#like the hardest week i've had in a really long time
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i stg i have the best of intentions with this blog and with starting new interactions with various mutuals but then my fucking depression flares up and it all falls to shit and i’m gonna be honest, i’m really fucking over it
#tbd#this week has been so fucking rough#like the hardest week i've had in a really long time#and it's because we're still adjusting my meds and i just have not been able to find something that works#without causing a whole host of other issues#i'm just really tired of not being able to sit down and do things i enjoy#let alone do things that are necessary for basic survival#sorry for this i just needed to rant a bit#but thank you to everyone who is patient and understanding with me and my flakiness#you mean the world to me and i appreciate you#&. out of character﹙chatter.﹚
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#this is me just screaming into the void#but this week has been hard. like one of the hardest weeks I've had to get through in the longest time#tues was my great grandma's 12th anniversary of her passing#wed I got the news that a friend passed away suddenly#thurs was my late father's birthday#fri was that friend's funeral but I can't go#and there's a whole host of other things going on in my family now that I cannot put out into the internet just yet#personally I'm just so so tired#I am not spiralling. At least I don't feel like I am. but it's been so hard#I cannot turn to my family because of whatever's going on right now#I can't really turn to my friends just yet because my emotions are still percolating#my only consolation and also burden is that I will be away for a wedding soon and after that my last big trip for 2024#I feel so spread thin right now#I actually sat in the car with my sausage McMuffin crying to Hao's Haicheng and Woozi's What Kind of Future this morning#it's the first time I cried like that in a long while because I rarely let myself get to that point#idek why I am writing this#I think I just wanted to scream into the void for a bit#gab irl#thing is with the friend that just passed; he was part of the party crowd I used to run with#we are all kinda spread all over now -- some moved back to their own countries; some married and moved; some with kids...#we haven't partied together since before the pandemic#we kept talking about wanting to link up soon and catch up#I had even been thinking about him lately#and now he is gone and I do not have the place to pour my grief and my regrets into
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Hey, I love your Batfam work! Is there any chance you could do a whump/angst one of batsis being kidnapped by a villian(you can choose whoever you want) and she’s tortured for days with it being broadcasted to the Batfam while they try to track the footage. I feel kinda bad but can you do maybe some head trauma md severe burns? Maybe she has to be put in a medically included coma or smth because of the damage? Also is there any way you could include Barb and Duke along w/ the four robins? If not that’s totally cool! Sorry for the long request but I hope you have a great day!!
Anonymous Requested: batfam x batsib reader whos the youngest and newest robin and is just really goofy and doesn’t take anything seriously (ex: them blaring “who’s the (bat)man” on the comms during patrol [that songs stuck in my head i had to mention it]) and something happens, maybe their first close encounter to death or a run in with the joker and they just become a shell of who they were and stuff
Jokes On Me
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Note: My god im so sorry this literally took me forever to write, thank you so much for being patient. I've been trying to write this all week but just couldn't sit down for long enough to finish it.
Warnings: Torture, blood, burns.
Word Count: 2.5k
⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧
⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤
“Y/N, turn that shit off.”
Jason grumbled at you over the coms. You had been blasting some wretched song that you’d found on the internet over and over again and it was beginning to drive him mad.
“Nope.” You said, popping the ‘p’ loudly.
“Seriously.” Dick deadpanned. He had found it amusing at first, but it was now beginning to test his patience.
Agitated, you sighed and turned off the music. “Fine.”
“Thank you.” Jason expressed gratefully, turning his eyes back to the road he was patrolling. The night was cool and quiet besides the odd dog walker or couple returning from an evening out. It was one of those nights where patrol would end early and he could return home to take a warm bath and read a book before turning in for the night. Or so he thought.
You were rounding the corner, humming that tune that was still stuck in your head when his laughter ricocheted across the walls. You stiffened, eyes widening and hands fumbling for your weapon as your breath hitched. No amount of turning and craning your head allowed you to catch a glimpse of the dreaded figure, and you thought for a moment that perhaps it had just been a trick of your mind, or one of your brothers playing a cruel joke on you as payback for winding them up earlier. But then you heard it again, only this time to your left. You clutched your weapon tighter, eyes scanning the area with a new found sense of urgency.
“Wing…” You whispered into the coms so quietly that you were surprised he heard it.
“What now?” He somewhat snapped.
“We have a problem.”
Dick’s heart sank through the floor, his ears pricking up and his demeanour changing completely. “Where are you? What’s the matter? He was trying to let his panic show, but you hadn’t been patrolling as a vigilante for very long, and while you were well trained, you lacked the experience to deal with something big on your own. And from your tone of voice, he could tell that you were in some deep shit.
Jason worked his legs harder to push himself to reach the direction he had seen you head off in. Albeit it seemed even his hardest wasn’t enough.
When he stepped out of the darkness, the first thing you noticed were his eyes. Wide and bright, easily mistakable for a cat’s as they flashed in the darkness; wild. Rabid. As he emerged fully with that infamous twisted grin splayed out on his face, you felt like a cornered animal; a deer in headlights. You froze, unable to move despite how your heart screamed at you to run as it pounded, trying to break free from your ribcage.
“He’s here…” A mere whisper sliding over your tongue, so fragile that you weren’t even sure if you had actually said it aloud. Jason had heard it.
“Who?”
The Joker was circling you now, dragging out his strides in lazy circles. You should have fought but in that moment all of your training had drained out of you, along with the colour in your face. He smirked, leering down upon you as you tried to keep your trembling hand still. He pouted in mockery and at your silence, Jason repeated his question to you, but you never got the chance to respond.
“Oh…Just an old friend, Jay-bird.”
���Joker.” Urging his body to move faster, Jason grit his teeth.
Dick paled. “You leave them alone.” Dick spat. It tried to be a command, but the effect was lost somewhere in transmission.
The joker pursed his lips, tilting his head as he analysed. One of his hands had found his way to your jawline and he trailed it with a cold, gloved hand. You wanted to lean away, to run and find your brother but you knew that now he had you in his grasp there was no point in even trying. “And why would I do that? They’re right in front of me. I could just…snatch them up.”
“Don’t you dare!” Dick was frightened now. “Y/N, you stay there as long as you can, okay? You fight. We’re coming, you hear?”
The Joker frowned at you. “D’you hear that? Big brother birdy coming to the rescue. How sweet.”
His grip on you tightened. “Too bad you’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”
With one swift motion, he had thrown you harshly to the side, your head colliding with the wall with a sickening crack.
The two boys skidded to a halt just a second too late. You were already gone.
~
Your head hurt when you woke up. Your eyes squinted against the sterile light. They did no favours to your pounding headache. With a groan, you tried to twist, to roll over and soothe the crook in your neck but instead all that happened was the jinging of a metal chain. You craned your head and spotted the thick chain that had been wrapped around your wrist, confining you to the chair. Struggling, you tugged on them, trying to free yourself only for them to rattle and scrape against your skin.
“Yeah, that’s not going anywhere, birdy.” The joker chided.
You glared at him through narrowed eyes, trying to mask the thumping of your heart. The joker grinned wildly at your frightened complexion.
“It was such a shame that Grayson and Todd didn’t get to you in time, but it was far too easy to catch you, little bird: you completely froze.” He snapped his fingers to emphasise his point. “Didn’t batsy teach you better?”
“Don’t talk about them.” You snapped.
The joker raised his hands, palms facing toward you in surrender: taunting you as if you were the one with the power in the situation. “Touchy subject I see. Too bad.”
He gestured above you to an incessantly blinking light. “Smile for the camera, you’re live.”
~
Babs had been monitoring the street cameras when the computer beside her flickered to life. She had been searching for any sign of you ever since Dick and Jason came flying through the grandfather clock. Everyone was on edge.
The moment the screen flashed on, her eyes perked up to watch it, alarmed. She hadn’t turned it on. And there were very few people who could bypass the caves system. So when she saw a small frame curled up in a chair she knew immediately what was up.
“Duke…” she called to the dark haired boy who was trying to help decipher your whereabouts. “Go and get B.”
It did not take long at all for everyone to gather around in the cave. Duke was fast, and everyone dropped what they were doing to race down: even Alfred had taken his leave from his duties to see.
It was almost like some sick irony because as soon as they were all there, you began to scream. A guttering, perfect scream that cut that through them like a knife: unclean and pinging into them messily again and again.
The joker had taken a knife to your left thigh, his smile dripping with malice as he watched the camera, somehow knowing that at least one of them would be watching.
Your face was contorted in pain, twisting in agony as tears rolled flatly down your cheeks from fearful eyes. Damian felt sick, his stomach churning. Jason wanted to leave. But all of them were stuck watching. Barbra was tapping away, trying to locate the signal from the video to no avail.
“I hope you’re watching this Batsy…” He moved round to trail your face with the edge of the knife. You whimpered. “I’ve got your little bird here and I must say, you need to work on their training. They were far too easy to catch.”
Bruce felt his jaw tightening and Tim had to place a hand on his arm to remind him of his place.
“Anyway I thought we would play a little game… how long can little y/n survive for. I wonder if it’ll be any longer than our very own Jason Todd.”
Jason twitched.
“I’m testing you here, Bat. Tick Tock.”
The transmission cut to black.
~
It seemed hopeless. Even though they had been searching for days, they were no closer to finding you. And to make matters worse, they could see you. Not long after the first transition ended did it start up again. It had been lifestreaming since then, and although they had tried to block it from their minds, it was hard to ignore. Especially when your agonised screams ricocheted throughout the halls.
You looked like hell. Dark bags occluded under your eyes and there wasn’t an inch of your skin that wasn’t marred or stained with drying blood. The burns were worse. Damian could still hear the scream you let out when the joker first brought the hot poker to your skin. It had bubbled and blistered as the skin peeled away; you had thrashed against your restraints violently. Tim was certain that they were going to get infected if they didn’t reach you soon.
It felt as if they had searched everywhere. Dick and Jason had even asked around to see if anyone had heard anything, going as far to talk to the Jokers closest associates in Arkham, but even if they did know, nobody said anything. Duke had even gone as far to go back to the area to use his powers to see if he could trace anything, but nothing seemed out of place; they had hit a brick wall. That was…until a small light appeared on the monitor. Babs had managed to trace the signal to a small building on the outskirts of the city.
They were suited up in minutes, making a beeline for the building. They stormed it, recklessly taking down the Joker's goons before Batman chased wildly after the Joker, his face stony and his fists burning with anger. The other four boys chased down the winding corridors, flinging open the doors until they found one that was locked. Tim wasted no time, picking the lock with ease he peeled it open. His breath hitched when he saw you.
Your face was gaunt, hanging low by your chest. Your suit was torn and there was less of it on your body than there was ripped away. You looked so fragile as your chest heaved sporadically.
Jason nearly had to take a step back. This place reminded himself too much of his own encounter with the Joker not too long ago. But he pressed forward, fighting his instincts. He had to be strong. Instead of turning back, he kneeled in front of you, whispering your name. His hand came up to cup your face. You flinched away.
“It’s okay kid. It’s us.” He tried to reassure you, but you shrank back into yourself.
“We’re so, so sorry kiddo.” Dick tried placing a gentle hand on your arm before moving to work on the cuffs around your wrists. “We’re going to get you out.”
You said nothing, just continued to stare at the black space before you, and Dami wasn’t sure if you even knew they were in front of you. But when Jason moved away from you to help remove your restraints, your fingers latched onto him and you squeaked in protest.
He sighed shakily. “Don’t worry kid. I’m not going anywhere.”
Damian twisted from where he was guarding the door. “We need to leave.”
Dick nodded bluntly, finishing with the last of the locks. “I’m going to have to pick you up, okay sweetheart?”
You barely registered what he had said. Everything had grown numb, you nodded anyhow. Moving his arms underneath your legs and slipping one arm behind your back, Jason began to lift you. He nearly recoiled when you cried and whimpered with the way your wounds jostled as he sprinted out of the building to get you back to safety.
~
You were yet to say anything since you came home. You had been back a few days and your wounds were healing up nicely thanks to Alfred’s handywork, but the air was eerily silent around you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been communicating with them; you spoke to them with gestures or writing but no one was used to not hearing your voice. The stark contrast between your loud and bustling personality and you now was unsettling. No one wanted to push you too far but the manor was beginning to grow lonely.
It was one particularly rainy night when you finally spoke. You were curled up in a large armchair by the window in the library, sinking back into the plush leather as you watched the raindrops race down the glass. Jason had been watching you from afar, contemplating whether to talk to you or not when he walked over.
“What are you up to?” He asked you, making sure you knew that he was there before he spoke.
You gestured toward the window,then to the half opened book at your feet and shrugged.
“I see.” He nodded, taking a seat on the armchair opposite you. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jason wasn’t much of a talker. He knew more than anyone what you were going through, which was why it was nice just to know that he was willing to sit with you, just so you knew that he was there if you needed him. It made you feel safe. But you also couldn’t help but feel guilty, and frustrated with yourself for being in a place that made him feel as though he had to do that.
“I’m sorry.” You whispered.
Jason had to do a second take. His heart swelled. “What for?”
You sighed. “This. When I saw him…i-i froze. If I had run then this would never have happened.”
“Shh. This isn’t your fault.”
“But-”
“I promise, Kid. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
You nodded, looking away from him. But then you furrowed your brows and turned back to him. “How did you do it? How did you deal with this, Jay? Every time I close my eyes he’s there.”
“I guess I don’t, really. Or sometimes it feels like I don’t. I still get scared sometimes. I still see him in my dreams. But over time it gets easier. I had people around me to help me. And so do you, kid. We’re here. We’ll always be here.”
Jason shifted to brush away a rogue tear and you leaned into his touch and then wrapped your arms tightly around his middle.
“I’m here. Always. We’ll get through this together.”
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BATFAM TAGS
@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish
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#batfam x reader#Batfamily x reader#dc x reader#dc#batfam#dick Grayson#dick Grayson x reader#hurt/comfort#nightwing#nightwing x reader#Jason Todd#Jason Todd x Reader#batfam x sibling reader#red hood#red hood x reader#batfam x injured reader#Tim Drake#Tim Drake x Reader#red Robin#red Robin x reader#Damian Wayne#Damian Wayne x Reader#robin#robin x reader#writing#angst#whump#duke Tomas#barbra gordon#Batman
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mistletoe
featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader
summary - jumping on the mistletoe bandwagon, their reactions to finding themselves under the mistletoe with you
warnings - none
a/n: Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it! I don't but I wanted to wish everyone else :)
ZORO
You would be lying if you said you didn't plan all week mostly trying to get Zoro under mistletoe with you. Coming up with excuses to get him in a doorway seemed near impossible, but after a very long few days of thinking, you had your plan set.
"Zorooooooo~"
The swordsman groaned, knowing exactly what that sing-song call meant for him. It could only spell mischief, and he popped open an eye to peer at you curiously.
"What do you want, woman?" He grumbled.
You pouted, "Come onnnnn, lighten up! It's Christmas!" You tugged on his arm. "Pleaseeee?"
He sighed loudly, "Fine."
He let you pull him up and drag him along, silently cursing his willingness to go along with whatever silly endeavor you chose for each day. He couldn't help it, as much as he wanted to just sleep, he loved you enough to participate in your silly antics.
When you suddenly stopped and pointed upwards, Zoro was confused. Then he looked up, and his eyes found some mistletoe hanging from the top of the doorframe.
"Seriously?" He looked back at you, frowning.
You rolled your eyes, "Fine, I'll go get Sanji."
That was enough to make him growl and grab your waist, tugging you forward so you were against his chest. You giggled innocently and wrapped your arms around his neck.
"You're so annoying," he complained, but kissed you anyway.
He kissed you slowly and deeply, pouring as much love as he could into it. Usually these kisses were brief, but he drew it out and kissed you for longer than you expected, effectively knocking the wind out of you when you pulled away.
"Now can I nap in peace?"
ACE
This man right here is perhaps the only one in this list that does not need to be dragged under it. He is the one carrying it around, putting it over two people's heads randomly and then running off giggling when they yell and chase him. But he will also put it over your head and his, although it took him a few tries.
"(Nameeeee)! Look what I got!"
Your energetic boyfriend bounded into the room you were busy in, holding something behind his back. He pouted when you didn't even look up, before repeatedly tapping your arm to get your attention.
"(Name), (Name), (Name)..."
He's like a little kid. So eventually you give in and look at him, only to see him raise something and hold it above yours and his heads. You blush madly upon seeing what it was, feeling butterflies form in the pit of your stomach. The fiery commander smiled innocently, and you couldn't help but giggle as you pulled away from your work to indulge him, wrapping your arms around his bare waist.
"Well, look what we have here," you smirked.
"I know, what a coincidence," he shot you a goofy grin, leaning in.
"I'm not complaining."
You crashed your lips against his, kissing him fiercely and hotly. He reciprocated immediately, making sure to keep the mistletoe hanging above as he cupped your cheek in his free hand, smiling against your lips. He loved kisses like these, energetic and passionate but also loving and adoring.
"That was by far the best response I've gotten to hanging this over people's heads."
"Oh my god, Ace!" you giggled, realising why everyone had been out for Ace's blood today. You shook your head at his antics, pecking his lips one more time before going back to work.
LAW
The complete opposite of Ace, Law is the hardest to get under the mistletoe. He is always cooped up in his room, working, and barely leaves. So you have to do some really deep thinking and planning to get this stubborn man to kiss you under the mistletoe.
Of course, he has to leave his room for meals, so you decide to strike at breakfast on Christmas.
You failed to account for the fact that Law was the most observant person to ever exist, and that he would easily spot the mistletoe you not-so-secretly hid above his doorway. He did find it, and called you first - knowing full well this was one of your shenanigans.
"(Name)-ya, what's that?"
You swallowed nervously and looked up, letting out a nervous chuckle, "I have no idea how that got there."
"Uh huh," he hummed, stepping closer to you. "Look me in the eye and say that again."
You couldn't. And now you were getting too nervous to even just grab him and kiss him, but little did you know that was part of his plan. He was flipping the switch, turning the tables on you and making it seem as if it was his idea.
"Well, you know the rule," he said casually, leaning closer to you. "I'm waiting."
Your face turned a dark shade of red at that, and you fidgeted with your shirt anxiously before leaning in to meet him halfway, letting your lips touch his gently. He was the one who deepened it, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your waist.
Law, when he wanted to be, could be just as mischievous, if not more.
SANJI
I take it back, Sanji is the easiest to get under the mistletoe. In fact, he is the one planting the mistletoe everywhere in hopes of getting to snag a kiss from you at one point. Little did he expect, his plan would backfire quite miserably. Because instead of walking into the kitchen with you, you got stuck in the doorway with Usopp under the mistletoe, because Usopp had tried to get out the same time you tried to go in.
"YOU LONG-NOSED SNAKE-"
Sanji was fuming, throwing a tantrum as you just giggled and pecked the sniper's cheek, earning an embarrassed blush from him as he scuttled off.
