#so this has been in my drafts for a while
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pins and needles; jinx x fem!reader
this one’s been on my mind for a while, i’m excited to finally be writing it… i’m still debating internally whether or not i want to write smut but if this gets a positive reception maybe i’ll make a part 2 with it. maybe
summary; jinx offers to be a makeshift dress form for her girlfriend.
characters included; jinx
tags/warnings; seamstress!reader, SUGGESTIVE, tension, fluff, reader is oblivious, idrk what else
men and minors dni.
you swear, sometimes these clients are trying to get under your skin purposefully.
houndstooth carpenter pants. it sounds simple enough on paper, but you know better. the fact that carpenter pants are a pain in their ass on their own, houndstooth is less than ideal to work with, and you have to line up a pattern on both sides. worst of all, this client has a deadline. good thing you charged your client extra.
you did your work, and you did it well. good turnaround time, quality products, flexible customer service skills, and reasonable prices made you one of the most sought-after seamstresses in zaun. you're often booked out for at least four months at a time, a lengthy list of garments to make.
you've designed nearly everything there is to design. from casual loungewear, to work clothing, to formalwear for clients coming to you from piltover, to even wedding dresses. it's an honest living.
jinx has always been supportive, despite the fact she doesn't understand the first thing about sewing. kind of like how you don't understand anything about her explosives, but you still sit in her hideout with her, watching as she works. goggles over those pretty eyes, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in intense concentration. it's adorable, really.
you're sat in your studio with your girlfriend behind you, sitting in a backwards-facing chair with her legs on either side. count on jinx to never sit properly... ugh.
you've finished drafting a pattern according to the client's measurements. now for the fun part, cutting fabric. you've got two variations of houndstooth before you, one a more thick material, the other a bit more thin and breathable.
"hey, jinx? could you stand up for a second?"
the girl looks up at you, quizzical, but slowly swings one of her legs over the chair, standing up straight. you grab both spools of fabric, and walk over to her. you drape them across either of her shoulders, looking side to side with furrowed brows.
"which one do you think is better?"
she looks down at her shoulders, reaching up to feel one of the materials between two of her fingers.
"i don't know... you're the seamstress, toots."
"if you had to choose?"
"uh... i don't know. i guess this one?"
she says, pointing to the fabric draped over her right shoulder. the thicker one. you sigh, quickly taking both materials off of her and placing them back on your table. you just have to hope your needle won't break in the middle of sewing.
you sit down on your stool, carefully pinning your pattern pieces to the fabric before beginning to cut them out. scissors steady on the thick material, the only sounds filling the space being your nervous breathing and the sound of cutting. you're so focused, it's honestly adorable to jinx.
once you're finished cutting fabric, you rotate in your stool to be facing your dress form. you've figured out by now just how to adjust it to fit the proportions of each client, making a perfect fit without them even being in the room. you grab one of your pin cushions from a drawer, setting it on the table to begin putting it on the dress form. you reach out to grab one of the knobs, twisting it to make the hip and thigh area move inwards slightly.
except it won't move.
the knob is turning, the form should be adjusting. you've done this countless times, and this particular dress form has never failed you. why is it doing this now, during one of your most dreaded sessions?
jinx watches in silence, hearing the way you grunt as you try to push it in various directions and continuously turn the knob. but nothing is working. she sees the frustration in your expression, the way your lips are pressed into a thin line as you try to get it back into shape. jinx slowly stands back up from her chair, approaching you with caution.
"do you want me to try...?"
you give a defeated sigh.
"sure. maybe you'll see something that i'm not."
the girl approaches your dress form, trying to turn the knobs, adjust it, reach under it, shake it, look for a pedal on the stand, anything. her brows knit together in growing frustration, before she begins smacking the form, trying to get it to just move.
"alright, jinx, that's enough."
you chuckle, gently grasping her shoulders. you slowly guide her away, moving backwards towards the chair she was sitting on as she grumbles.
"i was just trying to help."
"i know, baby. but i'll figure something out."
you assure her, trying to give her a soothing smile. it doesn't do much, evidently, her gaze flickering down. she doesn't like not being able to help you.
until she looks up at you, wide-eyed. oh, god... you've seen that look before. jinx has an idea.
"why don't you use me?"
she offers. you tilt your head slightly, crossing your arms over your chest. you look her up and down, then peer back at the measurements written down on a sheet behind you. they were pretty similar in size, from the looks of it... not that you had measured jinx. but you'd gotten to the point in your career where you could get a pretty good guess just by looking at someone.
"as a dress form?"
you check.
"yeah, what else?"
you think it over for a second, and sigh. it's not like you have a better option right now, and it was honestly sweet of jinx to offer herself like that. how could you say no to that pretty face?
"alright, love. stand up for me, and stay still."
you say, gathering the pieces for the left half of the garment. you turn back to jinx, and begin to pin them together, starting at her lower leg. at least you wouldn't have to sew a cuff. you gently tap one of her outer thighs.
"a little wider for me, jinx."
she quietly complies, widening her stance slightly. you guide one of her long braids behind her back for easier access. you pin on the inside of her lower leg, looking to see if the pattern was even along the open edge. it's a bit difficult to tell when the fabric is turned inside out, but it looks alright so far. you'd find out when you turned it right side out.
this is difficult to do standing up.
you drop to your knees in front of jinx, grabbing the pin cushion and working up to the fabric around her knee. not noticing the way she looks down at you wide-eyed, or the way that her breath catches in her throat.
you move over slightly to the leg you're working on, grasping the fabric's edge around her inner thigh, holding it closed. she's... a bit shaky, shifting.
you look up at her with pursed lips and furrowed brows, confused. why is she moving all of a sudden?
"stop moving... i don't want to accidentally stab you."
you mutter, going back to pinning the fabric. just a few more moments, a few more pins, and this side will be done. you grasp the sides of jinx's hips, gently coaxing her to turn around.
"turn around for me... yes, like that."
jinx's breath is getting faster, the air in the room suddenly feels more warm. it's getting more difficult by the second to stand still and let you do this, but she agreed to let you do this. she has to control herself.
you look at the material from the back, pinching in a few areas to make sure the fit is right before you make any permanent stitches- which makes jinx that much more restless.
"why are you moving so much?"
you ask, no malice in your tone. you're genuinely curious. is something wrong?
"i'm sorry..."
"what are you sorry for? i didn't accidentally poke you, did i?"
jinx swallows, and lets out a shaky breath.
"no, i'm fine..."
you nod slowly, deciding silently to not press the issue any further. you suspect jinx isn't telling you the full truth, but she can tell you if something is truly wrong. you turn her by her hips a few more times, looking at the pinned seam on the inside of her leg. making sure the houndstooth pattern matches at the seam, the pattern is going straight up her leg.
you shift around on your knees a few more times, craning your head and moving the fabric to make sure that everything is perfect before you move to the other side or begin sewing. you sigh, climbing up on one knee to stand up.
you look over it one more time, crossing your arms over your chest. you gently remove the pins from the fabric, leaving just enough to hold them together for your seams. slowly sliding the material off of her and immediately going to your sewing machine, you sit back on your stool.
as you run the material back and forth in the machine, foot pressing down on the pedal, all jinx can see is the way you're working it. nimble fingers slowly guiding fabric, brows knitted in concentration, your lower lip caught under your top teeth.
the loud whirring of your sewing machine is almost torture to jinx, and you somehow can't get the nagging feeling out of your head that something is wrong. something jinx isn't telling you. you look back over your shoulder, you have to check on her.
huh.
"you... sure you're okay, jinx?"
she nods slowly, trying to hold eye contact with you.
"you look a little... flushed..."
#jinx x reader#jinx x fem reader#arcane x reader#arcane x you#reader insert#sapphic#ive never written this kinda thing before sorry#repost bc it wouldnt show up in tags
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girl code ⋆ na jaemin
pov: your best friend's former situationship started hitting you up. what could go wrong?
pairing: college student!jaemin x college student! yn
featuring! winter of aespa, nct members
note: this is my first work here. there will be two parts; this is part one. i hope you like it; your comments will be highly appreciated. ♡
── .✦
You and Winter have been best friends for as long as you can remember, inseparable since high school. Back then, you were the duo everyone recognized, always having each other’s backs. But now, in college, life has taken you to separate universities.
You’ve remained a consistent dean's lister and an active member of the campus newspaper, carrying the title of "no boyfriend since birth." Your focus has always been on academics, firmly believing that boys would only be a distraction.
Winter, on the other hand, has been part of her university’s cheer team since her freshman year. For her, cheer takes precedence over academics, and she’s had more talking stages than actual relationships. She’s the embodiment of "pretty privilege."
A classic pair of opposites, perhaps a little cliché. Despite your differences, your bond has always been unbreakable—until a boy enters the picture.
Speaking of the boy, there’s Jaemin, Na Jaemin.
“Na Jaemin!” Jeno, Jaemin’s best friend, yells from outside his apartment, accompanied by the relentless blaring of his car horn.
“I’m not leaving until you open the damn door, Jaemin!” Jeno laughs, still pressing the horn.
“Are you insane? It’s almost midnight. Stop honking the car,” Jaemin grumbles over the phone, peering out his window to spot Jeno grinning, clearly amused. Jaemin shakes his head, slipping on his jacket and grabbing his keys before heading out.
“What took you so long? I told you we’re going to Johnny’s party. You don’t have a say in this,” Jeno remarks as Jaemin climbs into the car. “What were you doing anyway?” he adds.
Jaemin takes a moment, lighting a cigarette before replying, “Homework.”
── .✦
“He looks good—flawless. God’s favorite child,” Winter remarks, scrolling through Instagram as she admires a boy on her screen.
“Who?” you ask, leaning in curiously.
“Oh, just my failed talking stage,” Winter replies casually.
“It’s a failed talking stage for a reason, yet you’re still simping over him,” you tease with a smirk.
“You should get a boyfriend,” you suggest for the thousandth time, genuinely concerned by the growing list of Winter’s failed talking stages and situationships.
“No, you’re the one who needs a boyfriend,” Winter fires back.
“No boyfriend in high school, and now we’re in college, still no boyfriend!” she complains dramatically. You roll your eyes, amused by her antics.
“Boys would do me no good,” you counter.
“Yeah? What about Mark and Haechan?” Winter quips, referencing the two boys you’ve been close to since the start of college.
“They’re different—exceptions,” you retort firmly.
“Whatever,” Winter mutters, waving you off.
── .✦
As the typical college student you are, you decided to pull an all-nighter. Currently on a Discord call with your college friends, Mark and Haechan, what was meant to be a study session had derailed—Mark was already fast asleep, lost in his dreams.
While typing up a draft for an article for your campus newspaper and listening to Haechan’s playlist, your phone buzzed with a text from Winter.
Winter: “Please pick me up. I’m at the local club near your university.”
You frowned, puzzled as to why Winter was partying near your campus and not somewhere closer to her own. A quick glance at the clock showed it was already 2:00 a.m.
“I stayed up all night to be productive, not to fetch an alcoholic from a club,” you muttered under your breath. Still, you knew you couldn’t leave Winter stranded, so you began saying goodbye to Haechan. Winter could be a handful, but you weren’t about to let her fend for herself.
“Want me to come with you?” Haechan offered as you started to log off. “It’s late, and I don’t mind. We can just leave Mark here,” he added, the two of you laughing at Mark’s sleeping figure still visible on the screen.
“Sure, so are you driving?” you teased.
Haechan rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, yeah, like I have a choice,” he quipped, grabbing his keys.
── .✦
You felt the strange stares as you walked into the club, clad in a hoodie and sweats, phone pressed to your ear as you called your best friend. The line was picked up almost instantly.
"Winter, where are you?" you asked, only to hear a man’s voice reply.
"This isn’t Winter," he said.
"Who are you? Where’s Winter?"
"Smoking area. Come quick," he answered before hanging up, leaving you no time to respond.
When you reached the smoking area, you were greeted by the sight of Winter hunched over, puking. Beside her stood a boy casually scrolling through his phone, holding her bag like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Winter!" you called, drawing the boy’s attention.
"It’s a school night," you muttered in frustration, moving to help your best friend.
"Right," the boy murmured, barely audible but clear enough for you to hear.
"I ran into her inside," he explained, finally looking up from his phone. "She said she felt like she was going to throw up."
You froze momentarily, caught off guard by his appearance. He looked good—like God’s favorite child, visuals with no imperfection in sight.
"Do you two know each other?" you asked, not directing the question at anyone in particular.
"Yes!" Winter chimed in, her voice still tipsy.
The two of you exchanged a glance as Winter wiped her mouth, straightened up, and grinned as if she hadn’t just been throwing up moments ago—far from her usual composed self.
"Please take me home," Winter slurred, swaying slightly.
── .✦
“Who’s that?” Haechan asked, leaning casually against his car as he spotted you and Winter, who was currently being carried by an unfamiliar boy.
You shrugged. “No idea, but apparently, they know each other.”
“He looks fine,” Haechan remarked, his eyes trailing over the boy. You couldn’t argue with that, but you stayed quiet.
The boy gently helped Winter into Haechan’s car, her giggles filling the air as she pinched his cheek. Haechan grimaced at the interaction.
“Stop being a hater,” you said, nudging Haechan lightly.
Turning your attention to Winter, you asked, “Are you okay? Do you need water?”
Winter cooed dramatically, “You’re such a sweetheart!” Her voice was loud enough to make you, Haechan, and the boy flinch simultaneously.
Winter’s attention shifted back to the boy as she poked his cheek. “You’re a sweetheart too. You should date my best friend,” she said, her words slurring slightly.
Haechan snorted at the comment. “She’s been single since forever,” Winter added with no filter, causing Haechan to burst out laughing.
You rolled your eyes playfully. “Shut up,” you muttered, placing Winter’s bag beside her in the car.
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, which didn’t escape the boy’s notice as he smiled at the scene. His smile didn’t go unnoticed by you either.
── .✦
“Where were you?” Jeno exclaimed as he approached Jaemin outside the local club. Jaemin flicked his half-smoked cigarette into the trash as Jeno arrived.
“I ran into Winter,” Jaemin replied casually, prompting a frown from Jeno.
“Winter? As in Winter, your former... situationship?” Jeno asked, his tone laced with curiosity. Jaemin nodded in confirmation.
“Good thing her friend showed up to pick her up,” Jaemin added, earning an understanding nod from Jeno.
“You're lucky because if her friend hadn't shown up, you’d probably have been the one stuck taking her home,” Jeno teased with a chuckle.
Jaemin nodded. “Exactly what I was trying to avoid. You know I don’t want to have anything to do with Winter anymore.”
── .✦
It was just another day on campus when you entered the lab room, which was unusually crowded as your professor had combined your class with another.
“I wonder who my lab partner will be. Will I be paired with someone from the other class?” you mutter as you sat down and got comfortable, but almost immediately, a voice from beside you interrupted.
“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice asked.
Looking up, you were met with a familiar face—the same guy from last night, the one you suspected knew Winter. Once again, you were struck by his looks. He seemed even more handsome now, his features more defined under the bright lighting.
“Oh, it’s you,” the guy said, sitting down next to you without waiting for you response, his neutral expression replaced by a playful smile.
“I didn’t say the seat was free,” you remarked, watching as he settled into the chair.
He ignored your comment, instead glancing at your university ID. After reading your name, he wrote your name and his on a piece of paper.
“What are you doing?” You asked, watching him scribble.
The boy gestured toward the whiteboard at the front of the room, where it read:
"Look for a lab partner—by pair only! Write your and your partner's name on a sheet of paper. " You were momentarily taken aback as he casually wrote your name next to his on the paper, "Na Jaemin," it read, before standing up from his seat and walking to the front of the class to submit it.
As Jaemin walked back to his seat, you felt your cheeks flush for no apparent reason. Clearing your throat, you muttered softly, "I guess we're lab partners now."
Jaemin sat down and glanced at you, his head tilting slightly as a charming smirk appeared on his face. He thought your sudden shyness, which wasn’t there when you were picking up Winter, was quite adorable.
"I guess we are," he says, his smile widening slightly as he looks at you.
This was definitely going to be an interesting lab class for Na Jaemin.
#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenarios#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct dream x reader#nct x you#nct x reader#na jaemin x reader#na jaemin x you#jaemin x reader#na jaemin imagines#jaemin imagines#jaemin scenarios#jaemin#na jaemin#nct#nct dream#jaemin x you#haechan#mark lee#jeno#winter aespa
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me as an imogen’s selfishness built from her isolation is one of the most interesting things about her truther (which, before someone vagues me on twitter . i don’t think this doesn’t mean she can’t and hasn’t been altruistic but that’s a separate post) + someone who loves when my favourite characters have their lives threatened and/or they die. i am eating well after last night’s ep.
as someone who cares for the world of exandria and despises everytime ashton opens his mouth about the gods and clocked into ashton and ludinus wearing the same hat a while ago . having to listen to them talk about how they’re better than ludinus because (checks notes) they want to do exactly what ludinus wants to but their motives (the exact same kind of trauma that made him tell ludinus to “grow up” . me BEGGING him to take his own advice) are better ??? i’m not eating as well but what can you do.
my grip on this campaign as a completionist who Is enjoying cr even if i don’t think this is a particularly strong campaign is truly resting on the shoulders of imogen impulsive-and-single-minded temult, fearne “if the world’s burning i want a front row seat” calloway, orym “only member of the group capable of a thought for the ‘little guys’ the party claims to stand for” of the air ashari, and chet who is there for vibes (and to protect his family). also shout out to braius for joining the one party where betraying them would make him easily break into the top 3 morally upstanding members of the party.
#do i think the party has to be morally good? absolutely not. should they be if they’re waxing poetic about how hard they’re trying to make#the right decision while refusing to even look at what it obviously the right decision for more than one second?#yeah i think so#cr3#cr spoilers#critical role#imogen temult#anyway imogen’s stuff DELICIOUS as someone who has a shitty jot note maybe someday essay in my drafts about how imogen was forced to grow#out of the single-mindedness and self interest that characterize a lot of her and laudna’s dispositions towards group choices/commitments#has been mostly prompted by the lack of access and permissibility from the group she has to going off the deep end#versus laudna who remained quite stagnant for much longer because there Was permissibility that she go off the deep end because yk. delilah#fucking Psyched that the Minute imogen has an excuse that is quasi informed by the group that she gives in. because in every other#situation where she pondered giving in bh was encouraging her to fight (tho the cast may have been encouraging her to give in)#i’m just. smiling in laura bailey characters with extremely twisted moral systems that spell out exactly the kinds of people they are#(judgemental but affectionately so)
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I took a break from writing billford to colour in my billford comic that was just sitting in my drafts lmao. The grind never stops.
This is based on the gender swapped college au that has been rotating in my head for years. Here's the last comic I did for it, so folks can see the vibe I was going for.
