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tameodesza · 1 year

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Love’s Maze (BretShawn)

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TW: Brief (very brief) mention of domestic violence

Shawn and Marty attempt to move on from the past, but conflict arises when Shawn is approached by Vince to wrestle in the singles division

Despite the tension between the two, The Rockers put on an excellent performance in the ring later that night, as if their fight never happened. Ignoring the issue was the only way Shawn knew how to cope, and Marty certainly wasn’t going to rehash anything if he didn’t have to.

No one seemed to notice Shawn’s shift in mood that day – except Bret.

Earlier that day at the arena, it was clear to Bret that something was bothering the younger man. Shawn wasn’t his usual cheery self, and when Bret had greeted him backstage, Shawn barely gave a wave.

What was even weirder was that whenever Shawn did seem more willing to talk, he would quickly become a shell of himself whenever Marty came around.

“Hey, is everything alright,” Bret asked after stopping Shawn in the hallway.

Shawn gave a tired smile, “Yeah, I’m good.”

That was hard for Bret to believe. The blond looked noticeably exhausted, his eyes puffy and a little red at the rim. “Where are you headed?”

“I-,” Shawn stopped himself from answering when he looked past Bret, locking eyes with Marty who was walking towards them. “Sorry, I can’t talk right now.”

Before Bret could ask why, Shawn was already walking away from him, meeting Marty who promptly wrapped a possessive arm around Shawn’s waist before guiding the two of them away from Bret.

Bret felt uneasy as he watched the couple walk away, not missing the cold look Marty threw over his shoulder.

Bret wasn’t the only one who’d picked up on Shawn’s odd behavior.

“Go see what’s wrong with your boy,” said Owen as he and Bret looked across the catering hall at Shawn.

Shawn was sitting at a table not too far away from theirs, eating in silence as Marty sat next to him. Shawn stared gloomily at his plate, head resting on the palm of his hand as his other hand stabbed at his broccoli. There was no mistaking that something was bothering him.

Marty then placed a hand over Shawn’s, halting the stabbing which caused Shawn to look Marty’s way, smiling shyly at the gentle touch. Both men seemed to get lost into each other’s eyes, forgetting about the food in front of them.

Bret grimaced as he looked away. “He’s not my boy, and it’s none of our business.”

It wasn’t Shawn’s intention to be a recluse that day, especially with Bret. If anything, Bret was who Shawn wanted to talk to the most, the older man always finding a way to get him out of a funk.

But for some odd reason, his friendship with Bret really seemed to bother Marty. And since he and Marty were making efforts to move on from the previous night, Shawn thought it would be best to limit his interactions with Bret to avoid another blowup.

Bret had been a topic of their arguments one too many times, so it was better to be safe than sorry.

It was months later when shit really hit the fan for the couple.

As soon as they seemed to be on the right track, another nagging issue threatened their relationship. Marty was envious of Shawn’s success.

It was no secret that Vince McMahon had taken a liking to Shawn over Marty. What Shawn didn’t expect was for Vince to pull him into his office to discuss plans of going solo. It was a huge opportunity that Shawn knew he would be a fool to pass up.

But he needed to talk to Marty first.

Shawn expected Marty to be just as excited for him, but the revelation led to yet another fight between the two. Marty had just returned to their hotel room after a night of drinking when Shawn told him the news.

“I thought you would be happy for me!”

“Why would I be happy about you running off to do singles?!”

“Because you were always the main one telling me how good I would be on my own!”

“And guess who was the main one saying he didn’t want to do it alone? You! And now that we’re in the height of our careers, you want me to be happy about you leaving me?!”

Shawn sighed, knowing how difficult it was to talk to Marty in this state. He said calmly, “I’m not leaving you, babe. I’m right here-”

“As much as I didn’t want to believe it, I knew this day would come. I fucking knew it!”

Shawn rubbed a hand tiredly down his face as he groaned, “Honey, you’re not sober right now. We can talk about it tomorrow, ok?”

Marty stumbled closer to Shawn, his words seeming to blend together as he shouted, “No! We’re going to talk about it right fucking now!”

“Marty,” Shawn said thickly, still trying his best to remain calm, holding up his palm to keep Marty at a distance. “I’m going to need for you to back up right now.” Marty’s behavior did not make him feel comfortable being so close to him.

That only seemed to fuel Marty as he shoved Shawn’s hand out of his way, getting into his space as he exclaimed, “Tell me what the fuck you did!”

Shawn furrowed his brows, purely confused at what Marty was alluding to. “What the fuck are you even talking about?!”

“Don’t try to act all innocent, like I don’t know! I’m talking about you sneaking around on me. Not telling me where you’ve been disappearing to for the past week, especially last night!”

It took a moment for Shawn to realize what Marty was referring to. For the past few days, he had been summoned to Vince’s office to talk about the offer. Vince distinctly told him not to tell anyone anything until things were finalized.

And because Shawn sucks at hiding things from Marty and he hates lying to him, he couldn’t give the man a good excuse as to why he couldn’t leave the arena with him and would have to meet him later at the hotel. Or why he couldn’t party with Marty last night at the bar. Shawn could understand why his behavior seemed suspicious from Marty’s point of view.

“Marty, it’s not like that. I-”

“Tell me now, who have you been fucking?!”

Now, Shawn was getting pissed. “Really, Marty?! You really have the nerve to ask me that shit?!”

Fed up with where the conversation was headed, Shawn attempted to walk away, but Marty moved around to block him. “Don’t fucking walk away from me when I’m talking to you! Tell me now, Shawn!”

“I haven’t done anything! I’ve been discussing the offer with Vince all week! That’s it! He didn’t want anyone to know, so I couldn’t tell you.”

Marty tsked, “Yeah, right! You probably made that story up. Or you’re fucking Vince for all I know!”

Shawn almost cracked, thinking how ridiculous and hypocritical Marty was being. Last time he checked, Marty was the one who cheated on him in the first place. If anything, Shawn should be the one with the suspicions. But he knew bringing that up would further escalate the situation, so he held back.

Shawn begged, “Marty, please just go to sleep. I told you we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“So you’re not going to tell me the truth,” asked Marty, ignoring Shawn’s request.

“I’m choosing to remove myself from this conversation,” Shawn said as he turned to head to the bathroom.

“Fine, then I’m going back out to the bar since you don’t want to talk!”

Shawn paused, heading back to Marty saying, “Don’t be stupid! It’s two in the morning. Just go to bed. Marty!”

But Marty ignored Shawn as he headed out the door, slamming it on his way out.

Shawn stood there in silence, staring at the door in concern knowing that a riled-up Marty was not good for anyone. “Fucking toddler,” he whispered to himself in disbelief at Marty’s temper tantrum.

He had no idea how their conversation veered so far off track the original topic – Vince’s offer.

It hurt Shawn to know that Marty wasn’t as excited as he was about what was in store for him. For Marty to react so strongly, Shawn really wondered if accepting the offer would be a bad idea. That on top of the accusations Marty hurled his way was alarming.

But then again, Shawn knew Marty wasn’t thinking clearly. That’s why he insisted on talking about it the next day with a sober mind. But Marty seemed so eager to leave, so Shawn let him.

Exhausted, Shawn turned around and headed back to the bathroom to take a much-needed hot shower. He figured there was no helping the situation. So he may as well settle in for the night and talk to the man later in the morning.

It had been a few hours since Shawn drifted to sleep when he was awakened by the sound of the room door closing. Shortly after, he felt the mattress dipping, immediately knowing it was Marty as the man scooted closer to spoon him from behind.

Shawn sighed in content, easily settling into Marty’s embrace. No matter how intense their arguments got, he always found comfort in Marty’s arms.

“Hey, baby,” Marty whispered, his alcohol-laced breath immediately hitting Shawn’s nose.

“Hmm,” Shawn murmured, already attempting to go back to sleep.

However, his efforts were interrupted as he felt Marty’s hand move, slowly roaming up his back before traveling down to cup an ass cheek. As receptive as Shawn wanted to be at Marty’s advances, the blond was still tired and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

Shawn squirmed his hips forward to create a little space between them, hoping to signal to Marty that he wasn’t in the mood for sex.

Unfortunately, Marty didn’t get the message. His hands continued to travel, gripping Shawn’s waist before shifting the blond’s hips back, Shawn’s ass now against Marty’s crotch.

With his eyes still closed, Shawn muttered lightly, “Stop, I’m trying to sleep.”

Marty seemed to take that as a challenge, saying gruffly, “But I’m not.”

He began kissing on Shawn’s neck, and it was in that moment that Shawn got another strong whiff of the alcohol on Marty’s breath, so strong that he felt almost nauseous.

He also noticed the smell of something…sweet, almost like a light perfume. But Shawn didn’t think much of it at first.

He shot his eyes open in irritation as he whined, “Marty.”

“Kiss me and I’ll stop,” Marty said in amusement.

Shawn would much rather not kiss his boyfriend when he smelled like a liquor store, but he also reveled in the attention that Marty was giving him.

Shawn smiled lazily, turning around to fully face Marty before bringing the man’s head down to give a soft peck. “There. Happy?”

As Shawn looked up at Marty’s dopey expression, that’s when he noticed something out of the ordinary.

“Babe? What’s that?” Shawn asked, noticing a bold red stain on the collar of Marty’s shirt.

Marty was half-listening, his heavy-lidded eyes zoning in on Shawn’s lips now that Shawn was facing him. He placed a hand on Shawn’s cheek, attempting to kiss him again when the blond snapped his head back, separating himself from Marty as he sat up saying, “Marty, answer me!”

Obviously still under the influence, Marty blinked slowly at Shawn, having no idea why the man was upset. He sat up sluggishly as he asked, “What?”

Shawn’s heart rate picked up both out of frustration and anxiety over how Marty got that stain on his shirt. He said slowly with gritted teeth, “What is that on your shirt?”

The question alone seemed to sober Marty up a little, the man quickly snapping his head down to his collar before saying flippantly, “Oh, that’s just red wine.”

And that’s when Shawn’s nightmare began because he knew that Marty was lying.

“Don’t you dare fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

“You are! Do you think I’m fucking stupid?!”

Marty squinted, Shawn’s shouting bringing on a headache. “No, no-”

“Well, obviously you do! I know what a wine stain looks like and that does not look like red wine! It looks like…like lipstick and…”

As Shawn examined Marty closely, he saw what looked like glitter on the man’s neck, and just below his color was what looked to be a bruise, no…a hickey.

Shawn felt his heart drop. No. No. This couldn’t be happening. Shawn wouldn’t allow himself to believe it.

Marty saw the panic forming in Shawn’s eyes. He said as calmly as possible, “You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing, baby.”

“Nothing?! You come back smelling like perfume, with lipstick on your shirt, glitter on you neck, and a fucking hickey and you call that nothing?!”

Marty sat there stunned, not having a thing to say to defend himself. But his silence was just as irritating for Shawn.

The blond shot up out of bed, rounding his way over to Marty’s side, looming over him as he said sternly, “Tell me right now. I’m giving you the chance to be honest with me, Marty. What did you do?”

It was at that moment that Marty knew he was caught. But selfishly, he didn’t want to tell Shawn the truth, knowing there was a possibility that the blond would try to leave again.

Marty looked up at the man, sighing, “Nothing happened, Shawn. Come lay down.”

It was also in that moment that Shawn knew it was over.

A tear escaped one of Shawn’s eyes and rolled down his cheek. “You’re actually going to look me in the eyes and lie to me?”

“I-” Marty cut himself off, realizing there was no getting out of this.

When Marty had stormed off earlier in the night, he’d gone back to the bar as he said he would, ordering more drinks to forget about his fight with Shawn.

He was pissed. Pissed that Shawn would ever consider wrestling without him. Pissed that Shawn was keeping Vince’s offer from him. Pissed that he was meeting with Vince in secret. Pissed at the realization that Shawn didn’t need him as much as he liked to make the blond believe he did.

To make matters worse, Marty had worked himself up to believing that Shawn was messing around on him again. Maybe it was his insecurities or the guilt he still harbored for being unfaithful himself, but his mind always assumed the worst whenever Shawn was around other men. It was an issue Marty always had, but it seemed to be getting worse.

When he went to the bar, he intended to just drink and then return to the hotel. But then he struck up a conversation with a woman who looked like the female version of Shawn. It wasn’t long before he was kissing her out of spite like he’d done the first time he cheated on Shawn.