"Babe-"
"Next one is mine, I swear!"
That did not happen. You just happened to be walking out of the aquarium when Zoro walked in, and Sanji almost fainted when the two of you landed under the mistletoe.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"
"Rules are rules, twirly brows," Zoro smirked, enjoying this solely because it irritated the hell out of Sanji. As the blonde fumed and threw another tantrum, you gave Zoro a quick peck on the cheek as well before moving on.
Only after you had given Luffy, Brook, Franky and Chopper cheek kisses as well did Sanji FINALLY get you under the mistletoe, but by then he was in tears. Crying over how badly he'd planned this.
"Come here you," you laughed and pulled him close by the collars of his shirt, smashing your lips against his. You kissed him fervently, showing him that you'd been waiting for this kiss the most. He eventually relaxed and kissed you back just as passionately, locking his arms around your waist.
"About damn time."
KAKU
Oh, boy. The ratio of boys to girls in the CP9 team is horrible. There are two women, compared to six men. That's excluding Spandam, because you never included him in these things. But still, it was quite difficult for Kaku to surprise you with mistletoe because of the rare chance of getting you to walk where he placed it without you figuring it out.
Oh well.
So, begrudgingly, Khalifa agreed to help him out. Knowing it wouldn't be suspicious if she led you through a specific doorway, you followed her easily without questioning it.
That is, until she stopped outside the doorway and you entered at the same time as Kaku was trying to leave. The CP9 swordsman blushed, thankful that this worked, and shyly gestured up towards the mistletoe. Your eyes widened, before your own blush formed on your cheeks.
He is so so shy, you are the one who actually makes the move. He may have planted the mistletoe, but he is too nervous and flustered to actually lean in and kiss you, so you have to grab him by the zipper of his jacket and tug him down to meet you at eye-level.
"It's cute that you planned it out," you smiled innocently, knowing about it since Khalifa was not great at hiding what her task was.
"How did you-" He looked at Khalifa, who just shrugged and turned away. He blushed harder, "I didn't want to get anyone else under here by accident."
His admission made you giggle, "Fair enough."
Then you leaned in and kissed him slowly and deeply, angling your face away from his long nose after multiple experiences of your kisses being ruined by your eye being poked. His arms slipped around your waist and he lifted you up slightly, since he was much taller, and kissed you even deeper than you had kissed him.
"Get a room!" Jabra yelled, which you both ignored.
LUFFY
At least everyone else on this list actually knows what mistletoe is. Poor Luffy was so confused by the concept when Nami brought it up a few days before, and even explaining it to him didn't help. Unfortunately, on the day of Christmas, before anyone could actually show him what it was, Luffy had already eaten like three of the four plants that were strung up randomly around the ship.
"Luffy!" Nami scolded, "They're not food!"
Sanji had set them up, not knowing your dear captain would be oblivious enough to consume them, though he should have known better. Fortunately, since the cook was desperately trying to get either Robin or Nami to kiss him, he had spares.
"It's mistletoe, Luffy," you giggled as you took his hand and guided him to where Sanji had hung a surprise one for you and Luffy.
"What does it do?" He blinked, so very cutely confused.
"Well," you began, stopping under the doorway with the mistletoe, "You have to kiss the person you end up under the mistletoe with." As you said it, you blushed hard.
"But why?" Luffy asked. "Can't I just kiss you anyway?"
You laughed at that, blushing more, "You can, but it's more like...a cute tradition."
"Oh," he nodded, looking like he understood. He did not.
"Luffy," you sighed, pointing up at the plant.
He looked up, got excited and reached for it...only to have you slap his hand away.
"Don't eat it!"
Before he could respond, you tugged him against you by his waistcoat and kissed him deeply, successfully distracting him from his mission to apparently consume all the mistletoe you owned. He wrapped his arms around you excitedly and kissed you messily, but you didn't mind because he was just very eager.
"I get it now!"
USOPP
Like Kaku, Usopp is an extremely shy, flustered boy. He is so nervous all the time and when Robin off-handedly mentions mistletoe a day before Christmas, Usopp almost faints. He has kissed you before, but the idea of setting it up and leading you to it had his knees knocking together, his legs becoming two wavy lines.
"Usopp!" You called excitedly, rushing to find your boyfriend. While he was so nervous about the mistletoe, you had no such qualms and even blatantly waved it around over your head. "Look what I found!"
When you reached him, you smiled innocently as you held the little plant over your heads, grabbing his hand to pull him close.
"And what exactly do you have there?" He asked, feigning confusion.
You raised an eyebrow, then smirked, "Are you getting shy on me again? How cute." You kissed his cheek, making him protest.
"Is that my kiss?! That is so unfair, how can you just-"
You cut him off by actually kissing him, effectively shutting him up and drowning out his complaints. You kissed him deeply, much more passionately than your usual kisses and giggled when his legs almost gave out from under him.
"I-I was gonna do that..."
"Uh huh."
#one piece#op#zoro x reader#zoro x you#roronoa zoro#sanji x reader#sanji x you#vinsmoke sanji#portgas d ace#ace x reader#ace x you#trafalgar law#law x reader#law x you#luffy x reader#luffy x you#monkey d luffy#one piece kaku#kaku x reader#kaku x you#usopp x reader#usopp x you#usopp#one piece x reader#one piece x you
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“LEFTOVERS” - lee doona.
summary: lee doona was so full of herself and you hated it. until, you understood.
words: 4.2k +
warnings: 18+ g!p reader, p in v, oral (d receiving), doona’s kinda an ass but not really because she’s wifey, and i think that’s all.
notes: once request open back up more doona requests guys 🙏🙏🙏🙏 she’s so underrated
navigation. request.
you had never met someone so full of themselves; well, that was up until the moment you had your first interaction with doona. you had just finished lacing up your sneakers, your compression shirt hugging your torso and your workout pants snug and comfortable.
the day was still cool, perfect for a run, and you were looking forward to clearing your head after a long day of work.
being a server was no joke.
you popped your headphones into your ears, selecting your playlist before closing and locking the main entrance door behind you, completely oblivious to the pair of eyes that had been watching you from across the courtyard.
it was a beautiful evening, and you smiled as you started singing, off-key but nonetheless singing, while you warmed up and stretched before your run. you didn't notice the figure sitting nearby until you were almost past them.
doona.
she was sitting on the brick fence that surrounded an old tree, one leg crossed over the other, and a cigarette dangling from her lips. the smoke swirled lazily around her, and she exhaled slowly, watching you with a bored, detached look as you bopped your head to the music in your headphones.
you were in your own little world, head down, and pounding music that drowned out everything except for your own thoughts.
but then, just as you were getting into a good groove, doona stood up abruptly, taking a drag from her cigarette.
without missing a beat, she stepped directly into your path, her body blocking your way.
you came to a halt, pulling your headphones down to your neck.
"excuse me," you said, raising an eyebrow, already feeling the irritation start to build. you hadn't been expecting anyone to stand in your way, let alone her.
doona regarded you coolly, the smoke curling from her lips as she blew out a cloud and gave you a pointed look. "what's your deal?"
you blinked, confused, your jaw slightly dropping. "what?"
doona took another slow drag from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. the calm, almost calculating look on her face made you feel even more confused.
"you've been staring at me for weeks," she said, her voice laced with something you couldn't quite place. was it annoyance? amusement? "every time you run by, you look up at my apartment. i see you. you're watching me."
you blinked again, the irritation from before quickly turning into bewilderment. "what? i'm not—what are you talking about?"
doona's expression didn't soften. she flicked the ash off her cigarette, still maintaining that intense gaze. "don't act like you haven't noticed me. you've been eyeing me from across the courtyard every day, practically tracking my every move. and now you're singing my songs like some kind of weird obsession. what's your deal, stalker?"
a small laugh escaped you, almost out of reflex. "are you serious? i've just been doing my thing—i'm not stalking anyone."
doona raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. for a moment, there was a pause between you two, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears as your confusion started to shift into something else.
"yeah, right." she took another drag, blowing the smoke into your face, causing you to close your eyes and cough slightly. your jaw tightened at the action, but you still tried to keep your cool. the last thing you wanted was to give her any kind of satisfaction.
doona tilted her head to the side; the two of you studied each other intently, the tension thickening between you as the seconds dragged on. her gaze was sharp, predatory even, and her lips twitched into a small smirk.
you, on the other hand, were trying your hardest not to show how irritated you were. it wasn't like you cared that she thought you were some sort of stalker. in fact, you were far more interested in getting away from this confrontation and finishing your run.
but as you stared back at her, you couldn't help but feel... curious. who was this woman? why was she so damn confident and dismissive?
finally, you exhaled sharply, pulling your shoulders back when it finally hit you. she was lee doona, from dream sweet!
your confusion morphed into a mix of surprise and disinterest. you weren't particularly impressed by celebrity status, and honestly, you couldn't care less who she was. all you cared about was getting back to your routine and putting as much distance between you and this strange encounter as possible.
you stared at her for a beat longer, trying to mask the faint surprise flickering across your face. doona's eyes held an intense gaze, scanning you almost like a puzzle to be solved.
but when you didn't immediately react the way she expected, her expression faltered for a fraction of a second, and she flicked the cigarette again, sending more ash into the wind.
"so, what?" you said, cutting through the silence with a firm tone, finally over the awkwardness. "you're accusing me of stalking you because i run by and look up at the apartments? that's a stretch."
doona narrowed her eyes, seemingly a bit put off by your nonchalant attitude. she opened her mouth, but something in your demeanor stopped her. maybe it was the fact that you weren't fawning over her or hanging on her every word like people usually did.
maybe it was the confusion you still had about her unexpected behavior. she seemed a little unsure of herself for the first time in the conversation.
her voice, when it came out, was slightly less accusatory, but no less annoyed. "it's not just about running by, alright? it's the way you look at me. like you're always waiting for something."
you paused, taking a moment to process her words. you tried to read her, but she had the same expression as before, guarded and defensive. her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were sharp.
was she really this caught up in a casual interaction with someone she thought was obsessed with her?
"i'm not 'waiting' for anything," you replied before brushing past her, putting your headphones back in, and jogging out of the courtyard towards the street.
over the next week, doona's presence became hard to ignore. she had a way of appearing at just the right moment—whether it was passing you in the hallway or casually lounging on her balcony as you stepped out for air.
her presence was like a constant shadow, always hovering just out of reach but never quite out of mind. you couldn't deny that her mysterious aura intrigued you, but you weren't about to give her the satisfaction of knowing that.
each time you crossed paths, whether she was perched on the balcony with a cigarette or standing in the doorway as you passed by, she had that same intense, unreadable gaze. it was like she was trying to figure you out, but at the same time, she never seemed to want to make the first move.
you, however, had other things on your mind—your routine, your runs, the work that needed to get done. doona wasn't a part of that, no matter how much she seemed to want to be. you kept your head down, trying to block out the distraction that was her presence.
but one day, when you returned home after work, still dressed in dress pants and a black button-up shirt, you saw doona sitting outside.
you hesitated for a second, unsure if she'd approach or if you should just keep walking. but before you could make up your mind, she called out to you.
"hey."
you stopped, caught off guard by the lack of confrontation this time. she wasn't blocking your path or looking at you like you were some strange specimen. she was just... there. waiting.
"are you going to keep ignoring me, or do you actually want to talk?" her tone wasn't harsh this time, just curious.
for a moment, you felt a flash of irritation. who did she think she was, acting like she had the right to dictate when you should talk to her? you had enough of these mind games. you glanced over at her, seeing her kicking her feet outwards like a child.
she wasn't smoking this time, and she wasn't giving you that intimidating, piercing stare either. instead, her eyes were warm, and there was a small, inviting smile on her face.
something in your stomach twisted slightly, but you managed to hold yourself together. you stepped forward, crossing your arms, but your stance was more relaxed now, less defensive than before. "what's this about, doona?"
she leaned back against the fence, leaning back on her arms and tilting her head slightly. "i don't know. maybe i was wrong about you."
"wrong about me?" you repeated, confused. "what do you mean?"
doona let out a sigh, her gaze flicking down to the ground before meeting yours again. "i misjudged you. thought you were... obsessed or something."
a soft chuckle escaped you, and you raised an eyebrow, still unsure if you were understanding correctly. "and now?"
her stomach growled audibly before she could answer; doona's eyes flicked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she ran a hand through her hair, clearly embarrassed.
you couldn't help but chuckle at her. "lucky for you, i've got leftovers from work," you said, tapping the backpack you had slung over your shoulder, which contained a portion of the evening's meals from your restaurant job.
"leftovers?" doona raised an eyebrow. "what, you think i look like i'm starving?"
"maybe not starving," you said, "but it's not like you're going to turn down free food." you held out the bag, shaking it slightly, almost teasing her.
she eyed it for a moment, then pushed herself off the fence, moving toward you with a slow, deliberate step. "you're lucky you're offering," she muttered, taking the bag from you with a slight smirk. "i wasn't going to beg for your charity."
"right," you said, shaking your head. "just take it, doona."
for a second, she seemed to hesitate, as if weighing whether to offer a witty remark, but instead she just muttered a quick thanks, her fingers brushing yours as she took the bag.
the next evening, when you returned from work again, there she was, sitting by the same spot, her eyes trained on her feet. she didn't seem to notice your approach until your foot scraped against the concrete.
this time, she didn't wait for you to say anything. the moment she saw you, she stood up and walked toward you, eyes gleaming.
"got any leftovers today?" she asked, cutting straight to the point.
you were taken aback for a moment. had she really come just for food? "still hungry, huh?" you asked, grinning despite yourself.
"very," she replied, with that same smirk you were starting to recognize all too well.
you shrugged, reaching for your backpack and pulling out another container. "here, take it."
days passed, and each night when you came home, doona was there, waiting for more of your leftovers. her presence had become a routine, like a weird, unspoken agreement between the two of you. you'd offer the food, she'd take it with little fanfare, and sometimes, if you were lucky, she'd stay for a little conversation.
one evening, your manager practically forced you to stay late, almost two hours after your shift had ended. when you finally arrived home, exhausted and hungry, doona wasn't waiting for you. it was late, so you don't know why you would expect her to be there.
but as you made your way up the stairs and towards your apartment, you noticed something odd. a faint sound—footsteps. someone moving quickly, almost purposefully. you paused, glancing around.
there she was.
doona stood at the foot of your building, her eyes scanning the space like she was looking for something—or someone. her gaze locked onto you the moment you stepped into view, and for the briefest of moments, there was something almost sheepish in her expression.
you stopped in your tracks, the exhaustion from your late shift quickly replaced by a flicker of amusement. "i didn't think you'd be waiting tonight," you said, adjusting the strap of your backpack, almost expecting her to snap back with some witty retort.
she didn't. instead, she bit her lip, her eyes darting around as if unsure of herself. "i thought you might have forgotten," she said with a small shrug.
you blinked, the words catching you off guard. "forgot?"
"yeah." she looked down at her feet for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "the food. i've... been getting used to it."
a weird, inexplicable tug in your chest made you pause.
"i haven't forgotten," you replied, your tone a little lighter. "i just got stuck at work longer than usual. but i brought something for you."
you opened your bag; instead, it wasn't the usual takeout you usually brought her. instead, you pulled out a small cake—chocolate with rich frosting and a simple "happy birthday" written on top in delicate icing.
doona blinked in surprise, her eyes widening a little. "what... is this?"
"it's your birthday, isn't it?" you asked with a small, teasing smile. "i figured you'd appreciate something sweet, instead of leftovers for once."
she stared at the cake for a long moment, not even noticing you turning away and walking upstairs toward your bedroom, the door closing behind you with a soft click.
doona lingered by the doorway, still staring at the cake. something about the gesture touched her, and her mind raced with questions, but none of them would formulate into coherent words.
after a long, thoughtful pause, she made her way up the stairs with the cake in her hand. when she knocked on your door, you opened it, already anticipating her arrival. you weren't surprised to see her standing there, her expression unreadable as she walked past you, heading straight for your bed and setting the cake down on your desk.
you raised an eyebrow as she made herself at home, flopping down on your bed without a care in the world. it was a little jarring, considering how much she had thrown off the idea of getting close to you just a few weeks ago. but there she was, casually reclining on your bed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
you stood by the door, not quite sure what to say. "you just walked in without even asking?"
she shrugged, her eyes not leaving yours. "it's not like you're going to stop me."
"what makes you so sure?"
"you wouldn't have let me in otherwise."
that was a fair point. you sighed, moving to unbutton your work shirt, but instead of heading to your closet, you stayed near the door, keeping a safe distance from her. "what do you want?" you asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
"i just wanted to see if you missed me," she answered, her voice unexpectedly soft, though laced with that playful challenge. her gaze held yours, and for a second, you could have sworn there was a hint of affection in her expression.
you swallowed, breaking the gaze and looking away. you didn't want her to catch the flush creeping across your cheeks.
doona smirked, watching the way your fingers fumbled with the buttons on your shirt, the way you tried so hard not to show any sign of vulnerability. you chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness in your laugh.
"miss you?" you took a few steps further into the room but kept your distance, not wanting to make the moment feel too awkward. "you've been showing up for leftovers, and now you're asking if i miss you?"
doona raised an eyebrow, which dropped when she let out a sigh, glancing around your room. it was her first time ever being up here. "you looked for me tonight," she muttered. "i didn't think you cared if i was around or not."
you paused, the weight of her words hanging in the air. for a moment, you felt exposed, like she had somehow cracked through the barriers you'd carefully put up around your thoughts and emotions. you'd been so intent on brushing her off, pretending that her presence didn't matter, that you hadn't realized how much she'd started to occupy your mind.
"i didn't look for you," you said quickly, though you weren't entirely sure if you believed it yourself. "i just—" you rubbed the back of your neck, averting your eyes, not wanting to meet hers. you took a deep breath, forgetting about taking off your work clothes and instead focused on trying to maintain your composure.
doona's gaze softened slightly as she watched your struggle to keep your cool. she could tell you were trying to downplay the shift in your emotions, but it wasn't working. there was a crack in your facade, and she was starting to notice it.
"right," she said, her voice dropping into something softer, more teasing than before.
you shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of your neck again as your eyes flicked to the cake you had given her earlier. for some reason, the sweetness of the gesture now felt like it was hanging over both of you, making everything feel more real, more vulnerable. you had never meant for this to become more than just a simple exchange. leftovers. a casual moment. yet here she was, in your room, in your personal space, making things feel... complicated.
"i didn't expect you to be here," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent but failing. "i didn't think you'd care if i gave you a cake or not."
doona let out a soft, almost wistful laugh. "you really are bad at this, aren't you?"
the way she said it caught you off guard. there was something affectionate in her tone, something beyond just teasing. you had never thought she would soften up like this, not after all the weird tension that had built up between you two. but there it was.
you swallowed, still not quite sure how to handle the shift in the air. it was no longer about leftovers, no longer about the small interactions. she was making you confront something you hadn't expected to feel—maybe even something you hadn't wanted to feel.