Basically if we did a gender swap to achieve peak toxic yuri, I can't see older woman Stanford falling for Bill's tricks but if she were younger and more insecure, say at college, it could be an excellent setting for manipulation, since Ford might still crave social acceptance while acting like she doesn't need it. Major 'I'm not like other girls' vibes from young girl Ford.
Then if you throw in cultish sorority nonsense it would shape up to be a pretty interesting AU. Think Mona Awad's Bunny meets Gravity Falls.
Other fun facts about this au (that I may have a few pages of a fanfic already started in my drafts for haha) are as follows:
Bill is a second year transfer student who somehow within the span of days rose to power as Tri-Delta's sorority leader!
They introduce themselves to everyone as Bill Cipher, but because its the 70s and they're a girl all the other pledges call her Billie to feminize it a bit.
Bill offers to be Ford's first friend, but Ford rejects her on principle as she finds sororities to be vapid popularity contests and assumes Billie is no better. Ford's actual first friend is Viola McGucket who was named after the fancy word for her Pa's fiddle.
Occult phenomena has begun increasing ever since Billie usurped Tri-Delta's old leader and pledging rituals have involved dark magic, summonings and mysteries galore (a bit like the campus in Carmilla) which Stanford is keen to investigate.
Stanford has to prove to her father that she can be successful as a woman in STEM and is looking for something that will put her on the map as a scientist and change the world. Her idol switches from Tesla to Marie Curie.
She seeks comfort in the occult and thinks that her weird features and her intellect make her better than other girls (residual internal misogyny from Filbrick) but she learns solidarity when she has to save the sorority pledges and the rest of the world from Bill's machinations when she realises what the portal is for.
She is very gay, but acts like all women in STEM have to embody more masculine qualities, which is how she denies how gay her thoughts are all the time lmao.
She only starts stalking/obsessing over Billie after peeking at her essays to see that Billie is scoring higher than she is and is a certified genius.
She falls in love with Billie though once she realises that she's not human, and desperately seeks the acceptance in the occult she always envisioned. Bill makes her feel special too, often confirming Ford's biases against the pledges bc Bill thinks the sorority girls are braindead pawns.
Stanley didn't get kicked out, however she left home to make it big on her own while Stanford went to college. Right now she is dabbling in multi-level marketing schemes like Avon and tupperware parties, wanting to prove to her dad on the other side of the spectrum that a woman can make it big in business.
bonus Billie for the folks who read this long haha.
#billford#billford au#stanford pines#bill cipher#gender swapped au#college au#sorority au#my sketches#just a little toxic yuri#since folks are enjoying a billford gender swapped au more now than they have before#and sprinkling my own au here for folks to do with what you will#maybe one day i'll release the secret fanfic lmao#but i have to finish kmky first
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first encounter ⟢ CL16
⟢ part two of you’re the closest to heaven that i’ll ever be
𖤓 series masterlist ⟢ playlist ⟢ part three ☽
PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x celestial!reader
SUMMARY: all thanks to leo, charles finally got the chance to meet you—the celestial being who has consumed his every waking thoughts, and managed to find out new things.
REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect 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: bible angel names references, some people may find this fic offensive, concept of divine beings and heaven & life and death, no use of y/n, angels and devils, mentions of papa leclerc (beginning is set in 2017) and jules bianchi, fluff, falling (literally & figuratively) in love, named side characters, angst but with a happy ending, purely written fic, a little bit of world building (concepts), mentions of death, bad/evil people, cursing, not proofread, and typos.
WORD COUNT: 5k
AUTHOR’S NOTE: this fic may not be some people’s cup of tea, if you don’t like it, don’t read it. sorry it took me a LONG time to post the part 2 of this series, i already have this on my drafts but never got the time to check on it bc i’ve been working on my other series (fa14 series), but finally, here it is! the part 3 may take a long time to be posted again 🥲 but you don’t have to worry bc i intend on finishing this series. taglist is open for this series, so just comment or message me if you want to be tagged. your comment/reblog is highly appreciated, and i hope you’ll enjoy this second part of the series!
It was a warm late afternoon in Monaco, and Charles had finally pulled himself out of his apartment, hoping that some fresh air and Leo’s cheerful company might turn off the constant thoughts running through his mind. Since that night in Singapore, you had been all Charles could think about—the image of you standing before him, looking at him as though you knew the secrets he hadn’t even dared to ask himself. Charles had barely gotten a word in before you disappeared, leaving him with nothing but more questions.
The park was mostly empty, allowing him and Leo to stroll without the usual flood of cameras or people hoping to get a quick word with him. Charles enjoyed these rare quiet moments, watching Leo run through the grass, capturing photos of him mid-leap, his ears flapping, and his tail wagging in pure delight. For a while, it was peaceful—that is until Leo began barking persistently, his gaze fixed on something in the distance.
“Leo, calme-toi.” Charles called, trying to soothe his normally docile dachshund.
Leo rarely barked at nothing, and Charles couldn’t see what had him all stirred up. As he looked past Leo, his heart skipped. There you were, standing at the edge of the park, just as he had remembered you, dressed in black, untouched by the brightness of the world around you, as if you had stepped from a different realm entirely. Slowly, Charles walked over, kneeling beside Leo, who was still barking.
“Can you see her too, buddy?” Charles asked softly, but Leo only turned his head back towards you.
His barks began shifting into a delighted whine, tail wagging as though greeting an old friend. To Charles’ amazement, Leo took off towards you, bounding across the grass with uncharacteristic excitement. You bent down on one knee as Leo reached you, his small body pressing happily against your touch. Charles just stood there and watched, captivated by the whole sight, how your hand moved over Leo’s fur, and how the dog responded, oblivious to the fact that what he felt was something beyond the ordinary. You then looked up at Charles and smiled, a gentle, knowing expression on your face.
“Hello, little one,” you murmured to Leo, reaching out to stroke him. Your gaze followed Leo’s figure as he trotted back toward Charles. “He’s a beautiful soul. It’s clear how well you take good care of him, he is very happy with this life.”
Charles swallowed, taken aback by the warmth of your words. He felt a huge wave of relief washing over him, and somehow, you were not a figment of his imagination. You were in front of him, speaking to him, your voice soft but firm, grounding him in the reality of your presence.
Noticing a bench nearby, you gestured, “shall we sit?” Charles nodded.
He followed you as you walked, though he kept glancing around as if worried that someone might catch him talking to thin air. The two of you sat side by side, your gaze focused on Leo as he scampered around, while Charles couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at you. The silence between you felt almost sacred, deafening, thick with all the unspoken questions he longed to ask.
“I know you have many questions,” finally, you broke the silence. Your voice was gentle. “Especially as to why you can see me, when others could not.”
Charles let out a shaky breath, nodding. “I—I don’t understand. I’ve seen you before, but you keep on disappearing, and no one else…they never see you.” his voice was a soft murmur, filled with confusion and wonder.
“Our kind, like myself, we’re not meant to be seen by human eyes. We’re here to watch and guide, but only from afar. Most humans only sense us as a passing feeling, a presence.” you softly said, as you studied him with a faint smile. “But in your case, you see me. Truly see me.”
“Why, though? Why am I able to see you?” Charles’ brows furrowed, his gaze intent on yours.
You turned to look at Leo, who was now sitting a short distance away, watching the two of you with a curious tilt of his head, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Leo.
“It’s rare, Charles. But sometimes, there is a connection between our kind to your kind that goes beyond the veil. I’ve thought about it myself, and though I don’t have all the answers, it’s clear that there’s a reason you and I keep crossing paths.”
Charles’ heart raced. The way you spoke, as though fate had woven an invisible thread between you had left him reeling. He glanced around the park, reminded of how strange this conversation must look to anyone passing by, but he did not care at all. The need to understand, to know you, outweighed any risk of prying eyes.
“Maybe…maybe we should go somewhere less public?” Charles suggested, his voice low.
He did not want this moment to end, he couldn’t let you disappear on him again before he had the chance to understand this kind of connection. You looked at him for a long contemplative moment, then nodded.
“All right, lead the way.”
Charles led you quietly through the streets of Monaco and up to his apartment. He hadn’t said much on the way, clearly lost in thought, yet there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. When you entered his apartment, you immediately noticed how it held an essence of him. Warm, understated, and filled with memories. The walls were decorated with framed photographs spanning his life from childhood karting days to podium celebrations in F1. Trophies were all lined up on the shelf, and each piece seemed to carry a story of its own.
You were drawn to the photos, especially those capturing his relationships, the warm smiles he shared with his family, playful moments with his friends, and candid shots of him and his brothers. Then your gaze settled on one particular photograph, and a bittersweet feeling bloomed within you. It was a younger version of Charles, perhaps in his teens, standing alongside a man whose face you recognize. Jules Bianchi.
Charles noticed the direction of your attention as he finished filling up Leo’s dog bowl, and he stepped over to join you, his expression softening as he saw the photograph. Jules had been so much more than just a mentor to him. The man in that photo had shaped parts of his soul and his dreams. You could feel the weight of Charles’ emotions lingering in the air, a tender ache mixed with recognition.
“You knew him?” Charles’ voice was quiet as he stood beside you.
You nodded softly, your own voice taking on a gentle tone. “I was there in his final moments. I was the one who guided him when he was ready to go, helping him crossover.”
Charles’ face was a mix of expression, caught between surprise and disbelief. For a second, he seemed unable to respond, the information settling slowly. You watched him intently as he took a deep breath, grounding himself.
“You…you spoke to him?” he managed, his voice strained with a mix of sorrow and longing.
“Yes,” you said, your voice steady but tender. “I spoke with his soul as he lingered between here and the afterlife. It was…peaceful. He was calm when I arrived, almost as if he knew he was not going to stay.”
You paused, “I then asked him about his life, what his favorite thing about life was.”
”He told me that his family meant everything to him. He then mentioned being a godfather, and his dreams for his protégé, a young man named Charles.” you added.
“He said that?” he whispered, breath hitched as he instinctively reached up to touch the frame, his fingers resting just over the image of Jules’ face.
“He spoke of you with such pride, with hope that you would go on to achieve everything he had dreamed for you. Jules saw himself in you, Charles. His last thoughts were with his family and you.” you looked at him softly. A quiet rage simmered in Charles’ eyes as he turned to look at you, his voice tinged with frustration.
“But why? Why couldn’t you let his family speak to him, too? They waited for so long, hoping he’d wake up, to say goodbye properly.” the raw pain and anger in his voice were unmistakable.
Charles had not meant to question your intentions, but the loss of Jules had carved a wound that had never fully healed, and in his grief, he momentarily forgot you were not human. You looked at him with a soft, understanding smile, letting the weight of his sorrow wash over you. You had witnessed this kind of reaction before, how those who are grief-stricken often felt deprived of closure.
“I understand, Charles. If I could have done differently, I would have,” you replied, your voice gentle but firm. “But it wasn’t his body I spoke to, it was his soul. Jules was already watching from the other side, beyond the reach of the physical world. In those moments, he wasn’t in his body anymore, he was seeing all of you from a place where time no longer held sway.”
Charles looked down, processing your words, the anger fading slowly as he tried to keep his emotions steady. He tried to reconcile his emotions with the reality of what you had just shared. He ran a hand through his hair, gaze fixed on the floor as he took in a shaky breath.
“So he…he was watching us all along?” he whispered.
“Yes,” you assured him. “He was with you. Every tear, every moment spent beside his hospital bed, he saw it all, even if he himself couldn’t respond in a way you wished for it to be.”
“Souls don’t always leave the way we want them to. They transition gently, often lingering just to be close to the people they love.” you added. Charles’ shoulder slumped slightly, and he let out a shaky sigh, nodding as if finally accepting what had once seemed unimaginable.
“It…it makes sense,” he murmured. “Jules was always calm, even in the most difficult moments. Maybe he knew it would be easier this way.”
There was a peaceful silence that settled between the both of you, the only sound being Leo’s soft footsteps as he padded over to sit by Charles’ feet. Charles looked at you again, the sorrow in his eyes tinted by a glimmer of gratitude.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, a sincerity in his words that touched you deeply. “For…for being there with him, and for telling me.”
You gave him a reassuring nod, feeling the depth of his appreciation. “He is proud of you, Charles. More than you know. You are honoring his legacy every time you step onto the track.”
Charles closed his eyes briefly, absorbing your words, a new sense of peace settling over him. He knew that the ache would remain, but perhaps now, with you there to share this part of Jules’ journey, it would be a little easier to carry.
Eventually, you found yourself seated on the barstool, observing how Charles moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients as he prepared a dish called pasta, and noting the way he moved with a quiet confidence. He seemed at ease, but you could tell by the occasional glance he cast your way that he was still processing everything. The strange connection he had with you, a Celestial he could see but others could not. As he stirred the sauce on the stove, he broke the silence, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.
“So…what exactly are you?” Charles asked, attempting to sound casual, though his curiosity was clear. “Are you like an angel of death or something?” his brows furrowed slightly as he added.
“No, Charles. I’m not here to take you away,” you assured him, tone gentle, and couldn’t help but smile at his suspicion. “Think of me as a guide and a protector. My duty is to help souls cross the afterlife, to make sure that they are not alone and lonely when they cross the other side.”
“So, you’re…you’re not here for me?” he asked, his voice tentative. You could see the worry in his eyes, as if he had been half afraid that he might be speaking with the very spirit that would one day guide him out of this life.
“Not at all,” you replied. “I’m here because, somehow, we have this connection. I was there in the hospital room, with your father, when you saw me for the first time. It was a natural part of my duty, I was waiting to guide him. Just as I was there for Jules.”
“So you only appear when…someone’s close to death?” Charles’ gaze dropped to the countertop, and he nodded slowly, as if piercing it all together.
“Typically, yes,” you replied. “Humans are not meant to see me. They may sense it, a presence, calmness, or even a cool warmth when I’m near, but that’s usually all. So, I could not quite understand why you could see me. It isn’t common.”
“But I can see you.” he said, almost to himself, as if still trying to grasp this phenomenon.
“Exactly.” you looked at him thoughtfully. “Over time, as I have watched over you, you’ve somehow become aware of me. It’s as if the bond between us allowed you to see me when others can’t.”
You let the words hang, hoping it answered the mystery that had puzzled him for so long. Charles turned back to the stove, his movements slower, as if he were allowing himself time to absorb what you had just said. After a moment, he turned to look at you again.
“Back in Singapore…I kept thinking of you, wondering if you were real or just in my head.” he hesitated, then continued. “And you appeared, it was like you sensed me or something.”
“That’s precisely what happened,” a gentle smile crossed your face as you saw the gears turning inside his head. “I could feel your thoughts, your longing to see me, and so I came to you. Your thoughts, they called to me.”
“But why do you always disappear?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and exasperation. “Every time I think I already have you here, you’re gone the second I look away.”
“It’s not by choice, Charles.” you met his gaze, understanding his frustration. “My presence here beside you is not permanent. I have duties beyond just watching over you, it is my duty to guide other people as well. My duty is to help those souls cross peacefully into the afterlife, which means I’m often called away. That’s why I can’t always be here, even if you want me to be.”
“I understand,” he said softly as he looked down, absorbing your words. “It’s…strange, but it does make sense.”
A comfortable silence fell between you and Charles as he took out a plate and transferred the pasta dish on it. You could still feel the wheels turning in his mind as he processed everything. After a moment, you spoke again.
“If you want me to be with you, well, there is a way.” you said.
He looked up at you, now intrigued. “A way?”
You nodded. “Yes. If you light a match or a lighter and call for me, then blow it out, I’ll hear it, and I’ll come to you.”
“Why a match?” Charles’ brows furrowed as he considered it.
“Fire.” you explained. “It is a symbol of transition. It’s an ancient element that is used to connect realms, to call forth spirits, and to bridge the distance between worlds. When you light a match or a lighter, you are creating a momentary flame that connects you to my realm, and when you blow the fire out, it becomes a message—a summons. I’ll hear it, wherever I am.”
“So, I just…call out to you, light a flame, and you’ll come?” Charles’ lips curved into a small smile.
“Yes.” you returned his smile, feeling the warmth in his gaze. “As long as you need me, Charles. Wherever you are, I’ll always find a way to be there.”
Charles looked at you with a mix of gratitude and something deeper, a newfound comfort that seemed to settle over him. In that quiet moment, Charles reached for his fork, but his gaze lingered on you, a newfound clarity softening his features.
“Thank you.” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
He then placed a plate of pasta right in front of you, and you tilted your head, looking at the dish with sheer curiosity and slight confusion. Charles noticed your expression, stopping mid-motion as he raised his own fork.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle but genuinely concerned.
“I don’t…eat,” you explained softly, gaze flickering between him and the plate, offering him a small, apologetic smile. “Celestials don’t have the need for food, so I don’t know what it’s like to taste something, let alone pasta.” you could see a flicker of surprise and something that almost looked like offense pass over his face.
“What? You’ve never tasted pasta?” he asked, shocked, as he looked down at his beloved dish, looking genuinely horrified. “Pasta is…it’s comforting, it’s warmth and tradition. It’s something everyone has to try.”
“Okay, imagine this—it’s soft and a little chewy, warm and…kind of like a hug, but for your mouth.” he added, grinning at you with his eyes lighting up. “And with this tomato sauce, its got this balance of sweet and tangy, a bit salty too, it just…makes everything feel better.” his expression softened.
You watched Charles as he spoke, entranced and touched by his earnest attempt to describe something so familiar to him yet so foreign to you. Spending this time with him, watching his animated expression, hearing his heartfelt explanations, you begin to understand why his father and Jules had spoken of him so warmly in their final moments. Charles was not only passionate, but genuinely kind and unpretentiously funny. There was a gentleness to him that touched your heart, even if it couldn’t beat the way a human’s did.
Hours slipped by so fast, and you both found yourselves seated on his living room couch, talking quietly, the evening light fading around you. Charles asked questions after questions, fascinated by your world and by what you do. You answered each one as best as you could, and with each answer, his awe seemed to deepen. You shared stories of guiding other souls, moments of peace and love you had witnessed. He listened, hanging onto each word, and you could see a newfound calmness in his eyes.
While you were in the middle of telling him a story about guiding an elderly woman who had waited until all her children were by her side before letting go, you heard a soft sound. Glancing to your right, you found Charles with his head tipped back against the couch cushion, his breathing steady and calm. He had drifted off, exhaustion settling over him like a soft blanket. For a moment, you just watched him, studying his peaceful face. Charles’ long lashes rested against his cheeks, and a gentle warmth seemed to radiate from him, a stark contrast to the chill you carried with you.