It was meant to be a kiss. Just a kiss. But the kiss somehow turned into them fucking in the backseat of the woman’s car in the parking lot.

As thrilling as it felt when it happened, guilt came just as quickly as it was over, and all he wanted was to be with Shawn.

He’d planned on taking the secret to the grave, but he should’ve known Shawn was too smart to let something like this slip by.

Shawn let out a choked sob as he shook his head, refusing to believe it. “No,” he whispered as he backed away.

Marty stood up to follow Shawn. “Baby, let me explain-”

Shawn asked straight up, “Did you cheat? Yes or no?” Although Marty’s appearance provided plenty of context clues, Shawn needed to hear it from him directly.

Marty considered continuing his denial, but the broken look from Shawn was enough for him to finally come clean. He let out a sigh, nodding his head in confirmation.

In a flash, Shawn grabbed a pillow off the couch, chucking it in Marty’s direction as he screamed. “Fuck you!” He threw another pillow, then a tv remote as he continued to screamed, “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”

Marty dodged each item, stumbling a bit as he stretched his hands out towards Shawn, walking closer to the man as he yelled, “Shawn, stop! Calm down!”

“You want me to fucking calm down?! After you’ve just told me you cheated?! AGAIN?!”

“Shawn-”

“Why can’t I ever be enough for you,” Shawn asked pitifully with a crack in his voice.

“Baby, you are-”

“How far did you go this time? Huh?! Just a kiss again?”

“It doesn’t matter-”

“You don’t get to tell me what doesn’t fucking matter just because you don’t want to talk about it! Did you fuck the person?” Shawn didn’t know if he was ready for the answer, but he needed to know.

But it was Marty’s lack of an answer that told Shawn all he needed. A new wave of tears pooled his eyes, voice quivering as he said, “Oh my god, you fucked them?!”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Shawn had to do a double take, letting out a humorless breath before saying, “Are you serious?! How the fuck else did you expect me to react?!”

Shawn’s reaction was now causing Marty to become frustrated. He knew he had no reason to be with what he’d just confessed, but he was starting to panic. He needed to fix this, and quick, but that was nearly impossible to do with Shawn going on a tirade.

“Would you just listen to me?!”

“There’s nothing you can say to make this ok, Marty! You fucked someone! You cheated! Don’t you get that?! And the fact that you had the fucking nerve to come back in here, trying to have sex with me after what you just did? You’re a fucking pig! We’re done!”

Although Shawn put a stop to them having sex, he still felt dirty. He felt used. Marty’s actions were a level of disrespect Shawn had never experienced. But it was just the reality check he needed.

He was done crying, done breaking down and hurting over their relationship, done giving his all to a man who wasn’t doing the same for him. There was no turning back now, and nothing Marty could say would change his mind.

Marty’s whole demeanor changed after that. He furrowed his brows, saying aggressively, “What?”

Shawn backed up a little to create more space between them, but he wasn’t backing down. “You fucking disgust me, and I want absolutely nothing to do with you!”

Marty narrowed his eyes, “There you go again, always running away from your problems! I shouldn’t be surprised you’re so quick to throw us away again.”

“Me?! I told you months ago that if you cheated on me again, we were done! Obviously, you didn’t take me seriously.”

“Me, me, me,” Marty said mockingly. “It’s always about you, Shawn! You’re always the fucking victim. But what about me?! You’re the one pushing me to cheat-”

“Excuse me?! So now it’s my fault-”

“Yes! When you’re out sneaking around, keeping secrets, denying me sex, what else do you expect me to do?!”

“Oh, sorry I can’t be at your every beck and call whenever you want to fuck, which seems to be all the fucking time! I’ve had enough!”

Marty stalked closer to Shawn as he said menacingly, “You’ve had enough, huh? You really want to leave me?”

Shawn crossed his arms saying, “Yes.”

Marty scoffed, calling Shawn’s bluff as he shouted, “Fine! Go ahead and run off to Bret!”

The mention of Bret really made Shawn’s skin crawl. It was really irritating how Marty always found a way to bring the man into the conversation. “Bret has nothing to do with this-”

“Don’t lie to me! I know you like him, probably think he’s attractive, probably think about having his dick up your ass instead of mine-”

“Oh, fuck off! I don’t have time for this shit!”

“Just go then! Leave me! I’ll just go find the next bitch to fuck!”

There was only so much disrespect Shawn could put up with, and he’d finally reached his breaking point.

“You know what? Fuck this! You want to know the truth about me and Bret? We’re only friends! But since we’re letting it all out tonight, I do think Bret’s attractive! He’s hot, nice, funny, and he treats me with way more fucking respect than you do! And if he asked to fuck me right now, I’d probably let him!”

You could hear a pin drop.

Before Shawn could see it coming, Marty suddenly shoved him into the wall behind him, tightly gripping the blond’s arm as he angrily hissed, “What the fuck did you just say?!”

“Marty, what the fuck?! Get your hand off of me!”

That only caused Marty to tighten his grip on his arm, and before Shawn could tell him to back off, Marty did something that Shawn never expected. Marty slapped him hard on his right cheek, forcing Shawn’s face to turn in the direction the hand had gone.

And that’s when Shawn knew that this was truly their demise.

He could handle Marty’s random drug-induced tirades. He could handle being accused of cheating. Hell, he’d even handled Marty actually cheating on him.

But the one thing he knew he could never get over was Marty hitting him.

No matter how much they fought, Shawn never thought Marty would ever lay a hand on him. It didn’t matter that they were both men and that he could handle himself. Shawn believed the moment you hit someone you loved, the love no longer existed.

After getting over the initial shock, Shawn forcefully pushed Marty away from him as he shouted, “Get the fuck away from me!”

Shawn tried to shuffle away, but Marty grabbed his arm again, slamming Shawn back onto the wall as he shouted, “No, you’re staying right here! You’d let Bret fuck you, huh?! Is that what you fucking said?!” Marty raised another hand, intending to hit Shawn again.

Shawn looked on in fear, an emotion he thought he’d never feel looking at the man before him. That was all it took for Shawn to snap, his fight or flight activated as he began wailing on Marty, hoping to get the man off of him.

Unfortunately, Marty took that as a sign to continue with his aggression and the situation turned into both men getting in a violent tussle that ended in tears, bruises, and a messy hotel room.

Marty’s last words to him before storming off still rang clear in Shawn’s head:

“You’ve made the biggest mistake of your fucking life! You’ll never find someone like me! Don’t forget I’m the reason why you started wrestling, why you got popular, why you’re even in the WWF! Without me, you’re nothing! Remember that!”

Shawn had no idea where Marty ran off to, and for the first time, he didn’t care. He looked down at the silver promise ring that still sat on his ring finger before sliding it off and throwing it with full force at the wall.

Shawn spent the remainder of his time curled up on the dirty hotel floor, crying and wishing that he could disappear.

#hartbreak #bret hart x shawn michaels #angst #shawn michaels #bret hart #alternate universe #wwf #wwe fanfiction #divider cr: @saradika

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anonanimal · 1 year

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the night house was ok i guess. spoilers if u care. i love rebecca but besides her. the premise was more fun than the execution. she had a near-death experience years ago and it wants her back final-destination-style so her husband starts serial killing doppelgangers of her to placate it in a copy of their house he built on the opposite side of the lake to confuse it. and he's doing this based on info from occult books he got at a bookshop. that's an incredible premise. a lot of the haunting stuff was kind of lame. and i'm not sure makes sense. the ending was kind of lame. she basically gets no time to think about and further explore the "my husband was a serial killer. to help me, sure. but still." the unraveling of the mystery was the best stuff. some scenes of beth interacting with other people were great character moments. the indents on her skin as Not Owen touches her were cool. the movie wasn't brave enough to have her fuck a ghost but whatever. not like everyone's favorite orgasm euphemism "la petite mort" wasn't right there the whole time for this movie to play with. i mean it tried a little when she touches the air where Not Owen might be and she swoons into the boat. there's scenes like these where the movie tries out a love continuing after death thing but has to throw it out because it's not actually her dead husband, and that's another thing she barely gets to think about before the end. think it suffered from a lack of details of the occult shit he got up to, details of why the house was built the way it was. suffers from the interior design of the house being kind of boring. if death is Nothing then how come it does things and talks to her and has like. a will. fun movie with some problems and a kernel of stupidity at its heart. ⭐⭐⭐⭐

wait i just realized what "death" meant when it was telling her villain-monologue-style that it never left her and then jumped to her husband + why she mentions she had a history of depression. r u telling me death trying to get her to kill herself manifested as said history of depression and it started trying to get her husband to kill her instead when she was too strong-willed or whatever. god that's kind of stupid i'm revising my star rating. ⭐⭐⭐ i need to watch something that's stupid on PURPOSE immediately

also owen was the dumbest character ever written how the hell did he think killing himself would get death to back off when he'd already made multuple sacrifices in exchange for her life that didn't work. guess you could argue it's unclear owen knew what exactly was compelling him to kill her and he thought killing himself would be the end of the danger she was in. BUT his note says "you were right, there is nothing." which either means Death gave him the villain speech too oorrrr... actually that's all i can think it means.

see if death's personification here and death wanting beth is a metaphor for her depression and grief...there's no analogue for making literal human sacrifices here. owen literally killed people. death as a character in this movie is like half a metaphor. if the death entity is analogous to her depression then owen keeping it at bay by being her loving husband should be analogous to him doing....something nice??

TLDR:

death: "i need u bad baby plz take me back 🤗"

rebecca hall: "i liked u better when i thought u were my dead husband 😒"

me: "can we talk more about serial murder and mazes for trapping and confusing entities"

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dahliawolfe · 1 year

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Chemistry Lesson

Grey’s AU med school fic.

Freyja dumped her duffel on the blue plastic covered mattress and sighed. The room was bigger than she was expecting, but she had a roommate. But, she’d rarely be in her room anyway, she figured; not between classes and internship. The bed across from hers was already covered in a beige duvet and robin’s egg blue pillows. A copy of Grey’s Anatomy laid on the plush cover. Rolling her eyes, Freyja sifted through the box she brought up with her and drug out the black velvet duvet, ruby sheets, and matching pillow cases. She quickly made her bed and tossed her bat shaped pillow in the center of it before moving to her closet to hang up the few clothes she had. She hung her crisp, blue scrubs up at one end of the closet, placing her med bag in the bottom beneath it. Her black work sneakers sat beside that, and her combat boots and chucks stood on the other side of the closet. The one nice dress and shoes she owned were pushed back in the back of the closet. She was told that she would be expected to attend the Hospital’s Christmas party, and that it would be black tie, so she took most of her last paycheck and purchased a black velvet and lace evening gown that hugged her body and some black peep toe pumps. She looked damn good in it, if she did say so herself.

“Oh, hi, you must be my roommate,” came a voice from the doorway. A young, blonde girl with blue-green eyes stood offering a shy, crooked smile.

“Oh, yeah. I guess. I’m Freyja,” the girl replied, sticking out her hand for a shake.

“Meredith.”

There was a bit of an awkward silence before Meredith spoke again. “I was heading down to the dining hall. Want to join me?”

“Sure. Let me grab my ID.” Freyja was at medical school on a scholarship, and it covered a meal plan, so for once, she wouldn’t need to worry about affording food.

…

The two roommates made small talk as they made their way to the dining hall across campus. The weather was still hot and sticky, so by the time they made it back into the air conditioning, Freyja could feel the sweat running down under the waistband of her denim cutoffs. They each grabbed a tray, and began to fill it. Meredith looked like she was having a hard time choosing between a salad and a slice of mushroom pizza, so Freyja nudged her arm. “That salad is never gonna taste as good as that pizza. Just get the slice.” Meredith laughed and nodded, grabbing the slice of pizza and stepping forward.

They snagged a table near the back of the room, and sat down, diving into the food. Freyja nearly jumped out of her skin when a tray was slammed down beside her and someone plopped down onto the seat. She looked over in astonishment as the girl beside her began to tear into a sub sandwich.

“Christina,” the girl grunted around the food.

“Oh, umm…I’m Freyja, this is Meredith.” Cristina nodded and went back to eating, only stopping long enough to pull a thick textbook out of her bag and toss it on the table.

“This spot open?” came a deep voice from Freyja’s other side. She looked up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

“Uhh, sure,” she replied, lifting her wallet and keys from the stool and placing them on the table.

“Thanks. I’m Mark. Mark Sloan. And you are?”