"doona..." you started, but she cut you off before you could finish.
"stop overthinking it," she said with a small, half-smile. "i'm not here to make you uncomfortable. not really. i just... want to see how far you'll go."
"go where?" you asked, still confused but unable to stop the questions from rising in your chest. "what do you want from me?"
she sat up from your bed, the air between you two thickening with every word. "i just want to know if you're more than the girl who gives me leftovers. are you?"
her gaze was intense now, and her words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation all at once. you didn't have an answer, and you didn't know what she was hoping for. you just knew that whatever this was—whatever you two were turning into—it was no longer as simple as it had been when she first asked for leftovers.
she stood up from your bed, her hands falling to the buttons of your shirt, her eyes never leaving yours. you felt the soft cotton of your shirt, now being unbuttoned by her, slipping off your shoulders as she leaned in closer.
her fingers traced along the lines of your collarbones, slowly, gently, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. it was such a gentle touch, such a light caress, yet you couldn't help the way your breath caught in your throat, the way your heart skipped a beat.
she tilted her head slightly, her smile growing as she watched you, the intensity of her gaze making it clear that she was enjoying this. enjoying seeing you get flustered, enjoying seeing you react to her touch.
and then, her hand moved to your hip, and she pulled you closer, pressing her lips against yours.
you could feel your pulse quicken as the kiss deepened, her fingers digging into your hip, her other hand reaching up and tangling in your hair, tugging slightly. as she pulled you closer, you could feel her body pressing against yours, her breath mingling with yours, your mind going blank as her tongue swiped over your lips, tasting, teasing.
you hadn't expected this—hell, you didn't even know if you were ready for it. but doona wasn't giving you a chance to overthink. she was just there, and all you could do was follow her lead.
when the kiss broke, you found yourself looking into her eyes. they were dark and full of want and something else, too. you swallowed, feeling your stomach twist with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.
doona leaned in again; this time you didn't hesitate, kissing back with the same intensity and hunger she was pouring into you, her lips soft and insistent against yours, while her arms dangled around your neck.
the kiss deepened again, your hands fell to her waist, and doona began walking backwards; you followed her like a puppy on a leash, falling on top of her as her back hit your bed. her eyes were half-closed, but they were still looking at you. she ran her hands up and down your sides, caressing you. her touch was light, but you felt it go right through you. doona smiled up at you, her hands going to the hem of your shirt and lifting it up, her fingers grazing your skin as she pulled the material up over your head.
her hands fell to your core, fingers trailing against your stomach. her touch was making you shiver, sending waves of pleasure through you.
you bit your lip and closed your eyes, focusing on her touch, looking down to see a singular finger moving along the top of your pants, tracing the outline of your belt, teasing. she was taking her time, exploring your body, watching and listening to your reactions. it was making you painfully hard, and you wanted nothing more than to have her fingers wrap around you.
finally, doona moved her hands back up and unbuckled your belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it aside. then, she popped the button on your pants and lowered the zipper, sliding your jeans down, exposing your black boxers.
she was gazing at you, her pupils blown wide with lust. doona licked her lips. she was waiting for you to say something. but all you could do was nod and kiss her.
her tongue slipped into your mouth, and you moaned into her mouth, the sound muffled by her lips. doona's hand was in the front of your boxers, rubbing your cock through the material, feeling how hard you were. your hands gripped the sheet beneath you, and you took in a sharp breath.
you let out a grunt as her hand moved under the waistband of your boxers, wrapping around your shaft, squeezing and stroking. "wait," you said, breaking the kiss. you pulled back a little and looked at her. "let me help you."
she bit her lip, nodding, letting go of your cock. you sat down on the bed, kicking your pants away, and watched as she slid off her own pants, her hips raising from the bed before lowering again.
doona had you in a spell, your eyes glued to her every movement; you wondered if she was aware of the effect she had on you. she was wearing a pair of black lace panties, which contrasted beautifully with her creamy skin. your gaze lingered on her breasts, which were covered by a coordinating bra.
she lay back down, her hair fanning out on the pillow. you couldn't stop staring.
"see something you like?" she teased.
you nodded, crawling back on top of her, afraid that any words that left your mouth would make her change her mind.
instead, you kissed her again, one hand cupping her cheek, the other sliding behind her back, deftly unclasping her bra. you felt her body shiver as you slid the straps off her shoulders, and the garment fell away, exposing her breasts.
"you're so beautiful," you murmured. she smiled, pulling you closer.
you lowered your head and began kissing her neck, working your way down to her breasts, licking and sucking on her nipples, making them harden under your touch. the soft sounds of her moans only encouraged you further, along with the grip she had on your shoulders, pulling you closer to her.
her hands tangled in your hair as she whispered, "don't stop."
you moved lower, kissing her stomach and then her thighs. anywhere your lips touched, she shivered with pleasure.
your fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, pulling them off her legs. you were staring at her now, more than ever, taking in her naked form, her body flushed and warm, her chest rising and falling as she breathed heavily, her eyes locked onto yours.
you moved forward, settling between her legs, spreading them open, your hands gripping her hips. "please," she whimpered. "i need you."
you pressed your face against her thigh, kissing it softly, your hands gripping her thighs firmly as you trailed kisses up towards her core. she arched her back, silently begging for more, her fingers tangling in your hair as she guided you closer to where she needed you most.
"stop being an ass," she whispered in frustration in her voice. "just give me what i want." you chuckled softly, then moved higher, your tongue finding her wet folds. her breath hitched, and her hand tightened in your hair, a low moan escaping her lips as you gave her exactly what she desired.
you lapped at her cunt, your tongue moving up and down her slit, tasting her. she was writhing beneath you, her back arching off the bed, her pulling at your hair so much it was starting to hurt. her moans grew louder, more desperate, "oh, god..." she moaned, her voice thick with arousal. "that feels so good."
you continued to lick her, your tongue sliding up and down her slit, teasing her, before you focused on her clit, flicking it with the tip of your tongue. she was panting now, her legs trying their hardest to trap your head between them as she bucked against your mouth.
"fuck... oh, fuck..." she was breathing hard, her moans increasing, her thighs squeezing tighter around your head. you knew she was about to cum, and you didn't want to disappoint her, so you quickened your pace, swirling your tongue around her clit before sucking on it gently. she let out a loud gasp, her legs tightening around your head, her back arching as she came hard.
her whole body shook with the force of her orgasm, her nails digging into the sheets beneath her as she rode out her pleasure. after a moment, her grip on you loosened, and she let out a long, content sigh.
you looked up at her, a smile on your lips, and she grinned back at you. "see," she said breathlessly. "i knew you could be a good girl." you wanted to roll your eyes and disregard the pet name, but your body's response was instantaneous, and you felt yourself grow twitch as the words escaped her lips.
you climbed up her body and kissed her, allowing her to taste herself on your lips. "do you want more?" you whispered against her lips, and she nodded. "i want you inside me."
you moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down as you pulled off your boxers, revealing your cock, fully erect, glistening with precum. the dark-haired girl smiled seductively as she crawled towards you, straddling your lap and guiding you inside her with a moan of pleasure.
the sensation of being enveloped by her warmth was overwhelming, and you both moaned in unison when doona's hip began moving achingly slow. she was trying to get a reaction out of you, and you were so lost in the moment that you could barely form a coherent thought.
your eyes left the sight of your member buried deep inside her to meet her intense gaze, your mouth agape and your hands gripping her hips tightly. "pretty," she muttered, her voice husky, kissing the outline of your jaw before trailing down your neck.
your mouth took in her breast, savoring the taste of her skin as she arched into your touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips. she started riding you faster, her hips rolling in a rhythm that was better than any song she had ever sung.
"doona," you managed to gasp out, your hands gripped her waist tightly, your mouth falling against her shoulder, trying to contain yourself.
you didn't know what the two of you were going to be after this, if she would continue playing that stupid game she loved so much, if you could just stay as friends, or if you could somehow get closer, but for now, none of that mattered. all that mattered was her and her soft body.
her hands dug into your hair, and you buried your face in her neck, breathing in her scent. her pussy felt so tight and wet, and you groaned against her neck, your teeth biting at her skin. she started moving faster, and you knew she was close. a loud whine left her throat, and her fingers tightened in your hair, yanking you back to look at her.
"y/n," she whined. "fuck, please. are you close?"
you nodded.
"fuck, baby. you feel so good. come with me, y/n. please." you reached down and circled her clit with your thumb, and her mouth dropped open, her head thrown back as her entire body tensed, her pussy tightening around your dick, pulling you over the edge with her. you groaned, pressing your face into her neck as your cum filled her.
she collapsed on top of you, and the two of you caught your breath.
#spanktony#tonyspank#doona netflix#doona x reader#doona x you#doona x g!p reader#lee doona x you#kdrama#bae suzy#bae suzy x reader#suzy x reader#doona!#g!p reader#smut#fem!reader
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— JUNE 2024.
accomplishments.
hi!! how's everyone been lately? june was a really good month for me in terms of writing and i'm really really happy about it. turns out, forcing yourself to write actually does something. who would've thought?
for the longest time, i had no motivation to work on this chapter because it wasn't going anywhere. i had the issue with the plothole and it honestly killed so much of my joy. since reworking the chapter, however, i've gotten back some of my spark. i basically told myself that 'hey, you still really like what you've created so far, right? so suck it up and push past your mental block.' and here we are.
i'm still getting back into the groove of things, but i've done a lot more writing for this than i have for a while. that said, i apologize for the long wait. i feel immensely guilty about the lack of update but i swear to you, it will come. my plan is some time in the summer. if not, then early fall (though this is obviously not preferred).
to speak on the chapter itself, chapter eleven has three major branches in total, and, as i said in last month's update, each of them feature different ros. i'm currently wrapping up branch #2 and plan on working on #3 later this week. technically, branch #1 isn't done yet, but it was also the branch that gave me immense writer's block so forgive me if i ignore it a little longer. branch #1 and #2 are also a lot heavier compared to #3, so having written those for months on end, i'm feeling a little weighed down. by switching over to #3, the goal is to have enough energy to get back to #1. once that's done, all i gotta do is edit and publish it!
so yeah, maybe we're not at the end yet, but we're getting there. this is the best i've felt about this chapter for a very long time now and i'm really hoping this energy continues. thank you for your continued patience. i will try my hardest to make this worth it for you.
take care of yourselves! <3
stats.
chapter total: ~21,170 words
game total: ~493,170 words
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A post-mortem of "Good Morning, Rose"
A few weeks ago, I posted my addition to the comic anthology GLIMM*R, a short comic called "Good Morning, Rose".
The reaction to it has been so uplifting and exciting. It really seemed to struck a cord with people, which, really, the best thing for me to hear as a creator. I absolutely love writing and making short comics, you can do much with so little, explore such interesting stories. The feedback I've gotten has been very heartwarming! It makes me want to explore short stories even more!
But, first, I want to talk about some of my feelings and about the process of making "Good Morning, Rose". This got a bit long, so you'll have to indulge me a bit. You should also read the comic first before reading this. Don't worry, it's only 8 pages.
Now the preamble is out of the way, lets go back to the beginning.
The idea of "Good Morning, Rose" was a nugget in my brain for a long time! Originally it was actually from the Dreamwalker's point of view, where she was a faceless entity who had a long term relationship with Rose and was trying to figure out how to explain that their relationships only were in Rose's dreams. It was a story about seeing, accepting, and loving each other truly and fully, and the trials and tribulations of getting there. Also a cute girl with an ancient eldrich being is always fun to explore.
A lot of it was too convoluted, emotionally and storywise. It also required to get into what the Dreamwalker actually was, which I ended up really not liking. So, ultimately, the idea didn't work, and I put it down. I ended up going to do my short comic Twigs instead.
When I was invited into the wlw anthology GLIMM*R and was told that the theme was "dreams", I decided to take another stab at the concept. This time, I inverted the pov, it's now Rose's story. And instead of a long term relationship, it was about the powerful first feeling of a perfect (maybe even too perfect?) first date.
One of the hardest thing to write in romance is getting readers to care about the relationship in the first place. To have the readers believe in the character's feeling, to be invested in their romance. This is even harder to do when you only have 8 pages to do it. Focusing it around a first date helped a lot in that case. There I'm not trying to sell that these two character will love each other forever and forever, just the fluttering first butterflies of realizing you're developing feeling for someone. It's why I leave it so open-ended about whether the two of them meet again at the end of the comic, or even if it was real in the first place. It's just not the point of the story.
That's something important about writing short stories, I find. You really have to hone in on an idea, on a thought. Take a simple idea and try to find all of the interesting layers. It's too easy to try to stuff a short story with too many ideas that ultimately go unfulfilled. In fact, the first draft of the comic, at the time called "Dream Date", there was a big problem with this and the pacing.
Here, take a look at the first stab at the roughs:
(BTW, there is something so fun about roughs for me lol. The art is so kinetic and loose, all about just getting the story across)/
As you can see, a lot of the ideas and imagery made to the final version of the comic. But both the initial readers and I agreed that the beginning and end were good, but the middle was messy and slowed things down. You can also see that I got stuck in the same problem I did when I first conceived of the story, it's bogged down trying to understand the Dreamwalker in a way that actually hurts the story. You simply dont have any room for bad pacing a short comic like this. I need to focus more on the character's and their emotions and exploring their actual relationship rather than blandly trying to explain the situation. A friend also suggested that I should hone in on the fluid dream-like aspects of the first couple of pages, especially since it's so fun to explore in the medium of comics. So I got to work gutting it out and trying again with the new, much stronger imo, direction.
Also there were some issues with the page format that needed changes for printing, thus the final spread had to be split up. Which is a shame, but oh well, it still works. I also honed in a lot more on Rose and her insecurities. I ended up putting a lot of myself into Rose. I'm glad readers seems to able to relate to her.
After figuring out the the story and the pacing, I went and, well, made the comic. Once you've done as many comic pages I have at this point, once you figure out a process, the actual drawing is fairly straightforward. Eventually, after thinking, and drawing, and toiling, and revising, and thinking hard about my life choices, I come out of the other end of the tunnel with a comic. One that I ended up really liking. One that other people ended up liking, which is always crazy to me.
I got a lot of interesting reactions to the comic. One demographic thinking it was sweet, wanting more of it (always a flattering thought), and enjoying the romance. Other remarking on the bittersweetness of it all, finding your soulmate in a dream, maybe never to see them again if they were even real in the first place. There were a lot of people remarking how they had a similar dream, one where they met someone they seemed totally and completely convinced that they were real and told the dreamer so, until the dreamer woke up. There was one person who asked if I had met the dreamwalker myself. Alas, my dreams are not this romantic and straightforward.
But all of us can hold hands, nod at each other, united by one universally true statement: big eldritch lady hot.
There's a lot of little bits I can talk about, like how Rose's dress is actively modeled after selkie dresses because I think they're cute, or some other trials and tribulations. But I think I've finished all I have had to say. I hope you enjoyed this and will stick around for my future projects! I definitely want to explore more short stories in the next year, especially as I am illustrating big graphic novels for my day job and don't have the time or energy for huge projects.
Till then, thank you so much! Happy holidays and have a good new year!
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Another Gym Buddy (18+) | Kwon Eunbi
Waring Sexual Content (18+) Read At Your Own Risk
Hyewon Gym Buddies Here
1436 words
***
Ever since your encounter with Kang Hyewon in the gym, you have been going out with her. Hyewon was the "It girl" of your university and you were very lucky that you can go out with her. It was nice to get back on the dating scene and most importantly gym sessions are more fun, especially when Hyewon gave you some incentives.
Moving towards the start of another year in university, you went back to the university so you can get a few gym sessions under your belt before university starts. However, your usual gym buddy Hyewon wasn't around campus this week which means you will have to hit the gym on your own this week.
Gym sessions alone were boring, especially when you are now used to having Hyewon around. There aren't anyone around because the semester hasn't officially started yet. However, it was something that you had to do so you plugged your earphones in and did your normal routine. After a while, you were finally done, sweaty and tired. You were prepared to finally go home, take a shower and have a break.
As you were heading out the empty gym, someone came in. It was Kwon Eunbi, one of the more open and popular girls in the university. She was always looking for fun with a very naughty side. Most importantly, Kwon Eunbi was famous for having the nicest rack in the university.
You can't help but stop and stare at her for a bit, especially when she was wearing a Calvin Klein sports bra.
"Like what you see?" Eunbi joked as she caught you staring at her.
"Oh hi Eunbi, didn't know you'd be here this early" you greeted back.
"Empty gym is my favourite place to be" Eunbi replied to you with a smirk.
Instantly you knew what she was up to, she was the famous Kwon Eunbi who knows how to use her body to get her way and today she was planning to use it on you.
"Well I'm going now, enjoy the very empty gym" you said as you were to leave.
However, as you were leaving, Eunbi grabbed your hand.
"Come with me sexy" Eunbi dragged you into the girls changing room.
You haven't been here for a very long while, but you certainly have fond memories from your last time here. It was in this very changing room that you first had sex with Kang Hyewon, where you started dating Hyewon. Despite the two of you not being exclusive you weren't so sure about what Kwon Eunbi has planned.
Eunbi sat you down on one of the changing benches and stood back up.
"Enjoy the show while it lasts pretty boy" Eunbi told you.
Eunbi then stood back a few steps and slowly took off her sports bra exposing her naked chest to you, before cupping her big boobs to making your already semi hard cock twitch inside your gym shorts.
"Do you like them huh? All the guys I've been with says I have nice big tits" Eunbi said in a seductive voice.
You can't answer, all you could do is nod and adjust your seating position so that your crotch area doesn't feel uncomfortable as your erection continued to grow.
All of a sudden, Eunbi then sat on your lap, her big tits right in your face. You were trying your hardest to not compare her rack and Hyewon's but it was not easy when both of them have a generous sized chest. But it wasn't really a fair comparison, Eunbi's boobs were way bigger than Hyewon's and you were desperate to give them a feel to make sure.
"Go on, you can touch them" Eunbi gave you the green light.
Immediately, you were let loose. Grabbing a handful of her breast before licking and sucking on the other. The sudden touch on Eunbi's breasts caused her to moan.
"C-careful, ah- they're sensitive" Eunbi moaned softly.
You ignored her as you continued to attack her tits with your hand and your mouth. Sucking and squeezing her nipples causing Eunbi to moan louder and louder. The more you feel her breasts, the more you feel how much bigger Eunbi's boobs were bigger than Hyewon's, it wasn't really a fair competition.
"W-w-wait, s- ah- stop" Eunbi suddenly moaned.
Reluctantly, you stopped all your actions wondering what Eunbi has planned next. But she didn't tell you, she used her actions to let you know what was coming up next.
