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messenger-of-babel · 3 months ago

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Make it Better

Summary: You wanted to be better for him, but maybe better wasn't what he wanted.

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: Argghhh I had a chance to cook, and chat, I fear I fumbled. Through two rounds of drafting too,. Ah well, I solemnly swear to do more Dick content regardless. 😤

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You smoothed down your clothes, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your forehead was creased lightly in worry, fingers playing with your hair as you tried to get it to sit right. No matter what you did, nothing seemed to look the way you wanted. You didn't like the jewellery you wore, or the way you had done your hair. Your clothes seem wrinkled in the light no matter how many times you undressed to steam them, and the vibrant blue you wore seemed to be wearing you instead. You sigh, head coming to thump against the mirror.

You swear you had tried to do better than this.

It was always the same pit of nervousness that came off of going to one of the Wayne Family Gala's, so deep and endless in your stomach it felt like the rest of you would just fall through. Not only that, but you were also on the arm of one of the heirs of Gotham, one of the princes whose face was on every magazine cover and every second teenager’s bedroom wall.

Dealing with cameras that flashed nonstop, light so blinding you thought it had been daylight the first time you experienced it. A red carpet walk that felt like a vulture's strip, your name being screamed at by faceless reporters, microphones and cameras waving over the red rope stanchions to try and pry your comment from you. It was all so overwhelming, the sounds and lights. You surely would have collapsed the first time, if it hadn't been the comforting weight that slipped around your waist, and the dazzling smile that took the heat off you.

Dick's hand always knew how to keep you grounded during those events, tracing small shapes into your waist and turning you so he could take the brunt of the cameras. Waving to every news reporter and journalist frothing at the mouth for his statement, always offering some upbeat support for whatever the cause was, while they wrote it like the word of God. The same hand that would guide you through the doors of the venue and out of reach of the squabble outside, looking down at you with the boyish blue eyes you adored and white grin stretched across his face.

"You okay?" he'd ask softly, and you always nodded. The tension in your body melted away when his eyes searched yours so earnestly, trying to pick apart if you were lying. His own worry always seemed to dwarf your own, making you smile as you reassured him that you were fine.

You wanted to get better this time.

So, when you arrived for the Christmas Ball held by the Mayor in the Park, you had already prepped yourself. Dick had come to collect you in his car, smile bright and dazzling when he saw you. It was like he saw past all the flaws you could highlight in your outfit, not caring that the shade of blue you were wearing didn't match his tie exactly, and that despite all your efforts your hair refused to co-operate. He made no comment on your jewellery despite how you felt that the silver you picked didn't match with the rest of what you were wearing, or that it clashed with the gold on your shoes. He just opened the car door for you, kissing your cheek as his hand came to the middle of your back where it belonged.

"You look amazing." he hummed; eyes bright as he shut your door for you. You smiled weakly back in response, tension easing slightly. he could tell your anxiety hadn't gone down, evident in the way his thumb drew circles on your thigh, one hand resting there while the other gripped the wheel. Your hands felt cold despite the car's heater going full blast, and your cheeks were numb. The pit in your stomach threatened to swallow you whole again, adrenaline running through your body like you were fighting for your life. It made your throat close up, worsening as the car rolled to a stop.

"You going to be okay?" he asks softly, hand coming to gently cup your face. You nod, although your smile was tense.

You could do better. This night was going to be fine.

"Yeah. I'm ready." you reply back, the clamouring of reporters and the frantic clicking of shutters were dulled while you were in the car, but you knew it would turn into a roar the second the seal of the door cracked. "We'll make the entry quick; I promise." he smiles, hurrying out from the driver’s seat to come to your door, the paparazzi outside growing ten times louder now that a prince of Gotham has shown his face.

Like the true gentleman he is, he offered his hand to help you climb out from the passenger’s side, broad shoulders blocking most of the flashes aimed your way. You tilt your head up, and your breath is stolen for a moment.

"Good?" he mouths to you, and you wordlessly nod. Illuminated by the flashes of the cameras behind him he looked heaven sent, a bright halo ghosting over the contours of his face and the dip of his cupid's bow. You nod, and he brings you out in front of the crowd. The flashes blind you as usual, but you do your best to send a few smiles their way, waving at a couple of reporters that make you pose together for photos. A perfect couple, that's what you tried to be. Tried to be someone worth standing next to the human turned angel next to you.

You hold yourself together, feeling more and more confident as you walk your way down the carpet, until you’re out of sight. You turn to him now hidden behind the privacy of the event doors, beaming up at him. He reciprocates his smile, hands settling onto your hips as he pulls you close for only a moment. "Getting the hang of it I see," he teases, "I told you; you were made for the spotlight."

He chuckles at the light flush that envelops your features, arm looped with yours as he guides you into the ballroom.

That one comment makes you feel on top of the world, inspiring you to come out of your shell and mingle with everyone, glass in your hand. You felt seen, branching off for conversations and even getting along well with some of his brothers as they arrive. The anxiety smooths out from your forehead, shoulders relaxing and smiles coming more easily.

That was until you saw her. More accurately, until you saw him looking at her.

Barbara entered the ballroom, clad in a beautiful, deep purple dress and her gorgeous orange hair falling down her back. Your shoulders raised again, fingers tightening on the glass flute uncomfortably.

She was gorgeous, of course. You told her any time you saw her around, since she was still invited to the family dinners every couple of months. Tense smiles swapped between you both, with conversation just polite enough to cover any awkwardness. Were you apprehensive when you started dating Dick and he told you that they were still friends? of course you were. Was it a worry when they had “work” discussions you weren’t allowed to be in? You had cried over some of those nights. But his smile was charming, and he treated you like you were his earth.

Well, if you were his earth, he was looking at her like she was his sun.

You swear you could see galaxies in the deep blue of his eyes, stars in the smile that fell across his face when she waved at him. Even when she disappeared into the sea of rich Gothamites, his eyes sought her out like an asteroid in orbit. Everything felt like it was collapsing around you, spotlight of confidence cut off and leaving a cool chill across your skin.

Your clothes felt itchy and off colour again, jewellery felt cheap. Your shoes didn't fit right, and your hair looked unflattering in the window reflections. Like Cinderella your clock had struck midnight, except you hadn't even gotten to dance yet. Your stomach rolled, butterflies from before attaching to your sides and cocooning again, going still. Your heart felt heavy, sitting low in your throat and preventing you from calling his name. He looked so spellbound, so full of longing in the way that his lip’s part softly in a sigh.

When he blinks it's like he comes out of a trance and he takes a moment to collect himself again, hand coming to rest once more on your waist. He looks down at you, and you take in his features again. The starlight in his eyes has dulled, his smile still soft but nowhere near as radiant. You had no idea if he realised what he had done, if he was aware of the way he radiated sunlight simply from looking at her. "Let's go get something to eat, dinner will be served soon." he grins, leading you along after your tight-lipped smile and nod. He grinned at the high class he passed, politely navigating them with you at his side completely unknowing that they'd all witnessed his visible adoration. Oblivious himself to the fact that his heart was still in love with the commissioner’s daughter, despite having you by his side.

You wanted to it to all get better, and for a moment it had.

However, as he pulled out your chair for you and you made eye contact with the gorgeous, green eyed woman across from you, the reality sank in that no matter how much you wanted to do better, you would never be able to do better than the memory of her.

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requiemforthepoets · 5 months ago

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paper crown of silver and gold 𖦹 CL16

leclerc!sister smau - part of the leclerc!reader series

SUMMARY: finally, it was your olympic debut—the one that you had been waiting for all your life. you had never expected that you’ll be advancing to the finals, battling for gold.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: my girl maxine was not able to move forward in the olympics, i’m hoping that she’ll compete again in 2028! the reader here (you) won, so just go with it lololol for the plot! i hope you’ll enjoy this one! :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: none

FACE CLAIM: maxine esteban + others that are found on pinterest. some are taken also from lee kiefer’s (another fav fencer of mine) ig posts.

ynleclerc

liked by pascale.leclerc.355, charles_leclerc, landonorris, lilyzneimer and 546,837 others

ynleclerc PARIS!! I’m ready for you! 🇫🇷

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arthur_leclerc GO FOR GOLD!! 🥇🇲🇨 ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc already planning on it! 🫡 ♡ liked by arthur_leclerc

charles_leclerc we’ll see you in paris soon! gonna be bringing the gang with me! 🤩 ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc pls lay off on the embarrassing signs 😁

charles_leclerc no promises, mon soeur

ynleclerc i’m telling maman 😤

charles_leclerc she couldn’t even stop me 😎

username1 Y/N OLYMPIC DEBUT LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO

landonorris WHAT ARE THOOOOOOSE! I’ll see you in Paris, loser ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc i don’t accept any crocs slander in this household, norris. blocked!!!