“Freyja Poe.” Mark gave her a dazzling smile.

“Nice to meet you, Freyja. Who are your friends?” Freyja has never been the person to volunteer to interact with others, so she was extremely uncomfortable.

“This is Meredith, my roommate. And this is Cristina.” Christina paid the man no mind as she began to highlight vigorously in her text book. Mark nodded before looking up and yelling out.

“Yo, Owen, over here!” A tall red head in fatigues gave a wave before making his way to the table. “Ladies, this is Owen, my roommate.”

Introductions were made again, and everyone finally settled in to eat. Freyja looked up from her pudding cup to find a guy staring straight at Meredith. “You know him, Mer?” she questioned, cocking a brow at the guy.

Meredith turned to look, before turning back around and shaking her head. “No.”

“Well, he’s been giving you googly eyes the whole time we’ve been here,” Mark chuckled. Meredith blushed. Seeing that his ruse was up, the guy stood and approached the table.

“You guys interning at Grace?” he asked, plopping down beside Meredith.

“Yup. I’m Mark. And this is Freyja,” he motioned to her. “Cristina, Owen,” he grinned, pointing at Meredith. “And that’s Meredith.”

“Alex Karev.” There was a beat of awkward silence before he spoke again. “Listen, you should call me sometime, I think we could really hit it off,” he stated, passing a piece of paper to Meredith before standing and strolling away. Meredith sat, speechless, staring at the paper. Freyja snorted.

…

“Well, this is where we leave you ladies,” Mark proclaimed as they reached the Watson Hall dorm.

“Uhh, where are you guys staying?” Owen asked Cristina, who had yet to give him the time of day.

“Meredith and I are in Geiger,” Freyja added lamely. Cristina’s eyes lit up.

“Me too!”

“Oh, nice. Your roomie here yet?” Owen asked. Cristina scowled.

“I don’t have one. Something about me being hard to live with.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” the red head added.

“What room are you in, Freyja?” Cristina asked, smiling widely at Freyja.

“Oh, we’re in 13B.”

“I’m in 18! Sweet, I’m seeing parties in our future!”

…

Freyja and Meredith made it to their door, only to see that their neighbors had arrived. A tall brunette with wild curls and a pretty smile stood on one side of the room unloading a fuchsia body pillow, while another brunette lounged on a turquoise gaming chair.

“Oh, hey, guys! I’m Callie, and this is Anna!” the taller of the two stated, waving cheerfully.

“Hi, I’m Freyja”

“I’m Meredith.” Anna studied the two closely before nodding.

“Nice to meet you both. You guys from around here?”

“Uhh, I’m LA,” Freyja replied, studying the room. It was cozy and slightly Boho, and she could tell that Callie and Anna’s tastes meshed well together.

“Yeah. I’m from Seattle,” Meredith added.

“I’m from Florida, and Anna here is from New York.”

“You guys at Grace?” Anna asked, kicking her feet up on her bed.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yup. Have you taken a look at the intern schedule yet? My hours are brutal.”

“Yeah. I’ve got my first rotation in the ER Monday. It’s a 6 to 6,” Freyja stated.

“Oh, nice! I’m ER this week too. We can carpool if you want,” Anna offered, giving a bright smile.

“That’d be great, actually.”

…

Later that night, Freyja sat up watching the rain slide down the windows at the end of her hall. She was restless. In just 2 days, she would be well on her way to making her dreams a reality.

…

Monday morning came quicker than Freyja expected. At exactly 5:18, she slid into the leather seats of Anna’s Range Rover.

“Freyja, wait! Can I catch a ride with you?!” came a shout. Mark jogged closer to the car. “Owen borrowed my car for his weekend drills and didn’t get back in time!”

“Ummm…I’m not driving though.” Freyja turned to look at Anna, who rolled her eyes, sighed, and nodded. "Sure, come on.” Mark grinned and flopped into the backseat. Freyja studied him. He was tall, tan, and muscular, and his golden rod hair was shot through with bits of caramel and chocolate. His scrubs hugged his every muscle. He smirked at her.

“See something you like, Poe?”

“No. Just wondering why they sent you child sized scrubs, that’s all.” Anna choked on her coffee, spewing it out with her laugh.

…

“Listen to me. And listen to me well,” Miranda Bailey intoned. “I will not hold your hands. If you screw up, then it is on you. I will kick your ass out of this program so fast that your head will spin. Seattle Grace has the best of the best. And we do not settle for less. You will learn to listen when I speak. And you will learn what is important to remember. Which is everything, because I don’t waste my breath on nonsense. Am I clear?” All of the interns nodded mutely. “Good. Now, I don’t like losing, so you better not make me look bad.”

Freyja couldn’t help but feel the shot of excitement that ran from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

…

“Karev, if you can’t run a line, move out of the way. Poe, you’re in.” Bailey spoke in the last few minutes leading up to the end of shift on Friday night. Freyja stepped up, gave Alex a small smile of sympathy and placed the line, having no trouble, whatsoever. Bailey gave her a much coveted smile. “Nice work, Wednesday.” Bailey loved poking fun at Freyja’s dark aesthetic, and Freyja just felt fortunate to be noticed. “That’s it for today. The pit is empty. I expect to see you all back her Monday morning, bright and early. And remember next week is a 7 day, none of this pansy 5 day stuff.” With that, the woman walked away and everyone let out a sigh of relief, rushing to the locker room quickly before a tragedy came in.

…

The whiskey burned going down, but Freyja sighed nonetheless. She knew it would offer her the chance to take her brain offline for a bit, and fuck did she need that. She looked around her. Cristina was posted next to her on the stool, steadfastly ignoring Owen’s obvious advances. Anna and Callie were leaning against the pool table hustling a couple of townies who had no chance in hell of leaving with either of them. Alex had his tongue shoved just about as far down Meredith’s throat as Freyja thought possible. And Mark stood at the jukebox placing quarters in the slot.

“Hey, Frey, I’m gonna head out with Alex,” Meredith spoke, finally coming up for air. Freyja nodded, saluting them with her next shot before tossing it back.

“Come on, you,” Mark demanded, pulling Freyja off of her stool and close to his chest, as he swayed to the music. Freyja whined at being pulled away from the bar. “Oh, no. We survived our first week in the trenches together. You’re gonna dance with me, soldier.” His hand wove around her hips and shoulder and he swayed her against his body.

“Bon Jovi, really, Mark?” Freyja teased as Mark sang softly to “You Give Love a Bad Name”.

“Shut up. You love it.”

…

Mark had been twirling Freyja around for the better part of two hours. When she finally got free and stumbled back to the bar, she was laughing, and his hands stayed glued to her hips. They sat side by side as Freyja ordered them some shots. She looked over at Mark, who offered her a smile and leaned in.

“You know, we could take this somewhere else.” Freyja sighed, just having his breath ghost her ear was enough to get her wet, but she knew better.

“Mark, we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“We work together.”

“Oh, we could work together,” he raised his brows at her suggestively. Freyja laughed and slapped his arm.

“Seriously. Neither of us needs ties right now.”

“Then no strings.”

“Mark…”

“You only live once.”

“Look, we have chemistry. I know you feel it. So, we have some hot sex to blow off some steam. No one has to know. Just you and me. I mean, I can give you references, if you’re questioning my abilities.” Freyja snorted, looking at him evenly.

“We shouldn’t.”

And well, who was she to argue?

#greys #greys anatomy #mcsteamy #marksloan #meredithgrey #callietorres #ofc #alex karev #christina yang #owenhunt

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padme789 · 1 year

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This story is rated E Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - not finished Steamy Fluff: 1 - 8 Good stuff: 5 - 7 - 13

Chapter 14 Excerpt: Standing at the back, Robin Buckley stood next to Eleven. Her mother suggested they be secretive but not hidden. So here they were, standing. Robin leaned against the wall close to a table of concessions. No one in the building was touching, thankfully, considering the ERAOI provided them.

"Are you and Nancy dating?"

"Hm?" Robin's focus on their surroundings, the little observation training her mother put her through as a child kicking in. "Are me and Nance dating?"

Eleven nodded. This sort of question and interaction might have thrown Robin, maybe even upset her, even though she did not hide who she was. This was Hawkins, Indiana, not New York City. But that changed the day she was stuck at her house during last year's spring break with nothing to do. Eleven was in her home waiting for her mother to return from a sudden call into Hawkin's Middle School. This caused a rather odd conversation between the two involving how Vicki treated her during the past summer. And if Mike might be doing the same to Eleven but not on purpose like Vicki.

Chapter 15 Excerpt: “Talked,” huffed Steve. He undoubtedly remembered Mrs. Buckley walking down the hospital hall, hands dripping with blood, holding a hazard bag as Nancy would never forget. Robin, Nancy, and even Eddie attempted to keep Steve quiet for his sake.

Robin’s mother stared at her daughter’s best friend and continued. “An agreement I made with Owens long before any of this. I would never burn the identity and keep it active to loom in the background, to haunt Brenner and any of those employed at the lab still loyal to him and not ‘the project’ itself.”

She paused, letting the information pass over.

PART I: “The goal … should not be to destroy Vecna … but to stop the evil plans carried out by his mortal servants.” – Vecna Reborn

It’s the winter break of 1988. Now a junior in college, Nancy has not returned to Hawkins since the spring break of 1987. Nancy and Robin decide to revisit an old agreement of an open relationship of friends with benefits.

-or-

What if Nancy and Robin were canon in season 5 and They also play Tabletop.

#ronance #nancy x robin #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #robin and nancy #bisexual nancy wheeler #eddie is alive #steve and robin #eddie is nancy's best friend #mostly in nancy's pov #ronance endgame #ronance fanfiction

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byneddiedingo · 2 years

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The Petrified Forest (Archie Mayo, 1936)

Cast: Leslie Howard, Bette Davis, Humphrey Bogart, Genevieve Tobin, Dick Foran, Porter Hall, Charley Grapewin, Joe Sawyer, Paul Harvey. Eddie Acuff, Adrian Morris, Nina Campana, Slim Thompson, John Alexander. Screenplay: Charles Kenyon, Delmer Daves, based on a play by Robert E. Sherwood. Cinematography: Sol Polito. Art direction: John Hughes. Film editing: Owen Marks. Music: Bernhard Kaun.

Robert E. Sherwood was once America's pre-eminent playwright, winning three Pulitzer Prizes for drama (plus one for a biography of FDR's relationship with Harry Hopkins). But his plays are rarely revived today, and The Petrified Forest shows why: It's talky and its characters are more vehicles for ideas than human beings. The protagonist, Alan Squier, wears the label Effete Intellectual like a badge of honor. The leading lady, Gabrielle Maple, is the Wide-Eyed Naïf. The villain, Duke Mantee, is all Animalistic Evil. The actors who play them in the film -- Leslie Howard, Bette Davis, and Humphrey Bogart, respectively -- do what they can to bring them to life, but they still have to speak Sherwood's lines, or the equivalents provided by screenwriters Charles Kenyon and Delmer Daves. Sometimes the dialogue consists of things no human being ever found the way to utter: "The trouble with me, Gabrielle, is I, I belong to a vanishing race. I'm one of the intellectuals.... Brains without purpose. Noise without sound, shape without substance." Howard makes what he can of this self-pitying poseur, but who sheds a tear when he gets his comeuppance? Bogart, who was in the original Broadway production along with Howard, fares a little better: All Duke Mantee has to do is snarl and growl his lines. It's not prime Bogart, who learned to give a little more depth to his bad guys, but it gave his career a boost after Howard insisted that Bogart be cast in the role instead of the then better-known Edward G. Robinson. Davis comes off best, especially when you remember that her previous teaming with Howard was in John Cromwell's 1936 Of Human Bondage as the slutty Mildred, a character 180 degrees away from the dewy-eyed hopeful Gabrielle. The rest of the cast is entertaining, though Charley Grapewin's gramps, a garrulous old foof who can't help telling tale tales about his encounter with Billy the Kid, gets a little grating after a while. The cast also includes two African-Americans, Slim Thompson as the wealthy couple's chauffeur and John Alexander as a member of Mantee's gang. They are not stereotyped, and they have a brief moment of interaction in which the gangster lords it over the chauffeur, one of the few moments in which the reality of black life in America surfaces convincingly in a mainstream mostly white movie of the era.

