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oneoftheprettynerds · 4 years

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Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.

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impala1967dwinchester · 4 years

Text

Jensen Ackles: Dinner Date

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jensen Ackles X Reader/ Y/n

Pov: Jensen

Warnings: Fluff, dinner date, Jensen being cute, was totally thinking of “your man” by Josh Turner while writing this.

Summary: What happens when Jensen plans an amazing dinner date for the two of you. Will it go to plan, or will Japanese take out be a better choice.

Word Count: 1,692

Masterlist

Tag list: @akshi8278

Two weeks ago, Y/n had told me that she needed a night out with me. Actually, it was more like ‘I need a night out with my hubby, hubby!’ So, when she said that I automatically got on the phone with the restaurant I had purposed to her at. A nice chic, but simple restaurant the girl on the phone sounded young and she answered with ‘Hello this is Gisila how can I help you today?’ ‘I’d like to reserve a table in the back of the restaurant for a week from now.’ I spoke.

There were a few minutes of silence and then a response came from my phone. ‘Sure, how many people, time, and last name?’ The young girl asked. ‘Two people, 6:45, and last name Is Ackles’ I answered ‘Okay Mr. Ackles your reservation is all in order. Have a wonderful rest of your day.’ And then click the call was over.

“Baby, we have reservation for 6:45 in a week at the restaurant I proposed at.” I said across the kitchen island. “Aww, really Ackles. I’m so ready for you and me time.” Y/n said grabbing my hand from the other side of the island. “So am I dear. Now let’s go watch that new movie you’ve been begging me to watch with you.” I said grabbing the bowl of popcorn that Y/n had just popped.

We walked into the living room; our TV already to press play. This was rare for either of us to be home, and be able to enjoy our company. Y/n was also in the acting business, but she was working on a show that was filmed in Florida, so we often spent most of our time away from each other. Whenever we did get time together, it was nice to spend it not talking about work, acting, but instead spending it doing things that we loved to do.

Y/n grabbed her enormous white blanket covering the both of us up, and leaned her head into my shoulder. Placing the bowl of popcorn in my lap, looking over at her I asked, “Are you comfortable yet, babe?” “Yes, Yes I am.” She answered shoveling a hand full of popcorn into her mouth. So, I grabbed the remote and pressed play on the TV, and just like always only about 45 minutes into the movie Y/n was sound asleep with her hand draped into the bowl.

My shoulder damp from her drool, I carefully moved her hand out of the popcorn bowl, placing it on the end table. I then moved her, so I could re-position on her couch and paused the movie before grabbing her and pacing her on my chest. There were many nights were we both fell asleep like this; it was easier than trying to wake her up and drag her upstairs. I had learned that early into our relationship, she liked her sleep, so don’t bother her once she’s asleep.

A week later

After the week we both had I know that the both of us were more than happy that we had a reservation set up. Y/n had gotten home from a shopping trip, which this time had gone smoothly not a ton of people noticing who she was. As she walked through the front door, she dropped all but 2 bags. Myself standing in the kitchen, I moved just enough to catch a glimpse of Y/n running upstairs.

“I’m home, and we have a date remember. So, you should get ready.” Y/n yelled as she walked up the stairs. While Y/n was out shopping I had gone through most of my clothes trying to pick out a nice outfit, unpacking everything from my side of the closet. Trying my hardest to somehow sort through all of the clothes. After only what seemed like hours sorting through everything, I finally had all the clothes in order.

At that point it was going to much easier to be able to choose what I wanted to wear. I started digging and found a nice un-crimped white shirt, and found a nice pair of black dress pants. Now all I had to do was wait for Y/n to come home and tell me what color tie to wear. And of course, one of my more structured jackets was in the downstairs closet waiting for me.

It was still early enough in the day where Y/n had enough time to get ready the right way. Another thing I had learned quickly about Y/n she did not like being informed about an event only a few hours before. A main reason why we always made reservations, and she’d then plan according to what would fit around that particular event.

With what I’d say was 3 hours before we would have to be at our reservations, I slipped into our bedroom. Catching out of the corner of my ear the dress that Y/n had purchase on her shopping trip. A beautiful purple slimming dress that came no less down to her knee caps. I was still in my day attire, so I slipped out of my joggers, my white t-shirt, and into the shower with Y/n.

Unlike the character I played on TV, I wasn’t much of a ladies' man. I had found the love of my life, and she was all I really needed. As I slipped into the shower with her, she said “I was wondering how long it would take for you to get in here with me.” As she massaged the shampoo into her head.

“Darling, you know you like to see me in the shower with you.” I said sliding my hands down her hips. “Ross! I do love having you in the shower with me, but you know that this” She said pointing down to where my hands were. “we’ll never make it to the reservations.” She spoke.

So, I removed my hands and switched places with her, washing my body quickly, along with my hair. Kissing her on the lips, and murmuring “love you, dear.” Getting out of the shower. I wrapped the towel around my waist, walking to where my clothes were laid out. Still having time before Y/n would leave the bathroom, I just put on my boxers, and dress pants.

Walking over to my cabinet, I fished through the varying ties I had collected over the years. I had taken out about 4 varying ties, making sure that two were complimenting Y/n’s dress while the others were questionable at best. After constantly moving the four ties I had figured that it was either going to go with the green or yellow tie.

Standing there looking like an idiot, Y/n said “Go with the green.” smiling. Throwing the yellow tie into the pile of no’s “Are you sure?” I asked questing if it would really look good together. “Yes, Jensen it will look great, you should probably get dressed some more now.” Y/n said shutting the door of the bathroom.