landonorris I WAS JUST KIDDING 😔 pls don’t block me, you look very cute though

ynleclerc ikr

landonorris 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

charles_leclerc 🤨

username2 y/n is going to win gold, i can feel it

username3 to those people who’s hating on her just bc she transferred nationality, it’s on sight

pascale.leclerc.355 Mon Ange, I’ll see you in Paris, okay? Je vous aime 😘 ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc yes maman!! love you!! 🫶🏻

username4 MY OLYMPIAN!!!

lilyzneimer can’t wait to watch you in action!! ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc 🥺🥺🥺

username15 MOTHER COMING FOR THE GOLD 👏🏻

ynleclerc just posted a story!

viewed by 457,827 people

lilymhe I WONT BE ABLE TO COME BUT IM WITH YOU IN SPIRIT ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc 😭😭😭 it’s okay!! i know that you be cheering for me :’)

lilymhe damn right i am 😤

ynleclerc OENDJSKS i love you!!

lilymhe I LOVE YOU TOO!!

lilymhe NOW GO WIN THAT GOLD, SUPERSTAR!

ynleclerc YES MA’AM! 🫡

lilymhe let’s spend a day together once olympics is over!!!

ynleclerc OMG YES

username5 GOOD LUCK QUEEN!

username6 I LOVE YOU

georgerussell Best of luck, y/n! ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc thank you, georgie!

carmenmmundt Goodluck, y/n! We’ll be cheering you on, go for gold! ❤️ ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc carmen!! thank youuu 🥺❤️ you won’t be coming to paris?

carmenmmundt unfortunately, we won’t be able to come to your match on time 😢 but George and I will see you soon! Love you!! ❤️

ynleclerc okay, love you too!! ❤️

teammonaco

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tagged: ynleclerc

teammonaco Thrilled to announce that ynleclerc has made it to the finals for the Women’s Individual Foil at the Paris 2024 Olympics! Let’s cheer her on as she aims for gold! 🤺🥇🇲🇨

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You have been waiting for this for a long time—some minor setbacks and emotional turmoil that you went through to get here was a testament of hard work. It has always been your life long dream of competing in the olympics and to represent Monaco on a global scale. Now that you have been given a shot in advancing to the finals and have a big chance of winning the gold, there is no holding you back from getting that gold, it is what you had been training for, and what you’ll continue training for in the coming years.

The Grand Palais had been transformed into a dazzling stage for the 2024 Olympics’ fencing competition. As you stood backstage, you can’t help but feel some nervousness bubbling inside of you. By just being stood behind the screens, you can feel the air of excitement as the crowd buzzed, eagerly waiting for your entrance.

Today for the finals, you are up against an old teammate from the Italian team, Sofia Rossi. You are good friends with her, but there’s just something about Sofia when she’s on the piste, she would sometimes get a little bit aggressive with her tactics when things are not going her way. So this made you a little bit nervous, but you kept a postive mind.

In the midst of of the charged atmosphere, the spotlight shifted to the entrance where you’ll be coming in, and the screen by the entrance had flashed your photo and the Monaco flag, causing the audience to erupt into cheers as the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, introducing you to the world.

“Ladies and gentlemen, representing Monaco, Y/N Leclerc!”

A wave of cheers and applause surged through the Grand Palais as you confidently stepped onto the piste. Clad in your fencing gear, with your foil clutched in your right hand. The crowd’s cheers grew louder as they caught sight of the Monaco flag on your breeches, a symbol of your new allegiance.

Glancing over at the stands where your support team was seated. Charles, Arthur, Lorenzo, and Pascale were all seated on the front, their faces beaming with pride, not missing how Charles had hollered together with Arthur, while Lorenzo and Pascale laughed at their silliness. Your close friends were also in attendance, Lando, Oscar, and Lily—who all waved at you enthusiastically, their support evident even from the distance by waving the obnoxious sign that they made. This had made you smile, it was F1’s summer break and they decided to come to support you on the first week of their vacation.

You made your way to your side of the piste, attaching the body cord and your coach bringing you your bag, grabbing your mask where it has been painted with the Monaco flag on it. The referee had signaled that the match is about to start, and give your coach a fist bump.

“You can do it. Just remember all your training, okay?” He reminded you and nodded at him.

The match had finally began, and it was intense, both you and Sofia are displaying remarkable skill and agility. Given with her aggressive tactics, she tried to catch you off guard with a low attack, but your reflexes were lightning fast and this is where your quick feet would come into play. As she lunged from below, you were able to leap away from her foil and managed to stretch out your arms so that you can touch her from the back, and this caused the crowd to gasp in awe at precision of the move—a remarkable display of tactical brilliance.

As the clock ticks down, you both are aiming to get fifteen points—locked in a fierce exchange of attacks and parries. Sofia’s attempt to close the distance, you performed a split to score a point, where you had managed to touch her torso with the tip of your foil despite her defensive stance.

With every touch, you could feel the excitement and pressure mounting. The final point ended up being yours, as the referee raised his hand signaling your victory, everyone in the arena erupted in cheers. You quickly removed your mask, tears are streaming down your face as you let out a triumphant scream—emotions are raw and the moment was palpable.

Sofia immediately hugged you and you hugged her back, congratulating her as well for winning silver. The moment you removed your body cord, your coach, family and friends rushed towards you, engulfing you in a hug. Grabbing the Monaco flag from your coach, you waved it high and proud as they lift you up in the air. Monaco had won its first Olympic gold, and you had been the one to make it happen.

The commentators were visibly moved and praised your performance with a heartfelt commentary.

“Unbelievable scenes here at the Paris 2024 Olympics as we witness a historic moment in fencing! Y/N Leclerc has secured the gold medal in the Women’s Individual Foil Finals, marking it the first-ever Olympic gold for Monaco! What an extraordinary display of perfomance from Leclerc. With incredible skill, precision and sheer determination, she had carved her name into Olympic history. The final bout was nothing short of a masterclass. The crowd is on their feet, and the emotions are high! This victory does not only brings home the gold but also writes a new chapter in Monaco’s Olympic legacy. It’s a moment of national pride and jubilation, and what a way to make history. Congratulations to Y/N Leclerc—you’ve made not only us proud, but you made the whole Monaco proud!”

As the crowd’s cheers and applause continued to echo through the Grand Palais, you soaked in the glory of your victory. It was a dream realized, a testament to your hard work and dedication. Little you would be very proud that you had achieved an incredible feat in your journey.

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lilyzneimer, lilymhe and 873,648 others

ynleclerc man, i love winning for the haters 🥰 mandatory pic of the gold with the eiffel tower! 🇫🇷

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lilymhe THATS MY GIRL!!!! CONGRATS ON WINNING GOLD OMG 😭❤️ ♡ liked by ynleclerc

username7 OUR FENCING QUEEN

username8 how does it feel that she bagged the gold against your fav team 😘 haterusername1

haterusername1 whatever, rossi should’ve won this one 🙄 team italia is still much better

username9 haterusername1 stfu, stop spreading this kind of shit when you know damn well that she’s still very much good friends with her previous team. such a bitter ass that you are omg

haterusername2 she just got lucky lmao she’s not even that good 🙄

username9 haterusername2 no, stfu. she won fair and square, she won bc of her TALENT. you need to shut up honestly, being bitter gets you nowhere, loser!!!!

username10 OUH MISSMAAM THE CAPTION 😮‍💨

scuderiaferrari FORZA Y/N! ❤️ ♡ liked by ynleclerc

oscarpiastri a well deserved win! ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc thanks, osc!! 🥺

lilyzneimer that’s my best friend everyone!! ❤️ ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc 🤩🤩🤩

alexandrasaintmleux you.are.amazing!!!!! ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc ALEX!!! Thank you, thank you!! 🥺 missed you at the match ☹️

alexandrasaintmleux don’t worry, as soon as you get back in monaco, we’ll be celebrating! ❤️

georgerussell63 Well done, y/n! You had Carmen and I on the edge of our seat during the match! ♡ liked by ynleclerc

charles_leclerc THAT’S OUR GIRL!!! OUR OLYMPIAN!!! Can’t wait for the next summer olympics to defend your gold title 🤩 ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc the next olympic is still far away, charles…you need to calm down 😭 wdym defend…i’m 😭 pls calm down 😭 i love you, but calm down 😭😭😭😭

landonorris TIME TO PARTY!!! 🥳🎉 ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc as my head of victory party committee, you may now proceed

oscarpiastri this might not end well…

ynleclerc now that osc mentioned it…lando pls keep it pg 🥹

landonorris i’ll try my best 🤪

ynleclerc lando…🥹🥹🥹

username11 what a great time to be alive

username12 y/n winning the gold and becoming a gold medalist in olympics…you’re never gonna hear the end of me people!! PREPARE TO BE SICK OF ME 🗣️

username13 are you sure you don’t want to become an f1 driver, queen? your reflexes are INSANE yo ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc i’m good with fencing! 🤣 my brothers can handle being an f1 driver on their own, we don’t need another leclerc in f1! 🤣🤣🤣

username13 ODKFMDKJSJS I LOVE YOU 😭 CONGRATULATIONS ON WINNING GOLD!!! 😭

lewishamilton Congratulations, y/n! What a phenomal win! ❤️ ♡ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc thank you so much, lewis! 🥺

username14 a legend, an icon, the greatest of all time!