#The Petrified Forest #Archie Mayo #Leslie Howard #Bette Davis #Humphrey Bogart

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ofyorkshire · 2 months

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is he still afraid, in his day-to-day life, in his modern verse with TK?

He has bad days where he's afraid, yeah, but that's to be expected, I think. Mental health has ups and downs, especially when it comes to PTSD/C-PTSD. Some things get better, other things have a way of sticking and you learn to deal with it in ways that hurt you less. Sleep and remembering to eat in particular can still be hard, sometimes he still sinks into himself and has trouble getting out, but he's managing, and much better than he ever has.

As a whole, though, BJ feels less afraid. He's in a different country with different people and no places to carry old bad memories. He has his own apartment, he's sober, he has a really cool roommate who makes him feel included and welcomed among his friends, and everything he has in Austin is more than he thought he could have in Yorkshire. The fact he's even made it to his late twenties is incredible to him, so despite his resting face looks kind of sad, I promise BJ is more often happy than not.

It helps, too, that TK is TK. He makes him feel safer simply by being around, both as a paramedic who could and would save his life if something happened, and just as a good person who makes for a good friend. TK's genuine encouragement to bring BJ into the 126's family makes BJ feel safe too. He's still feeling out how to be part of them (maybe I should develop those relationships more LOL) but even as he's fumbling his way into understanding how to interact, the warmth of them is felt. If BJ needed a place to duck into, the fire hall is where he'd go if he could. Heck, even though he doesn't think too highly of Owen, he'd trust him enough to let him squat temporarily at the station or at his place if he, for some reason, needed it.

They're all good people and BJ feels happier and more secure knowing them. Crazy to think a chance encounter at a club could lead him to that—TK Strand really is the glue.

#parameddic #out of fairy tales [ooc];

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digipubu6 · 3 months

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29-31 Jan | B2: The Ceiling of the Hintze Hall

NER - B2: Final Major Project

Architect Alfred Waterhouse collaborated closely with Richard Owen, the Museum's inaugural superintendent, to craft a structure whose architecture mirrored the remarkable diversity of specimens within the collection. The ceiling itself was embellished with a vibrant portrayal of life, carefully selected to represent flora from various corners of the globe.

Task: Using the images provided in the package you can download here, you will need to create 3 different forms of slide shows, using Adobe XD. Each slide show must display all of the images. The styles of slide shows are listed below:

Scrolling vertical.

Scrolling horizontally.

Interactive Slide show.

Create a document, 2732x2048px in Adobe XD. You will need to document the stages of design and technical developments with screen grabs and annotation. You will need to document the design and development of each slide show with your "B2 Final Major Project: Journeys - your full name.” under the main heading “Hintze Hall Ceiling - Adobe XD ”

Useful tutorials

Slider / Carousel with navigation using Component States

youtube

Parallax Animation in Adobe XD

youtube

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elegancemultimuse · 1 year

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@spiritusmuses asked: 🎄- owen/aubree

Owen always enjoyed the holidays, because in his family it was a time where they got to spend a lot of time together. Which was a tradition he planned to keep with his now growing family of his own. Which was why he was now hauling a tree through the house to find the perfect place for it to sit before him and Aubree decorated it. The man sat the tree down and took a couple of steps away from it before he turned to his wife. “What about here?” Owen asked as he wanted her to be happy with it as well. It would be much easier to move now before the bulbs and things were on it.

#spiritusmuses #Owen Hall: spiritusmuses #Owen Hall: Aubree #Owen Hall #Owen Hall: interactions

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extremelyblackandwhite · 2 years

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How would steve react seeing a man trying to force himself onto the reader?? I just wanna see pure unfiltered rage from Steve and then sweet possessiveness towards the reader😫😫

pairing: steve kemp x dark!reader

warnings: 18+ topics (under 18 year olds do NOT interact/reader), mentions of rape

part of toxic

Steve enjoyed bringing her along with him to his galas so it was only fair that he accompanied her when it came to her work events. She didn’t have any large galas, after all she was merely a junior principal investigator in a small wing of the Neurobiology department of a university; however, they did sometimes put in visitor evenings or a few parties. This one was a Christmas gathering in the university cafeteria and they were mostly here for appearances. Y/N wasn’t a big fan of the Christmas bashes the department put on and while usually she’d just skip, she was currently waiting on the reply from a sponsorship with a particularly high funding round. As such she had to parade around, pretending she was happy to be around when in truth, she’d mostly stuck by her husband’s side, her head leaning against his bicep while holding a half empty glass of champagne.

- Dr Kemp! - a man, possibly around Steve’s age, made their way towards them. Her hand squeezed his bicep as she forced a smile. - I didn’t expect you to be here.

- It is the department’s party. - she replied politely, holding herself closer to her husband.

- I don’t think we have met. - he turned towards Steve. - I’m Dr. Owen Joseph, I teach Introduction to Psychology and work in the neurobiology research department with some undergraduate students.

- Dr. Steve Kemp. - he avoided shaking his hand, a weird feeling settling in his stomach as he once again felt Y/N squeeze his bicep.

- I didn’t know you were married, Dr. Kemp.

- Newlyweds. - Steve replied, his arm wrapping around his wife’s waist. He had a bad feeling, something he couldn’t shake off but he clearly knew she wasn’t comfortable.

- I actually meant to speak to you yesterday, Dr. Kemp. I was looking through your funding proposal and I found some thing you may want to change before submission.

- But submission is tomorrow morning.

- I could always look through the proposal with you in your office now and then you could resubmit it.

She looked up to Steve who wasn’t very happy about the prospect of it but neither was she. Nevertheless, if she got the funding she needed, she could perhaps start paying some of the student volunteer interns and even get better material for their research. She sighed, nodding her head before mumbling to Steve she’d be back in a short while. She led the way, her hands crossed over her abdomen as a bad feeling settled in her stomach. She shrugged it off as merely discomfort; she had never been comfortable around Dr. Joseph. He was older and considered himself the reason as to why she had been promoted to principal investigator as he had been her principal investigator years ago. She didn’t believe he was the reason but he sure enjoyed to consider himself that and ever since she had tried to avoid him. They continued down the hall to her office, her hand pushing the door open as she stepped in to her computer laying in her desk. The only sounds she could hear were the clicking of her heels and his breathe behind her; it was eerie.

- I didn’t know you were attracted to older men, Dr. Kemp.

- My husband’s the exception. - she directed her attention to her laptop, typing in her username and password.

The man chuckled to himself, walking behind her and sliding his arms around her waist like a snake. A sickening feeling creeped up her whole body as she felt sure her breathe became stuck in her throat and nose. She took a shaky deep breathe, her mind racing as to how she could approach this delicately, in a way which wouldn’t make her lose the job she’d worked hard for.

- If I knew, I would’ve made my move sooner. - he whispered against her ear, her whole body shivering out of fear and disgust.

- Dr. Joseph, I am married and happily so. Besides, it is incredibly unprofessional of you to be approaching me in this manner.

She wasn’t sure what she had said that angered him but almost like a flash she was thrown against her desk; her back flush against the mahogany wood of the desk she’d strove so hard to get. His hand was pressed against her mouth, restricting any sound she attempted to make while hot tears stained down her eyes. She refused to look at him, instead looking at the ceiling while she continued to kick her legs trying to keep him away from her but his hand was on her thigh and the grip was overwhelming. She attempted to look at the ceiling, thinking and praying it would be over, too cynical to believe she’d be able to get away from him. Fact was she was still much smaller than this man.

- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? - the man was removed away from her as she rushed to the back of her office, holding onto the wall. Steve grabbed onto the man’s jumper and pushed him against the wall. - I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!

He wasn’t joking and both her and him knew what he was capable of. She calmed herself down, at least to an acceptable level where she could move and somehow she managed to walk towards her husband. Her hand rested upon his shoulder and while he was blinded by rage and much to busy at pushing the man against the wall repeatedly, the moment he felt her touch on his shoulder, he let go of him, instead focusing on her.

- It’s not worth it. - she mumbled, her other hand moving to hold his.

She led the way out of her office, blinded by a need to get away and only stopping once she was inside their car. Steve attempted to talk to her but all he got was silence as her eyes were glassy and staring at the night dark landscape. The drive was silent, the sound of the rain drops on the car glass only furthering angering him as well as making him feel guilty he couldn’t get her to speak to him. The silence only continued as they reached home, her heels discarded by the door as she continued to walk, merely stopping at her bedroom. Steve leaned against the door frame watching her stare at a blank space in their bedroom room before she broke down crying. The minute a tear rolled down her cheek, he was sat next to her, his arms wrapped around her.

- You’re safe. - he kissed the top of her head. - I’m here, you’re safe.

- I’m gonna lose my job. - she whimpered against his jumper. - I’m gonna lose my job and all because ... I should’ve not gone.

- What are you talking about? It’s not your fault.

- No one’s gonna believe me. - she further hugged him, hoping it would somehow make all this go away. - No one is gonna believe me.

- We’re gonna go and report this.

- No one’s gonna believe it.

- There’s cameras everywhere in that stupid place. We’ll get the footage and report it and it’ll be ok.

- Everyone will think I asked for it, Steve. Everyone. I’m not gonna be taken seriously ever again.

He sighed, holding her close. He wished he could say that wasn’t going to happen but he was much too experienced with the world to say that. He knew what was gonna happen.

- I’m here for you, my love. I’m always gonna be here, my love.

#steve kemp

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commander-vas-normandy · 2 years

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What are you waiting for? || Owen Sleater x Reader

18+ for Sexual Content. Minors Do NOT Interact

Pairing: Owen Sleater x female reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: Language, drinking, unprotected sex, gendered pet names (good girl, ma'am, etc), minor degradation (use of 'slut')

A/N: This is just pure smut at the request of @kayxvii. This request kiiinda got away from me. My first time writing smut and writing for Owen so take it easy on me and enjoy~

Tagging: @catholicdaredevil @someplace-darker @murrdxcks @carters-things

Music filtered through the hall, just barely overpowering the cacophony of drunken voices of people having a good time. The air was thick with sweat, smoke, and the overwhelming scent of too many expensive perfumes. It might have been too much were it not for the amount of whiskey in your own system dulling your senses enough to make the bustling party enjoyable. What really had you buzzing, however, were the fleeting but electric touches of one Mr. Owen Sleater.

It had started as looks across the table from one another as you ignored the conversation around you. Under the table, the toe of your shoe just lightly grazed his calf and you could see the barely contained smirk that tugged at his lips. Those soft, plump lips you found yourself staring at on more than one occasion as the night progressed.

When you got up to find yourself another drink it didn’t take long for Owen to follow you up to the bar. He settled in beside you, a hand on your lower back to alert you to his presence. Even as he looked at you with a charming grin, his hand stayed put.

“You certainly know how to hold your whiskey,” he let out a breathy chuckle. He motioned to the bartender for two more drinks while his other hand shifted to skim your hip. The touch was light enough to send a shiver up your spine.

“I live in Atlantic City. It means I have practice.” You lifted your chin slightly, trying to avoid letting him in on how much he was affecting you already. Though by the way he leaned into you, nearly caging you against the bar, it was safe to assume he was already well aware.

“That the only thing you have practice with?” He asked, voice low enough that only you heard it amongst the buzz around you. You side-eyed him as you lifted your refreshed drink to your lips, taking in the boyish grin that hid something a little more devilish.

“That’s mighty bold of you, Mr. Sleater.”

Owen leaned in closer, no longer disguising the game between the two of you from prying eyes. His breath fanned down your neck, the scent of whiskey and his cologne drowning out everything else. You lazily took another sip from your glass before sitting it down and turning toward him, your chest pressed to his. You looked up at him expectantly, watching the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“So is toying with me under the table in front of all these people. At least I’m much more subtle.” A slight shift of his hips and you could feel the press of his erection against your side. You swallowed down a smirk of your own, tilting your face down to look up at him through your lashes.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You trailed a finger down his chest further and further down until you snagged a finger in the belt loop of his pants. Owen reached a hand up, using a single finger under your chin to guide your gaze back to him. You leaned in just enough that he could taste the liquor on your breath before pulling away completely to turn back to your drink.

Owen choked down a groan of frustration, rubbing a hand across his lower face as he looked back out to the crowded room surrounding the two of you. Not a soul had been watching the little dance the two of you were engaged in, but he knew he had to get you alone if he really wanted anything from you. Nucky was otherwise preoccupied at home for the evening, so Owen had a rare free night to take his time with you. Though that was the last thing he wanted. Right now he would have even dared taking you against the bar if he could, but that wasn’t quite his style. Especially not with you. Owen wanted you all to himself.