Finally, a few hours later, Y/n came downstairs looking just as beautiful as the first day I had met her. She had paired her dress with a pair of black heels, everything was so sleek. The click of her heels banged off the walls as she walked down the stairs. “Hey beautiful.” I said as she walked to the front door, picking her pocketbook up on the way. “Hey handsome. Are you ready to go?” She said smiling. “Yes, do you need a jacket?” I asked.

Seeing the short sleeves of the dress, “No, I’ll just use yours.” She said winking as she walked out the front door. As I locked our front door, Y/n made her way into the car. The drive to the restaurant was nice, and actually the roads weren’t heavily traffie'd that I assumed that they’d be.

When we arrived to the restaurant, I left the car running and made my way in, and made it to the front desk before the large group of people came in behind me. “Ma’am I have a reservation for 2 under the name Ackles.” I said “okay Sir... Um what was the reservations under?” The young lady said. “Ackles, Alpha, Charlie, Kilo, Lima, Echo, Sierra.” I said spelling it phonetically. The young lady, scrolled and searched her computer for a second before telling me some very bad news.

“I'm sorry Mr. Ackles, but you don’t have a reservation here.” Trying hard to not show how upset I was I asked “Do you have any open tables? It’s just a party of two.” “I’m sorry, we’ve been booked for the past week.” The young lady said. “It’s fine, dear. Have a good rest of your night.” I said walking out.

I know that I was going to feel bad for ruining our date night. As I climbed into the car, Y/n read my face asking me. “They don’t have a table for us, do they?” I looked over at her, and loosened my tie, “yes I’m sorry dear. How about we order some food instead, watch a movie on the couch maybe snuggle.”

“That’s okay dear, and yeah I’d like that very much.” So that’s what we did, Y/n called the closet Japanese's restaurant. “Yes, Ma’am this is Fen, what would you like to order?” After a few minutes of deciding on the what both Y/n and I wanted, Y/n answered “A plate of sushi, and one plate of tempura. Thank you, Fen.” She spoke.

Picking it up on our way home, Y/n held it in her lap, and my hand stayed on her thigh for the rest of the trip home, we played music as we drove. Just taking a minute to relax and reflect on maybe we don’t always have to go out for dinner.

When we arrived home, Y/n asked “Do you mind if we eat in our fancy clothes, seeing as I put so much effort into mine?” “Of course, honey, I’ll go get silverware, and you can choose the movie.” I spoke. As I walked into the kitchen I yelled. “And I put a lot of time into my outfit too, dork.”

Completed: 02/17/2021

#Jensen Ackles #jensengirl #jensen x reader #jensen fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #supernatualfluff #jensenfluff #taglist #planned dilemma #planneddinner #dinner

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doingthingsthewriteway · 4 years

Text

I’ll Be Home for Christmas iv.

Summary: The finale

A/N: cross posted ao3

Taglist: @charmed-asylum @projectcampbell

Town was a buzz which meant Y/N desperately avoided it. She'd made the mistake of visiting her friend at the beauty parlor where the chatter of gossip fell silent as she walked in. Rosemary offered sympathetic eyes though only for the gossip of the other ladies, not the situation itself.

"You didn't tell me you're going steady with the sheriff!" She squealed, running her hands through Y/N's hair.

"It's news to me too."

Rosemary playfully smacked her arm. "Your hair's always been so pretty curled. Let me show ya how and I'll give ya some rollers so you'll look all pretty when he proposes."

Y/N knew better to interrupt Rosie and maybe she felt a little selfish. Rosie wasn't so much proposed to as it was her daddy standing with the barrel of his gun on her (now) husband's chest. At least Y/N was getting asked. Though, she didn't figure it was asking if there was only one answer teacher college said that wasn't right.

With a goodie bag of new products that Y/N insisted on paying for if the rollers were free, Y/N left town intent on getting home and staying there. She almost made it too. Lee was answering a call about a coyote which didn't amount to more than a skinny German Shepherd.

"Howdy, darling." He tipped his hat, toothpick rolling between his lips. "Reckon you could help me with the pooch?"

Lee took her bags from her arm, handbag included, and set them in his squad car. Y/N kneeled before the critter, extending a open hand. "C'mere sweetheart. I ain't gonna hurt ya."

The dog whimpered and eventually worked its way toward her. Lee carefully scooped up the dog and wrangled it into the back seat. "Gotta get this one to the dog catcher."

"Oh Lee, please don't!" Y/N surprised herself at her outburst. She practically through herself into his arms. "He'll kill it! It ain't done nothing wrong."

Lee did his best to hide his smile (which was pretty damn hard to do) at the tenderness in his little girl. He held her at arm's length, staring down at her with his head titled slightly. "Butcher said it was begging."

"Well you would too if you were that skinny."

A laugh shook his belly against hers. "I reckon you're right." Rubbing his jaw, he hummed slightly in thought. "Well if I can't take it to the dog catcher, what do you suppose I do?"

"Keep it." She wriggled out of his arms and to the window of the cruiser where the dog pressed its nose against the glass. "Could even train it to sniff out drugs or bombs."

Nodding, a crooked smile etched itself on his face. "I'll take it home with me for now." He scuffed the toe of his boot against the curb. "Christmas Eve, after the evening service I'm bringing you to my place."