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ynleclerc and time

liked by ynleclerc, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, carmenmmundt and 24,839 others

tagged: ynleclerc

time “Y/N Leclerc is not laying down her sword anytime soon”

“In a breathtaking display of skill and determination, y/n has made history at the Paris 2024 Olympics by winning the first-ever gold medal for Monaco in the Women’s Individual Foil Fencing. This remarkable achievement not only places y/n at the pinnacle of her sport but also highlights Monaco’s growing presence on the global athletic stage.” writes lucyfeld. “Her journey to this moment has been marked by relentless training, unwavering focus, and an unyielding commitment to excellence.”

“With the national flag waving proudly behind her and the gold medal around her neck, y/n stood as a beacon of inspiration and excellence. Her victory at the Paris 2024 Olympics is not just a moment of personal triumph but a milestone for her country’s sporting legacy, paving the way for future generations to follow in her footsteps.”

Read the full essay in our bio.

Photograph by Hannah Peters—Getty Images.

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ynleclerc thank you so much for having me. it was such a pleasure ❤️

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, pascale.leclerc.355, lilymhe, landonorris and 347,839 others

tagged: time

ynleclerc thank you so much for the wonderful opportunity, time ❤️ also, a little surprise…i’ll be this month’s issue cover!! how cool is that?! for the meantime, you can read the essay—link is on my bio!

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citysuk · 5 months ago

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echoes of us | anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!reader

summary: anakin has spent the last four years away from you, consumed by his duties as a jedi, trying to move past the pain of your departure. although seeing you again wasn't something that he was expecting, the reunion leads to a tense confrontation, where anakin's deep-seated feelings clash with his lover's sense of duty, highlighting the tragic consequences of their forbidden relationship.

words: 7,1k words (oops)

warnings: please, you already know me so ANGST. kinda manipulative anakin¿ only a little bit. stubborn reader for the sake of the plot, i'm sorry (i'm not). a little bit of spicy hehehhe. no smut tho. no use of y/n but no oc neither. no proofread. i won't say a word about the finale so read to know what happens at the end 😤

notes: i just- (SATURATED SCREAMS). i'm on a star wars binge and i just couldn't help myself, i needed to write this. all i want in life is someone to love me like anakin loves her.

It's been four long years since you left, and Anakin Skywalker has tried to move on with his life. He throws himself into his duties as a Jedi, taking on more missions and responsibilities. He pushes himself to his limits and beyond, trying to forget about the pain of losing you. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to shake the memories. You're always there, lurking in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of what he lost. His heart still aches for you, and he still feels a sense of emptiness inside him.

As the years have passed, he has become more stoic, more reserved. He barely smiles anymore, and his laugh is rare. His fellow Jedi see these changes in him and wonder what has happened to make him so serious and cold. But Anakin keeps his emotions buried deep inside, never letting them surface, never letting anyone see the pain he's feeling. He's become a shadow of his former self, the bright-eyed and carefree Padawan replaced by a hardened and withdrawn Jedi Knight.

As the Clone Wars rage on, Anakin throws himself into battle, fighting with a ferocity and intensity that borders on feral. He's become a skilled and feared warrior, known for his bravery and skill, but also for his ruthless efficiency and lack of mercy towards his enemies. Even his fellow Jedi, the ones who are closest to him, cannot penetrate the shell he’s built around himself. He hides his emotions so well that it’s as if they don’t exist anymore, and no one suspects the depth of the pain he’s carrying inside him. He still feels your loss like a physical wound, and he fears that it will never heal. But he cannot let himself think of it, cannot allow himself to dwell on the past. He has a duty to the Jedi Order and the Republic, and longing can distract him from that.

So he goes through the motions of being a Jedi, fighting in the war, protecting the innocent, and doing his best to serve the greater good. But deep down, he knows that he'll never be truly happy again, that he'll carry his pain to the grave.

There are times, when he’s alone in the darkness of night, that he lets his guard down, that is when he allows his emotions to surface. And in those moments, he allows himself to think of you, to remember the happy times you had together, to ache for what might have been. But then, as the night ends and the morning comes, he pushes those thoughts away, locking them back up inside him, and he goes back to being the stoic and reserved Jedi Knight that everyone expects him to be.

And the cycle of pain and loneliness continues day after day, year after year. He keeps on living, fighting, and serving, but deep down, he knows that a part of him will always be empty, the part that you took when you left.

He wonders sometimes if you ever think of him and if you ever reflect on your time together with the same sense of melancholy and regret that he does. But he doesn’t allow himself to hope for that. It’s better to just keep pushing forward, to keep fighting the war and doing his duty.

That's until he hears the news that your father is coming to visit the Order. His heart skips a beat it's the first thing that he feels. He knows that since you went back to your planet your father never travels without you by his side, and this won't be the exception. His mind reels at the possibility of seeing you again. It’s been four years since you left to help your father in his political arrangements. Four long and lonely years. The thought of being in your presence again, even for a brief moment, fills him with a mix of emotions. Anticipation and dread, hope and fear.

He tries to keep his emotions in check, not wanting to get his hopes up too high. The idea of seeing you again after all this time is too good to be true. Besides, he knows that there is a small chance that you will not come to the temple, but he decides to embrace the possibility of at least seeing you.

When the masters of the Order confirmed that you would arrive with your father, he couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline running through his whole body. There's gotta be some sort of catch in this whole situation. But the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it and needs it.

As the day of your arrival approaches, he can't help but feel anxious. He doesn't know what to expect, how he'll react when he sees you. Will he be able to keep his emotions in check? Or will they surface in a wave of longing and regret? He tries to prepare himself, to steel himself for the moment. He tells himself it's just a visit, that it doesn't mean anything. But deep down, he knows that's not true. He's been waiting for this moment for years, and he can't deny the excitement and anticipation that's building inside him.

When the day finally arrives, he waits anxiously in the Temple, trying to remain calm. But his heart is racing, his palms are sweaty, and he can barely keep still. He's acutely aware of every passing moment, every second that brings him closer to seeing you again. His fellow Jedi notice his change in demeanor. He's usually so stoic and collected, but now he's jittery and restless, out of character for him. They wonder what could be causing this change, and they eye him with curious and sometimes amused glances. But Anakin ignores them, his thoughts solely focused on the moment ahead. He rehearses different scenarios in his head, trying to figure out how he’ll act when he sees you. But no matter how he imagines it, he can’t quite predict what will happen. The thought of facing you again after so long both thrills and terrifies him.

And then, finally, the moment arrives. He sees you walking through the Temple, in the company of your father and a few other dignitaries. The sight of you takes his breath away. You’ve grown, your features more mature and defined. But the sight of you holding the hand of another young politician he heard being called Kenth Cardas it's what makes him feel sick to the stomach. His heart clenches as he watches you, a sudden realization hitting him like a knife to the heart. You’re with someone else. Another man. And the pain that washes over him is sharper and more intense than any pain he’s ever felt before.

It takes all his willpower to keep his composure, to keep the expression of his face neutral. But inside, he’s seething with jealousy and hurt. He had been hoping, even expecting, for you to be single.

The thought of another man’s hands on you, another man’s eyes taking in your beauty, it’s almost too much for him to bear. He watches as you, your father, and your companion make your way through the Temple, greeting the Jedi and discussing diplomatic matters. Every step you take, every word you utter, it feels like the knife is being twisted in his heart. He wants to walk up to you, to pull you away from the other man and take you for himself. But he knows that’s not an option. You’re not his. You never were.

The scene is too abhorrent for him, he cannot bear another second of seeing you with another man that isn't him. With a lump in his throat and tears of frustration pricking at his eyes, Anakin turns and strides away from the scene, the sound of your laugh following him as he goes. He can’t stay there, can’t watch you pretending to be happy with someone else. It’s too painful, too agonizing. He needs to get away, to be alone, and try to process the torrent of emotions that threatens to overwhelm him. He heads to one of the quieter parts of the Temple, a place where he can be alone and try to get his emotions under control. He leans against the cold stone wall, his hands clenching into fists. He tries to push the image of you with another man out of his mind, but it’s burned into his memory, seared into his eyeballs. He’s never felt this level of jealousy and hurt before, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He feels like he’s unraveling like everything he’s worked to keep under control is suddenly slipping through his fingers. He punches the wall in impotent rage, the pain in his knuckles a welcome distraction from the pain in his heart. He wants to scream, to shout, to let out all the emotions that are boiling inside him. He stays still there for a few minutes which seems like hours, until he feels a presence behind him.