A quiet yearning tugged at you as you lifted a hand, your fingers hovering near his face. You wanted, just once, to feel the warmth of human skin, to know what it was like to truly touch, but you know better. If you let your fingers graze him, he would only feel a cold wisp of air, a reminder that you didn’t belong to this world in the same way as Charles did. So, reluctantly, you lowered your hand and simply looked at him, memorizing the moment.
You had spent nearly the entire day with Charles, and though part of you longed to stay, you knew it was time to leave. Quietly, you stood up from the couch and made your way to where Leo was resting nearby. You knelt down beside the little dachshund, who lifted his head to watch you with those soulful eyes, tail giving a soft wag, and you reached out, your fingers ghosting over his fur.
“Leo, I know that your past life was not kind to you and had been cut short, but you’re safe now. In this life, you’re well taken care of and so loved.” you spoke softly, as Leo seemed to tilt his head, like he understood every word you say. “Charles is a good man, he will love and take care of you, always.”
As you straightened up, Leo continued to watch you, his eyes filled with a sense of understanding. You turned to take one last look at Charles, still asleep on the couch, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. A soft smile crept over your face as you watched him, there was a wave of warmth washing over you, even without a heartbeat to drive it.
With a final, quiet glance at Leo, who looked back at you with trusting eyes, you let yourself disappear, and slipped back into the unseen world that had always separated you from the people you guided. Yet, for a short moment, you knew you had left a part of yourself with Charles and Leo in that Monaco apartment.
Charles woke up with a dull ache running through his neck, reminding him of the night he had spent sleeping on the couch. He rubbed the sore spot, groaning slightly as he tried to stretch out the stiffness. For a moment, he just sat there, gathering his thoughts, until the memories of last night��s memory surfaced. The conversation, quiet moments, and then the emptiness when he realized you had left. He sat back on the couch, staring at the ceiling as a sense of longing settled over him, a quiet ache that wasn’t so easily stretched away.
A small bark drew his attention to Leo, who was sitting nearby, watching him with an endearing tilt of his head, and noticing Charles’ contemplative state. He smiled and reached out, calling Leo over.
“What do you think, Leo? It was one strange night, huh?” Leo padded over gently, wagging his tail as Charles scooped him up, holding him close.
For a few minutes, Charles simply enjoyed and basked in the warmth of Leo in his arms, the familiar comfort that Leo offered in the midst of all the strange, unexplainable things that he was feeling. Last night had been a fever dream for him, but he knew that it was real, that it happened.
“Do you think it’s strange? Wanting to see her again?” he added. Leo just responded with a quiet, comforting look and nestled close to Charles.
After a while, curiosity began to gnaw at him. Charles could not shake the desire to know more about you, as to why he felt this pull, this connection that seemed impossible and yet so real. He padded into his bedroom, grabbed his laptop and settled in, typing Celestial Angels into the search bar. Countless articles, myths, and even fiction flooded his screen. Charles sifted through several pages, skipping over anything that seemed overly romanticized or far-fetched, until one article caught his eye.
The article spoke of Celestial Angels who formed deep bonds with their humans, describing how they acted as protectors, watchers, and guides. It mentioned the rare connection that could occur, a phenomenon where an angel might become so deeply intertwined with a human soul that they developed a sense of longing or even love, something that was both a blessing and a curse for the Celestial. As he read further, Charles could not help but wonder if this was what he had experienced, if this was the reason he kept seeing you, why he felt such a pull toward you.
Charles then stumbled upon a book: The Celestials by an author named Celestine Williams. The cover featured a faint, ethereal image of a figure wrapped in light, the silhouette barely discernible, much like he imagined you, and the description noted that it explored the stories and folklore surrounding Celestials and their interactions with humans, a deep dive book. The reviews were glowing, a few feedbacks talking about how the book shed light on the mysteries of these beings and the unique connections they could form. Without a second thought, Charles clicked buy, hoping the book would give him a glimpse into your world, something that might help him understand you much better.
Charles then returned his attention back to the article. But his focus kept drifting, thoughts of you had surfaced in his mind unbidden, wondering where you were right now, what you might be doing, if you were watching over someone else or wandering through some hidden place unknown to humans. The pull to see you, to call you, was growing stronger by the second, becoming a quiet ache that settled deep in his chest.
He set the laptop aside, exhaling as he mulled over the idea. Charles remembered what you had told him when he needed you—that he could call you by lighting a match or a lighter, a summon that would draw you to him. He doesn't know if it would even work, or if you would even come, but the need to see you was already overriding any doubts that he has. So he then grabbed a small lighter that he kept somewhere hidden in his kitchen and went to his living room, sitting down on the couch with Leo curled up beside him.
Charles knew it was kind of absurd, like it was something straight out of a fairy tale of a late-night ghost story, but last night, you had told him that if he wanted to see you, all he had to do was light a flame and call out to you. A part of him, the rational side, wanted to shrug it off as nonsense. But then the other part of him had witnessed things that were impossible and felt that strange connection to you, urging him to at least give it a try.
“Am I really fucking doing this?” he murmured, looking down at Leo for approval. But Leo just looked at him, with a face that said ‘what’s the harm in trying?’ “Ah, fuck it.”
Finally, with a deep breath, he flicked the lighter on, watching the tiny flame flame dance as he whispered out to you, a barely audible plea for you to return. The flame flickered as he called out to you, then he blew it out gently, his eyes lingering on the wisp of smoke that rose and faded. His heart was pounding, unsure if should expect an immediate response or if he had simply made a wish to the empty air.
A hush settled over the quiet living room, and for a moment, nothing really happened. Charles felt a pang of disappointment, even a touch of embarrassment at how eager he was and had hoped. He let out a disheartening chuckle, letting out a quiet sight right after, and lowering the lighter, thinking that maybe he had been mistaken or that the depth of the bond he felt was just his pure imagination.
Just as he stood up, about to return the lighter back into the kitchen, Charles felt a shift in the air, a delicate, almost undetectable shimmer, like a faint breeze brushing across his skin. He looked up, and there you were, standing in the soft morning light, an almost imperceptible glow framing your presence. The world seemed to pause, the weight of the day fading away as he took in the sight of you. You stood there, a soft, otherworldly light around you, the faintest hint of warmth in your eyes as you looked at him. Charles felt his breath hitching, he had not realized how much he missed seeing you until now. He began feeling a strange mix of relief and happiness.
“You called for me?” you asked softly, your voice like a distant melody.
Charles nodded, suddenly feeling a little bit embarrassed, but unable to look away at you. “I…I did, I hope it’s okay. I just…” he paused, fumbling over his words. “I wanted to see if it works, and to see you again. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“You’re allowed to call for me, Charles. That’s why I told you how you can reach for me.” you smiled gently, a warmth in your expression that seemed to reach him despite your distance.
“I’ve been reading about Celestial Angels, trying to understand.” he let out a soft chuckle, placing his hands inside of his pockets, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I came across all these stories about angels who…form connections with their humans.” Charles looked down, collecting his thoughts.
“I guess I just wanted to understand what we have. Why do you keep on appearing, and why does it feel like I know you, even though I don’t really.” he added.
“The connection between an angel and their human isn’t something that happens every day. It’s rare, something beyond explanation.” your expression softened, and took a slow step forward, closing the gap between you. “We’re not supposed to form attachments, but sometimes, it’s as if the universe allows it, just for a moment.”
“So…it’s real, then? I’m not imagining it at all?” his gaze never leaving you, but filled with curiosity.
“No, Charles,” you shook your head. “You’re not imagining it. It’s real. You were always different, even from the first time I saw you.”
“I don’t know what this all means, but I want to understand.” he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, voice quiet, and a raw honesty was lacing his tone as he held your gaze.
“Sometimes, understanding isn’t possible, not in a way humans desire. Some things simply are.” you said quietly.
You then placed a hand near his, close enough that Charles could almost feel your presence, but not quite touching. The silence stretched, rich and weighty, filled with words left unsaid. Finally, he managed a faint smile.
“Thank you. For you know, for coming.” Charles said softly.
“For you, I always will.” you replied, smiling at him.
taglist : @charlesgirl16 , @chloes-book-corner , @wierdflowerpower
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Event Horizon
Chapter Twenty-Three: Determination
Chapter WC: 13,883
Chapter Warnings: drama!!! some wound stuff, obligatory emotional turmoil tag even though we all knew that was coming
A/N: I am back! I was able to build up my draft chapter backlog again, starting with this one. It's a lot, but we can all rest easy knowing this will be the last one like this for a while.
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???, 21 BBY
The moment the two of you step into the hallway, it becomes clear that this isn't a minor glitch or an unexpected turn of events.
The alarms are still blaring, and the ship's computer is still repeating the same message over and over again, and the emergency lighting has turned the hallways into a sea of red and black, making it difficult to see where you're going. Rex and you hurry towards the bridge, following the trail of panicked troopers and harried officers as they rush around, trying to get the situation under control.
Halfway there, a group of troopers rush past you, and one breaks away, waving the others on as he jogs towards you and Rex. You spot the Republic cog on his faceplate and feel a flood of relief.
"General, Captain," Jesse salutes, sounding a bit breathless. His helmet is slightly askew, and his armor is covered in dust, his boots scuffed and dirty. You watch as he glances down and freezes, and it’s only then that you realize Rex is still holding your hand.
"Jesse," Rex greets, not letting go, and you do your best to keep a straight face as Jesse clears his throat. "What's going on?"
"There’s been an explosion in the engine bay," he answers quickly. Rex's grip on your hand tightens, and Jesse gestures down the corridor, his voice rising over the alarms blaring. "One of the hyperdrives blew out and triggered the failsafe on the others.”
"How did this happen?" you ask sharply. You have no idea what the technicalities are behind hyperdrives and how they work, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand the implications of Jesse's words. A single failure means that the ship is now stranded in the middle of nowhere. A series of failures means something else entirely. "Are we—"
"It's going to take some time to figure out the cause, General," Jesse interrupts, his voice tight. He glances around nervously and drops his voice to a low whisper, his words almost lost beneath the roar of the alarms and the chaos surrounding you. "But I think someone set off an explosive charge on purpose."
“Sabotage?” Rex repeats incredulously. He looks at Jesse in shock and lets go of your hand, stepping closer, his voice rising above the noise. "Are you sure?"
"It's the only thing that makes sense," Jesse replies grimly. "We're lucky the blast didn't kill anyone."
"We need to get to the bridge," you say quickly, and Jesse nods, motioning for you to follow him.
You and Rex fall into step beside him, the three of you weaving through the chaos, dodging around the crew and the troopers who are rushing in the opposite direction. You reach the doors to the bridge and wait impatiently as they open, the three of you stepping through, and the alarms cut off abruptly. The room is eerily quiet after the loud commotion of the corridor, and it takes a moment for your ears to adjust.
The bridge is a hive of activity, with everyone doing their best to deal with the emergency, but as soon as you enter, all eyes are on the three of you, the expressions ranging from fear and worry to anger and confusion. Anakin and Ahsoka are standing around a holotable with Admiral Yularen and a handful of technicians, their voices raised in anger, and their attention shifts to you as you approach.
“It’s about time you showed up," Anakin snaps, his jaw clenched, and you frown at his tone. His eyes move between you and Rex, his lips curling into a sneer. "We're in the middle of a crisis here. What took you so long?"
The immediate urge to defend yourself rises up inside you, and your hands clench at your sides, a surge of indignation rushing through you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rex tense and shift on his feet.
He glances at you, and the two of you share a look, a silent conversation passing between the two of you, a reminder to stay calm. You take a deep breath and force your expression into a mask of calm.
"What's the situation?" you ask, ignoring Anakin's question, and Rex moves closer, standing beside you. His presence is reassuring, and you can't help but think of what happened just minutes ago. What might've happened if the two of you hadn't been interrupted.
A flush creeps up your neck, and you push those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. There'll be plenty of time to think about that later.
"We're in trouble,” Anakin growls.
"I'd gathered that," you reply dryly. Ahsoka and Jesse glance at each other, the former rolling her eyes, the latter shaking his head. Rex shoots you a warning look, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes as well, turning back to Anakin. "Do we have a damage report yet?"
"Most of the main systems are offline," Yularen replies, his voice calm and collected, a stark contrast to the anger and frustration emanating from the two of you. "And we've lost contact with the rest of the fleet."
"What does that mean exactly?" you ask. Yularen takes a deep breath and glances at Anakin, who waves his hand impatiently, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He turns back to you and gives you a grim look.
"We're trapped in the middle of nowhere," he answers flatly. "At the current speed, it'll take us over two months to reach Kamino, and that is if we make it through the Rishi Maze.”
"Is the hyperdrive salvageable?" Rex asks, his eyes moving between the admiral and the techs, who are all shaking their heads. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck, his brow furrowing. "So what's the plan?"
"We're going to have to repair the ship and wait for help," Ahsoka says, her hands on her hips, and you can hear the frustration in her voice. You look at her, and she meets your gaze, her expression hardening. "I'm working with the maintenance crews to fix the engines. It shouldn't take more than a few hours."
"We need to figure out why this happened," you add, turning to Jesse, and he nods, his expression solemn. "Did you find the source of the explosion yet?"
"Not yet, sir," he replies.
"I'll help with the investigation," you offer. Jesse and Rex exchange a look, and you can sense their unease. Jesse frowns, his eyes narrowing slightly, and his gaze moves between the two of you. "What?"
"With all due respect, General," Jesse says carefully. He looks at Anakin, and when the other man doesn't speak, he continues. "This may have been an attempt to assassinate a high-ranking officer. If it was, the investigation will need to be handled with discretion. Someone on board this ship might be the culprit."
"And by handling the investigation discreetly, you mean not including the person being targeted in the investigation," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest, and Jesse winces. Rex sighs and steps forward, his hand reaching out to grasp your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. You shrug him off and glare at Jesse. "That's not happening."
"If it was an attempt to kill you, General, it's possible that the attacker will try again," he explains, his tone apologetic. He hesitates, and when you don't respond, he squares his shoulders. “It would be safer if you were to stay on the bridge."
"He's right," Ahsoka adds. She meets your gaze, her eyes full of concern, and her voice is gentle. "You'll be safer up here."
"I can handle myself," you snap, and Ahsoka shakes her head.
"We know that," she replies. She motions to the holotable, and her mouth curves into a small smile. "But let us handle this. Okay? We'll figure out what happened. I promise."
"Fine," you mutter, and Rex gives you a sympathetic look, his hand returning to your shoulder. He squeezes it once more and turns to Jesse, his expression shifting from sympathetic to stern.
"Let me know if you need anything," Rex tells him.
"Will do, sir," Jesse nods. He looks at Ahsoka and tilts his head towards the door, and she falls into step beside him, the two of them heading towards the exit, their voices low and urgent. You watch as they leave, and a pang of regret shoots through you.
"This is bad," Anakin mutters. You glance at him, and his eyes meet yours, the irritation and anger gone, replaced by weariness and worry. He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "Sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you."
"It's okay," you sigh, and he snorts, giving you a wry smile. You shrug and look away, a grimace twisting your face. "Well, it's not. But I get it."
"Thanks," Anakin mutters. He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, his gaze moving between you and Rex. "Can you two make sure everything is under control? I need to go speak with the Chancellor."
"Of course," Rex answers. Anakin gives him a curt nod and turns away, marching towards the door with Yularen at his heels.
You watch them go, the unease in the pit of your stomach growing. The thought of having to stay on the bridge while everyone else does their best to fix the situation makes you want to scream. The desire to run off and search for the culprit is overwhelming, but you know better than to do that.
And even if you didn't, Rex wouldn't let you.
"You're not happy about this," Rex murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.
"No, I'm not," you admit. You turn to him, and he raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint smile. You narrow your eyes and poke his chest. "This is not funny."
"I didn't say anything," Rex chuckles. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, and he gives you a sympathetic look. He lifts his hands and rubs them over his face, letting out a tired sigh. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For earlier," he says quietly, and a rush of heat floods your body. "I shouldn't have said what I said."
"Rex..."
"It was inappropriate," he says, cutting you off, and the guilt in his voice makes your heart ache. His head drops and he rubs the back of his neck, a small frown tugging at his lips. "I...I don't know what I was thinking."
"Hey," you say, and his eyes snap up to yours. "It's okay. It's...we're both stressed and worried. We're dealing with a lot right now."
"That's no excuse," he mutters. His brow furrows and his gaze drops, and the shame and guilt that emanate from him are so strong that it takes everything in you not to reach out and pull him into your arms. But you can't do that. Not here. Not now. And not until the two of you have talked about what happened.
"Look, we'll talk about it later," you tell him gently. He glances at you and nods. "Okay?"
"Yeah," he sighs, and you can feel his mood shift, the tension and stress melting away, replaced by a quiet resignation. His shoulders slump, and a resigned smile spreads across his face. "You're right."
"I usually am," you joke. Rex rolls his eyes, and you give him a quick grin before looking around the bridge. "Alright, we should—"
"General," a technician interrupts. He gestures towards the holotable, and you walk over, Rex following close behind. The image of a star chart is projected above the table, and the technician taps on the display, zooming in on the image. “We’re receiving a distress signal from a nearby planet. It's coming from the surface."
"That's odd," Rex mutters, his brow furrowing. He leans closer and studies the image, his head tilting to the side. "There aren't any habitable planets in this system."
"Maybe it's automated," you suggest.
"Possibly," the technician agrees.
He taps a few more buttons, and the image changes, showing the planet from above. The landscape is covered in a dense, gray fog, obscuring most of the details. You can just make out the outline of a single structure, surrounded by a ring of large, craggy rocks. The technician points to a small, blinking dot on the display.
"The signal is coming from a small outpost on the planet. The inhabitants appear to be human colonists, but it's unclear who they are."
"It could be Separatists," Rex murmurs. He looks at you, and you can see the concern in his eyes. "They could've staged this attack and then fled to the planet. They could be waiting for us."
"Maybe," you reply. Your eyes return to the display, and you frown, a familiar feeling tugging at the edge of your senses. There's something about the planet that's nagging at you, and you can't quite put your finger on it. "There's only one way to find out."
"Are you suggesting we send a squad down there?" Rex asks, shaking his head. "We can't risk a confrontation. We don't have the manpower or the resources to handle another fight."
You look back at the image and nod slowly. The more you think about it, the more certain you are that the feeling is the Force telling you that there's something important on the planet. You take a deep breath and meet his gaze.
“No, I’m suggesting that I go down there," you tell him, and Rex's expression turns incredulous, his eyes widening.
"You're kidding," he says, a note of disbelief in his voice. He straightens his back and shakes his head. "No. No way. You're not going down there alone."
"Yes, I am," you argue, and Rex glares at you, his hands moving to his hips. At your side, the technician shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flicking between the two of you. "There's a chance that whoever's down there might need our help. If they do, I have a duty to assist them."