Any elation at a good deed left Y/N immediately. Her shoulders visibly slumped-Lee ignored it for now, he'd put her in his place if she didn't take more pride in being his woman. Instead of protesting, she managed a "I didn't know you went to church."

"How else am I supposed to get Preacher to let us get hitched there?"

Y/N felt the burn of bile rise in her throat but said nothing, only nodding as she reclaimed her things and left. The thought of running, just getting in her car and speeding away but Lee's hand was in everything making that no longer a viable option. She was inevitably stuck.

Staying hunkered in her house was wearing her down. The air fell thick and heavy in the house whenever she happened to cross the path of her mother. Her father could barely talk to her anymore which stung in a way she couldn't quite describe. Y/N hadn't changed yet everyone in this godforsaken town acted like it.

Going with the motions was all she could do. She curled her hair the night before Christmas Eve, keeping it rolled up until the absolute last minute. Her Christmas dress was a rich green made of crushed velvet that her grandmother bought what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Keeping her coat thrown over her arm, pocketbook tucked away, she lingered by the front door. Lee's headlights shown through the windows. His boot stomps on the porch foretold his knock and she opened the door.

"Wow." He murmured under his breath, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You look wonderful, like an angel."

Rosy cheeks met him in response. "Let's go, we don't want to be late for the service."

Hours later, bums sore from the wooden pews, Lee's palms sweat. He suppressed the anticipation as best he could but something about the candlelight and the stain glass of the church just made Y/N look all the more like the woman of his dreams. Several men winked and women gave his arms a squeeze as the townspeople lingered on the front steps. Snow dusting everyone's shoulders.

Y/N, patient if not overly so, played her part well. An admittance of defeat for her cause. Gently resting her head on his shoulder as he traded jokes with the mayor served as a signal for Lee. "Y'all have merry Christmas. Time for me to take my lady home."

Odd how the townspeople were indifferent to Lee's anticipated behavior yet teenagers couldn't go any further than a peck on the lips without a biblical intervention. Yet, here the town was encouraging sin. Perhaps, Lee being Y/N's problem was better than Lee being Knockemstiff's problem.

"I've fixed the house up as best I could. Needs a woman's touch to feel like home until we find a place all our own."

"Are you sure about this? About me?" Last ditch effort, a Christmas miracle if there ever were one.

"Darlin' I'm more sure about you than anything in my entire life."

His house was plain bearing only the necessities. To her relief, the dog from days before greeted the two at the door. Tail thumping against their legs a howl. "Merry Christmas to you too, buddy."

"He's gonna need a name, momma." Lee's grin pressed into her neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Our baby boy needs a name."

"You were gonna slaughter him a week ago. Now he's your baby?"

"What can I say? You changed me." His hips continued to press into her back, swaying softly until just the right amount of friction caused his cock to press into her ass. "Now, we gotta open presents."

"I didn't-"

"Silly girl. I didn't give you any money to buy anything you're my present." He pulled her to the sorriest looking tree she'd ever seen. A small black box with a big red bow sat under it. Slowly, he opened the box as he dropped to one knee. "Will you marry me, Y/N?"

A pause was not the appropriate response. Almost immediately, he grabbed her wrist yanking him toward her. "C'mon darling. Here I am asking nicely instead of just taking what's mine." He shoved the ring on her finger (admittedly the prettiest thing she'd ever seen).

Gripping her jaw, he planted a firm kiss on her lips forcing his tongue through. Struggling was also not appropriate response. A firm slap on her ass caused her to flinch and squeal.

"Easy girl. Just relax. You're in your place now: home for Christmas with me."

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker imagines

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dreaminpeaches · 3 years

Text

Humble Pie: Older Carrie

Here's an older version of Carrie, Beau's little sister, I might do more sketches of her later but here's what I got so far:

- still loves Barbies, Care Bear, Stuffed animals, and any Bear related media

- makes bracelets and earrings out of counting bears

-made bracelets for her friends, Bonnie, Dev and Beau

-Is on the cheerleading team because the head cheerleader has a crush on Beau

- Isn't the most popular girl at school, despite being on the cheerleading team she's isn't allowed to sit at the cool kids table, but has two close friends

-helps out at her brother's ranch

- has her own pony named Milky

-likes to go on nature walks with her friends or brothers, Bonnie or just her and Milky

-Carries a camera on her nature walks just case she sees any bears

-babysits on the side

-patches up old plushies or makes mini purses and pocketbooks out of them

- Part times at Build A Bear

- current hyperfixation is We Bear Bare, and Yogi Bear

- still trying to figure out her aesthetic, it's currently a soft scene, toycore, and kidcore aesthetic

- collects beanie babies

- can do a spot on Yogi Bear impression, it freaks her brothers out

-likes to hangout at the ranch, in the woods, the park, the zoo, nature park, and the toy store at the mall

-Bonnie often lets in Carrie and her friends for free at the amusement park

- Glittered and Bedazzled her brother's old varsity jacket

- either wants to be a toymaker or park ranger when she grows up

#paraportal #immersive daydreaming #paracosm #paracosm: humble pie #para: carrie #para sketches #yes she still ask for piggyback rides from Beau #he can still carry her pretty easily

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hadestownmodern · 3 years

Note

persephone takes hades and junie to the farmers market

A shorter version is posted on AO3 :)

enjoy!

-A

“Excuse me, Miss Junie Bee, what did I tell you ‘bout running up there? You gotta take your time.” Persephone warns, her hand flexing open and shut to signal her young daughter to take hold of it. Junie beams at her mother, stopping to take both her hand and wiggle her hand around her father’s as well.