Eunbi then kneeled down in front of you and slowly pulled your shorts down as she clumsily fished your cock out of your pants.
"Oh my, I think I'm going to enjoy this" Eunbi said as she smiled smiled and slowly stroked your cock.
"Fuck, yeah stroke it Eunbi" you said as you enjoyed Eunbi touching your already hard cock.
"Oh don't you worry. I'm going to so much more than just stroking it sexy" Eunbi said seductively.
With that Eunbi started kissing the tip of your cock and licking the slit causing you to jolt in pleasure before spitting and taking your whole cock into her mouth.
"Fuck that's so good" you moaned out as Eunbi started giving you a blowjob.
Eunbi's blowjob was sensational, the way she took your cock in and out of her warm and wet mouth. Occasionally licking the slit of your cock causing you to jolt in pleasure and never leaving the tip of your cock unattended by swirling around your head. It was magical and you were trying your best not to blow your load in Eunbi's mouth prematurely. As much as you wanted to cum, you also wanted to enjoy this blowjob as long as possible.
"F-fuck Eunbi, that thing you just did with your mouth nearly made me cum" you said as Eunbi swirled her tongue around the underside of your cock.
"Not so quick yet hot stuff" Eunbi said after releasing your cock from her mouth making a pop sound.
Your cock was already coated with Eunbi's saliva which acted perfectly as lubrication for what Eunbi was going to do next.
Eunbi shifted her body closer to you before spitting on your cock a bit more and trapping your cock in between her cleavage preparing to give you a good titty fucking.
"If you've enjoyed my mouth, let's see if you enjoy this" Eunbi said as she started moving her tits up and down your shaft.
"F-fuck it's about t-time you put those tits into good use" you moaned out as you started fucking Eunbi's tits.
The previous saliva from the blowjob made your cock well lubricated which means it was able to slide up and down Eunbi's tits smoothly giving you a sensation of pleasure as you continued to fuck her big tits.
Occasionally as your cock head poked out of her cleavage, Eunbi would lick the tip of your cock to give you just that little bit more pleasure trying to take you over the edge.
However, despite her big boobs, fucking her tits doesn't feel as good as her mouth. Nevertheless the constant rubbing of your cock in and out of her cleavage just provided enough pleasure to send you near your orgasm.
"Fu-f-fuck Eunbi I'm going to cum soon" you moaned out as you were very close to your peak.
Suddenly Eunbi stopped and took you back into her mouth. This time using her hand to stroke you whilst sucking you off. The pleasure of her stroking, her warm wet mouth and her tongue swirling was too much for you and shortly you were ready to blow your load inside Eunbi's mouth.
"F-f--fuck cumming-g-g" you moaned as you reached your orgasm.
As the first shot of semen shot inside Eunbi's mouth, Eunbi wrapped her lips tightly around your cock welcoming the next spurts of semen that your shot out from the tip of your cock. Eunbi took all the thick white liquid in her mouth like a champion. Once your orgasm died down, you pulled out of Eunbi and Eunbi opened her mouth to show you what you deposited into her mouth before closing her mouth swallowing the load in one gulp and showing that she has swallowed everything you gave her.
"I hope you have another load of that tasty semen prepared because I'm not done with you just yet pretty boy" Eunbi said after swallowing your load as she cupped your balls.
"Fuck that was so hot Eunbi" you said trying to gather some strength.
After that intense session, Eunbi put her clothes back on and pulled your pants back up.
"You're coming with me now" Eunbi said as you followed her out of the gym.
#kpop#kpop fanfic#kpopfanfic#kpop smut#kpop idols#kpop fanfiction#kpop fluff#izone eunbi#eunbi#kwon eunbi#eunbi smut#izone smut#izone
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Hi! I love your blog so much. I'm literally obsessed! I've wanted sub aemond content for so long and your account is like an oasis in the desert.
I was thinking about aemond and how for so long he felt unwanted and unloved, like he didn't have a place among his family. Because of this I think he'd really like reader telling him "Your mine", even more so than being told "im yours". Not in a aggressive or possessive way (although I do think he'd like reader being protective of him) but in the sense that someone loves him so much that they would openly claim him as theirs. That they aren't ashamed of him or for others to know he's all theirs.
I also think it provides him some sense of security. Like he feels so safe knowing he belongs to you so he doesn't have to worry about anyone else.
Idk if this makes sense, hopefully it does😭I just can't stop thinking about this, I've had it on my mind for a while now.
Oh my god I love this!!! This is so perfect everything you wrote here is incredible.
There’s nothing explicit in my answer but it is very clearly sub!Aemond and has some suggestive tones so I’ll hide it under the cut just in case :))
So I think Aemond really struggles with the idea of being anyone’s first choice? He grew up as a second son, always teased and mocked and never taken seriously. He didn’t expect you to be any different.
The first thing you do that really shows Aemond how much you care for him is just how loyal you are? I’m thinking of a situation where you and your family are at the red keep to look for a husband for you, and obviously your family are trying their hardest to secure an betrothal from Aegon because he’s king.
But then Aemond catches your eye? You end up having a very simple conversations with him, and you know pretty much instantly that he’s the one you want. Aemond wants you too of course. He hasn’t felt this accepted in his life and he absolutely loves talking with you. You and him sit together at the far end of the table every dinner, taking amongst yourselves and Aemond doesn’t even acknowledge anyone else. He takes every scrap of your attention that he can, especially because he’s so certain that your parents are angling for Aegon and that once the betrothal is announced he won’t be able to spend time with you like this again.
You put a spanner in the works. After a few weeks at the red keep you tell your family in no uncertain terms that you want Aemond and Aemond only. Your family is hesitant, both because Aemond is the second son and because Aemond is known to be violent and cold.
But you insist.
When your parents go to Aemond to tell him that you have expressed your desire to marry him instead of Aegon, the poor lad just about feints. He says he would be honoured of course, and then the moment they leave he’s sprinting across the castle to your quarters.
You’re confused to see him knocking on your door. You know you shouldn’t open the door because people might see and rumours may start but you couldn’t care less. He is here, so you will let him in.
At first you actually think he looks upset? When you ask what’s going on he just softly asks, “Do you really want me? Did you mean it when you told your parents I was your first choice?”
You don’t even get to finish the word “yes” before he’s barrelling forwards and pulling you into a tight hug. He buries his head in your shoulder and clings to you. He’s so overwhelmed to hear that someone actually chooses him, never mind it being someone he already wishes he could marry.
You hug him back of course, and then when you try to pull away he just grips you tighter. It's like he's afraid if he lets go of you that you'll disappear. You end up having to just rub his back and whisper that you mean it, that you aren't going anywhere.
Aemond truly doesn’t even know what to do with himself when you tell him that you never even considered Aegon, from the moment you saw him no one else came close.
This is definitely where the possessiveness comes in, because there’d be a period between expressing this and actually having the betrothal ironed out and announced.
Until then, all the other male suiters try to get your attention and win your love and it drives Aemond absolutely insane. You actually have to watch him very closely or else he will lure a suitor into the gardens and kill them. He’s threatens to plenty of times.
A big part of this possessive comes from the fact that he honestly is just waiting for the other shoe to drop? He’s so certain that one day you'll wake up and realise what a terrible decision you've made and beg for the betrothal to be canceled.
So every time you talk to another man, he's so so convinced you'll prefer them and tell him that you don't want him anymore. Which is why he absolutely hates seeing you with other people because he thinks every time he's losing his chance.
And so every time you walk back to him and tell him that you can't wait for your parents to officially announce the betrothal he nearly starts crying. He's watching you choose him over and over again and he truly cannot believe it.
As much as he's very traditional and respectful, I think he kinda just falls apart when faced with the fact that you genuinely want him? He tell himself he'll do this the right way, the way that's expected of him but he can't control himself when he's faced with the reality that you actually genuinely want him.
I don't think you two would be able to wait until marriage for that exact reason. He cannot stand the thought of another even considering being with you and honestly he can't even sleep thinking about it.
He ends up knocking on your door most nights and spending hours with you. He can't get enough of you, and he especially can't get enough of hearing you say you love him and want him. How could he ever be expected to spend the night alone knowing that a few floors down there's a woman he absolutely adores who will open her door and let him cuddle her and hear about her day?
He cannot be expected to spend the nights alone and to watch you speak to others and to wait patiently until the betrothal is announced. He never expected to find someone who makes him feel loved and safe and now that he has found you he will never ever let you go.
#sub!aemond#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#prince aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond x reader#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd#house of the dragon imagine
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SAILORS SONG — N. MÜHL
key; nika , reader
summary; just pure fluff and nika being a cutie pie!! the pair is shortly separated from each other due to reader visiting family. only one lyric from “sailors song” is used, but i do have several other ideas for this song, just leaving out a chunk of the chorus!
word count; 722 words
you'd been down in iowa for the past two weeks, visiting family. all while your poor girlfriend sat waiting for you in seattle. nearly every night you'd facetime, or atleast work a phone call into both of your tight schedules, but it was difficult being away from eachother. especially for nika.
nika was always on the more "clingy" side, and loved physical touch. but, ever since you'd moved with the girl from connecticut to washington, every second you were away from her felt like a second too long. she had you all to herself all the time, so you being nearly two thousand miles away was hard on her. and on top of that, the timezones of ames and seattle didn't match up. every night when you'd lay down for bed, it'd be nine for you, but seven for nika. which made this much harder on her.
you really did try. every single night, without fail, you would try your hardest to stay up for nika. during your "bedtime" she'd be at a team dinner, or late practice. the second she got home, it was only 8:30 pm' for her, but 10:30 pm' for you. she'd sit on her bed, watching as your eyes would flutter shut every couple minutes. you were tired. so she'd let you sleep, never once hanging up the phone. right after you, she'd head to sleep aswell. she couldn't bear seeing you look so peaceful, so precious, so hers, but not at the same time. she wanted you next to her.
in the morning, you would have already been up for almost three hours when nika gets up. right when you knew the girl would set her alarm for, you'd send a sweet "goodmorning baby, i miss you so much :((" to nika. the first text from you would set the tone for her whole day, and this one left her feeling pretty sappy.
"i miss you too, moje dijete. you'll be home soon, right?"
"yes, but i miss you now ☹️"
"i miss you now too, pretty. i have to go now, quinn is making us come in earlier than usual. let's hope we're not in trouble 🤞🏼🤞🏼."
"good luck, niks. i love you 💕"
"i love you more, i will text you when im done."
and she did. nika always kept her promises. thankfully she was able to facetime you during the day, when you and herself weren't consumed with sleep. the call was long, almost two hours. which didn't compare to the twenty six hours she was away from you.. but it would do until then. the call was sadly cut short when your mom had knocked on the door to tell you it was time to go over to see some cousins. goodbyes were said, and once again you were out of the brunettes reach.
that night was late for you. first, you were stuck watching all the younger kids which tired you out majorly. then, you had to help carry out your sister who'd drank one too many at the dinner table. and finally, you fell asleep in the car from pure exhaustion. the five minutes you took to move yourself from the car, to your bed, were not spent speaking to your girlfriend. she understood.
when nika headed to sleep, her dreams were filled with you. her head was on your pillow, your scent filled her senses, it was almost as if you were there. after her long day, she needed the soothing dreams of you next to her.
when she woke up to her newest goodmorning text from you, "two more days!! i can't wait to see you, baby!", she could only think of her dreams of you from the night prior.
"goodmorning !!"
"what's got you in such a good mood this morning, love to see it!"
"i had a dream about you :((("
"aww baby!! are you going to tell me about it?!"
"mhm, you were here with me. and we cuddled. i miss that so much."
"you're going to make me cry ☹️☹️"
"i've been doing that the last few days.."
"hmm.. doing what?"
"dreaming of you."
"yeah?"
"i sleep so i can see you, cause i hate to wait so long."
"nika!! i can't even :((( i love you so much baby."
"i love you more 🥹"
divs are by @/anitalenia , feedback encouraged , the cliffhanger on this one is just odd to me .. @bveckers @kmoneymartini @cosmopretty @charlottehughess @aubreygriffin @favreader23
#nika muhl x reader#nika muhl#nika mühl#nika my wife fr#uconn wcbb#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#uconn lives#uconn x reader#paige bueckers#wcbb#kk arnold#seattle storm#wnba#wnba basketball#wbb
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MELODY OF THE NIGHT | MORPHEUS
Summary: You've been distancing yourself from Morpheus, because you know he's an Endless and can't be romantically involved with humans, but you can't bear being with him while knowing you can't have him. He comes over to your house and demands to know what's the matter. It ends unexpectedly.
It had been weeks. You had known it was forbidden for Endless to be romantically involved with mortals, but your stupid heart had still developed feelings for him. It had been too painful to endure, so you willed yourself not to visit The Dreaming anymore, and avoided Morpheus in your dreams as well - not that you actually had the power to do that, but Morpheus knew when someone didn't want him to appear so he didn't.
When your doorbell had rang, you had to admit that you hadn't expected who was on the other side of the door, even when it should have been obvious. Morpheus stood there, looking as gorgeous as always. Compared to you - messy hair, looking like you didn't sleep properly, in your t-shirt and sweatpants.
"Hi, um... sorry, I'm kind of busy here," you mumbled to him, not really even looking at him.
Morpheus sighed, clearly knowing it was a lie. "May I come in?"
It wasn't really a question, but you still nodded. He came into your apartment and closed the door behind himself. You tapped your tea mug nervously as you stood in front of him. You didn't know what to say to him, really. You were embarrassed, angry, and frustrated all at once. Your emotions made you feel out of control, which in turn only increased your frustration and your embarrassment.
"I do not understand why you will not talk to me," Morpheus said, his voice soft. He looked hurt, or maybe just disappointed.
His words hit you like a hammer. You took a deep breath. "Because I... I just... I can't visit you anymore."
He frowned. "Why?"
"I don't want to talk about it." you replied quickly. If you told him, you knew he'd sigh and explain what could happen. He would also say he doesn't love you back.
This time, Morpheus didn't press any further, but he did look upset. He stayed silent after that for several minutes. Eventually, he spoke again. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No!" you exclaimed. You shook your head, trying to get some of your thoughts together. "No, it's... it's me."
Morpheus moved closer to you. "Then why..."
"Just leave me alone," you snapped. "I told you I don't want to talk about it, and I mean it."
"But-" he started, but you cut him off.
"Dream, please, stop," you pleaded. "You've already caused enough trouble by showing up here. Just go away."
"I do not understand," he whispered. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened," you muttered. "And I can't let anything to happen, I can't control... just leave me alone."
Morpheus seemed truly confused now. He didn't seem angry, though, and he didn't argue. He just continued to stare at you, his expression unreadable. "You are one of the first humans I consider a friend. I need to know-"
Next thing you didn't even think about doing. Your feelings just rushed forward, spilling over and you grabbed his coat and tugged him close and pressed your lips against his.
Morpheus froze, just as you had expected and you pulled back before he had a chance to, breaking off the kiss. You stared into his eyes, panting slightly. "This is why I've been avoiding you," your voice broke mid-sentence, tears now cascading over your cheeks. "I know it's wrong, we can't be together."
"What?" Morpheus asked, bewildered.
"I love you," you admitted. It felt like the hardest sentence you ever uttered. "I can't keep it in, I just keep thinking about how I want to wake up with you, and I dream about you all the time, and I hate myself for feeling this way. I ruined our friendship the moment I developed those feelings for you, and I'm sorry, but I can't stop loving you, and I can't bear to see your disappointment in me."
Morpheus stared at you for a long moment, watching you sniffling in front of him, before you felt a hand sliding down your cheek and wiping away your tears. "Where did you hear we could not be together?" he asked, gently.
"I... I found it in a book. You had fallen in love with a woman named Nada and the Sun punished her for it."
Morpheus was quiet as he thought about that. "It is true," he then said. "But rules have changed since then. You are not allowed to rule The Dreaming with me or marry me until you are dead, but I am allowed to love you."
His words echoed in your head for a moment before you registered them, and looked up at him. "What?"
"I have loved you ever since we first met," he explained. "I cannot help it. I will never stop. Even if you stop talking to me, even if you stop visiting me, I will always love you. I needed to know if I can fix our friendship, but I did not know you feel the same way about me, and that is why you stopped visiting me."
You blinked at him, almost thinking this was a dream... or at least a daydream. But it felt too real to be one - and in dreams, you knew Morpheus would be controlling what he'd say."
"So you love me?" you asked hesitantly.
Morpheus nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do love you."
You stared at him for a few moments longer, unsure what to say, before you felt your lips growing into a wide smile. "Well, I love you too," you said, pressing another kiss on his lips, and this time, he returned it.
And on that moment, you knew it - this was going to work. Even though it was a risk to love him, you were willing to take it - because you believed he deserved your love more than anyone else in the world.
---
Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)
#morpheus x reader#morpheus#dream of the endless x reader#dream of the endless#the sandman#the sandman x reader#morpheus x y/n#morpheus x you#morpheus fic#the sandman fic#reader insert#gn reader#my works
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You ever have stages of obsession and depravity when it comes to a character you enjoy? Because that has been me with Gideon Coal of Once Upon a Witchlight fame.
It started with like, oh a himbo built like a brick shithouse, hell yeah. The character art goes hard, the chains are a fun design that makes the silhouette interesting! His dynamic with the other characters is really fun!! Then I read the little character blurb about his back story (as well as just the small comments about his backstory in the actual campaign), and its like ok, that's depressing as hell, but also very interesting!
Then not a second later i get punched in the face with the fucking IMPLICATIONS of Gideon choosing to keep the fucking chains and manacles as his weapons. How they became an extension of his body that only work because he made of fire. How he literally took back his power - which was being used for the train - and have it instead power his weapons, which shackled him to the train. Something something using the objects of your imprisonment as the gateway to your liberation, and then KEEPING them both of a reminder of that imprisonment and as a promise to never let yourself be caged again.
AND THEN in the most recent ep. I watched (ep. 19) with the way he interacts with Twig, who is a deeply lonely character, who was so excited to have guests at her inn because she had been alone for so long that she just immediately attaches herself to them. And for Gideon to just immediately return that energy, for Gideon to just immediately become friends with her (basically adopt her) because he relates to that loneliness, because for a good chuck of time all he knew was pain and loneliness because of the fucking train GAHHHHHHHHHHH
Add to that what he said about Torbek, and him being hurt and vulnerable, and how he needs to be with them so that the people who tortured and experimented on him do not get ahold of him again (because he can relate as he too was tortured and - while not experimented on to my knowledge - was dehumanized and used as a living power source for that FUCKING TRAIN) It has me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. I am so deeply unwell about this fucker it's not even funny.
Like, idk what the wonderful people down at Legends of Avantris put in the characters they make (because while this is mainly about Gideon, all of the characters make me go feral), but it is some potent stuff, because I already have an (unfinished) 18 page coalecroux fanfic in the works and I've only been watching for like, a week.