"Your duty is to stay here," Rex counters. "On the ship. Safe and sound. Away from any potential danger."
"Don't be dramatic," you scoff. "I'll take a ship, go down there, check it out, and then come right back. Simple."
"Simple," he repeats. He lets out a frustrated sigh and looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head. "Nothing is ever simple with you. You know that, right?"
"I'm aware," you reply dryly. Rex huffs and rubs the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the floor. His expression is strained, and he's doing his best not to look at you. He knows that if he does, you'll be able to convince him, and he doesn't want that.
You wait, watching as he tries to come up with an argument, but it's obvious that he's struggling. He knows that the odds are against him, and the longer he stays silent, the more difficult it is for him to find a valid reason. Neither of you are willing to concede.
"Please," you finally say, and his eyes flick up to yours, his brow furrowing. You meet his gaze and offer him a small smile. "I have a feeling that I should go down there."
"A feeling," he repeats. He lets out a deep, weary sigh, and his shoulders slump. "Fine. But I'm going with you."
"No," you protest, but Rex shakes his head.
"Either I go with you or you don't go," he says firmly. He folds his arms across his chest, his expression hardening. "Pick."
"You're not serious," you retort, but Rex doesn't budge, and a heavy silence fills the air. The technician shifts awkwardly and clears his throat, looking back and forth between the two of you.
"I can arrange for a shuttle," he offers, and Rex gives him a curt nod.
"Thank you," he says. The technician hurries away, leaving the two of you alone. Rex looks at you, and his expression softens, his lips twitching upwards. "Don't argue."
"I'm not arguing," you retort, and he snorts, shaking his head.
"You always argue," he points out. He glances around the bridge, and his eyes settle on a group of troopers gathered near the far wall. "I'm going to see if anyone's willing to volunteer for the mission."
"We're not telling them about the distress signal," you tell him quickly.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want anyone else to go down there," you explain, and his eyebrows rise.
"You want to keep this a secret?" he asks, his tone disbelieving.
"I'm not trying to keep it a secret," you reply, and his eyebrows rise higher. You let out an exasperated sigh and shake your head. "I'm trying to protect them. If the Separatists are down there, they're going to be heavily armed and dangerous. I'm not sending anyone else down there."
"And if they are, and it's a trap?" Rex counters.
"Then, I'll have you," you retort. You tilt your head to the side and smile. "You'll keep me safe, right?"
"Always," he says quietly, his expression growing serious. The two of you hold each other's gaze, and you can sense the conflict and worry radiating off him. After a moment, his eyes move to the side, and he rubs the back of his neck, his expression shifting into a frown. "We should get ready."
"Agreed."
The two of you turn and head for the exit, falling into step beside each other. As you step into the corridor, the alarms blare once again, and you wince, the sudden loud noise catching you off guard. The red lighting flashes and casts a crimson glow over the hall, and the computerized voice calls out over the alarms.
"Attention. Attention. This is an emergency..."
Rex shakes his head and grumbles under his breath. You give him a sympathetic look and reach out, squeezing his arm.
"Come on," you murmur. He nods and follows after you as you make your way through the ship toward the hangar where the shuttle is waiting. It's not a long trip, and you don't say anything along the way, the two of you lost in your own thoughts. The unease that has been building inside you grows with every passing second, and by the time you reach the hangar, you're certain that this is a bad idea.
"Rex," you start, but he cuts you off, grabbing your arm, pulling you to the side. A group of troopers rush past, their armor reflecting the red glow from the lights, and the two of you stand there, watching them run by. When they're gone, he lets go and sighs.
"Whatever happens down there, we stick together," he tells you. You nod, and his hand reaches out, gripping your shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Got it?"
"Got it," you reply, and he smiles and lets go, taking a step back. He turns and walks away, heading for the shuttle, and you follow after him, doing your best to keep the doubt from showing on your face.
The Twilight is already prepped and ready to go, the ramp lowered, the engines sputtering. The idea of taking Anakin's prized freighter without him knowing isn't exactly appealing, but it's not like the two of you have a choice. And besides, it's not like you'll be gone for long. You'll just take a quick look, check out the situation, and then get the hell out. Simple.
"Sir!" A voice calls out as you and Rex scale the ramp. Jesse jogs over, his helmet tucked under his arm. "What's going on? Why are you leaving?"
Rex looks over at you and tilts his head towards the entrance of the hangar, gesturing for you to go ahead. You nod and step inside, moving towards the cockpit, leaving the two of them alone. As soon as you're out of earshot, you slow down, stopping just outside the door, listening to their conversation.
"We're going on a mission," Rex answers. You hear the clink of his boots against the durasteel decking and a small thump, probably him setting down his helmet.
"What mission?" Jesse asks. You lean against the wall, watching as he frowns and looks at Rex, his expression skeptical. "General Skywalker said we should stay here and fix the ship."
"Something's come up," Rex replies, and Jesse's frown deepens. He glances towards the cockpit, and you move further away, pretending to inspect the wiring. You watch as his eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"Does it have anything to do with why you were late to the bridge earlier?" he asks. Rex hesitates, and Jesse's gaze moves back to him, his expression turning suspicious. "Sir, did something happen between you and the General?"
"It's none of your business, Jesse," Rex tells him sharply. You wince, and Rex glances towards the cockpit, his eyes locking onto yours, his cheeks flushing slightly. He gives you a tight smile and looks away, clearing his throat. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. There's...there's a lot going on."
"Is she in trouble?" Jesse presses, and Rex sighs, shaking his head.
"Not yet," he answers. "But there's a chance she might be, so we're going to check it out."
"We?"
"Yeah," Rex replies. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his head, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I'm going with her."
"Of course you are," Jesse snorts, and Rex looks at him, raising an eyebrow.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Sir, with all due respect, this is not the time for the two of you to be sneaking off together," Jesse says, his voice rising slightly, his tone growing agitated. Rex winces, and his eyes move to you again, and you can feel the guilt radiating off him.
"We're not sneaking off together," he tells Jesse, his tone firm. "And even if we were, that's not any of your business. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Jesse replies. He pauses, and you watch as his eyes move back and forth, his mind working furiously. "Well, if you're going, I'm going too."
"That's not—"
"I know, I know," Jesse interrupts, holding up his hands, and he gives Rex a small grin. "The General doesn't want anyone else involved. But if she's in danger, it's my duty to protect her. If you're going, I'm going."
"It's dangerous," Rex warns.
"We're soldiers. That's our job.," Jesse replies. He shrugs and gestures towards the shuttle. "And besides, I can't leave you two alone. You might do something stupid."
"Like what?" Rex scoffs, and Jesse smirks.
"Oh, I don't know," he says, his tone casual, but there's a hint of a teasing edge to his voice. "Do I really need to spell it out?"
Rex scowls and looks away, his cheeks reddening, and Jesse lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.
"Don't worry, sir," he assures him. "Your secret is safe with me."
"There's no secret," Rex grumbles. Jesse rolls his eyes and claps him on the shoulder, giving him a sympathetic look.
"Whatever you say, sir."
The two of them start up the ramp into the shuttle, forcing you to dart into the pilot's seat. You pretend to fiddle with the controls, and a few seconds later, they enter the cockpit, both men looking at you expectantly.
"All set?" Rex asks, and you nod.
"I think so," you reply. You glance between the two of them, a frown forming on your face. "Jesse, why are you here?"
"He's coming with us," Rex says, and you can feel your frown deepen.
"I said that no one else was coming with us," you argue. Jesse shrugs and sets his helmet on the console.
"With all due respect, General, I'm coming anyway," he tells you. His tone is polite, but the stubborn set of his jaw and the determined look in his eye make it clear that he won't be easily swayed. "You might need backup."
"We'll be fine," you snap, and Rex sighs.
"Let him come," he says quietly. His eyes lock onto yours, and when you see the pleading look in them, you give him a frustrated huff.
"Fine," you mutter.
"Good," Jesse grins, and you roll your eyes.
"Whatever," you grumble, and you start flipping switches, the engines roaring to life, the controls lighting up. The three of you strap yourselves in, and you grab the controls, guiding the ship out of the hangar and into space. As soon as you're clear, you tap the coordinates for the planet, and the autopilot takes over, guiding the ship towards its destination.
You turn to Jesse, who's busy checking his equipment, and point at the viewport. "This is a reconnaissance mission. We're going to take a look, check out the situation, and then get the hell out. Got it?"
"Got it," Jesse agrees. You glance at Rex, who gives you a small nod, and the three of you settle in, watching the stars streak past the viewport. After a few minutes, the planet comes into view, the gray mass looming in front of you. You frown and peer out at it, watching the fog clouds roil and swirl. Something about the planet gives you a strange, uneasy feeling, and you can't shake the feeling that this is a bad idea.
"General," Rex says softly. You look over at him, and he raises an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"
"I'm fine," you reply, and his eyes narrow. He doesn't believe you, but you don't want to worry him. Or Jesse. Or yourself, for that matter. You push the feeling aside and gesture towards the planet. "Let's do this."
The shuttle descends, the planet growing larger as it approaches. You lean forward and watch as the fog begins to part, revealing the surface. As you get closer, the details become clearer, and the gray landscape stretches as far as the eye can see. There's nothing green or brown or blue, just the same endless gray expanse. The only landmark is a small cluster of structures near the edge of the horizon.
You frown and press the controls, the shuttle changing course, angling towards the buildings. You scan the area and let out a soft sigh. There's no sign of life anywhere.
As the shuttle continues its descent, the fog closes in, and the ground becomes obscured. The buildings loom ahead, and you adjust the course, flying over the structures, circling around. The shuttle's scanners sweep the area, searching for any signs of life, but there's nothing. No movement. No heat signatures. No signs of any living creature.
"It's deserted," Rex says quietly. He glances at you, and his expression hardens. "Are we sure this is the right place?"
"Yeah," you reply. You look out the viewport, watching as the structures pass by beneath the shuttle, and the uneasiness inside you grows. The Force is telling you that there's something important on the surface, and the feeling is growing stronger with every second. "We should land and check it out."
"That's not a good idea," Jesse protests. He leans forward and points towards the edge of the fog. "We can see the outpost from here. We can scan it and get a better look without putting ourselves at risk."
"There's something here," you tell him, and Rex gives you a sharp look. You shake your head, ignoring his concern, and focus on Jesse, doing your best to keep the doubt from showing on your face. "We need to find out what it is."
"General—"
"Jesse," Rex interrupts, and the other man sighs. He rubs the back of his neck, a frustrated look on his face, and he glances between the two of you.
"Alright, alright," he finally relents. He unbuckles his harness and stands, grabbing his helmet, pulling it over his head. "I'll do a quick sweep, and then we can head back. Sound good?"
"Perfect," you smile, and Jesse grunts, walking past the two of you, heading towards the ramp. You wait until he's out of earshot before looking over at Rex, and the moment your eyes meet, the concern radiating from him is overwhelming.
"Please, tell me that you're not feeling the same thing I'm feeling," he says quietly, and the desperation in his voice sends a pang through your heart. You hesitate, and he sighs, running a hand over his face. "Great."
"Rex..."
"What's the point of the Force if it can't warn you about these things?" he mutters, shaking his head. He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching, and his hands grip the harness tightly.
"It is warning me," you tell him, and his eyes fly open, meeting yours, his expression full of disbelief. "I can feel it. The Force is trying to tell me something. I just...I don't know what it is. I just know that I need to go down there."
You unbuckle your harness and stand, and Rex follows suit, his movements stiff and robotic. He pulls on his helmet and checks his blasters while you pull the rebreather over your nose and mouth. You give him a reassuring smile and rest your hand on his arm, giving it a light squeeze.
"I'm going to be fine," you assure him, and he shakes his head.
"No, you're not," he retorts. He looks at you, and you can sense his fear and frustration and anger. "Nothing ever goes right when we're together. Every time. Every damn time."
"Hey," you say sharply, and he huffs. "That's not true."
"It is," he mutters. His head drops, and his shoulders slump, the tension and anger leaving him. He lets out a tired sigh and turns towards the open hatch. "I don't want anything to happen to you."
"It won't," you promise, and he scoffs, his brow furrowing. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Jesse returns, and the two of you turn towards him. He gives the two of you a quick look and holds up a finger.
"Okay, I did a quick sweep, and it looks like the place is empty," he reports. He taps the side of his helmet and shrugs. "Nothing on the thermal either. If anyone's down there, they're well hidden."
"We're still going," you say, and Jesse lets out an exasperated groan.
"I knew you were going to say that," he complains. He looks at Rex, and you can tell that the captain is rolling his eyes behind his visor. "Is she always like this?"
"Yes," Rex replies dryly.
He tilts his head towards the hatch, and Jesse lets out a resigned sigh, leading the way down the ramp and onto the ground. You follow after him, stepping onto the gray surface, your boots sinking into the wet dirt. Rex is right behind you, and the three of you begin making your way towards the outpost.
The fog is thick, and it's difficult to see more than a few feet in any direction. You pull the hood of your robe up, the fabric covering your head and the top half of your face. The ground is uneven and soft, and the air dank and cold.
A few steps into the fog, the visibility drops to almost nothing, and you find yourself relying on the Force to guide you. It's disorienting, and after a while, you're not entirely sure where you're going. Jesse's at the front of the group, and Rex is at your side, his blasters at the ready. Every few steps, the three of you stop and listen, scanning the area for any signs of life.
There's nothing.
The only sound is the muffled crunch of the ground beneath your boots and the soft rustling of the fog. It's unsettling, and you find yourself moving closer to Rex, his presence calming your nerves.
You can see his helmet tilt toward you, and you can sense his unease. He doesn't want you out here. He wants to turn around and go back to the ship. And if it were up to him, that's exactly what he would do.
But it's not.
You're the one in charge.
So, the three of you continue walking, the outpost growing closer and closer, the structure looming ahead of you. The gray stone walls are covered in moss and vines, and the wooden gate is open, hanging from its hinges. The interior of the compound is obscured by the fog, and you pause, your senses on high alert.
There's no sound. No movement. No signs of life.
"Jesse," you murmur, and he glances back at you. "You and Rex search the perimeter. I'll check inside."
"I don't think—"
"Just do it," you order, cutting him off, and he huffs, shaking his head.
"You heard the General," Rex says, and Jesse gives him a curt nod. "Let's go."
The two of them turn away and move along the edge of the wall, disappearing into the fog. You watch as they fade into the grayness, and then you take a deep breath, drawing your lightsaber and activating it. The blade ignites with a hum, the yellow glow illuminating the fog, and you step towards the open gate.
As you pass through the entrance, a chill runs down your spine. There's a feeling in the air, a dark energy surrounding the area. It's familiar, but you can't quite place it. It's a feeling that you've experienced before, but not here. Not in this place.
You pause, listening, searching for any signs of life, and when the silence continues, you step forward, heading towards the center of the compound. There are a handful of structures, most of which are dilapidated and falling apart. A few of them are nothing more than piles of rubble, the walls crumbling, the roof caving in.
You've only taken a few steps when something out of the corner of your eye shifts. A dark shape moving in the distance. Your eyes dart towards the source, and you watch as a shadowy figure emerges from the fog, its movements slow and deliberate.
"Jesse? Rex?" you call out, and the figure stops. You take a cautious step towards it, and it vanishes.
"General!"
You turn towards the sound of Rex's voice, and the figure appears again. It's standing behind you, and when you look back, it's gone.
"Rex!" you shout, and you hear him calling out for you, his voice getting closer. The figure appears again, further away. It's tall and humanoid, its limbs long and spindly. It's facing away from you, and when you try to follow, it vanishes once more.
You hear a faint noise coming from the direction the figure disappeared. A soft tapping sound. It's faint and distant, but it's there. You turn towards the source, and the figure appears again. You make out the shape of a cape, a hood, and your hand tightens on your lightsaber.
"Hey!" you call out, and the figure spins around, the fog swirling, obscuring its features. The tapping sound continues, and the figure takes a step towards you. "Who are you? What do you want?"
You take a cautious step forward, and the figure vanishes, the tapping fading away. You wait for a moment, listening, and then the tapping returns, the sound growing louder. It's coming from somewhere close by, and when you try to follow the noise, the figure reappears. You spin towards it, and as soon as you do, the noise stops.
"This is ridiculous," you growl, and you take a step towards the figure, but before you can reach it, it disappears. The tapping returns, the noise even louder, the sound echoing off the walls of the buildings. It's close.
You move quickly, sprinting after it, your heart pounding. You can hear Rex and Jesse calling out for you, but you ignore them. The fog swirls and twists, and you follow the sound, the tapping growing louder and louder. It's coming from inside one of the buildings. You skid to a stop and look up. The building is smaller than the others, and the doorway is barely big enough for you to squeeze through.
"Come on," you murmur, and you push the door open, slipping inside. The tapping stops, and the room is completely silent. You look around, searching for any sign of the figure, and when you don't see anything, you let out a frustrated huff. "I know you're here. You wanted help. Well, I'm here. So, let's talk."
The silence stretches on, and then the sound returns, the tapping louder and faster than before. It's coming from below. From beneath the floor. You look down and realize that the floor isn't made of stone or wood. It's metal. It's a hatch.
You kneel and press your ear to the surface, the tapping getting louder, the noise echoing off the metal. There's a muffled thumping mixed in with the tapping. It's a steady rhythm. Like a heartbeat.
You grab the handle and yank, the hatch sliding open, revealing a ladder leading down into a dark pit.
"Oh, for Force's sake," you mutter.
"General! Where are you?"
"Rex!" you call out, and the noise stops, the silence deafening. "I'm over here."
You look down the ladder, and a few seconds later, Rex and Jesse emerge from the fog. They jog towards you, their blasters drawn, and when they get close enough, they slow down.
"What are you doing?" Rex asks. He looks down at the hatch and back to you, holstering his blasters and placing his hands on his hips. "You weren't thinking of going down there alone, were you?"
"...Maybe," you admit, and Rex's helmet tilts skyward.
"Of course, you were," he grumbles. He glances at Jesse, and the other man shrugs.
"She's got a death wish, sir," Jesse tells him. Rex lets out a resigned sigh, and Jesse leans closer, giving you a disapproving look. "Don't do anything stupid."
"When have I ever done anything stupid?" you ask. Rex and Jesse both snort, and you frown, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't think I like your attitude."
"We don't like your attitude," Rex retorts. He crouches and peers down the hole, and when he looks up, the annoyance in his voice is clear. "Well, we're not doing this without a plan. Or at least without some kind of idea about what's down there."
"It's some kind of tapping," you reply, and he gestures for you to elaborate. You huff and shrug. "There's a rhythm to it. And I keep seeing a figure in the fog. It's humanoid."
"A figure?" Jesse repeats, and he and Rex exchange a look. You raise an eyebrow and tilt your head to the side, waiting for one of them to speak. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head earlier?"