“Sorry Mama, I’m just excited!” She explains, skipping her feet ahead and tugging on her parents arms. “Amma said we could find loooots of things to make dinner with here!” Its pure excitement leaking out of her, the prospect of her favorite activity, cooking, pulling her along.

It was certainly unexpected for Persephone, when her toddler took to a love of all things food at a young age. It hadn’t surprised her that she had a taste for the finer things, but rather how much she enjoyed making them. Not to mention how, as she approached four, she was more capable in a kitchen than Persephone was herself.

Junie runs forward, curls bouncing on her shoulders as she tugs her parents ahead. “Daddy,” comes out in her sweet voice, as she tilts her head up at the sky to meet her father’s Gaze.

Hades looks back down to her with an eyebrow raised, and a smile creeping onto his face. He had found that his daughter was always full of interesting questions, an inquisitiveness that would serve her well.

“Why did you wear a suit to the farm today? Your shoes are gonna get muddy, Amma makes me take mine off. She says it’s ‘cause you don’t know anythin’ about being here, but I told her you’re wrong because you know EVERYTHING.” It’s innocent and exudes pure childish curiosity. Junie is asking out of genuine wonder, but the question makes Persephone snort. She has to cover her face with her free hand and look the other direction, to avoid laughing directly in the face of her husband. While she certainly didn’t agree with her mother, especially the part of her telling Junie these things, she had to admit she had a point.

“Yeah, honey, tell your daughter why you wore business casual to the farm?” Persephone teases, as she reaches down to scoop Junie onto her hip. They smile at him, with identical expressions, though Persephone’s hints at a bit of taunting under it. “Since you know everything.”

Hades narrows his eyes at his wife as, as if reminding them as of dignity, adjusts the buttons on the front of his suit jacket. “Because, you can tell Demeter, I am here to patronize the community. Farm fresh produce is excellent. Other’s grow it and pick it, and I pay them for their goods and time. And, we cut out the middle man of the grocery store. It’s economically responsible. Supporting people who grow and sell the products…” He clarifies, before he tucks one hand into his pocket and gestures with the other. “And besides, Junie, why are we here?”

“Fresh Vegetables.” Junie responds with a single nod of her head, proud of herself for remembering the goal of their trip out (besides, of course, visiting her Grandmother).

“And why do we want them?” Hades questions, the inflection of his voice already filled with pride.

“Because if they aren’t fresh we don’t want them.” Junie recites with pride, kicking her feet in time with her parents walking ahead. “Mama, have you ever been here?”

“Good pocketbook lesson on Economics, Hades.” Persephone grins, kissing Junie’s cheek as she begins to direct her curiosity towards her mother instead. “Hmm? To this market? Yeah of course, baby, I grew up at Amma’s house. Me and Amma used to get up early every day and she’d make me go out to the garden with her- I was only about your size- and we’d pick our own vegetables for the day. Ask your daddy, even when he met me, I was growing tomato plants in my window.”

It had never dawned on her that her daughter may not associate her with planting and harvesting, the way the people who grew up on stories of Persephone and Demeter and the way the two of them seemed to make anything grow with just luck. “We never sold anything, but we could grow anything we wanted. We came here, too, though. For those things we couldn’t make ourselves. Cheeses, Eggs, Soaps..” She trails off, looking at the booth in the corner, now belonging to a woman selling scarves that once belonged to a family selling honey. Persephone doesn't realize the excitement that creeps into her voice as she talks about her town, doesn't realize that she is beaming as she explains the things she and her mother did in her early life. She makes a note to herself mentally, to bring Junie here more in the summer. Maybe it would serve her well, to run barefoot among the chickens, or eat grapes right off of the vine. Not like she could really do those things back home, Persephone would remind herself, as she realizes now how deeply that shaped who she is.

“My daddy used to sell honey up there,” Persephone points ahead at the replaced booth, “ he had a whole hive of Bees..” She trails off, voice catching in her throat.

“Bees like me! Junie BEE.” She emphasises for her, a look of wonder on her little face. “What happened to him, Mama?” Junie asks her mother, her voice gentle and soft, intuitively knowing to offer that comfort to her mother.

“Yeah baby. Junie Bee.” Persephone takes a deep breath, debating how to explain to her daughter, it seemed so blunt to discuss death to such a young girl. But, Perspehone supposed, there is no use in hiding it. “He died when I was really very little. I was smaller than you were.” She feels her husband’s hand on her shoulder in support as he gives her a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “You should ask your grandmother about him. I bet she’d love to tell you.”

Junie nods, aware of the way the tone in the air shifts, ever intune with the people around her. She decides, then, to bring some joy back into her mother. “Why don’t you grow plants at home, mama?” Junie inquires with big, chocolate colored eyes, as she wraps her arms around her shoulders in a hug, before she begins to wriggle her body a bit to be let go to walk again.

“I’ve.. never tried, baby.” Persephone realizes, though she now has the idea swirling in her head. “I don’t know if it could grow with all that concrete.” There wasn’t really dirt and soil back home, concrete and steel were more common than trees and plants. Maybe window boxes? Persephone considers sliding Junie so she can walk again.

“Can you and ‘amma show me how? I bet I can make them grow back home.” Junie suggests, again, grabbing both their hands before tugging ahead. “I can do anything.”