He turns, his heart racing as he senses who it is. And sure enough, there you are, standing a few feet away from him, looking at him with a mixture of concern and uncertainty. An uncomfortable silence settles between them as they stare at each other. The air is thick with emotion and tension, and Anakin feels his heart thudding in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to react.

He studies you as you stand there, his eyes roving over your face, taking in every detail. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers, but there’s a sense of sadness and resignation in your eyes that he doesn’t quite understand. He wants to say something, to break the silence that hangs between you like a thick fog. But the words stick in his throat, and he can’t force them out. Instead, he just stands there, staring at you like an idiot.

Taking a deep breath, you break the silence, your voice soft and hesitant. “Ani... Can I talk to you? For a moment.”

Anakin nods, barely able to speak. His heart is racing, his mind spinning. He can’t believe you’re really standing here in front of him, that he’s actually talking to you again after all this time. “Of course,” he manages to say, his voice rough and raspy.

You take another step closer, the distance between you feeling like an eternity. You look up at him, your eyes searching his face as if you’re looking for something. “It’s been a long time, you've grown,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods again, feeling a lump in his throat. He wants to tell you how much he’s missed you, how many nights he’s spent thinking of you, yearning for you. But the words won’t come. He’s scared, scared to show you the depth of his feelings, scared that you’ll reject him. “Yeah, it has,” he manages to reply, his voice flat and emotionless.

You notice his tone, the way he’s putting up his walls, trying to keep his emotions in check. You know him too well, you can sense how he was feeling, the storm of emotions raging inside him. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how he’s willing to suffer in silence rather than admit his true feelings. You take another step closer, closing the distance between you even further. You reach out to touch his arm, your hand tentative and gentle, like you’re handling a wild animal. He freezes at your touch, his breath catching in his throat. He can feel the heat of your hand through the fabric of his sleeve, the warmth of your touch seeping into his skin. He wants to reach out and pull you to him, bury his face in your hair, and breathe in your scent. But he stands still, frozen in the moment, unable to move. You can feel his tension, the way his body is coiled tight like a spring. But you can also see the flicker of emotions in his eyes, the way his walls are crumbling as he stares at you. You know that underneath the hard exterior, there’s a part of him that’s aching to be let out, yearning for affection and connection.

You move closer still, your hand still gently resting on his arm. You’re so close now that he can feel your breath on his skin, the warmth of your body almost touching his. He shivers involuntarily, overwhelmed by your proximity. He wants to pull you to him, to hold you tight, and never let you go. He looks down at you, his eyes roving over your face, taking in every detail. He notices the flecks of gold in your eyes, the slight blush on your cheeks, the curve of your lips. It’s all he can do to keep his composure, to keep his emotions in check. But seeing you this close to him, feeling your touch on his skin, it’s like a dam breaking inside him. He takes a shuddering breath, trying to steady himself. He wants to tell you how much he’s missed you, how much he’s still in love with you, and how much he’s been hurting since you left. But the words won’t come, stuck in his throat like they’re glued there.

He’s torn between the conflicting desires to push you away and to pull you closer. Part of him wants to protect himself from further hurt, but a greater part of him is desperate to have you close, to feel your touch, and to hear your voice. He stands there, caught in an agony of indecision, his heart and his mind warring with each other. He wants to do the right thing, the sensible thing. But when it comes to you, he’s never been able to do what’s smart or pragmatic. He’s always been guided by his emotions, and right now, his emotions are screaming at him to take what he wants, consequences be damned. He can feel his resolve weakening, the walls he’s built around his heart crumbling. He’s always been a man of action, but right now, he doesn't know what to do.

You look up at him, your heart racing in your chest. You can sense the turmoil inside him, the storm of emotions raging in his eyes. You know that he’s struggling to keep his composure, but you also know how much he’s hurting. You take a deep breath, summoning up the courage to say what you need to say. “Ani, I didn’t forget the time we spent together, the promises we made.”

His eyes widen at your words, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn’t expected you to say that, to admit that you’ve been thinking of him all this time. He feels a surge of hope and longing rise in his chest, his breath catching in his throat. You pressed on, your voice was soft but firm. “The friendship we maintained for so many years will always be marked in my mind, no matter where I am.”

He feels his heart skip a beat at your words. It’s what he’s wanted to hear for so long, the confirmation that you still think of him, that there’s still a chance for them.

He stands there, frozen in the moment, caught between the desire to pull you to him and the fear that if he does, it will only end in heartbreak. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to react. He feels like he’s in a dream like this isn’t happening.

He looks down at you, his eyes roving over your face. He sees the honesty and vulnerability you’re showing him. He wants to believe you, he wants to let himself hope. But he can’t shake the feeling that this is just a cruel trick, the vision of you holding that man's hand it's something that he can't shake off his head. He feels that he’s going to wake up any minute and find himself alone again.

He starts to pull away, his walls going up again. “I don’t believe you,” he says, his voice cold and distant.

Your eyes widen at his words, your heart sinking at the tone of his voice. You had expected some resistance, but you didn’t expect him to deny your feelings outright. "What I'm saying it's truthful, I never stopped thinking about you"

He shakes his head, his eyes hard and cold. He wants to push you away, to protect himself from the pain. “I don’t want to hear it,” he says gruffly. “It’s too late, it’s been four years. You made your choice when I asked you to stay but you left.”

You blink back tears at his words, the hurt and anger in his voice like a knife to your gut. You had hoped that he would understand, that he would see how much you still cared for him. “You know that what we were feeling exceeded friendliness and was wrong, the attachments are prohibited. This was for something bigger than you and me both,” you say, looking at him almost guilty.

He scoffs at your words, his anger rising. “Don’t talk to me about attachments. I know the Code, I know about the stupid rules. But don’t tell me that what we had meant anything to you since you come here now holding another man's hand.” Anakin is seething with jealousy now, his hands clenching into fists. The thought of you with another man, another man touching you and holding you, it’s more than he can bear. He wants to grab you and shake you, to make you understand how much the sight of you with someone else hurts him.

He takes a step closer, looming over you. He’s taller and stronger than you, and he towers above you, his presence intimidating. “Tell me the truth,” he growls. “Did you ever really love me, or was it all just a lie?”

Your heart is racing in your chest as he looms over you, his eyes flashing with anger and hurt. You can feel the tension in the air, the danger and volatility of the situation. “Of course I loved you,” you say, your voice shaking just a little. “I loved you with all my heart, and I still do.”

He sneers at your words, his face twisting into a cruel smile. He doesn’t believe you, doesn’t want to believe you. It’s easier to think that you’re lying, that you never really loved him at all. “Prove it,” he snaps. “Prove that you love me.”

You’re taken aback by his challenge, his demand. You didn’t expect him to ask you to prove your feelings, to put them to the test. “What… what do you mean, prove it?” you ask, your voice small and uncertain.

He takes another step closer, his body almost touching yours. He’s so close that you can feel the heat of his skin, the tension radiating off him in waves. “Kiss me,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Kiss me like you mean it. Show me that you’re not just playing with me.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the intensity of his gaze, and the heat of his body. You’re nervous and hesitant, but you also feel a pang of longing and desire. You want to prove to him that your feelings are real, that you’re not just toying with him. You can feel his breath on your lips, the heat of his mouth just inches away from yours. "I'm engaged." You blurt out.

His face darkens at your words, the mention of your engagement like a slap in the face. He feels a surge of irrational jealousy and anger, the idea of you marrying someone else infuriating him. “So what?” he snaps. “You’re engaged to someone else, but you’re still here, standing here in front of me, telling me that you love me. Kiss me. You said you still love me. Prove it.”

You're taken aback by his insistence, his refusal to listen to reason. "It's not that simple, Ani," you say, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm with another person now, and it wouldn't be right to-"

He cuts you off, grabbing you by the wrists and pulling you to him so that your bodies are pressed together. He’s breathing heavily, his chest heaving with emotion. He’s on the edge, barely holding it together. He can feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, the scent of your skin, the beat of your heart. “Damn the rules, damn the Code,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “I want to feel your lips on mine. I want to taste you, I want to hold you. I don’t care about anything else.”

You can see the desperation in his eyes, the hunger and need. You’re torn, part of you wants to give in to his demand, to give yourself over to the passion and desire that always existed between you. But another part of you is wary, knowing that this is dangerous, that indulging in this could lead to nothing but pain and heartache. "Ani, stop," you say, your voice gentle but firm. "We can't do this. We can't let ourselves go down this path."

He scoffs at your words, his grip on your wrists tightening. He can’t believe you’re still resisting him, still holding back when you’ve already admitted that you still love him. “Why not?” he asks, his voice a low growl. “What’s stopping us? You said you love me. You can’t deny that you want this. I can see it in your eyes.”