“Is that so?” He turned back to the bar to finally reach for his untouched drink, throwing it back in one swift motion while his other hand found the small of your back again. He barely flinched at the burn, more than used to it by now.

“I’m simply out here trying to enjoy a few drinks with friends.” You smiled coyly, shaking your drink at him just enough for the ice to clink against the glass.

“You’re bein’ a right tease is what you’re doin’.” He ducked himself back into your line of sight, raising a challenging brow at you. You giggled, watching him tap almost impatiently against the wood of the bar.

“Oh yeah? And what exactly are you going to do about that, Mr. Sleater?” You taunted, knowing full well what you might invoke from him.

The way Owen stood straighter, shoulders back in an imposing stance made your heart race. He towered over you, once again fitting himself into your personal bubble though you certainly didn’t mind. The hand that had previously rested on your lower back now held you with intent as he guided you closer to him as if that were even possible with the breath of space between you. His body heat and the electricity of his commanding touch had you sweating, your breaths coming out a little more shallow. When he leaned in to whisper in your ear, lips grazing your earlobe, you thought you might melt at the hard edge of his usually soft lilt.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop.” His words sent a visible shudder through your body, a small gasp escaped your lips. The bluntness of his words thrilled you. The thought of his hand, currently so warm and firm on your lower back, traveling over your chest and between your thighs made you bite back a moan. There was no hiding his smirk as he watched you shift in an attempt to hide the uncomfortable wetness settling in your core.

“Then what are you waiting for?” You leaned in enough to purr against his lips. One of your hands subtly reached to palm him through his slacks and he let out a growl before grabbing your wrist with a stern grip. He gave you a look before his grip became more gentle and he lifted your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“Just you,” he said with a lopsided grin, lips brushing your skin.

Owen wasted no time at all getting you back to his flat. It was everything in you both just to get the door open and no sooner than it shut behind you, he had you pinned against it. His lips were as soft as you imagined, even through the rough eagerness of the kiss itself. His tongue darted in your mouth and he groaned at the taste of you. The taste of liquor that still clung to your tongue was far sweeter than it ever had been from the bottle and he was sure he would never get enough. He cupped your jaw as he deepened the kiss as best he could, trying to get as much of you as he could.

You moaned into his mouth, making quick work of his vest. He handled his collar and tie himself as you hurried to unbutton his shirt. The moment his bare chest was exposed to you, your nails raked lightly across his skin before coming back up to rest on his shoulders while he rucked up your skirt. He trailed his fingers along the inside of your thigh and stopped, chuckling as he pulled away just enough to get a good look at your face.

“Not a single thing under your skirts tonight, hm?” He moved his hand a little higher, teasing a finger through your wet folds and pulling a needy whimper from your lips. “Almost like you were plannin’ for the night to go this way, love.”

“Almost like it,” you taunted back, desperately grinding against his hand for any friction you could get from him. Owen grinned and dipped back in to kiss you with the same hunger. His hand between your thighs gathered up your wetness before circling your clit in lazy circles, drawing out a whiny moan from you. Your head tipped back and he trailed sloppy kisses across your jaw and down your neck. He sucked and nipped at the skin in a way that you knew meant you would be covering your neck with more makeup than your face for the next week or so.

Owen finally slipped two fingers in your soaked cunt and you moaned his name as he crooked his fingers just so. He dragged his fingers over a spot that had you seeing stars. He built you up just enough you have whining loud enough for the neighbors to hear before pulling away; this time making you whine from the lack of sensation. When you looked at him in desperate confusion he just dove back in to kiss you while his hands reached for the backs of your thighs to lift you up. Your legs wrapped around him, hips bucking against his as the rough material of his slacks teased your exposed clit.

You barely paid attention as he carried you toward his room, stopping a couple of times just to pin you back against the wall and grind his hips against yours for some relief of his own. Deft fingers undid the buttons at the side of your dress and let the material fall loose behind you. His kisses traveled lower as he nipped at the skin of your chest before taking a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it just enough to tease. You arched into his with a quiet gasp, fingers finding his hair once more.

Eventually the two of you made it to his room and he tossed you on the bed. Before he could do anything else you reached out to undo his belt and pants before pulling them down with his briefs. His cock sprung free of their restraints and Owen groaned at the relief. You bit your lip, taking in the sight of him before looking up to meet his gaze. He reached out to cup your cheek before you pulled him to sit on the bed. You slid to your knees before him, looking up at him through your lashes. You leaned in to place light kisses across his thighs, teasing him just the slightest before licking a stripe up the length of him. His fingers knotted in your hair, not yet guiding you. You took him in your hand, your thumb tracing over the tip to spread the precum forming there. His eyes fluttered shut, quiet groans escaping him. That wasn’t enough for you though. You wanted to hear him.

You gave the tip a couple of kitten licks before taking it in your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip. You watched his face scrunch up and jaw drop in a silent groan and you might have pouted at his lack of reaction were his cock not preventing you from doing so. You tapped his thigh, hoping to gain his attention. When his eyes opened to glance at you curiously, you took a deep breath through your nose and took him in as deep as you possibly could. He let out a loud moan and jolted, accidentally bucking into your throat as the sensation of your full mouth caught him off guard.

“Fuckin’- Christ that mouth of yours is gonna be the death of me,” Owen groaned and you gave a content hum around him that sent a shiver up his spine. “If that pretty little cunt of yours feels anything like your throat I am in for a very long night.”

The feel of him on your tongue as you started bobbing your head and his crude language had your walls fluttering around nothing. You moaned around him as he gave your hair a light tug, helping to guide your pace. He let you do most of the work, however, mostly just spurring you on with his grunts and groans. The sounds went straight to your core and you couldn’t help but to dip your hand between your thighs, rubbing desperate circles around your aching clit.

“Look at you, such a slut you can’t even- ah, suck my cock without touchin’ yourself. D’you always get this needy or am I just special?” He groaned, eyes screwing shut again as you hollowed out your cheeks around him and moaned in response. His hips jerked up again, this time much more intentional. You tried not to choke at the sudden sensation of him hitting the back of your throat. Both of his hands were knotted in your hair now and you relaxed your jaw, letting him get his use out of you. Your own hips bucked slightly as you continued to toy with your clit.

His pace started to falter and you knew he was close. You weren’t about to let him be done yet, so you pressed a hand to his abdomen to gently push him away. He let his hands fall away from your hair and watched you, panting as you pulled away with a loud pop. Saliva trailed from your abused lips to his tip and his cock twitched at the sight.

“Everything all right?” He asked, cupping your cheek as you straightened up on your knees. You raked your nails lightly across his thighs, up his chest, then settled with your arms around his neck.

“Can’t be letting you have all the fun now, Mr. Sleater,” you giggled and he huffed out a laugh before dipping in to kiss you again.

“And what would you like from me then, love?” He gave a lopsided grin against your lips.

“I want you to fuck me like you threatened.” You nipped his bottom lip before standing, gently guiding him to lay back. He adjusted himself toward the head of the bed before you straddled him.

“And who am I to deny you that then, ma’am?” His hands rubbed up and down your arms before settling on your hips. You reached between the two of you, lining him up with your entrance before sinking down on him. He groaned low in his throat compared to your high gasp as you tried to adjust to the feel of him. It took a moment, but you finally rolled your hips against his. He was almost overwhelmed by the feel of you. While your hands were planted firmly on his chest, his hands were roaming and grasping at everything he could. Your hips, the soft skin of your thighs, your throat, your hair. He just needed to feel you.

His hands finally settled on your hips as he adjusted his position to fuck up into you. You cried out at the first thrust. He hit so deep it had you seeing stars immediately. You could feel that knot tightening deep in your gut and your moans turned into something more like pathetic whines.

“Fuck- Feel so good. Takin’ me so well, love. Your cunt was made for me,” he rambled, gripping you bruisingly tight. As he could feel himself inching ever closer to release he sat up, holding you tight against him as you continued to bounce in his lap albeit far more sloppy.

His lips latched onto your neck once more, nipping at a mark still sensitive from earlier. The combination of his lips on your neck and his hands gripping you for dear life had his name pouring from your lips like a mantra. Your arms were around his neck, one hand locked into the hair at the nape of his neck. That knot continued to grow tighter and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

“O-Owen, please! I can’t-'' you panted, voice strained as you continued to climb towards pure bliss. Owen’s lips found yours again, kissing you with a hunger you’d never felt from anyone else before.

“Yes you can, love. Go ahead, cum for me. You’ve been so good. Such a good girl for me,” his own voice was strained as well, but his praise was the last thing you needed to send you over the edge. You held onto him as if he would disappear at any second, crying out for him as blinding pleasure took over your whole being. The way your walls squeezed him sent Owen cresting over his own peak soon after. He stilled your movements with a firm arm around your waist and spilled into you with a groan of your name.

Owen collapsed back on the bed, gently pulling you down with him. You adjusted yourself to allow his softening cock to slip out of you and rested your head on his chest. He was struggling to catch his breath just as much as you were, heart racing under you. His fingers carded through your hair gently as you both tried to compose yourselves.

Eventually you propped yourself up to look at him, leaning in to kiss him much more tame this time. You pulled away and giggled, earning a raised brow from Owen.

“Something the matter, ma’am?” He questioned and you shrugged with a coy smirk.

“Oh nothing. I just don’t quite remember begging you to stop is all.” You batted your lashes at him, tracing shapes across his chest absentmindedly. You adored the cocky grin he gave you in return.

“And who said I was done with you?” He challenged. Before you could quip back he had you flipped and pinned to the mattress, a surprised yelp escaping you that quickly turned into a giggle fit as he attacked your neck with kisses again. You had a feeling he was going to make good on that promise after all.

#taliesin writes #tal after dark #owen sleater #owen sleater x reader #owen sleater x you #owen sleater x female reader #owen sleater fic #owen sleater smut #boardwalk empire fic #boardwalk empire smut

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danicruel · 3 years

Text

🌷🌸 danicruel 🌼🌻

quick notes:

• This blog is 18+, as are most of my fics, so do not follow me or interact with my smutty/lemon posts if you are a minor. I will unashamedly block you.

• Please do not send me nsfw material or prompts, unless specifically requested. I used to take these kinds of “asks” and turn them into little blurbs back in the day, but I’m not interested in this anymore.

• My requests are closed, and likely will never be open again. Again, I used to take requests, but I’m not interested in doing so anymore.

• I do not look at my asks every day, so please don’t be offended if you don’t see me answering yours right away. Also, there’s no guarantee that I’ll answer your ask if I’m not into what you sent.

master list below the cutline:

The Last of Us 🍂🍃

Abby Anderson x Reader

Oh love, you're just scratching the surface | 6/6 chapters | angst / fluff / smut | You hurt on a run and Abby gets all protective and worried, and yes, it ends in you fucking.

Meet me in the hallway | 4/4 chapters | fluff / smut | Abby meets up with you at a bonfire and you wind up going back to your place.

As thick as thieves | One shot | fluff | Abby and you have your first kiss after wrestling with one another in an abandoned meadow.

A long way back home | 5/5 chapters | angst / fluff / smut | You return to Abby after being sent on a year-long mission. The surprise is that your group found Abby’s thought-to-be-dead dad and now they’re about to be reunited.

There’s something bad about to happen to me | One shot | angst / hurt & comfort | You and Abby get into a passionate argument after being assigned on a run together months after you broke up. You wind up kissing in an abandoned cottage’s overgrown garden.

Lead me from the dark | 3/3 chapters | fluff / smut | Years of longing and tension boil over during a power outage at the WLF stadium when Abby comes to comfort you.

Without a doubt | 2/2 chapters | fluff / smut | Abby comes knocking at your door late one night, complaining that she can’t sleep, and then suddenly she’s in your bed, giving you the eyes.

Hold me closer now | One shot | fluff | You wake up from a nightmare absolutely terrified. Good thing Abby’s sleeping just a few feet away.

A quick one before the eternal worm devours Seattle | One shot | smut | You’re on a morning patrol with Abby when a snow storm ambushes you. You hole up together in an abandoned little house.

Abby Anderson x Ellie Williams

Let me light you up | 2/2 chapters | smut / a little bit of angst | Amidst a brutal thunderstorm, Abby walks into the boat cabin to find Ellie waiting for her, instead of Owen. They fight and then fuck.