All this to say, I love Gideon Coal ( and all of the Witchlight characters). This is the hardest I've been hit with a hyperfixation in a long ass time. It's been rotating in my head 24/7 since I started it, and I don't think it will be stopping soon.
#legends of avantris#once upon a witchlight#gideon coal#twig toadspring#torbek#character analysis#<- ????#kinda??#its deeply unhinged but i think it counts lmao
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are you lonely?
ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader
cw: 18+ content, incest, dad leon, 18+ reader(obviously), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, dubcon??(just to be safe), a lot of self-loathing and guilt on leon's part
a/n: i apologise wholeheartedly if i tagged anything incorrectly, this is my first time ever posting something i've written(and one of my first times finishing an idea), but i will try my hardest. THIS IS DARK CONTENT, so please be careful reading and scroll if you don't like it!! also genuinely please tell me if i missed any tags! hope you like it :)
word count: 2.4k words
It never gets easier. Every single mission manages to drain Leon more than the last. He almost just gave up on it all a long time ago - he would have if it wasn't for one thing.
You.
As he opens the door from another exhausting mission, he's hit with the smell of home cooked food that has his mouth watering. The house is spotless, as always. Floors completely polished, the sound of music coming from the kitchen has him dragging his feet there on autopilot, eyes settling on you.
His sweet daughter is at the stove, stirring something in a pot. You haven't even noticed he's home yet, humming along to the music coming from your phone softly as you cook. He leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, just gazing at you for a few moments.
God, he missed you.
“Hey, honey.” He hums, the corner of his mouth twitching in a close approximation of a smile, about all he can manage after the shit he's seen this past week. Your movements pause, and then you're tilting your head over your shoulder to look at him.
“Dad! You're home!” You exclaim, shooting him a smile that lights up your whole face. He barely has time to react before your arms are wrapped around his torso, giving him a tight hug. He never feels like he deserves your affection. He's barely even around, but you're always clinging to him like a needy puppy when he is.
“Mhm. Managed to finish up a little early.” He mumbles, a hand coming to your head to press it against his chest, giving your waist a little squeeze with his other one. Doesn't bother telling you about what he was doing. Doesn't want you worrying. “You miss me?”
“Course I did.” You reply without hesitation, giving him a squeeze in return before pulling away from him. “Gotta keep cooking before it burns, though. You hungry?” You ask softly, returning to the stove.
He hums softly, eyes lingering on you as he walks away. He finds himself looking at you for a little too long, blinking his eyes to snap himself out of it. “Yeah, I could eat.”
His gaze finds you again before long. His eyes flick over your form, hovering on your curves for a moment before he frowns. Jesus. Since when did he look at his daughter like that? Since when did his daughter look like that? Must of been a while, but he's only really noticing it now
He's only been gone for a week, but it feels like a lifetime. You're always so happy to see him, always acting so domestic. You cook for him, clean for him and cuddle up to him after he's had a particularly tough day.
You'd make a good wife for someone one day.
His frown deepens as his brain supplies that thought to him. Is this what's happening to him now? He's so sick that he's attracted to his own damn daughter? Is that really how fucked up his life has got?
He gets a little weird after that, eating dinner with you in silence when it's done before rushing off to the bedroom. You ask him about 100 times what's wrong, but he always gives you the same ‘it's nothing, honey, just tired.’ You don't believe a word of it, naturally. You know your dad better than that, know when something’s bothering him
And you're a sweet girl. Too sweet for him, if he's being honest. So he shouldn't be surprised when you go to check on him after you clean up the dishes before you go to bed. But he wasn't thinking right, and you walk in on him right as he's pumping his dick to the thought of you.
“Shit…” He breathes out as he sees you in the doorway. He thinks he's going to be sick when the sight of your surprised face is what tips him over the edge, your pretty lips parted in shock as he cums harder than he has in years.
Post-nut clarity hits him like a train, guilt clawing its way up his chest, nausea setting in. “Fuck, baby. I'm so sorry.” He says quickly, too stunned to move. His hand is still gripping his cock, still hard and leaking, his hand coated in his release.
And you're just staring, unable to take your eyes away. Makes your stomach flip and your heart beat faster. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He quickly seems to snap out of his daze and yanks the cover over himself, his jaw tightening as he refuses to meet your eyes.
You find yourself disappointed that you can't see him like that anymore, a frown tugging at your face. “It's okay, dad.” You manage to say, voice a little strained. Heat pools in your stomach, and you fidget a little as you stand in the doorway, your common sense warring with what you wanted.
“I just wanted to check on you.” You say after a moment of silence, Leon still not looking at you. “You seemed… weird at dinner. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”
You continue to stand awkwardly in the doorway before you shift further into the room. Against your better judgement, you sit on the edge of his bed, trying to catch his eye.
“It's okay, dad. Really.” You tell him, reaching a hand out to touch his cheek. He lets out a stifled groan, his eyes squeezing shut. You're too good for him. “My fault for not knocking.”
His eyes crack open to meet yours, and he slowly realises he's found you beautiful for a long time - more than what's considered acceptable as a father. Ever since you came back from college during one of your breaks, filling out your clothes in a way you never had before, looking up at him with those pretty eyes…
Fuck. He's sick. He deserves to rot in hell. He'd noticed long ago, pushed the thoughts away so he could be the father you deserved. And you're perfect. So goddamn beautiful, like you were made for him. Your hand is so warm and soft where it cups his cheek, your touch so gentle.
He's been so, so lonely. And you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, brows furrowed in concern as he refuses to answer you. Knows if he opens his mouth, he's gonna say some shit he regrets.
He ends up doing something he's gonna regret, anyway. Can't help himself when you're giving him those eyes. He's grabbing you by the cheeks, pulling you into a kiss without even thinking about it.
You pull away, and he whimpers. He tugs you back in again, kissing you with more fervour this time. Your body freezes up, then you find yourself kissing back, and he's not sure if that's worse or not. Guilt is eating him alive, but he can't help himself.
“I'm so sorry, baby.” He murmurs between kisses, desperately tugging you closer to him. His tongue slips into your mouth, and he moans softly as your own prods against his. “Can't help it. You're so pretty.”
This time, you're the one deepening the kiss. His hands find your waist, his grip tightening. He didn't realise how badly he needed this. Needed you. He can feel how badly you want him, the way you're pressing up against him as he kisses you.
It's so wrong. He wants to do so many things to you. You want him in a way no one has ever wanted him before, even more than your mom ever did. It's intoxicating, makes him dizzy. He feels so pathetic. What kind of sicko wants to fuck his own daughter? He's your dad. He should be protecting you from creeps like this, not making a move on you.
“Baby…” He breathes out, pulling away from your mouth, his heart hammering in his chest at the disappointed look that spreads across your face. “We can't do this. Y'know that, yeah?”
But his hands move to settle on your hips, tugging you into his lap, the duvet the only thing separating you from sitting on his bare cock that he never had a chance to shiver back into his pants after you caught him. He's not strong enough, needs you to be the one to bring him to his senses. You just needed to say no, and he'd be able to stop. But you don't, and he's too weak to do it himself. Far too weak.
“Daddy…” You breathe out, frown tugging at your lips. “Please? Just this once?”
How is he meant to say no to that? He buries the guilt, buries the self-loathing. He's good at that - pushing away his feelings and pretending that everything's okay. He can't deny his pretty girl of anything, especially not when she asks so sweetly.
So he kisses you again. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, one that has him groaning and rocking his hips up to get some kind of friction on his aching cock. It twitches, already leaking pre-cum. He can't even remember the last time he fucked someone. Can't believe he's about to fuck you. He's tempted to cut his dick off after this. Doesn't deserve it.
It's not long before his hands are pawing desperately at your pants, tugging them off along with your panties. He keeps your shirt on, pretends that makes him better, even if he wants to see how your tits bounce. Hey, he thinks, at least I had some self-control.
You moan so prettily when his thumb brushes your clit, rubbing slow circles into it. You're already so wet, his cock jumping with interest. Even Hell is too good for him.
Your hands slip down to tug at the fabric separating the two of you, your hips only hovering long enough to pull the duvet down and expose him, a low whine spilling from your lips.
“Want it, daddy. Please?” You murmur, dipping your head down to kiss his neck, making him suppress a groan.
“Yeah, baby. Anything you want.” He breathes out, his free hand reaching for the base to make his cock stand tall, offering it up like some kind of treat while his other hand still rubs lazy circles onto your clit.
You both moan in sync as you lower yourself onto his length. His hand slips to your hip, gripping it to guide your movements. His hips buck up into you, his tip brushing your cervix whenever you sink down fully onto him.
You're so wet, and you squeeze him just right. He's going to go insane. There's no way he can help himself now. He's never gonna stop thinking about how good you feel wrapped around him.
“Fuck, honey. Pussy's made just for me,” he groans, cringing as he says the words. He's never been a fan of dirty talk, feels awkward. Worse when he thinks about who he's fucking. But you feel so good, he really can't stop himself. His brain isn't working anymore.
“You're so big.” You whine, grinding your hips down against him more than actually riding him, like you don't want his dick to leave you for even a moment. Cute. He almost cums just at the way your face twists as he fucks up into you.
“S’all yours, baby. C'mon,” he coos, thumb slipping away from your clit and making you whimper, just so he can grab your waist with both hands. “Ride daddy.”
He lifts you up and down, helping you ride him. You rock your hips desperately, moaning as he presses up against your sweet spot with every thrust, picking up the pace as he fucks into you. He's able to manhandle you so easily, which only has you moaning louder, your eyes fluttering shut.
With his hands occupied with gripping your waist as he helps you fuck yourself on his dick, you bring your own hand down to rub at your clit, making the heat in your stomach build rapidly.
The bed creaks as he picks up the pace again, rutting deeper into you than before, your pussy making the most obscene squelching noises. It's downright sinful, Leon has to use all of his focus to stop himself from cumming right then and there. Fuck, if it wasn't for him jerking off right before you came in, he'd have cum as soon as he saw your pretty pussy.
You're close, biting your lip to sniffle your moans as they grow louder, fingers moving faster against your clit. Your dad notices, shifting his hips until he's pounding relentlessly into your sweet spot, making you see stars.
He feels his chest swell with pride when he feels you tense up, pussy clenching around his cock deliciously as your orgasm hits, juices gushing past his cock and coating his balls. He didn't even know he still had it in him, thought his dick game died in his 20s. This was a pleasant surprise.
His balls tighten, and he knows he's about to cum. He grunts and goes to pull you off of him, but you whine and shake your head, pushing yourself down. “S'okay, daddy. I'm on birth control. Wanna feel it, please.”
He frowns a little at that. He doesn't like thinking about other guys fucking you. You're his princess, a sweet girl. Your daddy will take care of you, not these other losers. God, he's fucked up.
“Yeah, baby? Want daddy to fill you up?” He grunts, flipping you over with ease so your back's pressed to the bed, him hovering over you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, head hanging and bangs covering his eyes.
“Fuck.” He hisses as he buries himself balls deep in you, cock kicking inside your pussy as he cums. He pants a little as he fills you, he's not quite as young as he used to be. Takes it out of him sometimes.
He pulls out and slumps next to you. You cuddle up to him instantly, and that guilt and shame comes to the surface again. He pulls you close to him, pets your hair and kisses your forehead like he always does.
“Love you, baby girl.” He murmurs, his free hand pulling the covers up and over your body, his fingertips scratching your scalp lightly.
“I love you more, dad.”
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Mortholme Post-Mortem
The Dark Queen of Mortholme has been out for two weeks, and I've just been given an excellent excuse to write some more about its creation by a lenghty anonymous ask.
Under the cut, hindsight on the year spent making Mortholme and answers to questions about game dev, grouped under the following topics:
Time spent on development Programming Obstacles Godot Animation Pixel art Environment assets Writing Completion Release
Regarding time spent on development
Nope, I’ve got no idea anymore how long I spent on Mortholme. It took a year but during that time I worked on like two other games and whatever else. And although I started with the art, I worked on all parts simultaneously to avoid getting bored. This is what I can say:
Art took a ridiculous amount of time, but that was by choice (or compulsion, one might say). I get very excitable and particular about it. At most I was making about one or two Hero animations in a day (for a total of 8 + upgraded versions), but anything involving the Queen took multiple times longer. When I made the excecutive decision that her final form was going to have a bazillion tentacles I gave up on scheduling altogether.
Coding went quickly at the start when I was knocking out a feature after another, until it became the ultimate slow-burn hurdle at the end. Testing, bugfixing, and playing Jenga with increasingly unwieldy code kept oozing from one week to the next. For months, probably? My memory’s shot but I have a mark on my calendar on the 18th of August that says “Mortholme done”. Must’ve been some optimistic deadline before the ooze.
Writing happened in extremely productive week-long bursts followed by nothing but nitpicky editing while I focused on other stuff. Winner in the “changed most often” category, for sure.
Sound was straightforward, after finishing a new set of animations I spent a day or two to record and edit SFX for them. Music I originally scheduled two weeks for, but hubris and desire for more variants bumped it to like a month.
Regarding programming
The Hero AI is certainly the part that I spent most of my coding time on. The basic way the guaranteed dodging works is that all the Queen’s attacks send a signal to the Hero, who calculates a “danger zone” based on the type of attack and the Queen’s location. Then, if the Hero is able to dodge that particular attack (a probability based on how much it's been used & story progression), they run a function to dodge it.
Each attack has its own algorithm that produces the best safe target position to go to based on the Hero’s current position (and other necessary actions like jumping). Those algorithms needed a whole lot of testing to code counters for all the scenarios that might trip the Hero up.
The easiest or at least most fun parts for me to code are the extra bells and whistles that aren’t critical but add flair. Like in the Hero’s case, the little touches that make them seem more human: a reaction speed delay that increases over time, random motions and overcompensation that decrease as they gain focus, late-game Hero taking prioritising aggressive positiniong, a “wait for last second” function that lets the Hero calculate how long it’ll take them to move to safety and use the information to squeeze an extra attack in…
The hardest attack was the magic circle, as it introduced a problem in my code so far. The second flare can overlap with other attacks, meaning the Hero had to keep track of two danger zones at once. For a brief time I wanted to create a whole new system that would constantly update a map of all current danger zones—that would allow for any number of overlapping attacks, which would be really cool! Unfortunately it didn’t gel with my existing code, and I couldn’t figure out its multitudes of problems since, well…
Regarding obstacles
Thing is, I’m hot garbage as a programmer. My game dev’s all self-taught nonsense. So after a week of failing to get this cool system to work, I scrapped it and instead made a spaghetti code monstrosity that made magic circle run on a separate danger zone, and decided I’d make no more overlapping attacks. That’s easy; I just had to buffer the timing of the animation locks so that the Hero would always have time to move away. (I still wanted to keep the magic circle, since it’s fun for the player to try and trick the Hero with it.)
There’s my least pretty yet practical solo dev advice: if you get stuck because you can’t do something, you can certainly try to learn how to do it, but occasionally the only way to finish a project within a decade to work around those parts and let them be a bit crap.
I’m happy to use design trickery, writing and art to cover for my coding skills. Like, despite the anonymous asker’s description, the Hero’s dodging is actually far from perfect. I knew there was no way it was ever going to be, which is why I wrote special dialogue to account for a player finding an exploit that breaks the intended gameplay. (And indeed, when the game was launched, someone immediately found it!)
Regarding Godot
It’s lovely! I switched from Unity years ago and it’s so much simpler and more considerate of 2D games. The way its node system emphasises modularity has improved my coding a lot.
New users should be aware that a lot of tutorials and advice you find online may be for Godot 3. If something doesn’t work, search for what the Godot 4 equivalent is.
Regarding animation
I’m a professional animator, so my list of tips and techniques is a tad long… I’ll just give a few resource recommendations: read up on the classic 12 principles of animation (or the The Illusion of Life, if you’d like the whole book) and test each out for yourself. Not every animation needs all of these principles, but basically every time you’ll be looking at an animation and wondering how to make it better, the answer will be in paying attention to one or more of them.
Game animation is its own beast, and different genres have their own needs. I’d recommend studying animations that do what you’d like to do, frame by frame. If you’re unsure of how exactly to analyse animation for its techniques, youtube channel New Frame Plus shows an excellent example.
Oh, and film yourself some references! The Queen demanded so much pretend mace swinging that it broke my hoover.
Regarding pixel art
The pixel art style was picked for two reasons: 1. to evoke a retro game feel to emphasise the meta nature of the narrative, and 2. because it’s faster and more forgiving to animate in than any of my other options.
At the very start I was into the idea of doing a painterly style—Hollow Knight was my first soulslike—but quickly realised that I’d either have to spend hundreds of hours animating the characters, or design them in a simplistic way that I deemed too cutesy for this particular game. (Hollow Knight style, one day I’d love to emulate you…)
I don’t use a dedicated program, just Photoshop for everything like a chump. Pixel art doesn’t need anything fancy, although I’m sure specialist programs will keep it nice and simple.
Pixel art’s funny; its limitations make it dependent on symbolism, shortcuts and viewer interpretation. You could search for some tutorials on basic principles (like avoiding “jaggies” or the importance of contrast), but ultimately you’ll simply want to get a start in it to find your own confidence in it. I began dabbling years ago by asking for character requests on Tumblr and doodling them in pixels in whatever way I could think of.
Regarding environment assets
The Queen’s throne room consists of two main sprites—one background and one separate bit of the door for the Hero disappear behind—and then about fifty more for the lighting setup. There’s six different candle animations, there’s lines on the floor that need to go on top of character reflections, all the candle circles and lit objects are separated so that the candles can be extinguished asynchronously; and then there’s purple phase 2 versions of all of the above.
This is all rather dumb. There’s simpler ways in Godot to do 2D lighting with shaders and a built-in system (I use those too), but I wanted control over the exact colours so I just drew everything in Photoshop the way I wanted it. Still, it highlights how mostly you only need a single background asset and separated foreground objects; except if you need animated objects or stuff that needs to change while the game’s running, you’ll get a whole bunch more.
I wholeheartedly applaud having a go at making your own game art, even if you don’t have any art background! The potential for cohesion in all aspects of design—art, game, narrative, sound—is at the heart of why video games are such an exciting medium!
Regarding writing
Finding the voices of the Queen and the Hero was the quick part of the process. They figured that out they are almost as soon as writing started. I’d been mulling this game over in my mind for so long, I had already a specific idea in mind of what the two of them stood for, conceptually and thematically. When they started bantering, I felt like all I really had to do was to guide it along the storyline, and then polish.
What ended up taking so long was that there was too much for them to say for how short the game needed to be to not feel overstretched. Since I’d decided to go with two dialogue options on my linear story, it at least gave me twice the amount of dialogue that I got to write, but it wasn’t enough!