You feel your resolve weakening, the heat of his body and the intensity of his gaze making it hard to think straight. "I can't do this to Kenth," you say, trying to hold onto your reasoning. "I can't just throw away what I have with him. I can't hurt him like that. He's a good man."

He scoffs again, his jealousy flaring at the mention of your fiancé. To him, he's nothing more than a rival, a hindrance to what he wants. "A good man," he sneers. "What does he have that I don’t? What can he give you that I can’t?"

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question. You know that your fiancé is a good person, kind and respectful, but you also know that he’s not the same as Ani. There’s something about your history with Anakin, something about the passion and intensity of your connection, that’s unique and special. “It’s not about what he has or what he can give me,” you say, your voice quiet but firm. "It's about the future and following the rules for the sake of everyone."

He feels a pang of jealousy and bitterness at your words, the idea of you building a life with someone else it's like his biggest nightmare turning into reality.

“You’re mine,” he says through clenched teeth. “You will always be mine. I don’t care about your fiancé, your future, or anything else. I only care about you. So stop thinking about what you should do, and what you shouldn’t do, and just feel. For once in your life, just let yourself feel what you know you want.”

His words strike a chord within you, the intensity and possessiveness of his declaration igniting a spark of desire deep inside you. You can feel yourself weakening, your resolve cracking under the weight of his words. “Ani, please,” you say, your voice little more than a whisper. “This isn’t fair.”His words send a shiver down your spine, the heat of his body and the strength of his grip making it impossible to resist him. You’re caught between reason and emotion, torn between your loyalty to your fiancé and the deep-seated love you still feel for him. “Please…” you whisper, your voice breaking. “You’re not thinking straight. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

He looks down at you, his eyes burning with intensity. “I know exactly what I’m doing,” he says, his voice fierce and determined. “I’m claiming what should have always been mine. I’m taking what I want. You.” He leans down, his mouth hovering mere inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. The tension between you is electric, the air thick with desire and need. Your breath catches in your throat, your heart racing in your chest. You can feel the heat and power radiating off of him, the primal force of his need and desire nearly overpowering your senses. You know that you should resist, that you should push him away and run before it’s too late. But you can’t bring yourself to do it. Your body is drawn to his, your mind consumed with the need to feel his lips on yours.

He can see the conflict in your eyes, the battle between your loyalty and your desires. He can tell that you’re close to breaking, close to giving in to what you both want. He leans in even closer, his lips practically touching yours. “Stop fighting it,” he whispers, his voice low and sultry. “Stop trying to be strong, and just let go. I know you want this. You’ve always wanted this.“ His words send a jolt of electricity through your body, the truth of them hitting you like a ton of bricks. You know that he’s right, that deep down you’ve always wanted this, always wanted him. You know that no matter how hard you try to deny it, there will be a part of you that will always belong to him. You can feel your resistance crumbling, your body and mind completely under his control.

He senses your surrender, the last of your resistance crumbling beneath the weight of his words and his touch. He can feel the heat and desire radiating off you, the air between you electric and charged. Without another word, he closes the tiny gap between you and captures your lips with his own. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like a circuit is completed. The floodgates of long-suppressed desire burst open, and you kiss him back with a passion that takes your breath away. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, the intensity and heat of it like a storm, crashing over you and consuming you whole. You respond to the kiss with equal hunger and fervor, his hands moving to cup your face, to pull you closer to him. He wants to devour you, to possess you completely. He can feel the tension building between you, the passion and need threatening to overwhelm you both.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him towards you and molding your body against his. You can feel his strength, his power, the taut muscles of his back, and the heat of his skin beneath his robes. The kiss deepens, your mouths moving together in a dance of desire and need. Your hearts are racing, your bodies electrified by the heat of the kiss.

You feel the possessive urgency in his touch, the hunger and need in his every movement. You can feel the jealousy and the anger, the primal need to possess you completely. And despite yourself, you feel your body responding to his touch, igniting a fire deep within you that you thought was long extinguished.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes burning into yours, his body still pressing you against the wall. He’s panting, his breathing ragged and uneven, his body vibrating with need. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice raw and hoarse. “No one else is ever going to touch you, no one else is going to have you. I want you to leave him.“

Your mind is hazy, your thoughts clouded by the heat and desire coursing through your body. You know that you should resist him, however, you want to tell him that he owns your body and soul completely. But your mind betrays you, your words coming out in little more than a breath. "I... I can't," you whisper, your voice trembling.

The words are like a cold bucket of water to his face, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and anger. He pulls back from you slightly, his hands still on your hips, anchoring you to the wall. “Why not?” he bites out, his voice rough and sharp. “What’s stopping you?“

You try to find the words to explain, to tell him that it’s too much, that you’re still engaged to someone else. But before you can form the words, he’s leaning back in, his body pressing against yours once again. “Tell me,” he says, his voice a low growl in your ear. “Tell me why you can’t be mine. I want to hear you say it.“ The heat and desire that was coursing through you moments ago has faded, replaced by a sense of guilt and confusion. You know that you should put your foot down, that you should remind him of your engagement. But you’re finding it increasingly hard to think straight as he presses his body against yours, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear. “It's a political arrangement.” You manage to say, the words coming out in a shaky breath.

A low, possessive growl escapes his throat as he hears your words. "What do you mean, a 'political arrangement'?" he snaps, his hands tightening on your hips. "Explain."

You take a shaky breath, your body still pressed against the cool surface of the wall. The primal possessiveness of his touch sends a shiver down your spine. “My marriage. It’s an arrangement made by our families,” you explain, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s meant to strengthen our families’ political relationships.”

His jaw clenches at your words. The thought of you entering into a political arrangement with someone else, someone who didn’t deserve you, is enough to make his blood boil. He moves his body impossibly closer, his hands shifting to cup your face, his voice a low growl. “So your family basically sold you to someone else for political gain?”

Your heart sinks at the harsh truth of his words. In the back of your mind, you’ve always known that the engagement was more about politics than love. But the truth hurts, especially hearing it said out loud. You can feel the tension and possessive anger in his body, the way his body is pressed against yours like a cage. You know he’s not going to let this go easily. You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Essentially, yes.��

His mind reels at your admission, his anger and jealousy growing even stronger. He can’t believe that your family would treat you like a bargaining chip like a possession to be traded away for political gain. “And you agreed to this?” he practically spits out, his voice thick with anger. “You agreed to marry someone you don’t even love?“

Your heart twists at the anger and hurt in his voice, but you can’t deny the truth of his words. You did agree to marry someone you don’t love, all because of your family’s political aspirations. You nod again, your eyes downcast. You’re ashamed and embarrassed, and guilt washes over you like a wave. You know you’ve hurt him by agreeing to marry someone else, but you don’t know how to fix it.

He pulls back slightly, his hands falling from your face. He feels a mix of anger, hurt, and jealousy coursing through him, the primal possessiveness warring with the need to protect you. “So you’re going to marry him?” he asks, his voice low and hoarse. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone you don’t even love? Are you gonna be happy with that?“

You find yourself unable to meet his gaze. You’ve never thought about it that way before, but there isn't much that you can do. You shake your head slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It's the best outcome for everyone. For my family, the Order, the Force... and for you.“

His jaw clamps shut at your words, a surge of anger and frustration coursing through him. The thought of you marrying someone else, settling for a life that is anything less than what you deserve, is unbearable to him. “Best outcome for everyone?” he grits out, his voice raw with emotion. “Except for you. What about what you want? What about your happiness?“ His words sting bitterly, the shame and guilt you feel growing stronger. You know that your happiness is not a priority in this arrangement, that it never has been. But the truth hurts, especially when it’s said out loud. You shake your head again, your voice trembling. “It doesn’t matter. I have a duty, the responsibility to see this through.“

His heart aches at your words, the fact that you’re willing to sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of duty is something he can’t understand. It goes against everything he believes in, against everything he fights for. “Duty and responsibility be damned,” he snaps, his voice edged with anger and frustration. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be with someone who loves you, who worships the ground you walk on. Not some political arrangement.“

Your heart clenches at his words, the mix of anger and desperation in his voice bringing tears to your eyes. You know he’s right, deep down you’ve always known that you deserve more than you’re settling for. But duty and responsibility have always been pounded into you, and the thought of going against them is terrifying. “It’s not that simple,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s not just about me. It’s about the Republic, the Jedi Order…”

He scoffs at your words, the anger and frustration growing stronger. The fact that you’re still focusing on what's expected of you, even after everything you’ve just shared, is frustrating for him. “None of that matters if you’re not happy. You’re not some pawn to be used in someone else’s game.“

Your heart aches more with every word he says, the truth of them echoing in your head. You know he’s right, you know that your happiness should come first, but the years of conditioning and expectations are hard to break. “I can’t just... abandon everything...” you say, your voice weak. “I can’t disappoint them.“

His eyes flash with anger and disbelief, his patience wearing thin. “You’re more worried about disappointing them than about your happiness? That’s a load of Bantha poodoo and you know it. They don’t deserve your loyalty.”