Persephone nods in response, “I think we could make that happen.” She links eyes with Hades, and they share a knowing look. With a little work, they’d give her whatever. They’d give her the world. “You sure can, baby.”

#hadestown #hadestown au #hadestown fanfic #hades #persephone #hades and persephone #hades tag #persephone tag #mentions of demeter #Junie tag

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springtimebat · 3 years

Text

The Autumn Meeting (Part 4/4)

{The Unicorn and The Moon}

This is the story of my parents; of how they lived and died, and how my mother met my father as she danced along with the moon.

It all began a long, long time ago. When the world was just dust. When the woods were rivers. My mother was a child and she was told of unicorns who returned to virtuous girls when the full moon arrived each month. She heard of it from her mother, as they watched the stars in the sky.

“If you wait for long enough at a time like this,” My grandmother explained, and her voice didn’t just come from her throat, but from the earth, the air and the trees, “The creature will find its way to your lap. It’ll raise its head to the stars, just as you young maidens raise your heads to the moon and the sun. Then it’ll settle down and let you pet it. Just like that. No cages required.”

“I will catch the unicorn,” My mother decided, “I will tame them with a silver tongue.”

A week later, my mother set herself in the moss and the grass, her hands hidden in her dress pockets, fingers fastened tightly around a pair of scissors.

Predictably, the unicorn arrived and began its maddening dance. My mother shot up and dropped her scissors in the dirt. This creature, this sublime creature, was the most precious thing she had ever seen. Regrettably, she fell in love.

My mother slipped beside it and twirled its mane in her fingers. It was all smoke and reflected the soft creases of the moon. The creature's eyes were milky and opaque, yet my mother looked at them with admiration. She wished to be hidden too. God she wished that she could hide. She wished she could practice the creature’s dance and shield herself with the magic of the moon’s tide.

They danced along the moss and frogs for hours, my mother and the unicorn. They appeared to fly up into the sky on imaginary stairs. The unicorn let its muzzle fall to my mothers neck. It closed its eyes. My mother closed her eyes. They let each other sink. By dawn, the myth was gone and the young maiden was left alone on tired feet that hummed. Nine months later, I arrived, my eyes silver like the stars that fall. And that’s all she had left. She told me that she had cut the unicorn’s hair that night, but she never showed me the locks, tied with a ribbon in a pocketbook. I think she only wishes she had taken her scissors to the unicorn that night.

And so my mother and father met. And so my mother and father parted.

“The end,” The Queen opens her eyes to the circle and gives a small smile. Emillian picks his jaw off the forest floor. Guy turns his head to his old friend, apparently confused.

“Do you have any notes?”

“You’re not human,” Emillian states, his voice low and scratchy. The Queen shivers and lowers her gaze to the ground.

“I suppose not.” She hesitates for a moment, but continues, “I am but a leaf in the wind, being pulled to and fro by various mysterious figures.”

“Are these forces familiar or unfamiliar?”

“They are both. Simultaneously.”

“How does that work then?”

“It doesn't. I’m a mess.”

“I wonder about you.”

“Why do you wonder?”

“I try to imagine where you would be if you hadn’t grasped power in that once in a lifetime moment.”

“I don’t know and I don’t particularly care. That’s not who I am anymore.”

“How convenient.”

“I could have you beheaded, you know.”

“I know. But you won’t. You’re a coward.”

“I find you interesting. The world’s better with you here. When I consider killing things, those are my terms.”

“What did I miss?” Asks a voice from the shadows. Abram stands by the camp entrance in the oaks, his scales greased.

“Unicorns Abram,” Emil chuckles, “You missed unicorns.”

“Aw I missed the whole story?” He turns to the queen and gives her a bow, “I’m sure it was wonderful, your majesty.”

“Come and sit with us again Abram,” Emil requests, patting a rock beside him, “Come and long with us.”

“I would love to but…there’s something coming.”

“Something’s coming?”

“Yep. It’s this...castle, or town...it’s something okay? It’s a building crawling through the trees. It’s heading this way.”

“It’s the corridors.”

The three storytellers turn to the Queen, who pats down her skirts and rises from her throne.

“It’s coming for you?” Abram asks.

“Yes. My husband’s realised I’m missing.”

“Huh the man himself,” Emil mutters, drawing lines in the grit below him.

“Indeed.”

“He’ll be here soon.”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

“Not to be rude, your highness, but none of us were worried. How can you be worried about a man you’ve never seen?”

“Very easily,” The Queen winced, “Though, I suppose it's hard for Emillian. He doesn’t have a soul.”

“Of course I own a soul! I am a soul! How do I talk? How do I move? All with the assistance of a soul.”

“Are those rhetorical questions?”

“They’re whatever you want them to be.”

“I see a spark in that empty eye socket of yours. It’s an occasional flash. That’s all that remains of you.”

“Of me?”

“Of your soul”

“That idiot just wanders off and does what he wants.”

“Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t have a soul. Not really. He just likes to complain.”

“You don’t say?”

“Hmph, you’re one to talk about souls,” Emil growls, “I suppose your heir will dance in the light of the moon.”

The Queen frowns, “Our baby will be fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Do people wish for more?”

“From a future king? A future immortal? Yes.”

“You really shouldn’t get involved with other people’s children. It gives you wrinkles-”

“Uh guys its-”

“-I am composed of creases and grooves, plain and simple. Babes make no difference to my complexion.”

“I’ll be happy if the baby’s fine. If they’re simply ordinary.”