The first large-scale rewrite was me going over the first draft and squeezing in more interesting things for the Queen and the Hero to discuss, more branching paths and booleans. There was this whole thing where the player’s their dialogue choices over multiple conversations would lead them to about four alternate interpretations of why the Queen is the way she is. This was around the time I happened to finally play Disco Elysium, so of course I also decided to also add a ton of microreactivity (ie. small changes in dialogue that acknowledge earlier player choices) to cram in even more alternate dialogue. I spent ages tinkering with the exact nuances till I was real proud of it.
Right until the playtesters of this convoluted contraption found the story to be unclear and confusing. For some reason. So for my final rewrite, I picked out my favourite bits and cut everything else. With the extra branching gone, there was more room to improve the pacing so the core of the story could breathe. The microreactivity got to stay, at least!
A sample of old dialogue from the overcomplicated version:
Regarding completion
The question was “what kept me going to actually finish the game, since that is a point many games never even get to meet?” and it’s a great one because I forgot that’s a thing. Difficulties finishing projects, that is—I used to think it was hard, but not for many years. Maybe I’ve completed so many small-scale games already that it hardly seems that unreasonable of an expectation? (Game jams. You should do game jams.)
I honestly never had any doubt I was going to finish Mortholme. When I started in late autumn last year, I was honestly expecting the concept to be too clunky to properly function; but I wished to indulge in silliness and make it exist anyways. That vision would’ve been easy to finish, a month or two of low stakes messing around, no biggie. (Like a game jam!)
Those months ran out quickly as I had too much fun making the art to stop. It must’ve been around the time I made this recording that it occurred to me that even if the game was going to be clunky, it could still genuinely work on the back of good enough storytelling technique—not just writing, but also the animation and the Hero’s evolving behaviour during the gameplay segments which I’d been worried about. The reaction to my early blogging was also heartening. Other people could also imagine how this narrative could be interesting!
A few weeks after that I started planning out the narrative beats I wanted the dialogue to reach, and came to the conclusion that I really, really wanted it to work. Other people had to see this shit, I thought. There’s got to be freaks out there who’d love to experience this tragedy, and I’m eager to deliver.
That’s why I was fine with the project’s timeline stretching out. If attention to detail and artistry was going to make this weird little story actually come to life, then great, because that’s exactly the part of development I love doing most. Projects taking longer than expected can be frustrating, but accepting that as a common part of game dev is what allows confidence in eventual their completion regardless.
Regarding release
Dear anonymous’s questions didn’t involve post-release concerns, but it seems fitting to wrap up the post-mortem by talking about the two things about Mortholme's launch that were firsts for me, and thus I was unprepared for.
1. This was the first action game I've coded. Well, sort of—I consider Mortholme to be a story first and foremost, with gameplay so purposefully obnoxious it benefits from not being thought of as a “normal” game. Still, the action elements are there. For someone who usually sticks to making puzzle games since they’re easier to code, this was my most mechanically fragile game yet. So despite all my attempts at playtesting and failsafes, it had a whole bunch of bugs on release.
Game-breaking bugs, really obvious bugs, weird and confusing bugs. It took me over a week to fix all that was reported (and I’m only hoping they indeed are fully fixed). That feels slow; I should’ve expected it was going to break so I could’ve been faster to respond. Ah well, next time I know what I’ll be booking my post-release week for.
2. This was my first game that I let players give me money for. Sure, it’s pay-what-you-want, but for someone as allergic to business decisions as I am, it was a big step. I guess I was worried of being shown that nobody would consider my art worth financial compensation. Well, uh, that fear has gone out of the window now. I’m blown away by how kind and generous the players of Mortholme have been with their donations.
I can’t imagine it's likely to earn a living wage from pouring hundreds of hours into pay-what-you-want passion projects, but the support has me heartened to seek out a future where I could make these weird stories and a living both.
Those were the unexpected parts. The part I must admit I was expecting—but still infinitely grateful for—was that Mortholme did in fact reach them freaks who’d find it interesting. The responses, comments, analyses, fan works (there’s fic and art!! the dream!!), inspiration, and questions (like the ones prompting me to write this post-mortem) people have shared with me thanks to Mortholme… They’ve all truly been what I was hoping for back when I first gave myself emotions thinking about a mean megalomaniac and stubborn dipshit.
Thank you for reading, thank you for playing, and thank you for being around.
#so that got a bit verbose. you simply cannot give me this many salient questions and expect me otherwise tbh#the dark queen of mortholme#indie dev#game dev#dev log
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hey! I've asked like 57 other HP fic writers to do this but none of them have done it... PLEZ DONT LET MEH DOWN I LOVED UR FIC ABOUT RON WEASLEY
so how do you think that Hogwarts bis would react to getting in... suggestive positions with you during a game of twister.
specifically I really wanna see the reactions of Draco, Harry, Ron, Theo, and Mattheo
ILYSM
awwweeee Ilysm! the Ron fic is my fav toooooo!!!!!!
How they would react to getting in suggestive poses with you in Twister.
Draco Malfoy.
He was doing amazing at the game, taking out his competition with a few well-aimed kicks, when he heard the fateful words.
"left hand on red"
the only red available is one that props you over him, unfortunately hanging your tits in his face.
he's dumbfounded as you prop yourself there,
He gets so distracted, trying not to lose the whole game and his dignity
he goes tumbling down, and starts yelling about how you interfered and should be eliminated
when Blaise asks how you interfered Draco goes red in the face.
he knows he can't admit that he got a boner mid game.
Harry Potter
Harry was trying his hardest not to fall down laughing at some dumb joke that Ron had made,
”left foot on blue”
you accidentally make eye contact with the already reddened face of the chosen one, as you each realized what that position entails.
You prop yourself up into a position that could only be described as straddling him,
giving yourself a cramp as you try with all your might to hover over him instead of making contact with his groin.
after a few seconds he’ll whisper into your ear.
”I swear to Godrick, I’ll do all of your homework for a week, just. Give. Up.”
ya know... its pretty easy to get a sex slave outta this guy when he starts bargaining like that
Ron Weasley
I see this going one way and one way only.
This time, Ron (just his luck) is the one who gets the unlucky positioning
He has to prop himself In a way that he’s essentially pinning you down
his face goes red as you smirk at him over your shoulder and lightly push your ass up higher to meet his hard on.
he’d try to make himself lose in a classy way,
but he’d end up falling down onto you,
making a scene for all the gryffindors to gawk and tease about for the next few years.
Theodore Nott
My boy Theo is THE DEFINITION of sleek on the streets but a freak in the sheets
The game is going great, competition is dropping like flies, some people are even cheating in order to win.
"right foot on yellow"
You're pinned in a missionary position with Theo (while, of course, Dracos squirming around in the background, being a little bitch and tripping people)
He smiles down at you, this hoe is more comfortable with public spooning than you are, by a long run.
He might whisper sweet nothings in your ear, just to mess up your focus.
"why so tense amore mio?"
That's it. That's the end, game over (for you, at least. He goes on and wins the whole thing, and then makes an apology to you by the only way that seems to get through your thick little skull... fucking)
Mattheo Riddle
If Draco is cheating his way through the game, then I don't even know how to describe what Matthew is doing.
Mattheo should've lost in the first minute of the game.
should've, but luckily for him, his threats tend to come out pretty damn intimidating.
When you get stuck a position where your both lewdly intertwined, of course he tries the same thing with you.
"Give up, I know a wide array of jinxes that'd make your perky little ass shrivel."
Of course, you know he'd never do anything like that to you, so you can't help but giggle
Unfortunately for you, Mattheo doesn't find it funny.
He causes both of you to fall down and lose.
Probably grabs you by the wrist, takes you to his dorm, and makes good on his promise to make your ass shrivel... IN A WAY OTHER THAN JINXES
HOPE YOU LIKED THIS POOKIE! my inboxes are open and if you request something I will 100% write it bc it sparks joy :} ILY GUYS
#draco malfoy#draco#harry potter#harry#ron weasley#ronald weasley#ron#theodore nott#theo nott smut#theo nott x reader#mattheo x you#matt x reader#mattheo riddle#harry potter x reader#draco x y/n
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Event Horizon
Chapter Twenty-One: Cascade
Chapter WC: 10,188
Chapter Warnings: um? general emotional turmoil
A/N: This one kicked my ass. Like genuinely probably the hardest chapter I've ever written, and I'm not sure why. But I'm very much looking forward to next week's chapter!
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Coruscant, 21 BBY
Yaddle's lightsaber hovers in the air before you, the blade humming softly. It's been a week since the Council's decision, and you've yet to leave your rooms. The lightsaber has become a focal point, a symbol, a reminder of what was taken from you. It's also a comfort.
Your connection to her.
Your eyes narrow, and you focus, the energy gathering in the pit of your stomach, the power building. The saber spins, the green blade rotating slowly. A bead of sweat drips down your forehead, and your hands begin to shake, the exertion taking its toll.
You're not even sure what you're doing. You're not practicing. Not really. You're just...playing. Trying to distract yourself. Trying not to think.
You've been doing a lot of that lately.
The hilt tilts, and the blade nicks the side of the chair, slicing through the metal. You curse and lower your hands, and the lightsaber clatters to the ground, its light extinguishing. The sound echoes in your rooms, and you grimace, running a hand over your face.
"Kriffing hell," you hiss. You sigh and cross the room, kneeling to pick up the lightsaber.
You're getting worse. You're barely sleeping, the stress taking its toll, and your emotions are all over the place. You can't seem to focus. It's as if everything you touch, everything you try, is doomed to fail.
You've never felt more useless.
You run a hand through your hair and slump, dropping onto the couch, your head falling into your hands. The tears sting, but they won't come. They haven't for days. There's a hollow ache in your chest, a dull pain that refuses to fade. Your throat is tight, and the guilt is threatening to swallow you whole.
You don't know what else to do. For so long, all you've wanted was to bring justice for Yaddle. To find the truth. But now that the truth has been uncovered, and justice has been denied, there's nothing left. Nothing except this hollow, empty ache. And a lingering feeling of betrayal.
You know you were out of line, but you can't bring yourself to regret it. Obi-Wan shouldn't have kept quiet. He shouldn't have just stood there and watched, his eyes averted, his face impassive. He could have said something. He should have said something. Anything. Instead, he did what he always does. He went along with the Council, playing the dutiful Jedi. Never challenging, never questioning, never speaking his mind. Always keeping his mouth shut. Always toeing the line.
The line of thinking that had been torturing you for days doesn't bring with it the usual anger or frustration now. There's nothing left. No emotion, no energy. Nothing. Just the cold, numbing pain.
You've never felt more alone.
Obi-Wan had tried to reach out, had tried to contact you, had even come to your door. But you hadn't answered, and you know the lack of communication is hurting him. You can sense it. It's a constant nagging at the back of your mind, a tugging in the Force.
The bond between the two of you is frayed, the threads pulled taught, the strain threatening to snap. But still, you can't bring yourself to speak with him. He's reached out to you countless times, and you've refused him. Each time, he's recoiled, the pain and confusion radiating through the bond. It's a physical blow, and each time it hits you, it knocks the wind out of you.
You know it's hurting him, and that hurts you, but you can't bring yourself to end the silence.
Rex has called, too. You haven’t answered. Not once. He doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t know what went wrong. He hasn’t stopped trying, though.
Every day, multiple times, calls and messages coming in over and over, the light of the screen flickering in the dark of your rooms. After the second day, you buried your comm underneath a pile of dirty laundry. By the third day, the battery had died from its constant use, and the room was cast into silence. You've heard nothing since then. Still, the guilt lingers. And the longing. And the regret. You miss him. You miss him, and you want him here. You want him next to you.
You know what you’re doing. It’s a reflex at this point, as easy as the basic combat forms drilled into you, as mindless as running. Pushing people away. Drowning your feelings. Hiding.
Running away.
Your eyes flick to the saber in your hand, and you run a finger over the hilt, tracing the intricate design, the ridges and curves, the dips and angles. It's familiar. It's comforting.
A part of you is still clinging to the hope that the Council will change their minds, that they'll realize their mistake, that they'll come to their senses and seek justice. It's a foolish hope. A childish hope. But, it's the only thing keeping you from giving up completely.
The truth is, you don't know what else to do. You're at a loss.
Your gaze moves past the saber, your eyes focusing on the viewport, on Coruscant's skyline. The buildings are a blur, a mass of lights and colors, a sea of endless noise. It's beautiful, in a way. An ever-moving, ever-changing kaleidoscope of life. But it's overwhelming, too. A reminder of what's out there, of what you're missing.
You've been cooped up in your rooms for too long. The walls are starting to close in on you, and you can feel your anxiety building, a low thrum in your chest. You need to get out, to go somewhere, to do something. Anything.
You stand, and a wave of dizziness washes over you, forcing you to grab hold of the back of the couch, steadying yourself. You're weak, and lightheaded, and exhausted. You've barely eaten, and you haven't slept, not really.
Not since.
Since.
The images flash through your mind, unbidden, unwanted, and your stomach lurches, bile rising in your throat. You swallow, forcing down the nausea, and the tears well up, hot and burning.
You can't stop it, can't control it.
"Fuck," you hiss. You throw the lightsaber across the room, the hilt bouncing off the wall with a satisfying thud. It clatters to the floor, and you stare at it, breathing heavily, the anger and frustration boiling over. "Fuck. Fuck."
It's not enough. Nothing is.
Your hands ball into fists, and you clench your jaw, a surge of fury coursing through you. It's like a drug, and it's an instant rush, a brief respite from the pain, but it brings with it a shift in the Force. A tremor, a vibration, a change in pressure that's too intense to ignore.
You close your eyes, and you focus, reaching for the energy, letting it flow through you. But the more you focus, the more you grasp, the stronger the energy becomes. You're not controlling it. It's controlling you.
It's too much.
Your eyes fly open, and you cry out, your hands moving of their own accord to the sides of your head. The pain is intense, white-hot, blinding. It's as if someone has pressed an iron spike through your skull, and you scream, unable to hold it back. You can't move, can't think, can't breathe, can't see. All you can feel is the pain, the agony, the torture. And it's everywhere, consuming you, tearing you apart.
One of your hands pulls away from your head, and you watch it happen as if in slow motion, as if through a fog, as if through the eyes of another. The criss-crossing pattern of scars on your palm seem to pulse and glow, the flesh reddening, the skin rippling and bubbling. You stare, mesmerized, transfixed.
And then you turn and release it all. Directed outwards, away from yourself, the Force is a violent blast, a burst of raw energy. It rips through the room, shifting furniture, shattering a lamp, and knocking a shelf clean off the wall. The items go flying, and a vase explodes on impact, sending shards of glass scattering across the floor. You don't notice. You're too focused on the destruction, the release, the relief. It's like a high, and the euphoria is overwhelming, a heady rush of adrenaline and endorphins and power.
"Fuck," you gasp, the word coming out a strangled hiss. You take a step back and stumble, the pain finally subsiding, leaving a dull ache in its wake. Your knees hit the couch, and you slump, falling onto the cushions, breathing heavily. The anger has ebbed, and the adrenaline is fading, leaving behind the familiar emptiness, the bone-deep exhaustion, and a new wave of guilt.
You've haven't lost control like that in years, and it frightens you. This…whatever it is, this thing that’s been building inside of you since Dooku attacked you a decade ago, it's getting worse. And you have no idea how to stop it. No idea how to contain it. If this is what's going to happen every time the pain becomes too much...you can't keep doing this.
You need to get out. You need fresh air.
You need help.
The thought makes your skin crawl, and you grimace, pushing it away, refusing to acknowledge it. You don't need help. You don't want help. You just want this all to stop. To go away. To be gone. But, the Force isn't listening.
"Get ahold of yourself," you mutter. "You're better than this."
But, you're not. Not anymore.
The words are a familiar mantra, something you've repeated over and over, day after day, since you were a child. Since you first began training. It's not enough. You're spiraling, and you know it, but there's no one to pull you back, to ground you, to keep you from falling.
You grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms, forcing yourself to breathe. In, out. In, out. You will yourself to picture a serene place, a calm place. Somewhere peaceful. A forest. A lake. A field. None of them work. The images are hazy and distorted, and the pain is still there, a low throbbing ache. You can't make it go away. Can't make any of it go away.
The golden field from your dreams is suddenly thrust to the forefront of your mind, and a strange warmth settles in the pit of your stomach, the pressure slowly easing, the tension ebbing away. You haven't had the dream since Saleucami, and you haven't thought about it since. Until now.
The sun is warm on your skin, and there's a breeze, and you can smell grass and flowers and dirt. The scent is familiar and calming, and it fills your senses. It's real. More real than it's ever been. There's the murmur of voices, children laughing, someone calling your name. You look around, searching for the source, but no one's there. Only the field, the sun, the breeze. And the sense that, somewhere, something is waiting. Someone who needs you.
You feel a hand settle on your shoulder, warm and gentle and strong, and you turn to face the figure beside you. But, the moment you do, the sun fades, and the warmth is gone, and the voices are muffled, the laughter muted. And, then, everything goes black.
You open your eyes, and you're met with chaos.
Your rooms are a mess. The broken lamp is lying on its side, the cord dangling. The shattered remains of the vase are strewn across the floor, the water from the flowers spreading, soaking into the carpet. The shelf is in pieces, and a datapad has joined the mess of objects that were previously displayed. There's a dent in the wall where the hilt of Yaddle's lightsaber struck it, and the door to the refresher is open, the lights on and flickering.
It's a disaster.
You slump, the exhaustion setting in. You're not even sure how long you've been cooped up here, alone. It's been days, at least. Maybe a week, maybe longer. It's hard to keep track. Time seems to lose all meaning when you're locked away like this.
Your gaze lands on Yaddle's lightsaber, and you wince, guilt gnawing at your stomach. She'd be disappointed. She'd tell you to pick yourself up, to get back out there, to move forward. She'd remind you of the Jedi teachings, of the Code, and she'd tell you to embrace the Light.
But she'd also tried to leave. She'd tried to get away from the Order, from the Code, from the war. She'd wanted something else, something more.
Something better.
Your eyes narrow, and the decision settles in the pit of your stomach, sinking deep into your bones. Maybe it's time to do the same.
It's not like you have anything to lose. Obi-Wan will survive. He has Ahsoka and Anakin. And Rex...Rex will be okay. He'll be fine. He’ll be better off without you, anyway. He doesn't need the drama. He deserves better. You'll miss him. A part of you will always long for him. But, he's not yours. And he never will be.
It's a coward's move, and you know it. It's selfish. But, maybe that's what you are. Maybe that's all you've ever been. Maybe that's all you'll ever be.
Maybe it's time to accept it.
You've just finished packing when a knock sounds on the door. You frown, and your eyes narrow as the sound echoes in the room. You weren't expecting anyone. There's no way Rex could get inside the Temple without clearance, and you would've sensed Obi-Wan before he got close enough, even in your state. But the person behind the door is radiating concern, worry, fear. You know that signature, know the energy. It's one you'd recognize anywhere.
