into his emotions. He had wrapped his hand around the door handle before he stopped. Pausing, he just tutted to himself before shoving his hands in his jacket-pockets, looking in your direction but not fully at you. “You want the guest room we have upstairs or down?” Loud, brash, rude in some ways, but there was a weird sort of innocence about him. You simply shrugged. He nodded, grasping one of your bags suddenly, gesturing you to follow. “I’ll give you the downstairs one. Most of our rooms are on the second floor, so it’s a bit quieter down here, plus it stays cooler.” He led you past the entrance hall and back into the rest of the house. “Plus, it’s easier to sneak out from here, but you didn’t hear that from me. I’m guessing Lucifer gave you the whole rule spiel?”

You restrained the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah.”

He hissed in air through his teeth. “Sucks, man, are you sure you want to stay here?”

The pain around your wrists was still too prominent. Etched into your skin was a mark, a line of runes and symbols around your wrists. Who knew demons could give temporary pacts to other demons? Simeon ensured you a small fraction of his power, just in case you ran into trouble. But in exchange he had a hold on you, able to summon you to him whenever he needed you. It was your chain keeping you imprisoned here. There was no running. There was no hiding. “I didn’t have a choice.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke

304 notes · View notes