He's right, you know he is. You've been putting everyone else's needs above your own for so long that it's become second nature. You look up at him, tears streaming down your face. "But what about you?" you whisper, your voice trembling.

“What about me?” he echoes, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You’re choosing someone else over me. You’re choosing a life of political duty over our happiness, over what we could have together.“ He steps closer to you again, his body once again pinning you against the wall. His hands reach out to cup your face, his touch gentle despite the storm of emotion raging within him. “We could have a life together. We could be happy.“

Your heart clenches at his words, the weight of the decision you’re facing hitting you like a ton of durasteel. You know what you want, deep down you know that you’d give anything to be with him. But responsibility, a lifetime of conditioning, is still weighing heavily on you. You lean into his touch, your eyes falling closed. Your voice is a whisper, choked with emotion. “Is that possible?” He feels a pang of pain at your question, the doubt in your voice makes him want to just keep you in his arms until you understand what you mean to him. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life. “Yes,” he says, his voice steady and firm, despite the emotions churning inside him. “It’s possible. It’s more than possible. It’s what I want, what I’ve wanted since I met you.“ His hands tighten on your face, his touch gentle yet possessive. “Please, don’t marry him. Choose me.“

His words and touch cut through the fog of doubt and confusion surrounding you. The thought of choosing him, of having a life with him, fills you with a sense of longing and hope that you’ve never known before. For the first time, the thought of your future isn’t shrouded in obligations, it’s filled with love and happiness. You let out a ragged breath, your body tense. “I don’t want to marry Kenth.” You whisper.

His heart nearly leaps out of his chest at your words, a surge of triumph and relief coursing through him. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you like a vise, pulling you flush against him. His body is taut with need and desire, the primal possessiveness in him raging stronger than ever. “Then don’t.” he whispers into your ear, his voice a low growl. “Be with me.“

Your body melds against him, your trembling hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. You feel a mix of relief and desire and fear coursing through you as you look into his eyes, your voice a whisper. “What if they find out? What if they try to... stop us? Or worse, haunt us?“

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes burning with a mix of passion and determination. The thought of anyone trying to stop or hurt you fills him with a fierce, protective rage. “They’ll try,” he says, his voice hard. “But I’ll never let anything happen to you. I’ll protect you, no matter what. And if anyone tries to stop us, they’ll have to go through me first.“

His words, full of certainty and strength, send a shiver down your spine. You’ve never felt so wanted, so desired, so protected. The thought of being with him, of having his love and loyalty, is both exhilarating and terrifying. You look into his eyes, searching for reassurance. “And what if it doesn’t work?” you ask hesitantly. “What if we can’t make it?“

He sees the doubt and fear in your eyes, and his heart clenches at the thought of losing you. He pulls you even closer, his body pressed against yours, his arms wrapped around you fiercely. “It will work,” he says, his voice firm and unwavering. “I’ll make sure it does. I won’t let anything come between us.“ He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low growl. “I love you. And I won’t let anyone or anything take you away from me.“

His words, spoken with such unwavering conviction, send a jolt of hope and love through you. You’ve never felt so safe, so cherished, so loved. You can feel the heat and strength of his body against yours, the possessiveness and determination radiating off him in waves. You close your eyes, leaning into him, his lips at your ear. “I love you too,“ you whisper, your voice cracking with emotion. “I’ve always loved you.“

Anakin for the first time in his life, feels complete, whole. He embraces you tightly, his hands roaming over your body, possessive and protective. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “And I’m yours. No one can keep us apart again. Not the Order, not the Republic, not the universe.“

You can feel the possessiveness in his touch, the way his hands roam over your body as though he owns it. And a part of you, a primal, feminine part of you, longs to be owned by him, to belong to him completely. You nod, your body molding against his, your voice a whisper. “I’m yours. Completely yours.“

His heart nearly bursts at your words, your surrender and acceptance igniting a primal, possessive need in him that nearly takes his breath away. He leans in, his lips against your neck, his voice a low, ragged growl. “Say it again. Say you’re mine.“

You tilt your head slightly, giving him better access to your neck, your body melting against his. You feel a shiver of desire run down your spine at his words, his possessive tone sending a wave of heat through you. You let out a shaky breath, your voice a ragged whisper. “I’m yours. I belong to you, completely and utterly.“

Anakin’s eyes lock onto yours, the intensity and determination in his gaze making your breath hitch. His hands coming up to cup your face, his touch achingly gentle. “There are so many words I want to say to you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Words that will never do justice to how I feel about you. You’re the air that I breathe, the thought that consumes me, the obsession that drives me to the brink of madness.“ He leans in closer, his forehead pressing against yours. "You’re the reason I feel alive, the reason I’ll do anything, give anything, to be with you.“ His hands move to your back, his body pressed against yours, the raw need and desire in him almost feral. “I’ve tried to fight it for years, to deny it, but I can't. I can't pretend anymore that I don't want you, that I don't need you. Because I do. I need you more than anything. I’m obsessed with you, completely and utterly obsessed. Living without you it's like not having a soul inside of my body.“

He pulls back slightly, his eyes burning into yours, the force of his emotions like a tidal wave washing over you. “I will do whatever it takes, I will risk everything, I will defy the universe itself, to keep you by my side. You’re mine, and I will never let you go. You’re my love, my every thought, my every dream, my entire existence.“

Your heart is pounding in your chest, the intensity and passion in his words, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. Your hands reach up, touching his face, your fingers tracing over his features gently. “Ani…“ You whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say. You… you make me feel things I’ve never felt before. You make me feel loved, wanted, desired… worshipped.“

He leans into your touch, his eyes closing as he savors the feeling of your fingers on his skin. A small, vulnerable smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he looks at you. “Say you’ll be mine,” he whispers, his voice gruff with emotion. “Say you’ll stay with me, that you’ll be my everything. I need to hear it, I need to know that you want this as much as I do.“

His vulnerability in that moment, so different from the fierce and possessive man he usually is, makes your heart pound even harder. You look into his eyes, seeing the love, the fear, the need in them. You never knew he was capable of such emotion, such passion. “I’ll stay with you,” you murmur, your voice soft yet filled with conviction. “I’ll be yours, yours completely. For as long as you’ll have me.“

He lets out a ragged breath, his body visibly relaxing as your words sink in. The fear, the doubt, that had been lurking in his eyes vanishes, replaced by something wild and primal, something that nearly takes your breath away. “Forever,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and fierce. “I want you forever. I need you forever. You’re mine now, and I’m never letting you go. Together, we will defy the odds, we will fight fate, we will prove that love, true love, can conquer all."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle at first, but quickly turning hungry and demanding. His body presses against yours, the heat of his desire like a fever burning through you. The world around you falls away, leaving only you and him, lost in a moment of complete and utter obsession and love. You’re his and he's yours, and nothing else matters.

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elodieunderglass · 2 months ago

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I'm not as familiar with LOTR as you are, so I wondered if you could tell me if my wild theory is completely off-base.

No one knows where the Hobbits came from, except that at some point they diverged from the line of men. No one knows much about the Entwives' appearance, but we do know that they fucked off a long time ago.

Could the Entwives have been dryad-ish and hooked up with the hobbits' ancestors and so be the foremothers of the hobbits?

Ah I think I saw that post! The concept has a lot of charm, and when the Tolkien estate loses its corpse-grip on the property in 2050 or so, I think you should write it and sell it 😤 I’ve definitely read some good takes on entwives in fanfiction that both leaned into canon and moved away, and I think that sounds like good fun to explore. A common theme in the fandom is playing with Yavanna, the Green Lady, being the mother or patron of hobbits. This isn’t canonical, but she’s a “green goddess” archetype and is married to Mahal/Aulë, the father of dwarves, which shippers often leverage to their advantage. You could do something quite charming there with Yavanna if you wanted to. We also know that Entwives loved gardens and orchards rather than forests.

Some things I would explore with this include:

what is going on with all these consistent ideas of people, races, women disappearing. We know that a lot of it is how Tolkien processed an almost OCD-like Catholic framing of “the fallen world is getting worse and can never be repaired”, war experiences, romanticism and other stuff stewing in his old man head. What are some ways you could show what’s stewing in your head? What does “people disappearing” mean to you? and why is it especially healing that they disappeared in order to make new families?

I think “they disappeared from their old kin and made new kin” is an interesting and weird thing worth wondering about!

- this would possibly make hobbits a more recent race than is implied. What does that mean to you?

- why are hobbits teeny tiny?

A very good starting point, that Terry Pratchett used a lot, is taking some grand statement in fantasy fiction, and making it reflect a different political reality. “Most dwarves are girls actually.” “Wizards parody academia, but, like, FOR REAL.”