The door slides open without your prompting, and the light from the hall filters in, blinding you. You wince and squint as a figure appears in the doorway, a shadow against the light.
"I locked the door," you say flatly.
Anakin snorts. "And?"
He steps inside, the door sliding closed behind him. His gaze travels across your room, and his eyes widen, taking in the destruction. You've done what you could to right everything, but there's still evidence of your tantrum. There's water on the floor, a few pieces of glass, a dent in the wall, clothes discarded on the table. You grimace and run a hand through your hair, pulling at it.
Anakin’s eyes fall on Yaddle's lightsaber on the floor, and you quickly summon the weapon, the hilt flying into your palm. It clatters onto the desk in front of you, and you turn, avoiding his gaze.
"And, what are you doing here?" you mutter.
"What am I doing here?" Anakin repeats, and he walks forward, his eyes wide, his voice incredulous. "What are you doing here? You weren't answering my calls. Or Obi-Wan's. Or Ahsoka's. Or anyone's. I thought something might've happened."
"I'm fine," you say stiffly. "Nothing happened."
"Clearly," he deadpans. He reaches down and picks up a piece of glass, and you watch as he tosses it into a small trash bin. "Other than a complete breakdown."
"I didn't have a breakdown," you snap. You wince, and your voice softens, dropping to a whisper. "I didn't."
He raises an eyebrow, and his eyes scan the room again, pausing on the dent in the wall, before moving back to you. The judgement is obvious, and you glare at him, daring him to speak. He doesn't. He just stares at you, his eyes boring into yours, the worry evident. After a moment, he sighs, and his shoulders sag, the concern radiating through the Force.
"I didn't," you repeat. You cross your arms over your chest, hugging yourself.
"Then, what happened? And why is Rex, of all people, asking me if you're okay?" Anakin asks. He gestures around him, his gaze landing on a pile of dirty dishes, an overflowing laundry basket, an open duffel bag on your bed. "Or, better yet, why are you packing a bag?"
The mention of Rex's name sends a sharp pang through your chest, and you flinch, trying to hide it.
"I'm not," you lie, and his expression turns to exasperation.
"Right," he says slowly. Anakin leans against your desk, his arms folded, his gaze never leaving yours. "Because we both know you're just standing here, in front of a packed bag, for fun."
"Shut up," you mutter as you return to packing. You shove a shirt into your bag, not bothering to fold it, and you turn away from him, heading for the refresher.
Anakin's eyes widen, a strangled sound escaping his throat as follows after you. He rushes to block the door before you can get any further, and his arms cross, his body a wall.
"Oh, no, no, no. You're not getting out of this," he says.
"Anakin, move," you order.
"Not until you tell me what's going on."
"Move," you repeat, and you raise a hand, shoving him aside with the Force. He stumbles, and he lets out a noise of surprise, his eyes wide, his mouth dropping open. You step into the refresher, and you grab the rest of your toiletries, tossing them onto the counter, your movements sharp and jerky.
"Okay," Anakin breathes. His eyes narrow, his gaze darting around the room, taking in the mess. He spots a broken perfume bottle on the floor, the contents dripping down the wall, and he winces. "That bad, huh?"
You're silent, ignore him and returning to packing. The bag is almost full, and you curse, realizing you'll have to take a second. You didn't think this through. You should've started packing yesterday. Or last week. Maybe last month.
"Where are you going?" Anakin asks. He's leaning against the door frame, watching you with an intensity that's unnerving. "Are you going somewhere? Where?"
"Leave me alone," you snap, and you turn, shoving him away, but he catches your arm, stopping you. His grip is firm, but gentle, and he holds you there, his brows knit together.
"Look, I'm not here to fight. I'm not here to yell at you, or lecture you, or whatever it is you think I'm here to do," he says softly, his expression sincere. "I'm here because I care. I'm here because Ahsoka cares. And Obi-Wan—"
"Stop."
"—is worried sick about you," he finishes, ignoring your interruption. "Whatever's going on, whatever's happened, we can help. Just talk to us. Tell me what's going on. Please."
You look away toward your desk, your eyes falling on Yaddle's lightsaber. The sight makes your chest tighten, and you swallow, fighting back the tears.
"Come on," he urges. His hand moves, squeezing your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin.
You let out a shaky breath as your defenses crumble. You're tired of holding everything in, tired of hiding, tired of pretending. The fight drains out of you, and you deflate, your shoulders slumping, your eyes falling to the ground.
"What happened?" he asks, his voice low. "You're not usually...this. At least, not lately."
"No," you agree.
"So, what is it? Did you have a fight with Obi-Wan?"
"No," you say, and you wince. "Yes. Not exactly."
"Then, what is it? You can tell me," he says. "I'm not going anywhere. No matter how much of a pain in the ass you are."
You scoff, the noise muffled by your sleeve as you wipe your eyes, and a smile tugs at your lips. "Asshole."
"Brat," he replies, and his hand drops from your shoulder. "Now, talk."
"It's not that easy," you mumble. You sniff, and your gaze flickers to him, taking in his expectant expression. "There's just...a lot. I don't know where to start."
"Start at the beginning," he says. "Just tell me. Whatever it is, I'll listen."
You walk away and settle back on the couch, and Anakin follows, sitting next to you. He watches you and waits, his silence urging you to speak.
You take a deep breath, and you begin.
You tell him everything. Starting from the moment you met him on Naboo, ending with the Council's decision, the entire story tumbling out of your mouth, the words flowing freely. The only thing you leave out is Rex. Your friendship with him, the attraction, the connection. It's too personal, too private, too intimate. That secret will stay between the two of you.
Anakin listens. He doesn't interrupt. He doesn't speak. He doesn't offer advice or suggestions. He doesn't say anything. He just sits there, letting you speak, listening to every word, hearing every syllable.
Somewhere along the way, you start to feel it again. The anger and the frustration rising up, threatening to break free. It's only when it's nearly pouring out that you realize it's not just your own feelings. Anakin's anger is mingling with yours, and his face is dark, his jaw clenched. The shadows in the room seem to lengthen the longer you talk, and he's breathing faster, his hands curling into fists, his muscles tensing.
By the time you're finished, you're both fuming. The energy in the room is thick, the anger almost tangible. You feel your skin crawl, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, and you shift, trying to alleviate the discomfort. Anakin's gaze is fixed on the floor, and he's staring, his eyes hard.
"This isn't the first time the Council's done this," he says quietly. "Taken credit. Made decisions behind our backs. Put their agenda ahead of ours."
"I know," you murmur, and you run a hand through your hair, a bitter laugh escaping. "It's not just me. They're always like this. Always."
"That's not how it's supposed to work," Anakin growls. His eyes are narrowed, and he shakes his head, his frustration seeping through the Force. “This is bullshit. All of it. I can't believe they did this to you."
"I shouldn't have expected any less," you sigh, and you shake your head, the tears starting again. You scrub at your face, and your hands fall to your lap, fingers twisting together. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I knew better. I know better.”
"Don't," he snaps. His head turns, his gaze finding yours, the intensity of his eyes almost startling. "Don't do that. This isn't your fault."
"I just...I thought that bringing evidence would make a difference. That it would mean something. That it would actually count," you mutter, and you look away, staring out at nothing. "I didn't want to give up. I didn't want to quit. But it's not my place. It's never been. I'm not..."
Your voice trails off, and Anakin scoffs.
"If you're about to say you're not good enough, I'm going to punch you," he threatens. "Hard."
You snort, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "You're so violent."
"I'm serious," he says, and his eyes narrow, his face turning solemn. "Don't let them do this. Don't let them push you around, or guilt trip you, or whatever it is they're doing. You're a Jedi. Just because they're not willing to fight for justice doesn't mean you can't."
"They're not going to change their minds," you say. You rub your eyes, and a shuddering breath escapes. "They won't."
"So what?" Anakin argues. He turns toward you and leans forward, his hands braced on his knees. "So what if they don't? Who cares? You said it yourself. She was a mentor to you. And now, her killer is out there. Free. And you're not going to do anything about it?"
"It's not my place," you repeat, avoiding his gaze. "She's dead. She's gone. Nothing I do is going to change that. What's the point?"
"The point is she was your Master, and she was murdered," he says sharply. "You can't let this go. You can't just walk away. You can't leave it like this."
"Why not?" you mutter. Your fingers twitch, and you clench your fists, trying to calm yourself. "It's not as if there's anything I can do."
"There's plenty you can do," he argues. He sits forward, his hands braced on his knees. His face is flushed, and his voice rises, his words growing more and more passionate. "They gave you a whole legion of troopers, ships, unlimited resources. They gave you everything. So, use it. Do something. Anything."
"They did it because they thought I needed a distraction," you say. You can't look at him, can't meet his eyes. It's too much. "Because they were worried I'd do something stupid."
"Or, maybe they just finally realized that you're more than capable," Anakin counters as he sits back, his tone softening slightly. "They wouldn't have given you a position of power if they didn't think you were worthy of it."
"Worthy?" You scoff, and you shake your head, a humorless smile forming. "That's a first."
Anakin lets out a frustrated noise, and he slams his hand on the table, the noise reverberating through the room. You flinch, startled, and he sighs, running a hand over his hair.
"You're being difficult," he complains.
"Yeah, well, that's me," you say. "Difficult."
"This is serious," he says firmly. His expression is grave, and his eyes find yours, holding your gaze. "Look, I'm not going to force you to do anything. But, I think it's a mistake if you don't."
"I know," you admit. "But, it's not as easy as you think. I can't just go after him. I have no idea where he is, or where to even start looking. Besides, I have a job to do. I'm a general. I'm supposed to be leading my troops into battle, not hunting down one man.”
"And, who said you can't do both?" Anakin asks. He arches an eyebrow, and a smirk spreads across his lips. "It's not like you haven't done it before. Besides, he's made it pretty clear that he wants to get your attention. You might not have to look very far."
You frown, and you bite your lip, mulling over his words. It's true, and you both know it. Dooku's not trying to hide. He's practically taunting you, his presence lingering in the background of every encounter. It's only a matter of time before he crosses your path again, whether you like it or not.
"I can't," you say, but your voice lacks conviction.
"You can," he insists. He's leaning forward again, his elbows on his knees, his face close to yours. "You can, and you should. You have a choice. You can do something, or you can run away. Which is it going to be?"
"Anakin," you say, but you can't manage more than his name, and it falls flat.
"I'm serious," he says. "Make a decision. Right now. Stop sitting here, wallowing in self-pity, and do something."
Your hands ball into fists, your nails digging into your palms. You stare at him, your gaze darting over his face, taking in his determined expression. He's right. He's absolutely right.
"Do something that matters. If not for you, then for her," Anakin presses, his voice quiet, his eyes fixed on yours. "She deserves that much."
"Anakin—"
"What would she want?" he asks, cutting you off. "If she were here, right now, what would she tell you to do?"
You're silent, your mouth opening and closing. Your eyes fall back to Yaddle's lightsaber, and a knot forms in your stomach. You don't have to think about it. You already know. You've known for years. She would've done whatever she could, no matter what.
As much as you'd like to believe she would've walked away from this, you know that's not true. She wouldn't have turned a blind eye, wouldn't have ignored her duty. She would've fought, tooth and nail, until she couldn't fight anymore. Until she couldn't draw another breath.
And she did. She died fighting. You know that much.
Anakin is watching you, waiting for your answer, and your throat tightens, your eyes burning. You swallow hard take a deep breath, steadying yourself. You're still angry, still hurt, but you can't deny his words. Can't ignore them.
"You're right," you whisper. You close your eyes, and you take a deep breath, centering yourself. "I want to help. I have to."
"Then, do it," he says, his tone resolute.
You open your eyes and find him smiling, a gleam in his eyes. You can't help but grin, a spark of hope igniting in your chest. He's right. You can do this. You have to try. You owe it to her to keep going.
"Thank you," you murmur, throwing your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. Anakin stiffens, and he awkwardly pats your shoulder, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Probably go crazy," he jokes, and he pauses, adding, "Crazier. If that's possible."
You laugh and pull back, shaking your head. "I'm serious."
"I know," he chuckles. He slaps his hands on his knees and stands, a grin lighting up his face. "So, do you need a ride to Kamino?”
"Yeah,” you sigh. “I'd appreciate that."
"Consider it done.” He looks around the room and nods. "We're heading back out tomorrow anyway. Gotta pick up some more men before we head out to Bothawui. You can come, meet your troops." He smirks, his gaze dropping to the saber. "See how they measure up to the 501st."
"Oh, I'm sure they'll do just fine," you say dryly. "Thank you."
"Anytime."
Anakin gives a nod and heads towards the door, his movements smooth and quick. He reaches for the pad, but the door slides open before he can touch it. You sense him at the same time Anakin does, and both of your heads snap to the left, toward the hall.
Obi-Wan freezes, and he takes a step back, his eyes widening as his gaze falls on the two of you. You hold your breath as he scans the room, taking in the bags on your bed, your disheveled appearance, and the broken pieces of glass scattered on the floor.
His face turns white, his expression stricken, and the bond between the two of you begins to hum, the energy buzzing. It's overwhelming, and it makes your stomach lurch, a lump forming in your throat.
"Ah," he says, his voice tight. "Am I interrupting something?"
Anakin glances at you, and his eyebrows raise.
"No, no. Just leaving," he says quickly, his voice bright and cheerful. He moves forward and claps Obi-Wan on the shoulder, and he glances back at you, giving you a quick nod. "See you tomorrow, Goldie. Bright and early. And, uh, sorry about the lock. I...I'll pay for it."
"Uh-huh," you mumble. Your gaze never leaves Obi-Wan, and his doesn't move from yours. You can feel his anxiety, his tension, and it's a weight in your chest, a physical pressure. Anakin's voice filters through, but his words are lost, and you don't bother to listen. He's moving past Obi-Wan, heading down the hall, and the sound of his footsteps fades until all that's left is silence.
You stand, and Obi-Wan inhales sharply, his eyes flickering around the room, finally landing on Yaddle's lightsaber. You're suddenly hyperaware of the mess, the state of your clothes, the darkness under your eyes, and you cringe, wrapping your arms around yourself.
He walks into your rooms, his steps slow and cautious, and he stops, a few feet away.
"I..." Obi-Wan starts, and his voice trails off, his mouth open. He closes his eyes, his brows furrowing, and he takes a deep breath, collecting himself. "I've been trying to get a hold of you. For a week."
"I noticed," you mutter.
"I came by, a few times," he continues. His hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck, and his eyes flicker around the room, looking anywhere but at you. "I wanted to talk. About...about what happened. What I said."
"Nothing to talk about," you say, and his eyes meet yours, a flicker of anger in them.
"Nothing?" he asks, and his tone is incredulous. "We haven't spoken since—since it happened. The Council's decision, everything, and now, I find you packing a bag? I would think there's plenty to discuss."
"I'm not—" you start, and you bite your lip, stopping yourself.
"You're not what?" he snaps. He gestures around him, his hand waving at your bags, his gaze darting from your desk, to your bed, to your wardrobe, and back. "Packing? Leaving? Running away? Which one is it?"
"I'm not running away," you say, and you can't hide your annoyance. Your shoulders straighten, and you square off, facing him, your hands falling to your sides. "Not that it's any of your business."
"Not my business?" he repeats. Obi-Wan's eyebrows rise, and he scoffs, shaking his head. "Of course, it's my business. You're my friend. You're my—" He cuts himself off, and he winces, his mouth twisting. "I have a right to know what's going on. What happened."
"Why? So you can run and tell everyone else?" you shoot back, and his eyes widen. "So, you can report back to the Council and let them know how unstable I am?"
"Don't put words in my mouth," he hisses.
"Then, stop making it so easy," you snap.
The two of you stare at each other, neither of you saying anything, and the anger builds, the tension rising. You can't tell who's more upset, him or you, and the bond between the two of you is humming, a steady vibration, the energy almost tangible. It's making your head hurt, and you wince, rubbing your temple. His gaze softens, and he takes a step toward you, but stops.
"What's wrong with you?" he asks, his tone low and concerned. "What are you doing? Packing a bag, shutting yourself in here, not answering my calls, not speaking to anyone? Have you lost your mind?"
"Maybe I have," you growl, and his eyes narrow, his mouth falling open, as if to argue. You cut him off before he can. "But, maybe it's none of your business. Maybe I can take care of myself."
"Clearly," he says, and his eyes move over the room, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Yes, you seem to be doing quite well on your own."
"Obi-Wan," you groan. Your fingers press into the side of your head, and you close your eyes, breathing deeply. You can't do this. You can't. You don't have the strength, the energy. You're exhausted, and you just want him to go away. To leave you alone. "Just leave."
"Not until you explain yourself," he argues. Obi-Wan moves closer, his arm reaching out, his fingers brushing against yours. "This isn't like you. I know things haven't been easy, and I'm sorry, I really am. But, this isn't you. I thought you were getting better."
"Better?" you scoff, and his jaw tightens, a muscle twitching.
"You know what I mean," he says stiffly. "The nightmares have been less frequent, the visions. You've seemed more stable. Less volatile. Or, at least, not as bad. You haven't had an episode in months." He pauses, his gaze searching yours, and his fingers tighten around yours, squeezing. "What happened? Tell me."
"Maybe I'm not getting better," you say quietly. You shrug, and your gaze moves past him, staring out the viewport. "Maybe I was just hiding it. Pretending."
"You're not," he says firmly. His voice is steady and sure. "I would've noticed."
"You've noticed a lot of things lately," you mutter, and your eyes find his again, the pain flaring. He winces, his shoulders sagging. "And you've done a great job keeping them to yourself."
"That's not fair," he says quietly.
"Isn't it?"
"It wasn't my decision to give you your own command," he replies, shaking his head. “I know you think it was, but it wasn't." His eyes move over your face, and his voice lowers, a note of regret coloring his tone. “For months, I tried to change their minds. For months, I argued, pleaded, fought, everything. But, nothing I said or did worked. The decision was made. I’d only succeeded in delaying the inevitable.”
"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, your voice breaking, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Why didn't you just talk to me?"
"I was trying to protect you," he says softly, and his eyes close, his face turning away from you. "You'd just started feeling better, and I didn't want to upset you, or set you back." His jaw clenches, and his eyes open, his gaze finding yours, the pain visible in his expression. "And, I was worried you'd do exactly this."
You let out a humorless laugh, and you step away, his hand dropping from yours.
"So, what? You thought ignoring the issue would fix it?" you say, your voice rising, and his eyes widen, his brows furrowing, confusion written across his features. "Keeping me in the dark was going to help? What did you think was going to happen?"
"I don't know," he sighs. He runs a hand over his hair, and his hand falls, gesturing weakly. "I was hoping...that maybe if I could stall long enough...maybe they'd change their minds. Maybe the war would end, or you would find the closure you needed."