“Will the king be pleased?”

“Ecstatic. His son will have something he can never have.”

“A soul?”

“Yes. A soul in the shades.”

“How loathsome.”

“How tragic.”

“Such a waste," Abram sighs, "But fellas, that creepy crawly thing is here.”

The town made on the backs of the devoured came to a stand still, its eyes straining in the shade. After a few moments, it finds its monarch in the dark and gives a tired groan. The Queen sighs and gives a little wave.

Slowly, a door unhinges itself from the city’s brow, curling like the strip of tongue. The king appears in a blur of yellow, grinning down at the storyteller’s guild sitting in the Autumn leaves. He focuses on his bride, who is trying to suppress a similar smirk. Raising a bony hand, The King beckons her to follow him into the city’s gut. His Queen nods and smiles at the rest of the group.

“I really enjoyed talking with you all. Thank you for tolerating me at your meeting.”

Abram grins, Gus waves an arm and a leg and Emil gives a curt nod as their guest returns to their nest. All three men watch as the city of tomorrow engulfs its figureheads and disappears back into the never ending woods.

“Well that was something huh?” Abram gasps.

“Abe?”

“Yep Emillian?”

“Remind me to never invite royalty to our meetings.”

“The air was different there.”

The King and Queen sit inside their screen porch, peering out at the world on its side. The Queen whistles a lullaby long forgotten by time, smiling at her husband’s confusion.

“It would be love. You’re a long way from home now. A long way from the bones and the cold.”

“Not far enough it appears. How far have we travelled?”

“Hmm, if I had to estimate we are about two hundred miles from the mountains.”

“Huh. Is that far?”

“Very, very far for you and I. To some, two hundred miles is a single step.”

“Is “Some” Your friends down there.”

“No. They’re like us.”

“Like the corridors?”

“No. Not like the corridors at all. They have...something in there with all the flesh and the bones and the metal-”

“Souls?” The King’s eyes flash in the dying sun.

“Maybe. I’m not too sure.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yes it was very...beneficial,”

“Did you tell them about your ma?”

“Yes and my father,”

The King gives a wistful sigh and rests his thin face in his palms. The Queen relaxes in her throne, her feet tired from the day’s work. Her husband gives her a small smile.

“I wonder what colour my soul would be.”

“Silver. A flickering silver that disappears every so often.”

“I hate being read.”

“I’m not reading you. I’m simply analysing.”

“Ah! Simple analysis, you old, old fool! What started this conversation again? I’ve forgotten love.”

“We were discussing souls, as we always seem to do.”

“Hmm, silver. Grey even? Grey like feathers.”

“Like your aura.” The Queen giggles.

“Auras? You think we have auras? Auras are distractions,”

“Oh? What do we have then?”

“Phantoms are what we have. The world moved on from enjoyment and left it as just a string of words and moments. Much like what the world did to me. It abandoned me.”

“You are not abandoned. You still have an old, old fool, right by your side.” His wife reaches for his arm and places her hand in his, finger intertwined.

“That’s true. The world left me with phantoms, to contemplate in the dark. It left me in the lonely corners to wait for you. And now that’s all I desire. My old, old fool with a soul made of gold.”

“You know, you really should have gone to the meeting in my place. My friends would have loved you.”

“Maybe so. But it was your quest to complete. And I’m very proud of you. Now you can let the past go and look towards the future.” He lowers his gaze to his wife’s stomach and gives her fingers a squeeze.

“It was helpful. I had fun.”

“I’m glad. The corridors were getting anxious,”

“They’re always anxious,”

“They thought you’d leave me,”

The Queen sighs, “You shouldn’t listen to them all the time. They don’t live and they never have. You wish for a soul and they loathe consciousness,”

“We were lonely. I was lonely.”

“I know. I could hear you. But I came back, didn't I?”

“Yes. Yes you did. But sometimes-”

“Sometimes what?”

“Sometimes... I dream of that unicorn,”

“My unicorn?”

“Yes. I dream of you and me. You’re a unicorn, all smoke and mirrors, and I try to cut your mane. I startle you and you run away from me,”

“That will never happen love. I would never do that to you. Or him,” The Queen pats her stomach fondly.

“The corridors don’t help,” The King sighs.

“Don’t listen to them. Just sit here with me.”

“Things will get better,” The King whispers, and he tries to relax on his chair, tries to appreciate his family’s return.

The screaming walls make it difficult.

#my writing #creative writing #ongoing series #part 4 of 4 #a devil's palm story #fantasy #surreal #storytelling #parallel worlds #monsters #cryptids #cryptidcore #oddcore #weirdcore #american gothic #southern gothic #last part of a series #sorry this took a really long time #rough draft

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Urgent Exit Required (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

fic summary: "She’d always thought, really, how bad could a relationship between two colleagues ever be?

She supposes now, standing on the flyover with a rifle in her hand, she sees exactly why that rule is in place. Usually she has problems falling for straight girls, this time her error’s been falling for a bent one."

(In which Lawrence works in anti-corruption, and Ellie is the corrupt officer wrapped up in an organised crime gang.)

a/n: please in the name of Jesus, Mary and Joseph and the wee donkey, read the trigger warnings!!!!

this is a Line of Duty AU based entirely off of the final episode of season 3 because apparently i'm unable to consume any media without turning it into a fic! big big thanks to Juno who was chill about me posting this as she's also concieved of a Line of Duty AU that looks like it'll be AMAZING so keep an eye out for that!!

if you enjoyed then feel free to leave some love, even if it's just to scream at me xo

trigger warnings: because it's based off a gritty tv show, please be mindful that this fic features gun violence, injury and death (to be absolutely clear: one of them dies) so if you feel this fic is not for u then don't force it and please click off it!

if uv made it this far then pls enjoy this heavy slice of angst that has absolutely 0 grounding in reality whatsoever xo

***

Lawrence doesn’t think she’s ever been more aware of her heart than she is now.