You scowl, your hands curling into fists, and you're about to tell him exactly what you think of his comment when Rex steps between the two of you. He holds up his hands and shakes his head.
"That's not helping," he says firmly. Jesse grumbles under his breath, and Rex glances over his shoulder at you. "What do you want to do?"
"I'm going down there," you tell him. You step towards the ladder and start climbing, and when Rex starts to protest, you hold up a finger, silencing him. "You can either come with me or not. Either way, I'm doing this."
Rex hesitates, and when he looks at Jesse, the other man just shrugs. He lets out an exasperated sigh and nods.
"Fine," he mutters. He points at Jesse. "Stay up here. If we're not back in thirty minutes, call for backup."
"Copy that," Jesse replies, and Rex climbs onto the ladder, following after you.
You descend into the darkness, the sound of the tapping getting louder and louder. When you reach the bottom, you step off the ladder, and Rex lands beside you. His helmet scans the room, and he reaches out, his fingers closing around your wrist. He pulls you behind him, his body shielding yours.
"Be careful," he whispers.
"Always am," you murmur, and his helmet swivels to look at you. You can feel his skepticism and amusement radiating from him, and he shakes his head, turning back to the darkness.
"Sure, you are," he chuckles. "I've seen the scars."
"That was one time," you protest, and he snorts, taking a step forward.
"No, it wasn't," he retorts.
"I thought you liked how reckless I am," you tease, and his helmet tilts, a low, rumbling growl escaping from the speakers. You bite your lip to keep from laughing, and when he turns his head, you give him a sweet smile. "You said it. Not me."
"That's not what I said," he mutters.
"Yes, it is," you laugh, and his hand tightens on your wrist, pulling you close. You stumble forward, bumping into him, and he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you against him.
"Be. Careful," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, and the sudden change in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. You look up at him and lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. "Promise me."
"I will," you whisper. The intensity of his stare is overwhelming, and you find yourself frozen, your breath catching in your throat. "I promise."
"Good," he murmurs, his voice softening. He releases his grip on your waist, his hand sliding up your back and resting between your shoulders, gently nudging you forward. "Come on."
The two of you walk side by side through the darkness, the sound of the tapping growing louder with every step. As the two of you move further into the tunnel, the darkness begins to give way, the walls illuminated by dim red lights. You glance at Rex, and he gives you a quick nod, gesturing for you to keep moving.
"It's an escape tunnel," he mutters. He moves closer to the wall and examines the lights, his helmet tilting towards the ground. "Probably goes all the way to the outpost."
"Why would they need an escape tunnel?"
"Maybe they were hiding from something," Rex replies. He stands and glances around the room. "Or someone."
The two of you continue walking, the tapping growing louder, the tunnel narrowing. You reach a junction, and the sound is coming from the left, the path sloping downward. Rex hesitates, and you nudge his arm, pushing him forward. He lets out a resigned sigh and follows after you.
As the two of you walk down the slope, the tapping becomes deafening, the sound bouncing off the walls. It's coming from a closed door up ahead. Rex draws his blaster, and you ignite your lightsaber, the yellow blade illuminating the area. The two of you reach the door and pause, listening. There's no movement, no sounds other than the tapping.
"You ready?" Rex asks, and you nod. He raises his blaster and places his hand on the door handle. "On three."
He counts down, and then the door swings open, revealing a small, dimly lit room. It's empty, and the only furniture is a table and chair. There's a tarp draped over the wall behind it, and the tapping is coming from beneath.
You glance at Rex, and he takes a cautious step inside. When nothing happens, he holsters his blaster and moves towards the tarp.
"What are you doing?" you ask, and he waves a dismissive hand.
"Just stay there," he orders.
You frown, your eyes narrowing. "Don't tell me what to do."
Rex sighs and shakes his head, grabbing the tarp and pulling it off the wall, revealing a series of monitors and control panels. There's a microphone on the table, and the source of the tapping is revealed. It's a small, cylindrical device attached to the microphone, and when Rex picks it up, the tapping stops.
He sets the device on the table and looks at the monitors, his helmet tilting to the side. You move towards him, and he points to the screens, showing you the messages and audio files.
"Someone was trying to lure people here," he murmurs. He flips through a few more files and lets out a disgusted huff. "Whoever it was must have figured that a fake distress call would bring us running."
"So, this is a trap?"
"Looks like it," Rex replies. He looks down at the device and tilts his head to the side. "And, judging by the fact that there's no sign of whoever put this here, I'm guessing that they got away. Guess we scared them off."
"Yeah," you mutter, and he turns to face you, his helmet lifting, his visor scanning your face.
"I know that tone," he says softly. You raise an eyebrow, and he folds his arms over his chest. "What is it?"
"I just..." you begin, and you trail off, letting out a frustrated sigh. You shake your head and lean against the table, rubbing your forehead. "This whole thing feels...off."
"Off?"
"It doesn't make sense," you tell him. "Why would anyone set up a fake distress signal and then leave? It's not like they could've known that we would come. Or even if we would. For all they knew, no one would hear their signal. Why waste the time and energy putting this all together?"
"Maybe they panicked," Rex suggests. "Maybe they didn't think things through."
"Maybe," you reply. You push away from the table and pace around the room, frowning. "But something about this feels...familiar. Like I've seen it before."
"Like what?"
"I don't know," you mutter. You stop and look at him, shaking your head. "It's just a feeling. A hunch. And I can't explain it."
"Okay," Rex says slowly, his voice hesitant. He pauses, and then he walks over to the tarp and grabs it, throwing it back over the wall, covering the monitors. "We'll talk to General Skywalker. See what he thinks. Maybe he can make sense of all this."
"Yeah," you agree. You walk past him, and he follows, the two of you heading back towards the ladder. The tapping starts up again, the sound echoing off the walls. Rex's hand reaches out, resting on the small of your back, his fingers pressing against the fabric of your robe. You look over at him, and his helmet tips toward the source, his voice low and soothing.
"Ignore it," he murmurs, and the two of you start walking, the sound fading away. "It's just a recording."
"I know," you whisper. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, and as the two of you walk, his hand moves lower, his fingers brushing over your hip. The gesture is subtle, but it's enough to make your pulse race, a shiver running down your spine.
Your eyes flick to him, and Rex pulls away, clearing his throat.
"Sorry," he mutters. His voice is rough and strained, and he glances away, his hand running over the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to, uh...yeah."
You watch as he hurries towards the ladder, and you follow after him, biting back a grin. His flustered state is adorable, and the sight of him embarrassed and fidgety makes your heart melt. For a man who was inches away from kissing you only a few hours ago he's certainly acting shy.
"Don't worry about it," you call out, and Rex lets out a soft snort. He glances over his shoulder, his helmet tilting to the side, and you shrug. "I don't mind."
He looks at you for a long moment, and then he climbs onto the ladder and begins to ascend. You watch him go, a small smile on your face, before you shake your head.
"Get it together," you whisper to yourself. There are more important things to focus on than Rex and his adorable antics. Like finding out who was behind the distress signal.
With a determined huff, your hand grabs for the first rung of the ladder, but something stops you. You pause and listen, your senses heightening. There's something wrong. The tapping has stopped.
And then you see it.
The shadow.
It appears at the edge of your vision, the dark shape moving along the wall. You spin around, and it vanishes, the shadows stretching, enveloping the space. The red lights flicker, and when they do, you can see it.
It's humanoid. Tall. Spindly. Dressed in black. A hood covers its face, and a cape billows out behind it. The same figure that's been following you. The same one that attacked you ten years ago, the same one that you saw on the footage the night Yaddle died.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," you growl.
A low, raspy laugh fills the air, and the figure turns and walks away, disappearing into the darkness. You run after it, sprinting down the tunnel, watching as Dooku's retreating form vanishes into the blackness.
You reach the junction, this time taking the path to the right. You follow after him, the tunnel sloping upward until you reach another door. You draw your lightsaber and open it, the bright glow of the yellow blade illuminating the room.
Dooku is standing in the center of the space, his back to you, his hands clasped behind his back. He's wearing a long black cloak and a hood, and the light from your saber casts his shadow across the walls, the edges of his image elongated and distorted.
"You're pretty spry for an old man," you tell him, and his shoulders twitch, a low chuckle escaping his lips. He turns to face you, and when his hood falls, his features are illuminated.
"Still the same reckless girl," Dooku says, and he tilts his head to the side, his voice filled with amusement. "Always so eager to prove yourself."
"I don't have anything to prove to you," you retort, and his eyes narrow. His lips curl into a sneer, and his head lifts, his expression becoming haughty and condescending.
"Don't you?"
"No," you snap. You take a step towards him, and his smirk fades, his eyes narrowing. "But I'm curious. What are you doing here? Don't you have an entire army to run?"
"I could ask you the same question," Dooku replies. He looks at you and chuckles, shaking his head. "But I think we both know the answer. You came here because you felt something. A connection to me. To the Force."
"That's not true," you protest, but he ignores you.
"You wanted answers," he continues, his voice soft, his tone almost gentle. "Answers that no one else can provide. Answers that you desperately need."
"I don't want anything from you," you growl, pulling your shoto from your belt and igniting it. The twin blades flare to life, their glow reflecting off his skin. "Just stay still, and maybe this will hurt less."
Dooku takes a step towards you, and your stance shifts, your body moving into a defensive position. He chuckles and holds up his hands, stopping a few feet from you.
"Really, dear girl, you should learn some respect for your betters," he tells you, and you let out a frustrated sigh.
"I'm done playing games," you snap, and before he can react, you attack.
You lunge towards him, swinging your lightsabers, and his blade ignites, blocking the blows. You press the attack, pushing him back, and he counters, the two of you trading strikes and parries. He's skilled, his movements graceful and elegant, and the longer the fight continues, the more he seems to be enjoying himself. It's as if your actions are fueling his pleasure.
"You've gotten better," Dooku tells you. "I'll give you that."
"Yeah, well, last time, you didn't fight fair," you retort, and he smirks.
"Neither did you," he counters. His lightsaber flicks, the blade moving in a blur, and you barely block the strike, the tip of his weapon grazing your shoulder. The fabric of your robe tears, and you hiss, the burning sensation making your blood boil.
"Bastard," you snarl, and the two of you lock blades, the light from the glowing swords reflecting off the walls, casting shadows across the room.
"Temper, temper," he tuts. He presses his weight into the hilt of his lightsaber, and the heat from the blades grows hotter, the tips of the hilts burning against your palms. "It's unbecoming."
"I'm not interested in a lesson in decorum from a murderer."
You shove him back and swing, forcing him to jump away, and you chase after him, unleashing a series of strikes and thrusts. The two of you dance around the room, the light from the sabers reflecting off the walls, and the battle quickly devolves into a duel, both of you matching the other's attacks, neither of you gaining an advantage.
As the minutes pass, your frustration grows, and the anger and hatred inside you builds. You lash out, and Dooku dodges, the tip of your blade cutting through his cloak, the fabric fluttering to the ground. It's a small victory, but it's enough to spur you on.
"That was expensive, you know," he drawls.
"Good," you snarl.
The two of you continue your dance, and as the fight progresses, his attacks become more vicious. He pushes you harder, his strikes growing quicker and more precise, and your defenses crumble, leaving you open.
The tip of his blade slices through the sleeve of your robe, and the skin beneath burns, forcing you into dropping your shoto. You grit your teeth and parry, deflecting the next strike, and when the opportunity presents itself, you kick him in the stomach, sending him stumbling backwards.
"Is that all you've got?" he taunts.
"Stop talking and fight," you snap. You launch yourself at him, slamming into him and sending the two of you tumbling to the floor. You land on top of him, and you grab his collar, dragging him to his feet, slamming him into the wall. "Tell me why you're here."
"I have my reasons," he replies. His voice is calm and composed, his expression blank, unfeeling. You grip his collar tighter, and he lets out a soft chuckle. "You want to kill me, don't you? Go ahead. Try."
Your hand tightens, and you pull him away from the wall and throw him back, sending him flying into the opposite wall. He crumples to the ground, and you march towards him, your lightsaber raised.
"Stop. Talking," you growl. You level the blade at his throat, and when your eyes meet, his expression changes. A cold, cruel smile spreads across his face, and his gaze becomes sharp, calculating.
"I knew it," he murmurs, and your grip on the hilt of your lightsaber wavers, a wave of unease washing over you.
"What are you talking about?"
"You've changed," he tells you. His eyes narrow, and he leans closer, his breath tickling your cheek. "You are not the same Padawan I knew."
"I've learned a few things since then," you mutter.
"Oh, yes," Dooku chuckles. He tilts his head to the side, and his eyes move over your face, his voice dropping to a murmur. "I can see that."
The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and a shiver runs down your spine. He's staring at you like he's seeing you for the first time. His gaze is piercing, his expression calculating, and you can't help but wonder what he's looking for. Whatever it is, he seems pleased.
"Why did you kill her?" you demand. Better to keep him talking. The longer he's distracted, the more likely it is that the others will arrive and help you deal with him. "What did she ever do to you?"
"It's not about what she did," Dooku replies. His voice is soft, and his eyes flick to your lightsaber. "It's about what she could have done. The potential that she represented."
"What are you talking about?"
"There's no need to be coy," he tells you. His eyes return to your face, and his gaze is almost hungry, his lips curling into a smirk. "I know you've figured it out."
"She was in your way," you say. His expression changes, his smirk fading, and his gaze hardens. "She knew too much. She knew you were planning on betraying the Republic."
"Close," he murmurs. His head tips to the side, and his gaze sweeps over you, a look of admiration in his eyes. "But not quite. You've come so far, but there's still so much you don't understand."
"Then enlighten me," you snap, and his brow furrows, a confused frown forming on his face. "Tell me why. Why did you kill her?"
Dooku’s eyes narrow, and his gaze becomes distant, as if he's seeing something far beyond the room. He doesn't seem to be aware of the fact that he's about to die. As if he's reliving some memory, some experience that is only known to him. For a split-second, he looks almost vulnerable. And, in that instant, you feel something.
He's afraid.
And whatever he's afraid of, it has nothing to do with you.
"It's not just about her," Dooku says, his voice a low murmur. You frown and lean closer, your lightsaber still pointed at his throat, and when his eyes refocus, they lock onto yours. "Do you know why I left the Order, young one?"
"Because you're a power-hungry monster?" you suggest, and he shakes his head.
"I left because they refused to see the truth," he replies. The intensity in his gaze is unnerving, and you swallow, doing your best to keep the tremble from your hand. “I left because the Jedi are flawed."
You stare at him, unsure how to respond. Your anger and hatred are still there, but there's something else, too. He’s not saying anything you don’t already know. The Jedi are flawed. They are imperfect. And yet, somehow, you know that what he's saying isn't coming from a place of malice or spite. He's speaking the truth. Or, at least, what he believes to be the truth. And, for some reason, that scares you.
"You're lying," you tell him, and he chuckles, shaking his head.
"The Council is weak. The Order is blind. They've lost sight of what it means to be a Jedi," he continues. He shifts, the tip of your blade brushing against his skin, but he doesn't react. "They've become nothing more than a band of soldiers, fighting for a Republic that's dying."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that the Order is corrupt. That the Republic is broken.” Dooku leans forward, and you can't help but notice how close his throat is to your lightsaber. All it would take is a twitch, and his head would roll. You could end it. Right now. The thought is tempting, but something holds you back. You want answers. "The war is pointless. And, no matter what happens, we will lose. We are fighting a losing battle. The Republic is finished.
"Your master knew this. Yaddle was one of the few who believed in the true purpose of the Jedi Order. One of the few who understood the truth."
"That's not—"
"She was a good person," he interrupts. The warmth in his expression takes you by surprise, and a pang of guilt hits you, making your chest ache. He looks at you, his brow furrowing. "Don't blame yourself. What happened was necessary."
"Necessary?"
"She was wise and strong, and she saw things that others could not," he explains. His tone is soft and reverent, his gaze distant, almost wistful. "And she cared for you very much."
Your heart skips a beat, and a lump forms in your throat, a rush of emotions flooding your system. You bite the inside of your cheek and clench your jaw, trying to ignore the pain and the fear and the sadness, but it's too much. The pressure in your chest is overwhelming, and you can feel the tears stinging your eyes.
"What does that have to do with anything?" you ask, your voice breaking. You can't bring yourself to look at him, and your vision blurs, tears filling your eyes.
"She would want you to survive," Dooku says, his voice gentle, his gaze locked onto yours. "No matter what."
The pressure in your chest grows, and a tear escapes, rolling down your cheek. You try to wipe it away, but it's too late. He sees it. And, somehow, his expression softens even further, a look of understanding in his eyes.
"You and I have more in common than you think," he murmurs. You blink, your eyes widening, and he gives you a knowing smile. "We both understand the truth. We both know what it means to sacrifice. We've both witnessed the corruption and hypocrisy of those we once trusted. And we've both experienced the pain of betrayal."
"The Council didn't betray me," you say, and his brow furrows, his head tipping to the side.
"Did they not?"
"No," you reply, the conviction in your voice wavering. "They didn't."
"I think we both know that's not true," he counters. "They abandoned you. They let you suffer and struggle alone, and when you needed their help, they turned their backs on you. Just as they did with Yaddle."
"The Council had their reasons," you insist. "They did what they thought was best."
"For themselves," Dooku retorts. His eyes narrow, and a look of disdain crosses his face, his jaw clenching. "Not for you."
"You're wrong," you tell him, but even as the words leave your lips, a part of you knows that he's right. The Council didn't believe you. They didn't believe in you. They let you flounder, and they never did a thing to help. Even Obi-Wan had abandoned you, and while he'd tried to apologize, it hadn't changed anything.
"You know it's true," he says, his voice barely a whisper. He stares at you, and you stare back, your mind racing. "You feel it. Deep down, you know I'm right."
"I'm a Jedi. I can't turn my back on them," you say. "Not when there are innocent people suffering."
"And yet, you're here, chasing after a ghost, searching for a reason to hate the ones who hurt you," Dooku replies. You open your mouth to protest, but he raises a hand, silencing you. "I am not judging you. I understand. You have been betrayed, and you are in pain. I can sense it. It radiates from you, filling the air."
"You have no idea what I'm going through," you mutter.
"I can assure you, dear girl, I do," he tells you, and his eyes move over your face, studying you, his gaze curious and contemplative. "You remind me of myself. We are alike, you and I. We both seek justice and answers. We both question the world around us, and we both understand the sacrifices that must be made in order to achieve peace."
"I'm not like you," you say. You shake your head, and a bitter laugh escapes your lips, your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm nothing like you."
"Aren't you?"
"I'm not a murderer."
"You've killed before," Dooku counters. He stares at you, his expression unreadable. "And, if given the chance, you would do it again."