His eyes meet yours again, and the regret is plain on his face, his words coming out a whisper. "I was trying to give you a chance."
"And look how well that turned out," you mutter bitterly, and you can't hold his gaze, your eyes dropping to the floor. You turn and walk toward the window, and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shield yourself from the cold.
“It was a mistake," Obi-Wan admits quietly. He lets out a frustrated noise, and the room falls silent. After a moment, his footsteps approach, and he appears next to you. “But you can’t leave. Not now. There's a war going on, in case you haven't noticed. There's too much at stake."
"I'm not leaving," you insist, and his expression turns skeptical, his eyes narrowing. You roll your eyes, a bitter laugh escaping you. "Not that I hadn’t thought about it."
"You can't," he says firmly. "Whatever it is, we can work through it. We'll figure something out. I promise."
"There's nothing to work through," you say. You run a hand over your hair and glance at him, avoiding his gaze. "Anakin talked some sense into me. He...he helped."
"What do you mean?" he asks, and his brow furrows. He looks confused, his expression bewildered, and he shifts, crossing his arms. "What did he say?"
"Just...that I can't leave it like this," you mumble. You look away from him and out the viewport. You can see the sun beginning to set, and the sky is painted with hues of orange and red. "I have to do something."
"Something," Obi-Wan repeats, his tone wary, and you nod, avoiding his eyes. "Like what?"
"I'm not sure yet," you admit. “But for now, I’m going to Kamino. I’m picking up my troops. I’m doing what you wanted. I'm getting back out there. Back in the field. That's something."
"Is it?"
"Yes," you say, and the word comes out sharper than intended.
Obi-Wan opens his mouth to reply, but his voice catches, and he shakes his head. His gaze drifts to the floor, and his eyes narrow, his forehead creasing, his expression conflicted. You wait, watching him, and you can feel his emotions warring with each other, the battle playing out on his face. It's a whirlwind, and you can't tell which one is winning. Anger. Frustration. Worry. Fear. Guilt.
After a long moment, his face falls, and he nods, his shoulders slumping, his muscles relaxing.
"Fine," he relents, and his voice is low, resigned. "Fine."
“Is that what you wanted to hear?" you ask sarcastically, and his jaw tightens, a flash of anger flickering in his eyes.
"What I want is for you to be safe," he snaps, and he turns, glaring at you. "What I want is for you to be okay."
"Well, tough," you mutter. You move away from the window and cross your arms over your chest, your fingers digging into your arms. "Because neither of those things is likely to happen."
"You have no idea how much I wish things were different," he says quietly, and his face falls, his expression solemn. "That none of this had ever happened. Despite what you might think, I do care about you. Very much. I want what's best for you."
"What's best for me?" you repeat. Your lips twist into a sneer, and a harsh laugh escapes. "I'm not sure that exists anymore."
"You don't believe that," Obi-Wan chides gently. He's staring at you, and his voice is calm and even. "You know better than anyone that the Light is always there, no matter how far you fall."
"I used to," you say bitterly. Your throat tightens, and a lump forms, tears burning your eyes. You can't look at him, can't stand the concern in his gaze. "It's not like it matters, anyway. The Council's made its decision. Yaddle's killer is still out there, and we're just going to pretend like nothing happened. Just like we've been doing for years."
"That's not true," he says softly.
"Isn't it?"
"It doesn't have to be like this," he argues. His voice is quiet, and he steps forward, closing some of the distance between the two of you. His hand reaches out, and he gently touches your arm, his thumb brushing against your skin. You stiffen at the contact, but you don’t pull away, and his fingers move, trailing up to your shoulder, coming to rest there.
"The Senate is building a case," he murmurs. "They're gathering testimony, evidence, anything they can find. Once Dooku is captured, they'll bring him before a tribunal. There will be no denying what he's done. No escaping justice. It may take time, but it will happen. And, when it does, Dooku will pay for his crimes."
Your eyes narrow, and a part of you knows that he's telling the truth. But, it's not enough. You can't just sit back and do nothing, and a dark, selfish part of you wants him to suffer. To pay for what he's done. To hurt as much as he's hurt you. And, a larger, angrier, more violent part of you wants him dead. It doesn't matter if it's justice. Doesn't matter if he's brought to trial. Doesn't matter if he confesses. You want him dead. And if that makes you a bad person, so be it.
"He's a traitor," Obi-Wan adds. His expression hardens, his mouth thinning, his grip tightening. "He betrayed everything we stand for, and he deserves whatever punishment they deem fit. He'll pay."
"Will he?" you ask. You shrug off his touch, stepping back, and his hand falls to his side.
"You don't believe me," he states.
“I believe that it's what you want to happen," you respond, your voice quiet. You move around him, going to your desk and grabbing your lightsaber. You hook it onto your belt, and you reach for Yaddle's saber, your fingers curling around the hilt. The cool metal is comforting, and a feeling of calm washes over you. You take a deep breath, centering yourself, and turn, finding Obi-Wan staring at you.
"You want justice," you continue, and you pause, swallowing, pushing down your doubts. "So, do I. But, we both know how these things end. We've seen it happen, again and again. Dooku will escape, or he'll be released, or he'll plead innocent, or he'll disappear, or—" You cut yourself off, shaking your head. "It doesn't matter. The result will always be the same. He'll walk free. It's how these things work."
"You're wrong," he says, his voice hard. "Things are changing. The Separatists are growing bolder. The Senate is more unified than ever before. Even the Chancellor has taken a stronger stand against them."
"Forgive me if I'm not reassured," you snort, and his mouth twitches, irritation flashing across his face. "Chancellor Palpatine is a politician. A career politician. And politicians aren't known for their honesty or their integrity. Or their ability to put others first."
"Master Yoda believes it," he points out.
"Well, then, I suppose that settles it," you deadpan, and you can't hide your sarcasm. "If Master Yoda believes in it, then, it must be true. Because he's never been wrong about anything. Ever. In his entire life. Certainly not his Padawan. Right?"
Obi-Wan's expression hardens, and he crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Now, you're just being difficult."
"Maybe," you concede. "Or, maybe I'm being realistic. Maybe, just this once, I'm seeing things for how they are, instead of how I wish they were. Is that such a crime?"
"No, it's not," he says. His stance relaxes, and his arms fall to his sides, his shoulders slumping. "It's not. I understand why you're frustrated. You're allowed to be. But, this isn't like you. You're not usually this...this..."
"This what?" you ask, and his brows draw together, a crease forming on his forehead. "Say it. You'll feel better."
"Selfish," he snaps, and his gaze holds yours, his eyes searching yours, trying to understand. "Is that what this is? Are you angry because the Council decided not to pursue the killer of your Master? Because you didn't get to hunt down and kill him yourself?"
"What if I am?"
"Then, it's a good thing we stopped you from running away," he mutters, and you scoff, turning away from him. You pace around the room, trying to quell your anger, and his eyes follow, watching as you move, his mouth pressing into a thin line. "It's a good thing Anakin was able to talk sense into you."
"Sense?" you snort, and you stop, facing him. Your hands fall to your hips, and you lean forward, your gaze hardening. "How is this making any sense? How is letting a murderer go free make sense? How is sitting around and waiting for justice make any sense? How is any of this making any sense?"
"It's not," he agrees. "None of this is making sense. None of this is right. But we're doing the best we can with what we have."
"And, what if that's not good enough?"
"It's going to have to be," he says softly, and his head shakes, his gaze drifting to the ground, his expression weary. "That's all we have. All any of us has. It's the best we can do.
"I know," you mutter.
"Do you?"
"Yes," you sigh. You rub a hand over your face and run a hand through your hair, tugging on the strands. "I'm just...frustrated."
"I can see that," he says dryly.
"I want him dead," you confess. You can't look at him, can't meet his eyes, can't face his judgment. "I know that's not right. I know that's not how it should be. I know that I should want him brought to justice. But, I don't. I just want him gone."
"I know," he murmurs.
"But it's not going to happen," you continue. Your eyes find his, and his face softens, his gaze gentle. "Is it?"
"No," he admits. "It's not."
You nod and avert your gaze, your eyes falling to the floor. You can't keep looking at him. Can't stand the disappointment, the sorrow, the guilt. You’re exhausted, the conversation draining what little energy you have left, and your shoulders slump.
“You should go," you whisper. "I'm not good company right now. And I have a long day tomorrow."
"You need to eat," Obi-Wan says softly. His footsteps echo on the floor as he walks towards you. His hand brushes against your cheek, his palm cupping the side of your face, and he tilts your head, forcing you to look at him. "And sleep. Please."
"Not hungry," you mumble, and you step back, breaking the contact. "Not tired either."
"That's not the point," he argues, and he takes a step toward you, reaching for your hand. "You need to take care of yourself."
"Don't," you snap. You move away, and his hand drops, his expression stricken. "Don't try to pretend like you care. Don't try to act like you know what's best for me. Because you don't."
"I..." Obi-Wan trails off, and he frowns, his jaw clenching, his eyes narrowing, his gaze darkening. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between the two of you, and he stares down at you, his face inches from yours.
"I do know," he hisses. "You're the most important person in my life. I've cared about you since the day I met you. I've fought for you. Loved you. Supported you."
"Obi-Wan," you start, but he cuts you off, his eyes blazing, his face turning red, his tone sharp.
"No. You don't get to pretend like I haven't been here, every step of the way. You don't get to act like this is all on me," he says fiercely. "Because it's not. This is both of us. This is our fault."
"I never said—"
"You didn't have to," he snaps. He's shaking his head, his voice rising, and his hand lifts, gesturing wildly. "You've made your opinion quite clear. You blame me. Fine. I can take the blame. But, you have to admit, this is partly your fault."
"What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about," he says. He's moving, pacing, his voice rising with each step. "We've been doing this dance for years. Going in circles. You and I. We've been playing this game since we were kids. Since the day we met."
"I don't—"
"Yes, you do," he cuts you off, and he stops, turning toward you, his eyes flashing. "You've been doing this, using me, for as long as I've known you. You know that."
"Using you?" you repeat incredulously. "I'm not the one who used our friendship as a tool."
"I never—"
“You mean you haven’t kept tabs on me? Or monitored my activities? Or reported them to the Council?" you snap. "Or tried to control every aspect of my life?"
"I have only ever wanted to help you," he insists.
"And, that's all this is, isn't it?" you mutter. Your hands fall to your hips, and your eyes narrow, your gaze fixed on his. "You're trying to fix me. You've always been trying to fix me."
"Of course I am!" Obi-Wan snaps, and his eyebrows rise, his expression incredulous, as if you've said something ridiculous. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Because it's not your responsibility," you say through gritted teeth. "You can't fix me. And you certainly can't save me. No matter how much you might want to."
"Maybe not," he agrees quietly. His eyes find yours, and his shoulders sag, the anger fading from his expression. "But, that doesn't change the fact that I care about you."
"You say that," you mumble.
"And, I mean it," he replies. “You're one of my closest friends. My only friend, really. And if you're hurting, I want to be there for you. I want to help. I can't do that if you won't let me."
"You can't help me," you say, and his expression shifts, hurt and confusion crossing his face. You shake your head, trying to gather your thoughts. "It's not your fault alone. I know that. And you’re right. We’ve been playing this game for years. I've relied on you too much. But that has to stop. I can't let myself depend on you anymore. I have to...to fix myself. If I don't...if I don't..."
"What?" he presses.
"I'm going to lose myself," you finish. You take a deep breath and close your eyes. When you open them again, he's staring at you, a sad look in his eyes. “I think you know that already. That's what scares you."
"Of course it does," he sighs. He closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, fixing you with a firm stare. "I've seen what you're capable of. What you can become. What you're still capable of. I've felt it, and I'm not going to lie, it’s frightening. The things I've felt...from you...from within you."
"You're scared of me," you state, and it's not a question.
"Aren't you?"
"Yes," you answer honestly.
"And, yet, here we are," Obi-Wan says softly. His eyes are locked on yours, and he shakes his head, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Neither of us can walk away."
"I tried," you murmur. "You can't imagine how much."
"I have a fair idea." His hands fall to his sides, and his shoulders sag. He lets out a weary sigh and shakes his head, his mouth turning down, his brows drawing together, a troubled look on his face. "This isn't...what I wanted. It's not what either of us wanted."
"What did you want?" you ask. Your voice is soft and low. "When we were kids. When we first met. What did you want?"
"You know the answer to that," he says.
"Tell me," you press.
"I wanted...more," he answers, his tone careful, measured. "I wanted us to be more than friends. More than...this."
"So did I," you admit.
"I know."
"Do you?"
"I hoped," he confesses. His eyes meet yours, and his mouth twitches, his lips pulling into a grim smile. "I hoped for a lot of things."
"Me too," you whisper.
"Things have changed," he continues. "I know that. I understand that. You're not the same person. And neither am I."
"No, we're not," you agree, and a part of you is sad, a bittersweet ache forming in your chest. "We're not the same. And I think it’s time we stopped pretending otherwise."
"I suppose it is," he concedes quietly.
The two of you are silent, neither of you speaking, neither of you wanting to break the spell, the fragile moment. The bond between the two of you hums, the energy vibrating, and you can feel his emotions, the conflicting feelings, the war raging within him. You wonder if he can sense yours. If he can feel the pain and sorrow and longing that's swirling through you.
After a moment, Obi-Wan clears his throat and runs a hand over his hair, straightening himself. He steps back, putting some space between the two of you, and he crosses his arms, his eyes meeting yours.
"You'll be careful," he states.
"I will," you promise.
"And if anything happens—"
"You'll be the first person I call," you finish.
He nods and looks away from you, his eyes finding the ground. His gaze falls to Yaddle's saber, his forehead creasing, a hint of worry flitting across his face. He stares at it for a long moment, lost in thought, and when he looks up again, his expression is resigned.
“Have you heard from Rex?" he asks, and his voice is light, his tone casual. It does nothing to assuage the sudden spike of anxiety in your chest.
"What?"
"Rex," Obi-Wan repeats. He turns slightly, facing you. "He cornered me after a briefing yesterday. Asked if I'd heard from you. He seemed very concerned. About you.”
"Oh," you mumble, and you glance down, your cheeks burning. You fiddle with your lightsaber, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah, um, no. I haven't talked to him. Not since the diner."
"Really?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm, and your stomach flips, a lump forming in your throat. "That's surprising. You seemed quite...cozy, when I called on you."
"We were just talking," you say, and it's not a lie, not really, but the words sound weak, even to your own ears. "He...he knows about Yaddle.”
"I'm not surprised," he murmurs. "He was quite upset. It was almost amusing, watching him try to act professional and hide his concern." He pauses and gives you a pointed look, his eyebrow arching, his tone teasing. "You're lucky I didn't tell him about your propensity for running away."
"Lucky," you repeat weakly. "What did you tell him? About me. About what happened."
"Nothing," he replies. His eyebrows rise, and he shrugs, letting out a small laugh. “I told him you would speak with him when you were ready. Why? Did you want me to say something else?"
"No," you say quickly, and his smile widens, a knowing glint in his eye. You bite your lip, a sigh escaping you. "I mean, it's not that I don't...it's not that I wouldn't want..." You trail off, frustrated, and your shoulders slump. “He's worried about me. I get it. It's just...not necessary. That's all."
Obi-Wan stares at you for a long moment, studying you, his eyes narrowed. After a minute, his face softens, and he gives you a wry smile and shakes his head.
"You're an idiot," he declares, and you scowl, your mouth opening to argue, but he waves a hand, cutting you off before you can start. "Don't even bother. It's pointless. You know I'm right."
"I'm not—"
"If there's anything I've learned in all the years I've known you, it's that you are the most stubborn, single-minded, foolish individual I've ever had the displeasure of meeting," he says flatly. "It's exhausting, being around you sometimes."
"Gee, thanks," you mumble.
"And, yet, despite your many, many flaws, you have the uncanny ability to draw people to you," he continues. His gaze meets yours, his expression serious, and his tone turns thoughtful. "You've always had that. Even as a youngling, before the incident, you were charismatic, charming, and people gravitated toward you. You could make anyone like you. And I think it's the reason you have so many people that care about you. Including me."
"Obi-Wan—"
"What I'm trying to say," he interrupts, his voice rising, "is that I know Rex cares about you. Very much. That man is completely enamored by you, and has been for a long time. Anyone can see it. Anyone except you."
"That's not true," you argue weakly, but it's a lie, and the both of you know it.
"It is," Obi-Wan retorts. He shrugs, and he glances over his shoulder, checking the hall. When he speaks again, his voice is lowered. "You should talk to him. Before you leave. You might not get another chance."
"Why would I...I don't..." you stammer, and your hands fidget, twisting in front of you. “You know why I can’t—why it can't...why I can't do that. You know."
"I do. But, maybe that doesn't matter," he says. His eyes meet yours, and a sad smile forms. "Don't forget, we're in a war. Anything could happen. You should be happy while you can."
"Obi-Wan," you mutter, your tone scolding.
"You should talk to him," he repeats. His gaze moves, scanning your rooms, and he nods toward your bags, his voice becoming softer. "While you still have a chance. Take it. While you can."
"You're a romantic," you joke, and he laughs.
"So, they say," he replies. He sighs, and his expression shifts, growing serious. "Do you have everything you need?"
"Yeah, I'm set," you nod.
"Then, may the Force be with you," he murmurs. He looks at you one last time, and then turns, heading for the door.
You watch him walk away, a heavy feeling settling in your chest, and you open your mouth, about to call after him. To tell him that you'll miss him. That he's been the best friend you've ever had. That you don't know what you'll do without him. That you wish things could be different.
But, you don't.
The door opens, and he walks through it, disappearing down the hall. The bond between the two of you flickers, and a dull ache forms in your stomach, spreading outward. It feels strange, like an emptiness. A hollowness. You take a deep breath and exhale, pushing the feelings aside, and the ache dissipates, the pain fading.
You're not sure what you expected. This is how things are between the two of you. Maybe this is how it should be. Maybe this is what's best.
You're not sure. But, a part of you knows it's better this way. That, as much as you care about him, as much as he cares about you, the two of you have come to an impasse. He can't help you. You can't help him. And trying is only going to hurt the both of you.
You take a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Your eyes fall on Yaddle’s lightsaber, the metal glinting in the dim light.
Tomorrow, you'll pick it up, and you'll leave. You'll go back out into the field. Into battle. To save lives. To win the war. It's a noble goal. Something worth fighting for.
Maybe the Council was right. Maybe this is what's best. What's right. Maybe this is what's needed. What the Republic needs.
Maybe.
You can only hope.
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#the clone wars#captain rex#clone captain rex#captain rex x reader#rex x reader#roy writes#event horizon#okay so next week's chapter might be early?#it's done but i keep messing with it#but i'll be on vacation for a little over a week after that#so expect to not receive the next one until christmas#lov u all thank you for the well wishes last week!
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