I personally have a different take because of my own political feelings and framings! I have a lot of complex feelings about Tolkien chickening out of hobbits. For various political reasons I personally have to take the stance that they are fully human, fully indigenous, and have their own native language. and that their disappearance is less “teehee we lost them” or “O, the Catholic guilt of the Fallen World, how far we have fallen from the light of the two trees God’s sinless light” and a lot more “oh yeah I’ve seen THAT pattern before.”

If you have a political sort of lens on, someone telling you “yeah… hobbits came from nowhere 🤭 and then disappeared 🤷‍♀️ sad!” is a story that can also invite the response of “OHhhhh you wanted their LAND real bad, huh.” Like, we know what that means, right.

It’s a political stance for me. Hobbits have to be close enough to us to touch, and we have to be able to face that, and the fact that 5,000 media properties will chew on tolkienelves and sell them to you before even admitting to the 🤭 just makes it even more of a 🤨. To me.

…But I have literally just been elbow deep in my own demented fanfic thing that involves inventing a language just to swear in, to enable my standing on a box shouting HOBBITS OUGHT TO RESIST GOING EXTINCT ACTUALLY, based entirely on, I think, spite. Why do multiple authors publish orc football games (Terry Pratchett) and orc coffeeshops (Legends and Lattes guy) and do every damned thing with every bit of Tolkien’s corpse but refuse to look directly at hobbits. I am feral over this and wrote 59k words so far to damage and harm my friends

In conclusion I see a great story shape there about kindred and I think you should explore it and it should be about evolutionary biology and women and divorce and nobody being wrong.

And if anyone argues you with some podcast boy “well actually”, just bite them and do more character work and sit on their heads

#I can’t possibly be the 1st to feel there is a huge land justice element to how hobbits are framed #i’m sure somewhere in the thousands of papers of Tolkien academia #and meta fandom #some other clever person has written about this right #right

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itsmeglycine · 22 days ago

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I guess it's my turn to rave about your art 😭

your Harvey is so scrumptious especially but all your drawings are SO YUMMY TO LOOK AT like you're top five in my list of artist envy. I wish I was you.

also I can't remember rn but I'm fairly certain it was you who was talking about the bachelor's fashion choices and you're so so right. we need more voices of reason in the Harvey fandom !!!

Oh my gosh, stopppp😭 y'all are being way too generous about my art!! Like, are you sure you're talking about me??😳 Thank you so much, truly. This means the world to me!

Also, yeah, I firmly believe that Harvey's old-timey charm has to reflect in his wardrobe—like, he looks like the kind of guy who'd gleefully tell you a hundred trivia facts about things like lapel widths or the history of peaked collars while adjusting his bow tie.

The man's not out here wearing some bland, ill-fitted suit from the modern fast fashion rack. Oh no. He's got standards, and so should we. 😤

#asks #sdv #stardew valley #sdv harvey #glycine is trying to draw

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satorusugurugurl · 4 months ago

Text

The Leisure Streamer is a Hottie! (Chapter Five)

Summary: Rumor had it the top donor of the-strongest-streamers chats get to see him naked! Now that you're the top donor, will you get to see the goods, or was it just a rumor? Time will tell.

Pairing: Streamer!Gojo x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: language, suggestiveness, social media drama, hate comments, cyber bullying,

A/N: One more part remaining of this series!! Thanks for you patience I really appreciate you all!! 💚💚💚

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

“Yo, wait—” Gojo flushed, shifting in his gaming chair. “This man is—oh! Ooh!” his computer screen was reflected in the lenses of his dark blue glasses as comments came flooding in from his chat. “Why is he lifting me!? Where is he taking me?” several comments came flooding in, talking about how Sylus was Gojo‘s kryptonite to others, begging for him to read his lines, including the little sounds he made. All of which he ignored his eyes, focusing on his phone that was propped up on his desk. A message from you flashed across the screen.

Sweetheart💚: I can’t believe you’re two-timing whore! 😩

He swirled side-side in his chair as he picked his phone up, smiling like an idiot. Everything else didn’t seem to matter as he ignored his stream for a second to send you a quick reply, which didn’t go unnoticed by his fans asking what he was doing.

Gojo: How could you? If anyone’s a two-timer, it’s you. And what’s his face—Rafayel? I distinctly remember you telling me to play this.

Sweetheart💚: don’t bring my fictional husband into this! 😤You’re the one fawning over Sylus on the livestream over the “shower scene”

Gojo: jealous? 😏

Sweetheart💚: Me jealous? No never.

Gojo: if you want to shower with me that bad, all you have to do is ask, sweetie! 😮‍💨

Sweetheart💚: I want to shower with you and be at the shop in 10 minutes! 😚

His heart swelled, and his cheeks hurt from how wide he was smiling. It had been close to a month since you both had met each other. A month that had been filled with laughter, dates, and joy. Gojo couldn’t remember the last time he had been this happy!

The only real hiccup the two of you had experienced was the leaked photo of you at the Love Hotel. That has been stressful and nerve-racking, but things to his mad, amazing PR manager. This situation had been diffused before it could spread like wildfire. Gojo made a statement to his fans, asking them to respect his personal life, which was respected. The prodding questions had stopped, but of course, he still had the occasional question that brought up the mystery girl from the hotel. Whenever something like that was asked, he had his statement memorized, which he would recite to not come off as an asshole. A majority of the time, his fans were sweet and understanding.

Gojo honestly had some of the best fans in the world. But you were the best thing that he’d ever had happen to him when it came to his fans. The more he got to know you, the more he became your biggest fan. You being his top donor a month ago changed his life for the better, and now that he was thinking about that, he needed to get the money back to you somehow subtly.

“Bro is staring at his phone like a teenage girl!” a robotic voice sounded in his headphones as someone donated to have their comment read out loud.

The chat was going wild now, asking what he was doing or who he was talking to. Was he smiling like a teenage girl? He didn’t even finish processing through his brain as a meme popped up in the chat on his. Damn, his followers move fast, as several means seem to follow suit.

The text on them varied from "the strongest streamer when Sylus talks!" to "me when Gojo streams," all the way to "me when the pizza rolls are done." Anything that could be added to the goofy someone took of him was added, which was both impressive and slightly embarrassing. From now on, he should refrain from texting you when he is streaming, or he will continue to be turned into a meme.

“Oh, you guys are hilarious,” his voice was thick with sarcasm as he turned his attention back to the screen. “A real bunch of comedians. I have here in the chat.” several laughing face emojis flooded the log, thankfully, making those god-awful memes fade from his view. “All jokes aside, I’m going to play for a little bit longer before I sign off. But I’ll be streaming again tonight. We’ll be perfecting my island on Animal Crossing!” but he could care less about his island. He was much more looking forward to watching you sketch while he played.

Well, Gojo continued streaming. The door to The Rainbow Dragon Café chimed as you walked in. “Hey!” Geto grinned, waving at you from the counter he was leaning over. “Satoru, it’s still streaming.”

“Oh, I know that’s fine, though I wanted to talk to you anyway.” You sat on one of the barstools, pulling your iPad out. “I finished some rough sketches for your logo. I need you to let me know what you think. You could tell me or if you want me to change anything.”

“Oh, cool, I’m eager to see what you designed.”

For the first time in a long time, your hand started shaking as your boss took the iPad, turning it around to look at your very rough sketches. Your nerves were shot to shit, and you weren’t all that happy with the sketches you had produced, which was not normal for you. Every other client you have had in the past always left you bouncing with excitement, eager to see the reaction to the hard work and dedication you had put in. But this lack of confidence was some strange new emotion you hadn’t felt in years.

This all started because some of your boyfriend's followers found your art account.

Satoru wasn’t kidding when he told you some of the fanbase was toxic. They sent you nasty messages telling you that Gojo deserves better. They criticized your artwork over your choice of colors, line art, and handwriting. Anything they saw on your account, they ripped it apart, shredding your confidence into ragged pieces.

The comments didn’t bother you at first. They were so minuscule, and you figured if you gave it a few days, they would give up when you didn’t react or feed into their negativity. That didn’t stop the comments; they continued and grew progressively worse daily.

You were confident in your work. But people were constantly telling you how much you sucked, how you lacked the talent; those words stuck to you like glue, and it didn’t matter how many times you blocked the spam; the word still felt like a hot brand in your mind. You hated to admit it, but those words produced an art block for you made out of fear and self-doubt.

“Oh,” Suguru hummed, pulling you out of the void you were trapped in, “wow.”

“T-They’re rough!” You jumped in your hands, reaching for your tablet. “If you don’t like them, I can fix—”

“Whoa, whoa, hey now, I didn’t say that.” Geto probably pulled your iPad out of your reach. “Nothing even remotely close to that.”

You swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in your throat. “T-Then what--uhm,” Geto’s dark eyes filled with concern as you cracked your knuckles anxiously. “What do you think?” The feature of his face softened, but the problem remained.