Your grip on your lightsaber falters, and the blade lowers, the tip scraping against the stone floor. Your eyes meet his, and the weight of his words settles over you, a feeling of unease and dread filling the pit of your stomach.
"I don't know what you're talking about," you tell him, but the lie is obvious. You can hear it in your voice, feel it in the way your heart races, and Dooku smiles, a hint of satisfaction creeping into his expression.
"You may not have the blood on your hands, but it's there," he murmurs. He stands and steps towards you, his hand resting on your shoulder, his touch gentle, almost comforting. "There are no more lies between us. We know the truth. We see what the Order has become, what the Republic has become. We see their flaws and their faults, and we know what must be done. The question is, are you willing to do what needs to be done?"
"No," you reply, shaking your head, but he squeezes your shoulder, his grip tightening.
"You can't hide from the truth," he says. His voice is soft, his tone soothing. "You can't ignore it. The Force brought you here, to me, because we are kindred spirits. We are alike. We understand each other."
"Stop saying that," you snap, and his fingers dig into your shoulder, his eyes boring into yours.
"You have been betrayed," he says, his voice cold and clinical, his eyes filled with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "You are alone. And you are angry. The Order has taken everything from you, and now, they are taking your life. They have failed you, and they will continue to fail you. They will not stop until you are dead."
"I'm not going to let you manipulate me," you tell him. You push his hand away and step back, your lightsaber raised, and he lets out a resigned sigh, his gaze never leaving yours. "You murdered Yaddle, and you tried to kill me. That's all there is to it. I'm going to kill you."
Dooku doesn't react. He just stares at you, his gaze intense and steady. A part of you expects him to try and reason with you, but he doesn't. He doesn't argue or try to change your mind. He just looks at you, his eyes moving over your face, studying you.
"Maybe," he allows. He straightens his back and squares his shoulders. "But not today."
With a flourish of his cape, he steps towards you, his lightsaber igniting with a hiss. The crimson blade hums as it slices through the air, and you react, your own blade coming up to block his attack.
The two of you dance around each other, trading strikes and parries. The battle is brutal and fierce, both of you giving it your all.
It's only after a few minutes that you realize that Dooku isn't even trying. He's playing with you, using his skill and experience to taunt and provoke you. And, while his attacks are strong, they are easily blocked or deflected.
He's not taking this seriously.
He's toying with you.
He wants to see what you're capable of.
As if he's testing you.
"You're holding back," you accuse. He slashes at your chest, and you step to the side, avoiding the blow. You lunge, your blade arcing towards his head, and he blocks, the humming blades locking together, the light from their tips illuminating his face. "I can feel it."
"Of course, I am," Dooku replies. He spins, and the two of you lock blades, his eyes locking onto yours. "I have no wish to hurt you."
"You're a fucking liar," you snarl, and he pushes you away, sending you stumbling backwards.
"On the contrary, I am the most honest man you will ever meet," he says, and the arrogance in his tone makes you bristle.
You swing at him, and he steps back, dodging the blow. His footwork is perfect, his movements fluid and graceful, and the longer the fight goes on, the more confident and relaxed he becomes.
It's like he's in a different world.
He's not fighting you.
He's playing a game.
"I should've known that this would end in tears," he sighs. He lunges, his lightsaber sweeping towards your head, and you duck, the tip of his blade slicing through the air above you. "You aren't ready."
"Shut up," you snap. You step forward and swing, but he's faster than you, his body twisting out of the way, his cape billowing behind him. The fabric brushes against your cheek, and he kicks, his boot connecting with your hip.
The force of the blow sends you stumbling, and you nearly fall, your balance shifting. You grit your teeth and brace yourself, your lightsaber moving into a defensive position.
"You're still angry," he tells you, and he shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. "I can sense it."
"Of course, I'm angry," you retort. You slash at him, and he blocks, his blade coming up to deflect your strike. "You tried to kill me. You murdered Yaddle."
"That's not what I meant," he replies, and before you can react, he lunges, his blade coming down. You scramble, barely managing to hold onto your saber and bring it up in time to block his next strike.
"What are you talking about?"
"You're not angry at me," he says, and you freeze, his words sinking in. Your eyes widen as he tilts his head to the side, his gaze moving over your face. "You're angry at yourself."
"Shut up," you growl, but the anger in your voice is fading, a sense of dread filling the pit of your stomach.
"You're still angry that she died," he continues, and you can't bring yourself to speak, a lump forming in your throat. "You're angry that she left you. You're angry that she never came back."
"Stop," you whisper, but he ignores you, his gaze boring into yours.
"You're angry that the Order betrayed you. That they left you alone," he says, his tone sympathetic, almost apologetic. "You're angry that the Jedi refused to believe you. That they turned their backs on you. And now, they expect you to fight for them."
"They didn't abandon me," you insist, but even as the words leave your lips, the image of Obi-Wan's retreating form flashes in your mind, his last words echoing in your ears.
"Didn't they?"
"They just...didn't listen," you say. You blink, a tear escaping, rolling down your cheek. "They didn't...understand."
"Because you wouldn't tell them the truth," he replies.
His voice is soft, gentle. It's soothing, and for a split-second, it feels like he cares. It feels like he understands. And a part of you wants to believe him. A part of you wants to trust him. But another part of you knows that he's manipulating you, trying to trick you.
And it's working.
Dooku takes another step forward, his shadow stretching across the floor, the light from your blades flickering in the dark.
"You were afraid. Of the power you wielded. Of the truth. Of yourself."
He's closer now, and you can't bring yourself to move. To resist. To do anything but stand there, staring at him.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "For what I did to her. For what I did to you."
You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You can't breathe. Your chest is tight, and your lungs are burning, and you can't bring yourself to move.
"You can't run from this," he says. His eyes meet yours, and he shakes his head, a sad smile forming on his lips. "No matter how hard you try. No matter where you go. But if you let me, I can help you."
"Help me?"
"You're not a Jedi. Not anymore," he tells you. He moves closer, and you take a step back, your body acting on instinct, trying to get away from him. But he follows, his steps measured and slow. "Not after what happened."
"You did this," you whisper, and he lets out a soft chuckle, his expression changing, a look of admiration and pride on his face. His eyes flicker to the scars stretching across your hands, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"No," he says. "I didn't. You did."
He's only a few feet away now, and the shadows stretch, wrapping around him, engulfing him. The air grows cold, and the light from the blades begins to fade, and the darkness grows, consuming everything.
"We can't control our power. Our emotions. They control us," he tells you. "You know that better than anyone."
You close your eyes, and for a split-second, it feels like the darkness is wrapping around you, cocooning you. It's warm and safe and familiar. You want to stay here, to let go and just drift away, but a small part of you is screaming. A small part of you knows that something isn't right.
Something pulls at your senses, tugging at the edges of your awareness. It's like a whisper, a soft murmur in the back of your mind. A feeling. An emotion. Fear. Worry.
And it's growing.
"They took everything from you," Dooku says, and your eyes snap open, your vision focusing on his face. He looks different now, older, his skin withered and wrinkled, his hair thin and gray. The warmth in his eyes is fading, replaced by a look of disdain and disgust. "But you can take it back."
He's holding out his hand, his fingers splayed, his palm facing you. It's an invitation. A temptation. And you know what it means. If you accept his offer, everything will change.
You look at his hand, and your gaze flickers to his face, to his eyes. They're darker now, colder. They're not the same. And you know that whatever he's offering isn't real. You're not sure if it ever was.
You stare at his hand, and your mind races, a million thoughts flashing through your mind. But, as the seconds pass, one thought becomes clear, one word echoing in your mind.
"No."
"Very well," he sighs. He steps towards you, his voice calm and level. "If that is your decision, then I have no choice but to—"
You reach out, calling your shoto, and it flies into your open palm, igniting with a loud snap-hiss. Dooku's eyes widen, and his lightsaber springs to life, the red blade humming, the light from the weapon casting shadows across his face.
"Don't," he warns, but it's too late.
You launch yourself at him, and his lightsaber comes up, blocking your blow. The two of you trade strikes and parries, the sounds of the clashing blades echoing off the walls. You spring up, swinging your blade, and he blocks the attack, the red and yellow blades hissing and crackling as they grind against each other.
"You're making a mistake," he tells you.
"I'm done listening to you," you retort.
You push him back, and he stumbles, catching himself, his gaze narrowing. The two of you square off, and the anger inside you burns hotter, brighter. Your fear and frustration fuel your rage, and you attack, unleashing a series of wild, erratic strikes, each blow more vicious and brutal than the last.
Dooku counters, his expression becoming serious, his movements growing quicker, more precise. He's no longer playing games, and as the fight continues, you can't help but notice the look of concern in his eyes. He's worried. He's afraid.
He's afraid of you.
He should be.
Because in that instant, all of your fear and pain and rage converge, coalescing into a single, blinding thought.
He needs to die.
You rush towards him, and he meets you, the two of you locked in a deadly dance, your lightsabers flashing and hissing. You press the attack, driving him back, and he blocks your strikes, his blade moving with a grace and precision that leaves you breathless.
Your vision blurs, and the sounds around you grow distant, muffled. It's like the whole world is fading, dissolving, and all that's left is him. His eyes. His blade. And the opportunity that's presenting itself.
A chance to end this.
To kill him.
The two of you are locked together, neither of you able to break free. You push harder, your muscles straining, your bones creaking. Your body is on fire, burning from the inside out, and you can feel the sweat rolling down your back, your breath coming in ragged gasps.
The pressure is unbearable. You can feel his blade digging into your own, cutting into the hilt, and you know that if you don't act soon, you'll lose. You grit your teeth, and his lips twitch into a smirk.
"You can't beat me, girl," he sneers, his voice low, taunting.
You open your mouth to retort when the sound of blasterfire erupts in the hallway outside. You glance towards the door, and when you do, Dooku shoves you, sending you stumbling backwards. He lunges towards you, and your instincts kick in, your blade coming up to block his strike.
The hot sting of pain erupts in your hand as his blade slices through the hilt of your shoto, severing the weapon in two. You watch in horror as the halves fall to the ground, the plasma blade sputtering out. Dooku kicks them away, and you back up, your remaining lightsaber raised, the bright glow casting shadows across the walls.
"I offered you a way out," he tells you. “I will not suffer even a Jedi like yourself to live in ignorance."
He steps towards you, and as he does, a series of blaster bolts slam into the door. The hulking form of a B2 teeters and falls backwards, taking the door with it.
The room fills with smoke and dust, and you cough, waving your hand in front of your face, trying to clear the air. You can barely make out the shadowy shapes of Rex and Jesse as they enter, their blasters raised.
The two men take aim, and Dooku reacts, the crimson blade of his lightsaber blocking the incoming barrage. He turns, his cape billowing out behind him, and the red beam of his weapon flashes, deflecting the shots, the bolts ricocheting off the walls.
Jesse ducks and rolls, and as he does, Rex runs towards you, his arm wrapping around your waist. He pulls you away, dragging you behind him, his body shielding yours. As the two of you move, Jesse unloads, the volley of shots forcing Dooku back, the barrage keeping him on the defensive.
Rex grabs your wrist and tugs, pulling you towards the exit. As the two of you rush out into the hallway, a series of explosions ripple through the room, the stone walls trembling. You look over your shoulder, and Dooku emerges from the cloud of dust and smoke, his blade flashing. Jesse fires again, but the Count deflects the shots, the bolts slamming into the walls.
"Move," Rex barks, and the three of you take off running, racing down the corridor. Dooku gives chase, and the crimson beam of his lightsaber streaks through the air, the heat from the weapon scorching the stone.
You run as fast as you can, your chest heaving, the rage inside you burning hotter with every step. He killed Yaddle. He murdered her. And he was the one who attacked you. He was the one who tried to kill you. Now, he's trying to kill you again.
"I'm going to kill him," you growl, and Rex's grip tightens, his voice low and harsh.
"Don't," he snaps. "Focus on getting out of here."
"He has to die," you snarl. You pull against him, but his hold on you is iron-clad. "Let me go. I'm going to kill him."
"No," Rex growls, and you glare at him, a fire raging inside you.
"I have to do this," you tell him, your voice cracking, your hands balling into fists. "I'm going to make him pay."
"You can't," he snaps. He tightens his grip on you, his fingers digging into your skin, and he pushes you ahead of him, guiding you forward. "Not like this."
The three of you round a corner, and a series of blaster bolts slam into the wall to the side, sending fragments of stone and debris flying. Jesse spins and returns fire, and as the two men exchange shots, Rex takes advantage of the distraction, grabbing your arm and yanking you towards him, the two of you stumbling into the next room.
"I can," you insist, and Rex grabs your shoulders, shaking you.
"No, you can't," he snaps. "Look at me. You can't do this."
His tone makes you stop, and you look up at him, a flicker of doubt creeping in. His helmet tilts towards you, his visor scanning your face, and his hands move up, cradling your cheeks.
"I need you to listen to me," he says, his voice urgent and pleading. "I know how much Yaddle meant to you. I know what she was to you. But if you go after him, you'll die. You can't beat him. Not alone. Not like this. Please."
"Rex—"
"Listen to me," he interrupts. He moves closer, and you can hear his ragged breathing through his helmet. "I'm begging you. I need you to be here with me. I need you to come home."
His words strike a chord, and the anger inside you begins to ebb, slowly giving way to something else. Something deeper. You stare at him, and his head tips forward, his visor resting against your forehead.
"Come home," he repeats, his voice barely audible, and your chest aches, a lump forming in your throat.
"I..."
You can't finish the thought. You can feel the fear in his voice, the pain, the desperation. He's scared. Terrified. And it's because of you. Because he cares about you. He needs you.
You swallow hard and nod, and Rex presses his forehead against yours, his body relaxing with a shaky sigh.
"Thank you," he breathes. He strokes his thumb along the line of your jaw, and when he pulls away, his gaze holds yours, his voice laced with regret. "We'll get him, I promise. But not like this."
"Okay," you whisper, and Rex nods, his helmet tilting towards the ground. You place a hand on his chest, waiting for him to meet your gaze again before you speak. "I trust you."
He looks at you for a long moment, searching your eyes. Then, he nods, his shoulders straightening.
"I'll make sure we get him," he tells you. "I promise."
You give him a weak smile, and he pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you, his body enveloping yours. He squeezes you, his grip almost crushing, before he pulls away, his helmet nodding to the doorway.
"Let's get out of here," he says, and you follow him, the two of you sprinting out of the room, leaving Dooku and his men behind. Jesse catches up to you, his blaster still raised, and the three of you continue running, heading back towards the main corridor.
As you race down the hall, Rex's words linger in your mind. He was right. Dooku was too powerful. If you went after him now, there was no way you would survive. And even if you did, what would you be fighting for?
Vengeance.
It wasn't enough. It never would be. Not for Yaddle.
But she wasn't all you had left. There was another reason.
You didn't want to die.
You didn't want Rex to lose you.
You didn't want to hurt him.
So, you ran. You ran as fast as you could. And as you did, a single word echoed in your mind, repeating itself over and over again.
Home.
taglist: @baddest-batchers @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear
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#the clone wars#captain rex#clone captain rex#captain rex x reader#rex x reader#roy writes#event horizon#please forgive me for the chapter length#he would just not stop monologuing#once again i am asking for someone to come to my house and spray me with a water bottle when i reach 10k
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Hi, since you’ve been dabbling with the idea of a JoeMarr mpreg, I was wondering what it would be like if Joe find out he’s pregnant during the season?
ohhh yes! i’ve had a wip collecting dust for months now in my drafts but this ask has motivated me to start writing it again 😭😭
tho just for clarity, i’ve never written an A/B/O fic IN MY LIFE 😗 so that’s why it’s taking me so long to work on it cuz i genuinely need to do some research for it 😭
BUT, now, imma go through a rant below the cut to answer your question anon!!🥰:
so personally, (even tho i LOVE reading some fluff) i like writing angst the most. just because it’s easier for me to channel anger instead of domestic love. (that’s sad as fuck ik😭) SO, with that being said, i think Joe would feel very conflicted about being pregnant mid season.
clearly Joe would have to miss the rest of the season since he’s pregnant yk?? and i think if it’s not planned he would really have a decision to make. he’d also go through the turmoil of having to tell Ja’marr and even tho Ja’marr ABSOLUTELY wants this baby, Joe’s worried about his reaction.
so Joe keeps it from him which just adds more angst to the whole situation and the entire time, Ja’marr knows something’s wrong with Joe, he can smell it cuz they’re mates ofc. they’re both in-tune with each other so much. Ja’marr constantly feels the back of his neck sweat and his stomach churns and he asks Joe constantly what’s wrong but Joe keeps silent. and he doesn’t mean to keep it a secret but everything’s moving too fast and it’s too much for him.
then, (because i love hurt/comfort) Joe would play in a game (even tho he definitely shouldn’t because he’s fucking pregnant and one wrong hit could mess a lot of things up) but he plays anyway and is off the entire time and everyone knows it. even the teammates, who go as far as asking Ja’marr “what’s wrong with your mate?” to where Ja’marr just shrugs cuz he doesn’t fucking know and he’s pissed off now cuz Joe’s been hiding something from him.
finally, the big thing happens and Joe gets hit hard in the stomach. Ja’marr feels the hurt immediately, knows he needs to get Joe tf out of there and drags him off himself and sits him on the bench. Joe’s obviously freaking out now cuz he’s hurt and somethings wrong. he doesn’t know what but somethings not right and he’s really praying it isn’t his baby.
and that’s when it comes out. right there. on the fucking sideline of a football game. “I’m pregnant”
Ja’marr feels all the emotions roll over too quickly and he doesn’t know whether to break down a cry or yell at Joe for playing while pregnant. neither of that matters tho cuz Joe’s getting whisked off by some athletic trainer that heard the whole conversation and takes him inside the stadium’s medical room. and Ja’marr’s just stood there like: 🧍♂️
and then Ja’marr would have to deal with that news in his head the entire game and then have to answer questions during the postgame presser about why Joe left mid game and why weren’t you connecting on your routes tonight?? stuff that he could care less about because his mate is pregnant and just came off the field with a bad hit to the stomach and he hasn’t seen him since.
that’s how my fic is currently playing out to be written 😗😭😭😭
but also Joe would be GLOWING while pregnant, so there’d be moments of that in there too!!! 🥰🥰
#did i yap too much orrrr#i have even more thoughts but i really can’t write em down for some reason#but this has moved up in the wip list#lmaoo😭😭#joe burrow#cincinnati bengals#jamarr chase#joemarr#ao3#football rpf#anon ask
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So..I may have got a little carried away, First seeds of Family..Brace yourself for another fanart😶🌫️
..Gosh I really love your work, the writing was amazing and well executed! The metaphor between them, flowers, bugs—I can’t express enough and properly with my words, so..↓ Remember to take breaks!