Oh, bite me | One shot | smut | Werewolf!Abby and Vampire!Ellie fight and fuck it out in Ellie’s vampire lair.

Only you, darling | 4/? chapters | smut | Ellie rescues Abby from a snowstorm, only to discover she’s the most attractive woman she’s ever seen. They keep each other warm in the log cabin Ellie’s holed up in.

Arcane 💜⚙️

Caitlyn x Vi

Making pretend | One shot | smut | Caitlyn and Vi try to put on a convincing show in the brothel when they spot Silco coming down the hall.

A League of Their Own ⚾️🎟️

Jess McCready x Lupe Garcia

Where the grass grows tall | 3/? chapters | fluff / smut | Lupe arrives at the McCready farm to shoe horses and work as a farm hand, never thinking she’s going to fall in love with her boss’s daughter.

#tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x reader #smut smut smut #fluffy feelings too #and a dash of angst #tlou smut #abby anderson smut #ao3 #ao3 fic #ellabs #ellie x abby #abby x ellie #abby/ellie #requests #hey look I wrote this #asks

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

could you write about TK being upset at Owen and going to Judd for comfort? Please and thank you

though we don't share the same blood

thank you both for the wonderful prompts! i hope you enjoy what i can up with 😊

@911lonestarangstweek day 9 - free day!

thanks to @aliceschuyler for being a wonderful human and staying up to beta this for me 🥰🥰

title from brother by kodaline

ao3 | 2k | angst, emotional h/c, sad tk, big brother judd

One of the things Judd isn’t expecting when he hears his phone ping one morning is a text from Carlos asking him if he could head over to Owen’s place that afternoon. It’s not that he minds at all but, of the two of them, Judd would have thought that it would be TK reaching out to him. He’s barely exchanged two words with Carlos outside of work and while he likes the guy, they don’t exactly have a close relationship.

And, friendly and casual though Carlos’s message is, Judd knows he’s the last person Carlos would call on to hang with. Which means one thing—TK needs help, and he’s too stubborn to ask for it himself.

Judd is over at the Strand house in minutes, greeted by a bewildered Owen, who clearly didn’t know about Carlos’s request. This confuses him; if something were seriously wrong with TK, then Owen surely would be in on whatever this is, too. Still, Judd isn’t going to question it, so he just passes off his visit as wanting to talk to TK about something.

Owen takes the excuse with a shrug and waves Judd in the direction of the kitchen, before heading back to his office. What Judd is greeted with, when he rounds the corner, is a sight he’d never expected to see again in his life.

TK, pushing Carlos’s arm from round his shoulders and deliberately putting distance between them.

Judd watches as Carlos tries again, this time just a light brush of their knuckles, but again TK rebuffs him.

“Don’t touch me,” TK says, stiff as a board, though his tone seems more tired than angry. He bites his lip, staring hard at his hands for a moment, then sighs heavily and marches out of the room, leaving Carlos gazing despondently after him.

TK’s a hot-head, Judd knows this. They all saw what happened at the station the day of the fire, but Judd also knows that TK isn’t the type to make a repeat offence. More than that, Carlos isn’t the type to tolerate a repeat offence, and this interaction was so obviously different, but in what way, Judd can’t tell.

Whatever it is, it’s enough to send his concern rocketing to a peak. He knocks lightly on the doorframe to get Carlos’s attention, and raises a brow when their eyes meet. “Everything good with you two?” he asks. “Because I ain’t a marriage counsellor, Reyes.”

Carlos huffs a laugh and shakes his head, the tips of his ears turning pink. “We’re okay. It’s just…”

He trails off as voices drift down the hall, Owen’s and TK’s. Neither of them are being overly loud or snappy so Judd can’t tell exactly what they’re saying; still, the way Carlos sighs and looks at him clues him in to all he needs to know.

“Ah. I take it cohabitation is going well?”

Carlos snorts. “You don’t know the half of it. And it’s not… TK isn’t… Captain Strand…” He shakes his head, clearly at a loss, and Judd’s brows climb higher up his forehead.

“We’re back to Captain Strand now, huh? Things must be bad.”

“Not exactly,” Carlos hurries to say, but he cracks a wry smile at Judd’s disbelieving look. “Maybe. It’s not for lack of trying, though. Captain Strand is just… He’s so oblivious, like he has no idea what he’s doing, or even that he doesn’t really care, and I can’t let it keep happening anymore.”

“And…” Judd hesitates, carefully noting the tightness in Carlos’s jaw and the irritation flashing in his eyes. “What is he doing?”

Now it’s Carlos’s turn to hesitate as he looks Judd up and down. “Listen, I respect Captain Strand, of course I do, but—”

“The man can be insensitive and self-absorbed,” Judd finishes, laughing at Carlos’s startled expression. “What? I respect him too, but you have to know that I’m right. He’s intelligent, but he can be as thick as two planks of wood when it comes to other people, ‘specially if that other person is TK.”

Carlos lets out a relieved breath and sags, nodding. “Yeah. It’s just… Captain Strand is so focused on the firehouse that he doesn’t seem to care about anything else that’s going on. It hurts all of us, me and Mateo included, but TK is taking it the hardest. I think it’s bringing some stuff up for him.”

“What kind of stuff?”

It doesn’t seem possible that Carlos can look sadder, but, somehow, he manages it, shrugging helplessly. “He won’t talk to me about it. I’ve asked, but you know how TK is. He just keeps trying to pretend that he’s fine, and, Judd, he’s really good at doing that.”

“He’s had practice,” Judd surmises, and Carlos nods.

“Too much, and I know it’s something to do with Captain Strand. The thing is, I’m pretty sure that what’s going on now, TK is doing it to protect him. He’s frustrated with him, sure, but TK has spent so long trying to hide his feelings from Captain Strand that it’s kind of, I don’t know, instinctual now? And he’s doing it to protect me, too, I know he is. We really are good, I swear, but he gets overwhelmed sometimes and then he starts pushing me away to keep me from seeing it. That’s what was happening when you came in; he doesn’t like being touched when he’s riled up.”

“Huh.” Judd waits, expecting Carlos to say more, but when he doesn’t, he frowns. “I get all that, but I’m not sure I know what I’m doing here.”

“You’re the big brother he never had,” Carlos says, as though it’s obvious. “You might be able to get through to him in a way I never could.”

A part of Judd doubts that—personally, he’d much rather talk to Grace than any of his older brothers. But he owes it to TK, and to Carlos, to at least try. So he nods, and tries not to wince at the relief that fills Carlos’s entire body.

“Thank you, Judd,” he says, sounding far too earnest for Judd’s liking. “He’ll be out back.”

“Let me guess,” TK calls, even before Judd has made himself known. “Carlos sent you to talk to me.”

“He’s worried about you, kid.”

“He shouldn’t be. I’m fine.”

Judd snorts. “Yeah, save it. If you want to lie to your boyfriend then that’s your problem to sort out, but don’t try pulling that shit with me. It ain’t gonna work.” He eases himself down next to TK on the back porch, watching him closely. Buttercup’s head is in TK’s lap and he’s rhythmically stroking his fur, though he barely seems aware of the action.

Judd knows from experience that it’s better to let TK talk in his own time, so they just sit in silence for a long while, watching the movement of clouds across the sky. Judd has never been a fan of sitting still for long periods of time, but he forces himself to bear it this time, telling himself that it will pay off, eventually.

It must be around half an hour since he first walked out that TK finally sighs and shifts, his hands tightening slightly in Buttercup’s fur. “He won’t apologise.”

Judd raises a brow. “Who, the Cap?”

TK gives him a small nod, not looking up. “It’s just…” He bites his lip and shakes his head. “It’s dumb.”

“It ain’t dumb.”

This gets TK to look at him, surprise and disbelief written all over his expression. He scoffs, but Judd isn’t going to let this go that easily.

“It ain’t dumb,” he repeats, forcing TK to meet his eyes. “I’m guessing this is about the fire, huh?”

TK nods, then pauses a moment and shakes his head. “If I was just the fire, I could handle it,” he says quietly, and if that doesn’t break Judd’s heart, he doesn’t know what will. “Carlos and I almost died because of what he and Mr Reyes did, but they—they didn’t know what would happen, and at least Mr Reyes said he was sorry, and it’s not like I want my dad to feel guilty or anything, but—”

He breaks off and lets out a sharp laugh that sounds suspiciously wet. “Fuck. I sound like a kid again.”

“No—”

“Yes. I don’t know how, but my dad seems to have this ability to turn me into a seven-year old all over again. How does he still have this affect on me, Judd? I mean, I’m twenty-fucking-seven years old. It’s pathetic.”

“That’s a load of crap, and you know it.”

TK scoffs at him and turns away, but Judd has had enough of this, and maybe he understands now why Carlos called him. He’s not afraid to tell TK a few hard truths if he thinks it’s necessary, in a way that Carlos never could, partly because the guy’s just too damn nice even without being his boyfriend.

Not Judd, though.

“You have every right to be mad at your daddy right now, and I get the feeling that this is about more than the damn fire. I ain’t gonna sugar-coat it for you; he fucked up. I was there that night when he finally figured out it was you two Raymond was gunning for, and he admitted himself that he thought the firehouse was a diversion yet it still took a while for him to connect the most important thing in his life to you.

“In fact, it was almost Billy who worked it out for him. Bet you didn’t know that, huh? And I have to say, I’m a little mad at him for that, too, so I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. So this isn’t pathetic, but you know what is? You coming out here and moping instead of saying it to his face. You said it yourself, TK, you’re an adult; you’re not that snot-nosed seven-year old kid anymore, so maybe you need to start acting like an adult and stand up to him.”

Judd is breathing hard by the end of his speech, and he’s kind of proud of it. He thinks he’s made his point, but then TK just sighs and stares down at the ground, resignation on his face.

“You think I haven’t tried?” he asks, voice sounding heavier than it has any right to. “Last year after I got shot, I tried talking to him about how I felt after 9/11, but he blew me off. Of course I don’t want him to apologise for doing what he did, but I just want him to acknowledge that he wasn’t the father I needed him to be. But that’s never gonna happen, and, honestly? I’m not surprised he didn’t realise we were the target. That’s just how he is, and I’m done trying to change it. I’m tired, Judd.”

And Judd… Judd doesn’t know what to say. When TK and Owen first got to Austin, they always seemed so close; of course, since getting to know them, Judd has seen the cracks in their relationship, but he never…

That exhaustion in TK’s voice, in his face, in his entire being—Judd had never realised that things were that bad. He knows that nothing he can say will fix the way TK feels or will magically get Owen to apologise, and maybe there’s nothing anyone can do that won’t end in more resentment or guilt.

But Judd can be there for TK. He wraps an arm around his shoulders and tugs him close, gently kissing the top of his head.

“I’m sorry about all that,” he says, patting TK’s knee with his free hand. “But he ain’t the only family you’ve got now. You’ve got me, and you know I’ll always tell it to you straight, alright? And there’s Gracie, and the rest of the team, and that boy of yours in there is chomping at the bit to help you out.

“But you’ve gotta let us in. You keep bottling stuff up like this, it’s only gonna end ugly, so next time you feel bad, talk to one of us. Anyone. Don’t let your daddy’s actions ruin things for you.”

“Easier said than done,” TK says wryly, but his eyes shine with gratitude, and something that looks suspiciously like tears. “Thanks, Judd.”

“Anytime, kid.”

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding AU Part V (SW Time Travel AU #27)

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV

After a meandering walk through what felt like every path the hanging gardens and marsh pools had to offer, Obi-Wan stopped to lean against a stone wall.

“Obi-Wan? Are you ready to stop and eat something? As nice as this has been, I’m getting hungry and I’m guessing you are too.”

Anakin was only being a little sarcastic. It had genuinely been nice to peacefully spend the day with Obi-Wan like this- they hadn’t been to the marsh habitats since the war started. He had resigned himself to watching Obi-Wan enthusiastically greet every wandering knight, master, and elder who they passed.

It was actually starting to become impressive- Anakin never realized how many members of the Order his Master was friendly with- no wonder he was given a seat on the high council! But after the last heartfelt clasping of hands with a completely unfamiliar Bothan (thankfully for Anakin’s petty jealousy, Obi-Wan wasn’t hugging everyone), Anakin had asked who the knight was.

Obi Wan frowned. “No idea. But I suppose I must have seen him somewhere.”