She means that in every sense. Physically, it’s all she can feel; it’s swollen in her ribcage as it batters in her chest, working overtime to keep up with the adrenaline that’s coursing through her veins like a forest fire as she pounds across the dual carriageway, hurdles over the central reservation and sprints past cars as though they’re nothing less than flies that simply need swatted away. She’d normally conduct more of a mental risk-assessment before essentially playing professional chicken on a busy main road. She’d normally think through every move carefully; strategise, stack up the options, Sherlock in slow-motion. It’s what’s got her to where she is today, but today isn’t a normal day. And where she is now is on a road bridge, positioning an AR-15 onto a high railing so it looks down onto a near-silent residential street. The blood’s roaring in her ears and her mouth’s so dry that she can taste the inexplicable tang of metal and her heart , Jesus Christ she never knew it could beat this fast.

Lawrence has been in situations like this before. It’s not like she’s never held a gun; in anti-terror she’d become as desensitized to them as one human could be, and she’s come to regard them as a grim necessity to her job just like her badge, her lanyard, her pocketbook. As stress levels- adrenaline levels- go, she’s been exposed to her fair share. High speed chases, hurtling through the city in a Vauxhall with an ART on her way to arrest a potentially dangerous criminal. She’s been ambushed in a warehouse and tied to a chair and had her hand forced into a vice by a gang of men in balaclavas, and that still , as insane as it sounds, didn’t have her heart beating like it is just now.

Because this is all different. Because she knows it’s only a matter of time before that car appears, and she knows who’s travelling in the passenger seat.

She’s not religious, so she hopes instead of prays. For what, she doesn’t know.

For both of them to come out of this alive, perhaps.

***

It’s always strange to watch one of their own crack in the interview chair. The bravado they begin with, the smug cushioning of their own status within the ranks rendering them completely disbelieving of the idea they could ever be brought down.

Then comes the little telltale signs. The sipping of the water, the clearing of the throat. The slight pause that starts to come before their answers, on stage in the middle of the dress run forgetting their script and the only lines they’ll be fed are the standard infuriating “no comment”. And then comes the shattering of the glass. When the three of them kick down the sandcastle and watch it crumble and whichever bent bastard they’re charging this time leaves with their tail between their legs and metal around their wrists.

Except it’s not the three of them. It’s just Superintendent Black and DC Chaney. Because DS Boyle (Aurora), her colleague (her friend), is being held in a cell. Framed for the armed robbery she hasn’t organised, framed for the attempted murder of a woman Lawrence knows she’d never even so much as say a bad word about, let alone lay a hand on. The fake number plates on her car, the drug money banknotes found in the boot.

Things that Lawrence would never in her wildest nightmares have considered Ellie Diamond to be capable of orchestrating. Things that don’t match up with the Ellie who bought her coffee and left it on her desk in time for her starting work. The Ellie that wrote shite jokes on pink post-its and stuck them to her monitor (What do you call a happy penguin? A pen-grin). The Ellie that held her close and whispered condolences and apologies and words of comfort after they’d interviewed and arrested Aurora.

Lawrence has tried to separate the two in her mind, but she knows she can’t. She knows that the Ellie she’s come to know and the Ellie that’s done all these things are one and the same, and that’s still something she’s trying to wrap her brain around. But she’s in the chair in front of her in a muted baby pink suit, the colour clashing so violently with the matter at hand, with her solicitor and a glass of water and her pink acrylics tapping against the table, and she’s cracking just like they always do. The evidence against her is piling up, and suddenly she is just another criminal.

Joe leans forward against the desk, eyes narrowing. “DI Diamond, I think we have earned the right to ask you the question...will you kindly tell us your whereabouts between ten and eleven am on the morning of the fifteenth?”

The morning that Tayce Szura-Radix was struck by Aurora’s car in a brutal hit-and-run. The morning Tayce had thought she was about to meet Aurora. The morning that Tayce emailed Joe a list of names linked to the OCG. They all know it wasn’t a coincidence.

The morning that confirmed all of Lawrence’s worst fears.

Ellie holds Joe’s gaze, the stubborn glint in her eyes contrasting with the tense energy she’s emanating from every pore. There’s a silence before she answers in which Lawrence holds her breath.

“I don’t think I need to answer that question.”

The urge Lawrence fights to roll her eyes is a battle between David and Goliath.

“Don’t you?” Joe smiles patiently at her, blinks calmly in an almost reptilian way. Joe knows they’ve not played their ace yet, and the pair of them have got all the time in the world.

(Well, they don’t. They’ve got an hour until Aurora is either charged or released, and it’s looking like it’ll be the former. Lawrence can’t let that happen, even if it is Ellie in the chair opposite her.)

“It’s a voluntary interview,” Ellie explains. Her voice is fast and breathy as she speaks again, almost choked with nerves. “And I’m only here because it’s my lawful duty as a police officer to assist in a criminal enquiry.”