❁ᯓ✿❁ᯓ✿❁ᯓ✿❁ᯓ✿❁ᯓ✿❁ᯓ❁
❁ᯓ✿❁ᯓ✿❁ᯓ✿❁ᯓ✿❁ᯓ✿❁ᯓ❁
AU belongs to;
@polina-tvorozhok and @lunar-rcp
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•
Yeah..That’s why I’ve been gone for a while! Sorry for that, I’ve been thinking about making this vid ever since like 3 and half weeks ago, hence that question. I guess I was just regaining my motivation, oh my gosh I think I’ll pass out from excitement/j. This thing has been sitting in my draft since last year (lmao)!
Welp, have a good day/night, text ya later friend.
p.s: The designs are not accurate, I didn’t go through the text or posts properly, high chances I miss those😔🫡
#robocar poli#robocar poli au#robocar poli roleplay#poli#Jin#First seeds of family#AAAAAA#:’3#I’m really sorry for being overwhelming
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This has been stewing in my drafts for awhile as I try to get my thoughts together, but, this post has given me a lot of peace. (This kind of turned into a personal essay under your post... my apologies).
I'm in an unusual position as a (mostly) interpreted-singlet who spent a number of years as interpreted-plural. Though I'd wager it's slightly less unusual than it seems, and most people with similar experiences simply abandoned or deleted the blogs/spaces where they previously talked about being plural. Anecdotally, I've seen at least one other person openly discuss an experience similar to mine.
In my teenage years, I was psychologically disintegrating from a variety of pressures on me, and I suppose I do mean that rather literally. I never experienced the very sharp discontinuity characteristic of DID, but I was some level of dissociated near constantly for years. I was desperately lonely and very suicidal. Without my alters, I do believe I wouldn't have survived.
I never "made up" being a system. Interpreting my experiences that way made the most sense to me at the time. As I began to heal, I dissociated less and became less fixated on my inner-world and sense of self. I never discussed it openly here, because I felt ashamed, and worried that I'd be accused of either faking or suppressing my alters. But I quietly stopped talking about them, quietly retired (most of) their sideblogs, and quietly used my "system tag" less and less.
But - if you go look at my "system tag" - you'll notice I still use it occasionally. I do still sometimes have experiences that are at the very least system-adjacent. I still dissociate sometimes; now and then I'll get the phantom physical sensations I always associated with Naph; sporadically, my thoughts will take the form of back-and-forth chatter that sounds like a conversation, or default to "us/we"; I'll seem to hold multiple conflicting opinions on the same topic. A few months ago, Ada (our caretaker) talked me down from an anxiety attack while I drove home, and that was an experience so distinct I can't really refer to it any other way.
Previously I would have obsessively interrogated these experiences, trying frantically to fit them into a cohesive picture of self or selves. Now I really just let them happen as they happen. Overall, for me, personally, I think it's healthier to interpret everything as part of one very fluid identity. But when something seems to challenge that, I don't worry about it too much, either. It's a sort of radical self acceptance, I suppose.
For the most part, I don't "miss" my alters, and I also don't "regret" having identified as a system. I'm very grateful to my alters and everything they did for me, but for the most part I now view their strengths as my own. I still have sideblogs for a few of them, but I see them more as places to express distinct facets of myself. I still don't feel like I have a strong, central identity - a lot of facts I hold about myself come with a question mark. I suppose I could call us a median system, if I wanted to... I'm just not sure I feel the need for labels anymore.
I very rarely see the grey area acknowledged and I don't think I've ever seen it put so succinctly as "interpreted-singlets" and "interpreted-plurals". Other than the one other person I mentioned before, I'm not sure I've ever seen it suggested that it could be reasonable for some people to migrate between or be able to interpret themselves either way. This honestly helped me come to terms with it more, to the point I felt like I could talk about it publicly like this.
So, sincerely, thank you.
Hey uh, not sure if there's anything to elaborate on wrt the "wanting to be plural is a symptom of being plural" post, but is that true? Because I've been avoiding that possibility, if only because I've been so sure that it isn't a possibility. I don't really know what I'm saying here it's just, could that post really be true?
So we thought we were the only ones selling this kind of perspective to people, but recently pluralrespect on neocities (which we already liked re: intrasys relationships) started including something similar, but with more structure.
It breaks down like this: Singlets choose to interpret their personal experiences as being one person. It gets privileged as the default because that's how we're socialised, but a (usually unconscious) choice is being made to view all their experiences - including kinda plural-coded stuff like code switching, masking, genderfluidity, weird dreams, varying vibes day-on-day, internal conflict, etc - as representing a singular identity.
There are also a lot of people who's experiences can't realistically be interpreted singletwise - folks that experience switches with totally separate memory is an extreme example. The plural explanation is the only thing that makes any sense of it at all.
This creates this big grey area that encompasses all those interpreted-singlets with kinda-plural experiences, and those interpreted-plurals who could reasonably interpret themselves as singlets (again) if they wanted to. Within this grey area, you have the wiggle room to observe your personal experiences, and conceptualise your identity one way, or the other way.
One of those ways might feel more "right" to you, more sensical, more comfortable, safer - so in that sense, yeah. wanting to be plural is a symptom of being plural. Fantasising about what it would be like to understand yourself in the other way is probably a sign that you should try it - see how thinking of yourself that way feels, just for a day or whatever. If it's too weird, go back. If not, keep going.
Now, letting yourself have an open mind may invite experiences that make a singlet interpretation less sensible - so only test the waters if both possible conclusions are safe for you to have. Outside of that, you can always change your mind - so, give it a shot.
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I fell in love with your story with Nico I was wondering if you could recommend other fics?
I'm the single worst person at keeping track of fics I read (and I know that's massively hypocritical of me I'm working on being a better person okay) especially before I started my blog but I do have a fic rec tag!! I haven't been reading a lot lately because I struggle to read while writing but I'll list my staples below bc I need to spread the love!! not all of these are nico, and not all of them are series fics, but they're all near and dear to my heart!!
the blueprint long form oc fic is whatever life throws at you by @raysofcrosby - it's a matthew tkachuk fic and I read it in the lead up to the stanley cup last year and it's probably what inspired me to start writing/post something myself!! the character/world building is unmatched and I don't think I ever have or ever will read another fic like it!!!
and speaking of world building him and I by @mikkomacko feels like you're literally in a different universe when you're reading it there's so much detail and as someone who struggles to write AU style fics more than anything I think this fic is like the epitome of talent!!!
and the same goes for say yes to heaven, say yes to me (and part two) by @theemporium - the whole mob!verse is chef's kiss, but also the entire masterlist!!!!! the amount cece writes and the unlimited ideas she manages to spin into something amazing has me staring at my screen sometimes in pure shock it's mental!! and don't get me started on luke and cherry, the mortifying ordeal of being a 20-year old virgin is the best luke fic on this app I love it with all my heart and I need to catch up!!
and katie @nol-pat is one of my favourite people period on this app so it only makes sense that she is my favourite writer!!!! I think I read must love dogs and it's been a long time coming before I started this blog, and I remember feeling like I hadn't read any other fics that I was completely submersed in so quick before!! katie's dialogue and storylines and the way she implements all the best tropes is my fave thing in the world and I'd like to think we're similar in some ways when it comes to writing but that's delusion, she is a thousand times better than me lmao
I know places by @hischierhoney is one of the best song based fics I've ever read it's so so cute and sweet and such a perfect capture of the essence of that song!! I love it and lee is very lovely!!!! I literally had a nico fic in mind when I first read this question and had to go looking and it's her off limits fic!!!! and the sequel I know!!!!! I'm a bum because it's been my favourite this whole time and I've never told her!!!! but now I can!!!
wishes come true by @sweethischier is hands down the best nico series on this app!!! I also love abby!!! I distinctly remember saving this in my drafts forever ago to read again and again!!! and now I want to read it again!!!! and I will!!!!
that night in michigan by @hockey-fics and part two that week in vancouver for if you want your heart ripping out and putting back together again!!!!
and I'm definitely missing a load more, I feel like some people have deactivated and I will yearn for them forever!!!
#what I'm gathering from doing this#is I need to read more luke#and I need to reblog more fics lmao#fic rec#I also distinctly remember reading a sidney crosby fic that rocked my world before and I can't find it rip
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for the first time - 1.2k words
ex!Patrick Zweig x college!reader
you guys... i wrote something... and it ends abruptly but i felt like i'd rather post this and then post a follow-up later than keep this in the drafts for another 2 months...
inspired by "For The First Time" by Mac Demarco
based off of a request from a long time ago from @rayhalloffame but then i got inspired by the mac demarco song and lost the original plot- my sincerest apologies for that... (so so so sorry that this was so late and also that i lost the plot...)
basically patrick is your ex and you went off to college trying to forget about him, avoided him for a couple years, but this year you've brought back your new (shitty) boyfriend, taken him to your hometown bar, where patrick also happened to be.
tw! for drinking, also abrupt ending, also im not the best writer but i wanted to contribute something...
~~~~~~~~~~~
While she’s been away
Living day-to-day has been tough
Without her by my side
Simply being alive has been rough
And though she won’t be gone forever
There are many times I find it feels that way
And I’m not trying to forget her
Just understand how I’ll be feeling on that day
The bar was surprisingly packed, even for a Saturday night, and the overlapping conversations around him were so loud, it was hard for Patrick to even hear his own thoughts.
It was the weekend before thanksgiving, and it seemed that everyone was back in town for the holiday. Patrick recognized the faces of a lot of his old classmates from high school around him, but not you.
He knew that you’d come back to town the past few years for the holidays, but he somehow never saw you out. He figured that you must’ve been avoiding him. You two hadn’t seen each other since the summer before you went off to college, the summer that you broke up with him.
He could remember it vividly: it was a hot July day, and you had told him to come over. You opened the door, looking like you had been crying for a while, having that closed-off look that Patrick hated.
“I just… can’t go off to college with a boyfriend from back home. Long distance never works.”
Those exact words had been engraved in his mind since that day. Patrick Zweig had never been one for commitment, but something about you was different. Losing you had felt like losing part of himself. But he wanted you to do well in college, so he accepted it. And moved on.
Or, at least, he tried to. But even two and a half years later, things without you still didn’t feel right. Patrick felt pathetic; still stuck on some old childhood friend-turned-high school sweetheart that definitely wanted nothing to do with him. But, he still cared.
So, here he was, standing next to his best friend Art, who had just come back from Stanford, in the middle of a loud, rowdy bar full of college kids. He already knew that you’d be avoiding him again this break, like you’d done for the past two years, but it didn’t sting any less to know that he’d go another year missing you, while you were off at college living your own life.
Without her by my side
Simply being alive has been rough
It was right then that he saw you across the bar, standing in a group of girls that you’d been friends with back in high school, looking even more beautiful than the last time he saw you.
You hadn’t noticed Patrick yet, and he was sure that when you did, you’d shut down and push him away again. You’d avoided him for so long, he was surprised that you two had even ended up in the same place.
Next to you was some guy, standing stiffly and looking completely uninterested in whatever conversation you were having with your friends. It felt like a knife had just been shoved into Patrick’s stomach. He figured that you’d move on eventually, and he’s been with girls that he met on tour since he’d dated you anyways, but seeing you, with this boring, pretentious-looking guy felt unbearable.
That “guy” was your boyfriend, of about 6 months now, that you’d finally brought home to meet your family. He was boring, and uninterested in the things that you liked, but he was stable, and seemed like a good option for you. So, you two had started dating.
Everything with him was just… ok. He had a habit of talking down to you, making you feel dumb, and explaining things to you that you’d already known. He didn’t put much care into the relationship, he had never gotten you flowers or anything, but that’s just what guys are like, right? He treated you just fine, and you guys didn’t fight much, so it must be a good match. But something for you was just missing.
He just… wasn’t Patrick. As much as you resisted admitting it to yourself, deep down you knew that you missed him. Which was basically why you had avoided him at all costs for the past two years, knowing that as soon as you’d start talking again, your progress of “moving on” would be completely wiped away.
But now, the winter break of your junior year in college, you’d started to be less careful about avoiding the popular spots. Maybe it was just you being careless, or maybe you were hoping that you’d see him somewhere, at the bar, or the club, and have the “chance encounter” that’s been replaying in your daydreams since you started dating your current boyfriend.
So, already on your third drink of the night, you couldn’t look away when you locked eyes with Patrick Zweig. God, he looked good. He’s gotten more toned from tour, and you’d forgotten just how tall he was. You could feel your boyfriend standing like a statue beside you, scrolling on his phone while your friend updated the group on all of the hometown gossip. But you couldn’t look away from Patrick. And he knew it.
Before you could fully process it, Patrick Zweig was there, standing in front of you. After two years. You wanted to roll your eyes at the smug look he was trying to keep pressed onto his face, but you could see the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at you. He looked so much… softer with you than he did with anyone else. You’d forgotten about that.
Even your friends smiled when he joined the circle, standing across from you with an almost sheepish smile. Against all odds, they liked him as your boyfriend. At least more than they liked this stuck-up finance bro that you’d brought home this year. As your boyfriend, Patrick had almost become one of the girls, always joining in on a gossip sesh with you all as he held you on his lap, while this current guy acted like he was above that kind of “girly stuff”.
And you just wanted to fall back into his arms. And god, he wanted that too.
But the idle chatter kept going, as you looked at the ground in silence. Your boyfriend didn’t pay any attention to your current state, he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation anyways. But Patrick did, he always did.
“So… how have you been?” he asked, as you looked up hesitantly. And, at his voice, your boyfriend finally looked up from his phone.
“She’s been good,” your boyfriend said, his face contorting into a bitter snarl. “I’m her boyfriend, by the way. Who are you?” he asked Patrick, his voice immediately sounding defensive.
The conversation passed by uncomfortable between them, as you dissociated from the scene before you. Your boyfriend sucked. You missed Patrick. And maybe it was wrong to break up over something like that, but in that moment, you just couldn’t care.
Finishing your third drink, it all passed by in a blur. You pulled your boyfriend away for a second, ending that relationship before you did anything else. It was impulsive, and not your best moment, but honestly it needed to happen.
And you ended up back with your friends, as your boyfriend ubered back to the hotel, talking and laughing with them, feeling at home for a moment.
The rest of the night passed by in a blur, as you fell back into Patrick’s arms as the conversation with your friends continued, him laughing alone, his arms snaked around your waist from behind as you leaned against him, the haze of the bar finally feeling relaxing, instead of too loud or too chaotic.
#patrick zweig#challengers#art donaldson#patrick zweig x reader#challengers fic#challengers x reader#challengers 2024#josh o'connor
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Favours
pt. 1
A/N: I AM BACK! For a while, I guess. I should have been studying statistics but this is just more fun. I am back from the dead however and I am back to writing. New Years resolutions and such. Well, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I decided to do it. I wanted to do a one part but I just can't because... well, things took a turn lmao. Hope you like it!
PAIRING: Sirius Black x reader
REQUEST: hi! this is my first time requesting anything so like hello. hru. anyways i wanted to request a sirius black x reader where the reader and sirius are best friends but the reader has feelings for him and confesses. but then sirius doesn't feel the same way at the time. but then he starts to fall in love with her and he feels kinda stupid i guess lmao, for not accepting the confession
XX
It was not every day classes got cancelled, but today seemed to be a good day after all. You slept in and spent most of your morning in your bed doing absolutely nothing. You haven't even cleaned your room, nor yourself and it was already 2pm but like you thought before, it's not every day classes get cancelled. Not that you had a lot of homework to be done, but still, you just wanted to take some rest.
Hogwarts was your home. More than the place you go to every holidays and summer vacation. The sound of rain and boys imitating airplanes was the one thing that made you believe you really were experiencing a good time. Mostly because hearing boys be boys was making you laugh all the time. It was why you hung out with most of them.
But not today. Today you have been just inside your own comfort zone.
---
"And where the hell have you been?!" a boy has shouted from the other side of the class as you entered into his eyesight.
"Heaven and beyond." you stretched your arms and smiled. "Best day ever."
"I sent you like a million letters and all I get back was a 'nah'?" he glared at you.
"What did you expect? A whole essay?" you sat next to him and said hi to the rest of the group. "Plus I heard you boys from the other side of the dormitory. You haven't missed me at all."
"You think I need you to enjoy my time?"
"No. I think you need me to have the best time of your life, not only enjoy." you grinned at him, hugging your books and knocking his shoulder as you made your way to your seat. You plopped yourself down and smiled at the empty board. It felt like a breath of fresh air to be rested and back at the classroom- even if it was only for one day.
He plopped himself next to you and tried to push you off your chair but you only pushed back. It was an already won war- he was absolutely stronger than you and both of you knew it, he just liked to pretend that you have a shot. With a wink, he pushed you off your chair but caught you by the arm to pull you back up before your bottom left the chair. Laughter filled the competitive void between the two of you and he just leaned to you and whispered. "I missed you... even if it was for a day." his eyes glinted with overjoy and you felt a familiar sensation in your stomach.
Anxiety? Or butterflies...? Never-the-less, it made you happy and uncomfortable at the same time.
"Have you really?" you eyed him, half joking, half serious.
"Between you and me?" he eyed you back, matching your energy and tensing the air between the two of you. "You were on my mind all day."
You stared at him lustfully and he pretty much did the same but that air was quickly cut by the entrence of the professor. The two of you continued to stare at each other and all that came to your mind was the words 'I love you so much, you don't even know.'. But those words could and should not be ever spoken out loud. Never.
It drove you insane though, every moment of it. Every single interaction with him for the past year since he has grown taller and muscular, his bone structure defined and his hair longer. His confidence rose with passing time but you never wanted to admit it to yourself. It was no denying it- for the past year, you had been pinning over this boy like a lost puppy and it showed more, day by day.
Did he know?
Was he playing with you? - No, he wasn't the one to play games with you. Not ever.
But maybe if you grew some balls and confess, maybe he did feel the same way? He surely acted like he did.
---
The next day there was a whole group of you in the common room, far from the fireplace. There were only two lamps bringing light to the table where some were reading, some were writing homework and some were just playing cards to pass the time. The rain was just as common as the mist and the darkness loomed over all the students and their moods for the past day. Though it as almost night and you couldn't help yourself but to stare at him over your crossword puzzle
He was sitting on the sofa by the lamp and it absolutely threw perfect shade of light onto his dark features. His eyes disappeared with the light but his dark eyelashes and his dark eyebrows brought out the sharp tones to his face.
Maybe he likes you too? - you thought for a moment. You drew your foot to his thigh and poked it gently.
He raised his finger as he continued to read the last paragraph of his book and slowly looked at you with a lovely smile. "Yes, sweet soul."