Anakin was no longer feeling impressed.

When a group of crechelings wandered by, Obi-Wan appeared briefly overwhelmed with emotion. His shields (apparently even better drunken than sober) didn’t let anything specific slip. But he knew Obi-Wan was feeling something intensely. Bizarrely, instead of saying hello, Obi-Wan hurried out and away with Anakin dragged behind, bringing them back to the stone wall and their skipped breakfast.

“Not yet.” Obi-Wan responded hoarsely. “I want to visit the Room of A Thousand Fountains first, and say a few more goodbyes.”

“Goodbyes?” Anakin asked, a slight chill running down his back. “We’re not shipping back out until the end of the week. Do you always say goodbye to everyone this thoroughly before redeployment?”

“No. Do you think I should have?” Obi-Wan frowned. “I feel like that would have been more upsetting than anything else.”

“Ok then, why are you saying goodbye now? To the whole order?”

Obi-Wan didn’t reply, he just pushed off the wall to continue on his quest to apparently visit every corner of the temple.

“Master, please, you’re worrying me. If you won’t eat, then let me take you to the Healing Halls so they can check you over for drugs. We can visit the fountains after.”

Obi-Wan finally paused, thinking that over. “I would like to see Bant. She should be there, right?”

Bant did end up being there, and was more touched than disturbed by Obi-Wan’s sincere joy to see her. While Obi-Wan wandered the halls greeting injured Knights, she ran several tests.

“As far as I can tell, all you had last night was human-appropriate alcohol. No force-user specific drug interactions, and no traces of Spice. It’s possible there’s something I missed, but your force presence doesn’t feel off balance in the manner I specifically associate with drug-induced altered perception. Your blood sugar is a little low and you’re somewhat dehydrated, especially considering you’re in the temple, not out on a mission.”

“I’ll take care of my physical needs after I visit the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Just because a vision isn’t purely induced by the force doesn’t mean I can’t draw meaning from it. I do appreciate how you always looked out for me though, Bant. I’ve missed your fussing.” Obi-Wan smiled, clasping one of her hands in his.

Bant sighed, “If Master Yoda wasn’t off world I’d urge you to talk to him. I haven’t seen you this shaken by a vision since we were younglings. Even if you do seem to be handling it fairly... calmly.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I’ll tell him you said that someday. I might be wrong, but I think he’ll be happy to learn about-” Obi-Wan gestured around vaguely, “all this. I’ll talk to him at some point. I’m sure of it.”

She glanced over at Anakin, who had been a quietly looming shadow the whole visit. He seemed both relieved by the diagnosis as well as bewildered. “Can I speak to you privately?”

Obi-Wan nodded and Anakin stalked out of the test room.

She scrutinized him, worry more obvious now, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slipping tenses this whole time. You’re still not sure where your vision ends and reality begins, are you? Do you even know when you are?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “I know what’s real and what’s not. I’m just...enjoying not fully living in the moment. I have every intention of waking up.”

“Yeah, that’s a BIG red flag, Obi-Wan. Force.” She tilted her head back and forth, examining him with obvious concern. “I am scheduling an appointment for a soul healer and you are going to go, understand?” She demanded.

Obi-Wan agreed far too easily. She reluctantly let him leave with an earnest promise to eat something real.

Obi-Wan came outside to find Anakin pacing.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” he told his former Padawan, ignoring the ache in his chest.

“Of course Ori’vod,” Anakin said, ducking his head with a shy smile. “What did Bant say?”

“She wants me to eat something real and visit a soul healer.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Well, I can do at least one of those things.”

“A soul healer! She thinks you’re crazy?” Anakin asked offended.

“First of all, you don’t have to be unstable to visit a soul healer. I’ve seen them in the past, when there wasn’t as much wrong with me. I’m sorry if I led you to believe you couldn’t seek out help for your problems.” Obi-Wan said. Another mistake.

“I-I know that. I just thought, you know, Jedi can be judgmental of that sort of thing. A good Jedi is supposed to be able to just, meditate stuff away.” Anakin said bitterly.

Obi-Wan thought furiously. Was this why he had been so blindsided by Anakin’s fall? Had his padawan been so afraid of judgement that he hid all of the warning sides of his struggles with darkness? Maybe he could ask Owen for some sort of petty assistance when he brought over bantha milk next time, to demonstrate to young Luke that it was ok to ask for help. No, he was probably still too young for those sorts of lessons to have much meaning. The insight would require meditation, when he was more sober.

Unsure how ‘Anakin’ would respond, Obi-Wan tentatively said, “You’re right, that some Jedi might judge for seeking such aid. But I think in the last years of the war, that sort of opinion became less and less common. After all, an ideal Jedi shouldn’t be leading an army. I don’t know if anyone can be perfect during war, let alone a peacekeeper.”

When that failed to garner positive or negative reply, Obi-Wan let out a breath. “It hardly matters, since I can’t exactly visit a therapist, let alone a soul healer, given my present living conditions.”

Anakin seemed to process that, giving Obi-Wan a long, searching look. “What’s your next point?”

“Hmm?”

“You said first of all, and I think that was all one thing, so what’s your second point?”

“Not exactly being able to visit a soul healer regularly doesn’t count as a separate retort?”

“I guess? I’m just trying to understand what you’re trying to tell me” A twinge of frustration crept into Anakin’s otherwise level tone.

"I appreciate that, truly, and I regret the number of hurtful miscommunications that sprung up from me failing to do just that. Well, I suppose, by most reasonable standards, I am ‘crazy.’ Getting some help with unraveling my mind would probably be best, if it were an option, but it isn’t so...” Obi-Wan shrugged.

Before any followup questions could be asked, they finally arrived at the main entrance to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. The archway was stunning, water flowing upwards along the stone in intricate, shifting tessellations. When they stepped through, Obi-Wan was delighted to see Mace Windu sitting on a bench by the entrance.

“Mace! I was hoping to see you.”

Mace looked at him. He seemed at first, to be utterly unsurprised by the duo’s arrival. But the longer he stared, the more visible shock overtook his features. “Master Koon recommended I look for you...force what happened.”

Obi-Wan just chuckled. “Oh you know. What didn’t happen.”

“What’s wrong?” Anakin asked urgently. “What do you see, Master Windu?”

Obi-Wan tried to wave them both off, laugh a little more forced. “Please, I came here to relax. I’m sure it would be easier to say what’s not wrong with-”

“Kark it, Obi-Wan this isn’t a joking matter.” Master Windu’s voice was calm, but insistent. He slowly started approaching Obi-Wan as though the fellow council member were a feral loth-cat.

“You look as if...nearly every shatter point around you has broken open. Force, I think you’ve been carrying some of these with you since you were a child. Usually when things that deep break...And some of these- some of these are too big to have just affected you.” Mace hesitantly reached forward, brushing against something invisible.

A chill ran down Anakin’s spine, again. What the kriff did Obi-Wan see in his vision? Last night he mentioned the temple burning, their rooms turned to ash, and Anakin had just...let that go in favor of greedily spending time with this addictively affectionate version of Obi-Wan.

“Mace...” Obi-Wan groaned. “I had been wondering what you might say to me but this is...please, can’t you just give me a hug and let me enjoy the peace for one more hour.”

“Master Kenobi,” Mace said, seeming to revert to an even more serious version of himself. “What I see cracked open around you is bigger than the reemergence of the Sith on Naboo, bigger than the first battle of Genosis. Whatever has happened, you cannot possibly keep it to yourself, practically or morally.”

To the shock of both Windu and Skywalker, Obi-Wan actually rolled his eyes at that. “Mace. You are not telling me anything I do not already know. And I am choosing to spend a little longer enjoying the unique joys of the Temple before dealing with the harshness of reality. Haven’t I earned a small break? I’m not abandoning my duty, but if I don’t take care of myself where I can I’ll go madder than I already have.”

At no point did Obi-Wan’s voice get whiny or upset, he just calmly dropped a series of bombshells like he was repeating an argument.

Mace and Anakin exchanged glances, but if Mace was trying to communicate something, it was utterly lost on Anakin.

“Alright, Master Kenobi. I trust your judgement.”

And, to Anakin’s shock, Mace pulled Obi-Wan for a tight hug. “And I care about you, Obi-Wan.”

For a brief, hysterical moment, Anakin Skywalker wondered if he was about to witness his Master break down crying on the shoulder of Mace Windu the Master of the Jedi Order.

But Obi-Wan just let out a slow breath and returned the embrace before bowing deeply in Respect. Windu returned the bow with a placid expression.

“If you’ll excuse me...I think I’d like to stand by the waterfall alone for a moment.” He paused, turning to address Anakin. “If you’re willing to wait for me, I’ll happily rejoin you by the glowing mushrooms.” Anakin nodded silently and Obi-Wan beamed before leaving the two alone together.

Mace turned to the young knight in a silent demand for answers, and, for once, Anakin was eager to share what he was dealing with. “He came back drunk last night, talking about the temple burning down, and being well-”

“Unusually emotionally expressive?” Mace offered.

Anakin nodded. “Took a blood sample to analyze in the morning. He woke determined to hug every sentient being in the temple. I actually managed to get him to the halls just before we came here; Master Eerin said there was nothing in his system and...I just don’t know. He’s been off today, but not in a bad way, exactly. Could a vision have caused the shattering you saw?

Mace furrowed his brow. “Not any vision like I’ve ever seen but...these are dark times. And Master Kenobi has had historically bad luck. If some new cataclysm is coming for us- I absolutely believe he’d be the first of us to stumble into it. Something terrible and extraordinary must have happened in the 24 hours since I last saw him in person.”

A beat passed.

“I should go to the mushrooms before I lose track of him,” Anakin said quietly.

Mace nodded. “Skywalker, if you need assistance dragging him back to the healers for whatever reason, comm me, understood?”

“Understood. Master Koon said the same.” the Knight replied, heart pounding.

The Windu clasped him on the shoulder firmly, "I’m going to check in with Master Eerin. It’s possible she has some suspicions that my observations will help her confirm. Until then...”

“I’ll look out for him.” Anakin promised.

Part VI

#star wars #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #my au #sw #time travel #obi wan kenobi needs a hug #oh boy we are BUILDING towards the #angst #it 1am #lol im supposed to work tomorrow but ive said that before #thank you everyone for being supportive im glad youre all hyperventilating with me over this sad boy

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lorichu · 2 years

Text

The Will of the King 1

"Skreeeeee!"

The shrill, unmistakable cry of a messenger falcon forcefully pulled Princess Sara out of her sleep. Around her the world was slowly waking as she turned her blurry vision towards the window. Perched on the sill was an overly excited bird of prey, a common sight in the Earthy Keep, but as she continued to stare, a few key details caught her eye. Its vibrantly red crest of feathers and the copper colored silk scarf around its neck could only mean one thing. This was one of her mother's birds.

Sara gracefully threw herself out of bed and rushed across the cool, burgundy stores to greet the falcon. It happily released the rolled up length of parchment and offered one final shriek before soaring back out into the morning air. With her trembling hands, Sara unfurled the scroll and frantically scanned the words scrawled out in her mother's delicate handwriting.

"Spirits above..." she gasped, leaning back against her writing desk as she re-read the message. Before she could fully process the missive, her chamber doors were thrown open by her step-father, Prince Dominic. He was still clad in his sleepwear, and clenched in his fist was an identical letter.

Casting aside the parchment, he rushed forward and wrapped his step-daughter in a hug. "She's done it. Your mother has finally done it," he murmured as tears flowed freely from his eyes.

Slowly getting over her shock, Sara returned the gesture, laughing as she began to cry as well. "I had hoped the length of her trip meant she was going to succeed. To think the war with Highwald is finally over."

Despite their overflowing joy, a sharp pain struck their hearts. Prince Dominic drew her closer and sighed. "There's no doubt in my mind that your father is celebrating along with us," he said softly. "King Logan dedicated everything he had to ending this decades long war, even giving his life for the cause. I know that seeing his beloved wife and daughter carry the torch on after him has filled him with unending pride." More tears slid down the princess's face, and she could do little more than nod at the sentiment. The pair held their embrace for a minute or so longer.

After getting dressed Sara joined her step-father and half-siblings, Prince Owen and Princess Elise, in the dining hall for breakfast. Together they relayed the news to the young twins, and while they didn't understand the gravity of it all, they celebrated as well. By the time they finished their meal the news had spread outside the Earthy Keep, sending a buzz through the capital. At noon the royal family addressed the residents of Fallvale, repeating the news in Queen Winona's absence. A resounding cheer echoed through the tree covered lanes.