“I was saying, wow, this is amazing.” his gaze finally dropped back down to your iPad, where he stared fondly at the dragon you had designed. The head was focused towards the audience while the body and tail curled into a circle where the name of the logo had been written. Rough colors of white, teal, and green had been scribbled in. You also had drawn some Chibi versions of Rainbow Dragon for the website or other social media. Geto might like to use it in the future.

“These are just sketches; I can see how amazing the final product will look.” Wheels seem to be turning in your boss's head with the different possibilities of how he could market with the fantastic logos you had designed. “There’s a lot we can do with this. We could make mugs and T-shirts. I could commission a new neon sign to be made.” the way he listed different possibilities, some of the fear on your shoulders. “This is awesome. Do you think you could draw some versions of a Rainbow Dragon?”

“Y-Yeah, of course! I can start working on the final logo too after—” Some comments from your account flashed like a warning sign at the forefront of your mind. “Some more adjustments.”

“Adjustments? But these are great. You can finalize this logo right here. I absolutely love it.” Your chin quivered, and as hard as you tried to hide it, Geto saw through your facade. “Hey, " he said, putting your tablet down, reaching across the counter, and gently taking your hand. What’s wrong? You can talk to me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Please, I have two teenage girls. I know ‘nothing’ definitely means something is going on.”

With a sigh, you focused on the rings on Suguru's hand. “I-I’ve been getting some feedback on my art account.” Calling the cruel, hateful words ‘feedback’ was like sugarcoating the whole situation. “So I haven’t been feeling like my work is the best right now.” there was a flash in Suguru’s eyes as you glanced back up at him, which you could only describe as a protective rage. Like a big brother would give to a younger sibling when he found out that they were being bullied. “But I'm okay for the most part. I'm trying to work through it.”

“I’m going to take a while guess and say that it’s Satoru’s wild fan, girls?” your silence told him everything he needed to know. “It is. Those girls are the worst.” He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Have you told him or Nanami what’s going on?”

“No, I haven't.”

“You need to tell him.”

“No, no,” you shook your head, “it's not like there’s much he can do.”

“Satoru would move mountains for you because you’re his girlfriend. He won’t put up with this shit.”

Technically speaking, you were his girlfriend to him and your friends and family, but nobody else knew that. Both of you agreed that since the last fiasco, lying low had been the best thing for you to do. It really didn’t seem like the best time to stir up drama again.

Plus, they were just comments. It wasn’t like anyone was physically trying to harm you. They were just being rude about your artwork, saying things that obviously weren’t true, but they still hurt. But your relationship was meant to be private until Satoru publicly announced that the two of you were dating; people wouldn’t just be mean about your artwork. You could only imagine what people would say about you. You knew if they hated your artwork this much. You were afraid to see what they would say about pictures of you both together.

You needed to grow some thicker skin to continue your relationship with Satoru and God; you wanted it to continue.

You liked him so much. Never once in your life have you been happier in a relationship. Gojo spoiled rotten, treated you like royalty, and you fell harder for him each passing day. You wanted a strong relationship with him, so you should tell him what was happening. It shouldn't even be a question of whether you should or shouldn't. Good communication is the key to a solid and stable relationship. But you were so hesitant to tell him about it.

Maybe it was because you didn’t want him to think you couldn’t handle being in the limelight. But being in the public eye happened when people being in a relationship with someone as famous as Gojo, as popular as he was, meant that their life would be out in the open, even if he tried to keep his personal life separate from streaming. This was just what came with the territory of being a popular streamer. Today, anybody can find out who people are through their secrets. With time, you will be able to ignore the comments. They would be something that didn’t bother you anymore, plus you didn’t want Satoru worrying about you.

You were strong, and you didn’t need him to protect you.

Inhale deeply through your nose and exhale through your mouth before meeting Suguru’s concerned gaze. So much came out of that one Q&A opportunity with Gojo. One thirty-minute question session turned masturbation session, leading you to some of the best moments of your life. You had a boyfriend girls dreamed of having. You made lots of new friends, and life was good! With more passing time, you would slowly get back into the drawing flow. Ultimately, all the good things that had happened outweighed the bad.

“You need to tell him,” Suguru said again, glancing at his phone screen as he scrolled, anger increasing as he stared at it.

“I’ll tell him soon, " you confessed, sighing heavily.

“Tell him what?” warm hands squeezed your shoulders.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden contact, but the second soft lips thrust against your cheek relaxed. “Toru! You scared the shit out of me.” smooth, white-haired tickled your cheek, his chin pressed against your shoulder.”I told Suguru I would show you the rough draft for the new logo I designed.”

“Oh?” Gojo peeked over your shoulder, staring at the screen. “Is that so?” You gave your boss a pleading look, a silent request that he not tell your boyfriend what was going on. He sighed before he tapped on his phone.

“Yeah, she was.” Gojo beamed, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “Do you wanna see?”

“I want to see my girlfriend's amazing work!”

“Here.”

You shut your eyes, humming softly as you leaned into the warmth that radiated off of Satoru’s body. The smell of clean linen and musk relaxed every muscle in your body as you felt your boyfriend shift to take the iPad from Suguru. For a split second, Gojo was confused to see an Instagram account on the screen of Suguru’s phone instead of a sketch, but he didn’t question it once he saw the cute mochi avatar he knew belonged to you.

“Oh, cool!” he clicked on the first post, which was a logo design you had made for a local arcade. The cute Chibi pinball machine was colored in vibrant shades, and your line art made everything stand out. “That’s my girl! Look at the talent! The lime art, the shading!”

Shading? Line art? You just drew a sketch for Suguru. Your eyes went wide as you straightened. You turned to look at your boss, finding his face transfixed on Gojo. He wasn’t looking at your iPad but Suguru’s cellphone. His thumbs moved over the screen, scrolling towards the comment section. Every muscle in his arm tensed as he read what people were saying.

‘This is so sloppy!’

‘Ppl paid 4 this shit? I would ask 4 a refund ☠️’

‘u should get a real job 😂’

“Satoru,” you tried reaching for the phone, only to have Gojo pull away, stepping away from the counter as he read more.

‘eew her did they draw their avatar as a chibi mochi because that’s the-strongest-streamers favorite food? 🤢 desperate much?’

‘Slut’

‘Whore!’

‘Gojo deserves better than your talentless ass 🙃’

The further he scrolled, the nastier the comments became. The muscles in his forearm twitched, and it was the first time you saw an expression on his features that you had never seen before. It was rage.

“How long?” He asked, a voice as cold as a winter storm.

“What?”

“How long has this been going on for?” Satoru gestured his chin towards the phone, which was still in his hand. “How long.”

You wanted to shrink into yourself so you could feel the heat radiating off of him as he fumed with anger. Hesitation held onto your tongue, preventing you from speaking. How would he react if you were to tell him, to be honest, about what was happening? Would he be angry with you for not telling him sooner? Or would he go on his livestream and call his fans out? It was those uncertainties that prevented you from speaking.

The chill of cold metal brushed over the back of your hand as Geto gently squeezed your trembling hand. With a glance in his direction, you felt some of the air you had been holding inside your lungs escape as he nodded, dark bangs swaying with his movements. He was right—he had been right since the start.

You needed to be honest.

“The comments started after our trip to Sendai,” you confessed, chewing on the inside of your cheek to the nearly painful point.

You waited for him to explode and ask what you were thinking. But that never came. Because your boyfriend was brilliant despite his smugness and ego, the second he read those comments, his mind began racing with different options and outcomes if he did certain things. His mind was working at one hundred twenty percent, and finally, he devised the perfect plan.

“We need Nanami.” He stated bluntly, as if he’d been telling you what he had planned as he dialed a number on his phone. It rang once before the other line was answered. “Heya Nanamin! So I need you to do me a huge favor.” muffled voices came out from the other line. “Why do you assume I'm always in trouble?” More muffled voices, sounding slightly annoyed. “Okay—yes, there was the Sendai incident, and the slime on the trai—okay! Shit, don't list them off. That's not even what I’m calling for.” Gojo dropped his arm over you, pulling you flush against his side. “I need you to tell Tokyo Comic-Con I'll be there with a plus-one with me. Uh-huh yeah, thanks a bunch.”

“What was that all about?” You asked, watching as Gojo quickly typed something on his phone. Your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the screen, jaw-dropping. “Toru! Why the hell did you send me eight hundred dollars?!”

“Oh, I'm giving you back the money you donated to my stream the night we started talking.” He sighed, rubbing his neck. “Well, more like—”

“More like what?” You did not like the look on his face as he smirked.

“More like hiring you to redesign my merch and channel.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

LSIAH Tag List (AGE MUST BE IN BIO):

@witchbybirth @zoeyflower @missmuffinr @kalulakunundrum @matchalatte06 @aussiemeerkat @gojoful @ilovebattison @getoloverr @dottedhalfnotes @sonicsolos @manyno @candy-s72 @smolbeanzzz @ya9amicide @strychnynegirl @jaeminaur

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