"Do you want to go get some snacks from the kitchen?" you asked, leaning the crossword puzzle over your nose and peering over it.
He tilted his head sweetly and smiled. "I would love too."
"Bring me some dry apple slices." said James without looking up from his homework.
"Dry apple slices? What are you? A deer?" said Sirius, grinning mischiviously at him.
James raised his head slowly, his eyebrows drew together in an annoyed look. "For your information, I have to keep an athletic build for Quidditch."
"I'd like some dark chocolate." said Remus.
"Bring me some coconut cookies." Peter added.
"I would love some refreshing lemonade." added Lily.
"What am I? Your bartender?" you asked and they all smiled.
"There's two of you with two perfectly working hands, so I'd say get creative." James winked. "And don't do something stupid." he added.
You rolled your eyes and Sirius flipped him off, but as you walked in front of Sirius, your smile broadened.
The two of you walked out of the room and into the cooled off hallway. Your cheeks lit up from the previous heat and the sudden cold. His cheeks did exactly the same and it looked wonderfully aesthetic on him- or those were just your rose-colored glasses.
He bumped into you playfully, his arms tucked into his sweatpants. You bumped back, smiling. Your stomach twisted inside of you, churning from anxiety and you couldn't even stop what happened next.
"Hey Sirius." you stopped and he made a few steps forward before turning around for you. His eyes were tired, but they always looked at you so lovingly. As if he just adored you so much. You looked away for a moment, playing with your fingers, but there was something in his eyes that felt so safe. "We're friends, right?"
"Best." he swang his feet forward, grinning. He stopped less than an inch away from you. He put his hands on your shoulders. "Aren't you cold?" he rubbed his hands down your arms.
You chuckled and looked up at him. "Have you ever thought... that we could be more than best friends?" you continued to smile, biting your lip out of habit.
His hands fell back to his side and his smile faded. It was like a shot to the chest for you because you knew that whatever he decided to say next wasn't going to sound great for your ears. He was already further away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"(y/n)..." he dragged your name from his mouth awkwardly.
"Oh..." was all that you said. "I just thought..."
"No..." he continued in the same akward tone as he said your name before. "I don't see you that way."
"Oh..." you looked away, feeling something rise up from your stomach to your throat. "I think I'm going to be sick..." you said outloud to yourself.
"It's not that anything is wrong with you- you're amazing." he came to your aid as you turned around and hugged your arms. "Really amazing- I just never thought- I never- I..." he started to lose words to say. "I didn't know you liked me like that..." he finished, looking at the floor and sighing.
"It's fine." you forced a smile, though your eyes continued to glisten but you hadn't shed a tear... not yet at least. "Let's just get those crackheads their food and forget this ever happened- PAL!" you hit his shoulder- stronger than you anticipated.
You walked in front of him, looking up at the ceiling an preventing your tears to fall from your eyes. Though your eyes were completely soaked in tears, your throat was too dry to say anything.
The rest of the trip, the two of you spent in silence. Coming back, the two of you plopped back to your own seats and picked up where you left off.
The others didn't even notice. James was already melting with the table, his eyes barely opened meanwhile the others just got stuck in a deep conversation.
---
You couldn't handle the embarrassment of it. You couldn't face him, and when you did it was like a breathless hiccup that made you hold your breath for a little too much. Your eyes would just look at each other for a while, but both of you couldn't say a word.
Slowly, the others started to realize the awkward tension and you couldn't really know, if Sirius told them or not. You didn't tell anybody. You kept the embarrassment to yourself and if you did tell somebody, well,.., your friends are his friends and everything comes around so easily.
And it happened so innocently- when you started to distance yourself from the group. You've tried to keep your cool, but it was as if they knew. You couldn't be sure of it, but there was a feeling that loomed. The way they quieted around you- when suddenly the silence became too loud. You've tried to be yourself, but it just didn't matter and slowly but surely, you pulled away and it felt lonely.
You felt furious at yourself. If only you could have kept it to yourself but then you would have been blinded by love all this time- so as badly as it was, it was also liberating to do it. You've also noticed that most of them pulled to his side- even though there was no fight, no drama, just a casual conversation between two friends.
Remus was the most normal. You could have seen it in his eyes, but where there was Remus, there was James and nobody could really talk about what really happened, even though everybody wanted to know.
Sirius could see it in your mood. He could notice the way you held yourself. He noticed the faded smile, but it didn't feel like heartbreak, more like disappointment. He didn't want the friendship to end, he didn't think it would, even after the conversation that was held, he thought the two of you could pretend that nothing happened but it was as if somebody shot a bullet through his head and now he had nothing to say to you. He felt as if anything he would do, would indicate to you that he might like you and he didn't want that. He didn't like you.
So you pulled away and Sirius... he missed you. He saw you less and less, day by day.
He had his friends. He did.. but the conversations he had with them were different than with you. The energy shifted and he felt safe and comfortable with you in a way, he didn't with his friends.
So, his mood changed as well but contrast to you, he hid it well. So when you saw him all chirpy and as if nothing really changed, you felt your mood lower.
You made your way to them with a big force pulling you back. Every step... counted to another step to...
"Hey (y/n)!" somebody called out your name and you turned around to see, who might be.
You turned to your table, but you saw no Gryffindor calling your name. He called your name again and you realised it came from the other table.
To your absolute surprise it was- "Nott?" your eyebrows furrowed.
You didn't dislike Nott, but you neither not disliked him. He was nice to you- as nice as Slytherins can be. He was a handsome boy though. His dark hair was slicked back, long strands of gelled hair falling over his forehead.
"Can I ask a favor from you?" his smile was broad and white. He had almost perfect teeth, but the horrible gossip you heard of him, even those perfect teeth could not make you like him.
"I don't remember doing any favors from you." your eyes furrowed. "I don't even remember if you acknowledged my existence in all seven years." you kept your eyebrows furrowed.
His eyes sparkled when you had said that and he quickly got up. "I know... I apologise for that but-" he looked around, his friends giving the same mischivious grin as he did. "Let us talk somewhere else." he threw his hand over your shoulder casually but you quickly gave him a look that made him remove it.
"Why would I go anywhere with you?" as the two of you walked further from the group. "I don't trust you." you kept your voice serious and low.
His face changed immediately. It wasn't so confident and mischivious. It was worriesome and... nervous?
He was tall but not as lanky. His black jacket and slicked back hair, his eyes dark as the darkest shade of brown can get stopped sparkling. It almost made you let your guard down.
"It's embarrassing to ask you this..." he started and your crossed your arms over and leaned back, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. "My dad... he works with yours."
"I know that."
"I know..."
"And your father is respected in the community."
"Meaning he's a rich pureblood in your language." you snarked back and his eyes looked at you, wide and then they narrowed.
"You know what... forget it." his voice lowered into a stern, sharp tone. "I really thought you were different than those sore losers, you hang out with."
"Are you really calling my friends sore losers when trying to get a favor from me?" you scoffed.
He turned around and slicked back his hair.
He walked very fast to you and stopped a breath away. You could smell his cologne and you could almost feel his heartbeat through the air. "Are they really your friends? Because friends don't treat you the way they do for the past few weeks."
You felt speechless but you also felt frozen by his presence. "I didn't want to ignore your existance. I prayed 7 years ago that the Sorting Hat would bring you to our table but the moment you chose their company, you turned into them."
You felt guilty by that... it did happen like that but you were 11 years old and desperate for a group to belong to. So you did what every kid does- you blended.
"Why did you want me to be sorted to your house?" you whispered and his eyes focused on yours.
"Why do you think?" he whispered lower than you.
"HEY!" there was a shout behind him and in a flash, those brown eyes disappeared from your view.
A hand grabbed his shoulder, turnedh him around and threw a fist his way.
Nott flew the other way and you looked in front who it was- contrast to Nott's dark, there was a pair of light eyes, burning with fire. He looked at you, eyes wide and worried. "Are you okay?"
"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!" you shouted and rushed to Nott's aid. "WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU PUNCH HIM?!" you shouted.
"He was cornering you."
"He was not cornering me!!" you shouted back, lifting Nott's pretty face. No blood, just a slowly appearing swollen lump on his cheek. You turned sharply back at Sirius, James and Remus, even Peter standing behind him. "We were just talking!" you snarled back. "Are you okay?" you turned back to Nott, who was only smiling.
"I'm perfect, Love." he said back as he started to get up. "Quite a throw there, Black."
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" you threw fire his way.
"I was protecting you!" Sirius shouted back but you only felt more furious by the second.
"Fuck you!" you flipped him off and walked away with Nott. "Let's put some cold on that."
---
You sat in the Slytherin common room. Your legs were up on the armchair with you and you faced Nott on the two-seat couch, looking at you with a bag of peace on his cheek.
For a moment, you thought the Slytherins liked the cold but the room was rather cold and the silver-green tones gave a nice silhouette to the area. It was like this invisible veil that oozed you to serenity. Time felt as if it didn't exist.
"Is there a charm in the room?" you asked eventually and Nott smiled.
"No, not really... or if there is nobody really told us about it but it's nice." he answered.
"Not too shabby." you shrugged casually, though you felt quite impressed by it.
He chuckled, leaning forward and looking at the floor.
"I'm sorry about the... you know... my loser friends." you bit your lip and he looked up with his dark eyes.
"So now you admit they're losers?" he raised an eyebrow.
"About what they did without reason, I'm willing to call them that for this exception."
He kept watching you for a long pause at the end of your sentence. "I don't think there was no reason." he said and leaned back on the couch. "There was definitely a reason." he stretched.
"Like what?"
"Like that Black has the hots for you."
You bulged your eyes and laughed. "Hah! No... no he doesn't." you shook your head in disbelief.
"Oh, yeah? So there is just no way that he punched me when he saw me leaning close to you?"
"There is no way, yes." you admitted and he observed carefully.
He could see your face force a smile but there was something shameful behind it. So he shook his head and chuckled lightly.
"That's why then..." he said and broadened his smile.
"What do you mean?"
"You told him you fancied him and he rejected you." he blurted out.
Your eyebrows narrowed and you felt your guard build up immediately. "Excuse me."
"Oh, come on. It's written all over you."
"How would you even conclude all of that from my face?"
"Because I fancied you since the First Year and I thought I never stood a chance to Sirius Black- because from the way I saw it, you and him were like meant to be at some point. But it's been what? Seven years and he rejected you?"
You felt your cheeks burn up. "You fancied me?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely." he said as a matter a fact and you sat there quietly. He gazed at you for a moment. "How about... I do you a favor and you do me a favor?"
"What?"
"I show you that he fancies you and you help me with my father situation." his eyes shimmered in the light, his light red bruise matching his perfect dark brown pallete and let's be honest... how would you not be intrigued.
#sirius black#sirius black imagine#sirius black x reader#james potter#james potter imagine#remus lupin#remus lupin imagine#marauders#marauders era#maruaders imagine#marauders imagine#marauders imagines#marauders x reader
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2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup
Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!
Oh, this has taken me some time. Thank you to everyone who's tagged me in their roundups, it has really warmed this shadowed, linty heart of mine ❤️
1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?
100,802!! I found out juust before the new year that I was missing 6000 words from a 100 000, and as luck would have it, I had a chapter for my secret santa fic that was just that long. Marvelous @neciebee stepped up as beta to help me finish it in time.
2. How many fics did you complete this year?
“Completed” is a bit of a complicated term, because technically it’s four, but I have continuations in the works for a couple.
3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?
On Ao3 it looks like I only have the one in progress that was started this year (WWUitS was started on the tail end of 2023), but I have four more docs that I’ve worked on from time to time.
4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?
Autumn Winds Across the Sea continues to be my favorite in its entirety. An old poet took over my fingers while I wrote that. But there are also parts of Words We Use in the Shadows that I’m really proud of and happy with. For instance the poem-turned-song, and the confrontation and ensuing angst, but also the literary references throughout. Thanks to it its patron saint Marcel Proust ❤️
5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?
It’s probably Autumn Winds! I used aaall the adjectives and synonyms, and cosplayed as a Bronte sister while writing, so the result is quite gothic and picturesque.
6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?
I mean, Words We Use has surprised me so many times. I originally thought it was gonna be around ten chapters, but the story grew legs and ran away from me. It’s currently just out of view, and I’m trying to rein her back in. I was also pleasantly surprised with the recurring readers I got to know, and some of which I now call friends. :)
7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)
I really liked the tiny Prometheus retelling I did for Eris Week, but I think it might have been a little too niche?
8. Who is an artist that inspired you?
There are many, and I can’t possibly remember all. But a few that have made works I have really enjoyed are
@elleybug for her heartbreakingly melancholic depictions, especially of Eris, @palomita-de-la-sangre for her beautifully feral fae, @dawneternal for such wonderful noses, @velidewrites for making them all SO. DANG. SEXY, @thrumugnyr for such excellent incorporations of humor AND headcannons, @queercontrarian for wonderfully detailed character studies, for and the list goes on!
9. Who is an author that inspired you?
SO SO MANY! If I've ever left a kudos or comment on your work, consider yourself included.And I’m getting overwhelmed trying to write something about everyone, so we’re just listing to avoid this staying in the drafts
@chunkypossum @iftheshoef1tz @futurehunt @witch-and-her-witcher @the-darkestminds @jules-writes-stories @ysmtttty @talibunny30 @neciebee @mistandmemories @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @unanswered-stars @withmychainzon @separatist-apologist @beesays @fourteentrout @yanny-77 @ofduskanddreams @nocasdatsgay @pippsmcgee @aurorasleeps-27 @born-to-riot
I APPRECIATE AND ADMIRE ALL OF YOU
10. Who is a new author you discovered?
See above. I think about ⅔ of the authors are new discoveries from this year, as I only got into Azris in the fall of 2023.
11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?
No, but that could be fun :) Hit me up
Though, it is sort of a collaboration to have a beta reader, and I’m very grateful for @talibunny30 , @pippsmcgee and @neciebee for helping me with some of my writing in 2024. Literal/literary ANGELS
12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?
Finishing Your Scars on My Pulse, and developing as a writer. It caused a bit of a writing slump, but I’m getting back in the groove!
13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?
What writing styles that don’t work for me. I tried a couple different ways to draft my stories, mostly in hopes that I would get to the end result faster, but it turns out that my slow and steady way of doing it suits me better. Spewing out words and then revising just makes me frustrated. But it’s a great way for me to draft the overall story!
14. What is your advice?
Don’t be so hard on yourself. Sometimes it’s very easy to write, and sometimes it’s really hard. It might just mean that you’re getting better at your craft, and your writing style is changing as a result, which can cause a bit of a dissonance. Or maybe you’re in a down period. I sure know how difficult it is to write when depressed. Give yourself the grace to get better, and treat your mind and body well. And don’t compare your work or your success to other writers, it only steals joy. Support others the way you would want to be supported.
15. What are your creative goals for 2025?
Finishing Words We Use in the Shadows, and working on more original fiction. I would also like to write something lighter and less serious, but I think I mostly have angst planned, lol
Here’s to a good year!
Lint, laugh, love,
SL
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NSFW
CW: unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), talk of virginity, mention of oral female receiving
A/N: um I feel like randomly I’ve been getting a lot of followers so thank you!! This is the last of the drafts I have that were finished and had any real ideas behind them. I really am trying to be a better writer and I’ve never posted smut before so I won’t be offended if you guys tell me something sucks, also my inbox is always open!!
Art wasn’t a virgin. Actually you were 80% sure Art wasn’t a virgin but it actually never dawned on you to ask. He has such a sweet face and his ears turn pink when you compliment him. You were thinking about all of this while your hands were on his shoulders as you hovered above him. When you sank down on top of him he sucked in a breath and fisted the sheets. The stretched surprised you too you had to suppress a small whine.
“You can touch me you know-�� you whispered
“I right- I know that.” His hands flattened and curved at your waist. You tried to lift your hips and he sucked in a breath his hands stilling you
“Are you ok?”
He nodded “yeah I just- I don’t want to come yet so can you just not move for a second” his ears turned red. You just smiled and nodded maybe, he is a virgin.
He looked down for a moment then back up “ok”
“Ok I can move?”
He nodded
You used your hands on his shoulders to help you bounce softly. He looked up at you dazed but his fingers bruised into your skin. His hands strayed to explore up to your breast his thumb caught your nipple stroking back and forth making your breath hitch. His hands drifting to your ass helping your movements. He decided the best place for his hands were your waist so he could lean forward and suck your nipples. You could feel when he got close because he hid his face in your shoulder and you could feel him throbbing inside you. He grips your waist tighter
“I’m gonna-fuck is it ok if I?” He spoke into the nape of your neck
You just nodded you knew the point he was getting at and heat was stirring in you too
“Mhm” you grab his face “hey let me see”
You saw his eyes peer up at you big and blue you leaned forward to kiss him And that’s what does it he’s whimpering into your mouth and you feel him come inside you warmth filling you.
He rested his head on your shoulder “You didn’t come did you?” You shook your head softly. You couldn’t see him but you knew his face was flushing “m’sorry” he mumble into your skin
“It’s ok” you ran your hands in his hair and made him look at you again, he really was so cute
“I-I can still help you if you want?” And then you thought that maybe he wasn’t a virgin because he ate you out like he got paid. Slick covering all of his face moaning into you, lapping over and over again until it became to much. You fisted his curls and that only made him groan against you his hips bucking into the sheets.
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I accidentally deleted the ask in trying to save it as a draft! So I am terribly sorry to the anon that requested this.
It was for the prompt - “Go to sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up.” from this prompt list (which I am still accepting stuff for)
I might do more with this later but we'll see!
River watched Louisa lead the team of dogs along the canalside and towards the restaurant. It was good to see Emma was still alive; she was a hell of a lot nicer and more competent than Duffy was even though that was a terribly low bar. “Your help has arrived,” Frank turned to follow River’s eyeline. And then he shrugged. “It’s been good to get to know you and all that but if you don’t want extended jail time then I would suggest fucking off,” River smirked. Frank shuffled closer towards River and patted River on the knee under the table. “Oh, your help has arrived but we won’t be here when they burst through that door,” Frank smiled. “We’re in a public space. And I’m not walking out of here,” River frowned. “Oh no you’re not,” Frank’s head tilted in a parody of concern, “see my son here has had a little too much to drink so I’ve called us a cab and he needs a little bit of help getting there.” “You, what?” River stammered, his tongue suddenly feeling weighted in his mouth. The room swum into a blurred mess with Frank at the focal point. He hadn’t even drunk anything. He hadn’t touched anything. He hadn’t, River thought while his eyelids got heavier and heavier. But Frank had. “Go to sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
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worst feeling ever is when i agree with 99% of a post but then there's that 1% that makes me want to set fire to op's blog
#this has been in my drafts for a while so i dont even remember what post prompted this. it was about st i remember that much#yelling
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