Princess Sara's whirlwind of a day ended the same way it stared, with another of her mother's messenger falcons arriving at her window. This one didn't fly away upon being relieved of its scroll, choosing instead to hunker down on the perch near the sill and tuck its head under its wing. Sitting down at her desk, Sara nervously unrolled the parchment.

"My beloved Sara..."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. Whenever the queen addressed her in that manner it could only mean bad news. Her mother wasn't the best at handling delicate subjects, but thankfully she didn't waste her time with frivolous pleasantries.

In celebration of the treaty there was to be a ball, specifically a masquerade ball, with attendees from both kingdoms. Ice coursed through her veins as Sara read the statement. How would something like that be possible? She'd never seen a Highwalder before, but every description she'd heard about them included phrases like "taller than the trees", and "monstrously gigantic". The sheer thought of trying to interact normally with someone like that made her weak in the knees, and this was all from within the safety of her chambers in the Earthy Keep.

Gathering her courage once again, Sara moved on to the next passage. Her mother anticipated her confusion, because she went on to explain the joint work both kingdoms' mages had done to develop a solution to the problem. A spell would be placed over the grounds, rendering all who attended to appear at the same scale. According to her, this spell had been instrumental in the peace negotiations themselves. While the reassurance dispelled some of her bigger fears, Sara's heart still beat frantically as she continued reading.

The ball was to be a relatively small event, with only a select few from either court. This was to keep any disturbances from potential dissenters to a controlled minimum. The queen rattled off a few dukes, counts, and various lords she had already extended invitations to, and made a point of adding that it would only be the two of them attending. Sara thought nothing of the arrangement, knowing that the twins were too young, and that it made sense for Prince Dominic to stay behind with them.

Finally the letter closed with instructions for her to be ready in three days' time. A carriage would be sent to collect her, and Princess Sara would meet up with the queen at the event. In an effort for better inclusion, the ball wouldn't be held in either capital, but instead a castle between the two kingdoms. It was closer to Fallvale, since any distance wouldn't be nearly as far for the inhabitants of Highwald.

Sighing heavily, Sara left the scroll on her writing desk and crossed over to her bed. She stared blankly at the ceiling as she gathered her thoughts, pondering all she had learned. Just before closing her eyes, Sara rolled on to her side to gaze out the window. Breaks in the cloudy night sky allowed a few bright stars to peek through alongside the radiantly full moon.

"King Logan, Father..." she whispered as she beheld the heavenly bodies, "please continue to watch over me, Mother, and all of Fallvale. We're going to need your strength now more than ever if we want this peace to last."

Three days flew by, and the next thing Princess Sara knew she was stepping into the carriage for the ball. The young prince and princess were still pouting about their exclusion, but had come with their father to see their half-sister off. Sara's mind raced as the horses plodded forward, making what should have been a short trip seem to last hours. By the time the carriage slowed to a stop Sara was already exhausted, but still managed to step out into the flagstoned pavilion with measured grace.

Waiting to greet her was none other than her mother, Queen Winona. At first glance the could've easily been mistaken for sisters. They both had the same dark burgundy hair, which they tended to keep long and drawn up in intricate braids. Their lean, muscular bodies were proof of their extensive physical training, a trait that was mirrored by their softly calloused hands. Aside from subtle hints of her mother's graceful aging, there was one distinct feature that differentiated them; their eyes.

Queen Winona's pale brown eyes were as warm and welcoming as a cup of tea. Their hue had lightened over time, but it was a very common shade among the citizens of Fallvale. Princess Sara's eyes on the other hand were a bright shimmering violet. There was an otherworldly quality to them, and they almost seemed to glow with their own light in the dimness of the evening. Anyone in the kingdom would recognize them in an instant, because they were the eyes of royalty. She had inherited the color from her father, which was unique to his storied family line. They were the reason the kingdom's coat of arms sported the same vibrant shade.

"My wonderful, radiant, beautiful daughter," Winona cooed as she rushed to embrace Sara. "I trust your trip went well?"

Respectfully returning the hug, Sara shook her head. "Yes Mother, everything was fine," she teased, pulling away to smirk. "It's so good to see you again. I still can't believe the war is finally over."

The queen's melodious laugh bounced off the low walls of the courtyard. "I know the feeling. This past week has been a blur." Her merriment died down and her expression turned somber. "If only your father was here to see this."

Smiling solemnly, the princess nodded as her eyes faintly glowed. "I know he's here, watching over us and wearing the biggest grin you've ever seen." The comment got another chuckled out of the tired queen, and they interlocked their arms and began walking towards the castle gates. Before they got much further, they donned matching silver and purple masks and entered the grand hall.

The hall's warm sandstone interior echoed with the lighthearted din of guests interspersed with the gentle melodies of the string quartet. Long chains of magical lights wove across the ceiling, flickering in time with the rhythm. Tall circular tables bore an array of food and drink, framing the center of the hall in a wide ring. Some of the guests had already taken it upon themselves to start dancing in the free space.

In no time Queen Winona was pulled away to mingle, leaving Sara to wander through the crowd unattended. She kept to the edge of the room, content to just watch the festivities rather than drawing attention to herself. It was only after she'd been standing beside one of the tables that she noticed she had an admirer.

Sneaking his way through the crowd was a smartly dressed young nobleman. His charcoal gray jacket and pants were accented with subtle gold detailing, a pattern that was mirrored by his mask. The contrast in colors to Sara's soft lavender and silver ballgown were all most too perfect, a fact he seemed to be aware of.

"Good evening my fair lady," he said with a charming grin. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Taking the full brunt of his confidence, Sara flashed a dazzling smile of her own and waved her hand over the table. "I don't see why not," she laughed. "The more the merrier."

As friendly and upfront he'd been, the stranger chose a position across the table from her. Leaning closer with an air of refined dignity, the young man studied her with strangely playful curiosity. "The stars must be shining in my favor tonight, allowing me to run into such an enchanting woman unaccompanied."

Meeting his forwardness with a coquettish grin of her own, Sara folded her arms on the table and leaned closer as well. "It's only natural to be left alone when you don't seek out crowds. As lovely as the evening is, I'm perfectly content to watch. I don't often find the chance to be out of the spotlight."

"Believe me, I know the feeling," he replied with a hearty chuckle. Their banter was interrupted when the musicians finished a song, and they both joined in the round of applause. The next piece was a livelier waltz, bringing a deeper grin to the young man's face as he dipped into a shallow bow. "Might I be able to coax you into a dance?"

Barely suppressing a laugh, Sara rounded the table. "It shouldn't be too hard, if it's with the right partner." He contracted her delight and presented his arm, which she eagerly took. They matched the beat quickly, and were soon gliding effortlessly over the polished stone floor. Even with the change in activity, their quips picked back up.

"You're surprisingly light on your feet," Sara remarked as a faint blush dusted her face.

"That my dear partner is the result of years of practice," he replied smugly. "And I must say, you're no slouch either."

A girlish laugh escaped Sara's lips as they twirled towards the center of the room. The rest of the world was lost on the pair as the music moved their feet. After the jaunty tune transformed into a softer ballad they changed as well, pulling the other closer and slowing their steps. There was a new found level of intimacy to their positioning, but neither wanted to raise any objections.

Using his guiding hand, the young man gently brushed his thumb over Sara's still rosy cheeks. "Now I know for certain that I've never met you before," he remarked coyly. "I would've remembered such incredible eyes. You must live somewhere truly beautiful."

His comment deepened the hue on her face, but Sara maintained her composure. "In all the traveling I've done, as paltry as it's been, I have never seen anywhere as wholly magnificent as my home."

Snickering lightly, he pulled her closer. "You wouldn't happen to be willing to divulge where that may be?"

Readjusting their conjoined hands, Sara tapped her mask. "Wouldn't that go against the spirit of the evening?" she teased. "I thought the whole point of these masks was for each guest to maintain a certain level of anonymity."

Shifting his hand in kind, he hooked his thumb under the edge of her mask and pretended to pry it off. "What's the problem with shirking social conventions for something worthwhile?" When she pulled away to displace his hand, his brow furrowed. "Am I wrong?"

Sara paused for a moment before sending him a playful wink. "No, but can't we indulge ourselves for one evening?"

"You're not going to disappear at midnight, are you?" he asked carefully, holding her even closer as if she'd vanish before his eyes.

"We'll just have to wait and see."

After a few more songs they retired to their previous position next to a table, where they proceeded to talk the rest of the night away. Their chemistry was still burning just as bright while the rest of the guests started clearing out. It wasn't until one of the attendants came up to their table that they noticed they were the only ones in the hall.

"Sir, madam?" the disheveled page asked gently. "For your safety, you need to leave the castle. The mages are waiting to release the spell on the grounds." A string of apologies flooded out of the flustered pair, and the quickly made their exit, childishly giggling all the way.

As they stepped out into the brisk evening air, the young man pulled Sara to a stop. He gazed at her expectantly, with the faintest hints of worry seeping into his eyes. "Well, we've officially left the ball. Is this the point in the evening where you steal off into the darkness and I never see you again?"

Reaching out, Sara took his hand and interwove their fingers. The air around them began to shimmer as the mages began their work, and with a light tug she led him into the courtyard. "I'll have you know that was never my intent," she joked. "I just hope you're ready for..."

Her words cut off as magic surged through the atmosphere, disabling the scaling and returning everything to its original size. That much she'd known going in, but what Sara hadn't expected was for her companion to shoot into the sky. Stumbling backwards in shock, the princess strained her neck to look up as his growing came to a stop. "By the Spirits..." she breathed, raising a hand to cover her mouth and slowly edge away.

Somehow he heard her utterance and cast his gaze downward, starting when he finally laid eyes on her. "No, it's not possible," he muttered, his voice now rumbling through the air like distant thunder. He took a step backwards, which sent a tremor through the ground that knocked Sara off her feet. Trying his best to minimize the impact he knelt down, and started reaching a hand out to her before changing his mind. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

It was a challenge to look away from his hand, but Sara did her best to maintain eye contact. "Y-Yes, I'm fine thank you," she murmured as she hesitantly got back on her feet. "Did you know about this?" His eyes widened when she spoke, but his only response was a subtle shake of his head. Before she could comment further the ground began to tremble, sending chills up her spine.

Eventually he noticed too, lifting his head a fraction to see who was approaching. "Father?" he gasped, shifting his hand slightly closer to Sara in an awkward attempt to offer protection. "I thought you would've returned home by now."

A hearty chuckle tore through the cool night air, rattling the tiny princess to her core. "My dear son, why would I leave without you? Besides, we still have business to take care of here. Isn't that right, Queen Winona?"

Sara stifled a yelp as she whipped around. Now she was face to face with her mother, who was standing before an enormous pair of boots. "Mother?" she squeaked, carefully sidestepping the gigantic hand to get closer to the queen. "What's going on?"

"Sara, darling," Winona soothed, reaching her hand out as she took a step forward. "My beloved daughter, this evening wasn't just about celebrating the treaty." She stopped at the princess's side and gently removed the masks from their faces. "It was also for solidifying its final article."

The towering young man laughed nervously, and Sara distinctly heard the hand behind her twitch in anticipation. "And what might that article be?" he asked.

More laughter exploded above them, finally driving Sara's eyes skyward. Those massive boots were attached to an equally massive man, who was somehow even more gaudily dressed than anyone else at the ball. His clothes were blazing with glittering golds and sparkling whites, making him practically luminescent in the darkened courtyard. Elegant curls of finely preened silver blond hair cascaded over his shoulders like an opulent waterfall, blending into an equally done up beard. All that aside, the most unsettling thing about this man were his eyes, which were an unnaturally brilliant golden yellow.

"I figured that much should've been obvious by now, Emmet my boy," the large man chuckled. "It is the matter of your and Princess Sara's betrothal."

-----

When writing this story I wanted to make something a little more “high fantasy” than what I normally wrote, and this is the result. I had a lot of fun explore and developing this world, so much so that I eventually wrote a direct sequel to this story. You can check out both the rest of The Will of the King and it’s sequel, The Emperor’s Snare right over here:

https://www.deviantart.com/littlelorraine/gallery/70027749/the-will-of-the-king

As always, thanks for reading!

#g/t #g/t writing #my writing #the will of the king #the emperor's snare

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