“Of course, DI Diamond, of course you are,” Joe nods, calm and placating. “In fact, we can stop this interview right now if you like, but of course it would leave this question hanging over you, hanging over your career. Or you could do the honourable thing and offer us an answer. Exclude yourself from our enquiries. That’s assuming you have nothing to hide.”

Ellie looks down at the table, frozen for a moment in time. She looks to her solicitor as if he’s the last liferaft off the Titanic, leans over to him for advice. What she receives doesn’t even seem as if it’s the equivalent of a rubber duck from the way she reaches across for her glass of water again, sips for a second, clears her throat.

As she leans back in her chair and folds her arms, Lawrence finds herself wondering if Ellie’s ever played poker. She hopes she hasn’t, for her dignity’s sake if nothing else.

“I was at my flat,” she says quickly, as if she’s trying to make up for the time she’s spent in silence. “I was on surveillance until late the night before, and I slept late.”

Lawrence’s heart jumps as Joe continues questioning.

“So you were in during those hours.”

Ellie nods quickly. “Yes.”

Lawrence can’t help herself. She’s bitten her tongue through most of the interview, not trusting herself to speak. Silence is a virtue she rarely possesses, and somehow she’s managed to keep her resolve til now. But whatever Ellie was to her before, whatever her feelings were (are?), she’s still a detective that’s being handed an opportunity to catch a criminal on a silver platter.

“Say that again,” Lawrence says, calm but insistent. When Ellie’s gaze is ripped from Joe to fall onto her, Lawrence can’t read her expression. Her mouth moves slightly as if she’s about to speak, then clearly elects not to.

Lawrence keeps her own face blank as she continues, no telltale signs of her broken heart on display. “You’ve just said you were in your flat between ten and eleven am on the fifteenth. We’ve got that on tape.”

Ellie’s eyes dart between Lawrence and Joe. “Wh…”

Joe, for her part, is still fixing Ellie with that patient expression. “It’s a very simple matter, DI Diamond-”

“No, no. DI Diamond’s already answered the question,” Lawrence interrupts, leaning forward against the desk. She selfishly allows an angry glint to appear in her eye, one that sets off a flicker of fear in Ellie’s in turn. “Haven’t you?”

Ellie’s like a statue as she stares at Lawrence, unable to answer. The only sign she’s still sentient is her sporadic blinking with her long lash extensions that Lawrence examines every detail of as she continues to stare at her. Eyes that Lawrence had once looked into and felt butterflies that now only turn her stomach in the worst of ways.

“You’ve mentioned, when questioned, something you later intend to rely on. In court,” Lawrence states, the ‘t’ of ‘court’ bouncing through gritted teeth and making Ellie’s gaze dart back to Joe, clearly a less threatening option.

There’s a silence where Ellie sits, slack-jawed and cornered, before she shakes her head, rubbing her perfectly made up face with her hands quickly. “No, look...I might have made a mistake, just...give me a second to think.”

“Take your time, DI Diamond,” Joe says, humouring her. They both know there’s no hope for Ellie to pull an alibi out of her ass at this stage of the game.

“I’d been up late, so I…” Ellie stammers.

Even after everything, Lawrence still fights the urge to feel sorry for her.

There’s a moment where Ellie freezes for a second, then looks to Joe with what appears to be renewed confidence. She reaches into the inside pocket of her suit jacket, pulls out her phone.

Lawrence narrows her eyes, question marks immediately appearing in her mind.

“If I just check my phone...you know, times of texts I sent and that. That’ll probably help me remember…” Ellie mutters, looking down into the screen.

She keeps staring at it. Her finger is poised over something, something she’s waiting to press. Something she’s waiting to send? Immediately there’s a red flag wrapped around Lawrence’s thoughts.

Ellie’s eyes are stuck to her phone as she opens her mouth again.

“You wouldn’t, um. You wouldn’t have gone into my flat that morning, Lawrence?”

The red flag is joined by alarm bells. She knows. She knows that Lawrence knows that she wasn’t in her flat that morning. Lawrence can see Joe look to her, but she’s not answering. Instead, she’s got her eyes on that phone just as much as Ellie. Watching. Waiting.

And then Ellie’s finger hits the screen and she looks up at Lawrence. There’s an assurance to her gaze that Lawrence doesn’t like. “Like...alone?”

Lawrence isn’t answering her. She doesn’t owe her anything. They’re staring at each other- no warmth, just steel- and it’s so intense that Lawrence almost doesn’t hear anything.

But then there’s the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking outside that cuts through the silence. The starting pistol for all hell breaking loose.

***

Lawrence supposes a lot can happen in a minute. She rests the rifle against the railing of the bridge, flicks the safety off with her thumb and holds her breath as she waits for the blacked-out Range Rover to appear from its hiding place within the identical red brick houses. She wonders how she'll live with herself if her shot hits Ellie. She's a good aim, but she's not that good. Regardless, if the car appears she's taking the shot, decision-making process be damned.

She also supposes a lot can happen in a year. Ellie's transfer from the AC-9 Witness Protection Department to AC-12 in order for her to help aid the investigation into the ambush of former DI Tayce Szura-Radix was an unwelcome one at first. It had always been Lawrence, Joe and Aurora, the dream team with insurmountable trust in each other. A new girl from outside that circle wasn't exactly going to assimilate well into that, no matter how cheerful or friendly she was.

Or how beautiful.

But, little by little, Ellie fell in with the department as naturally as the seasons changed. The more interviews Lawrence conducted with Ellie she got to see how sympathetic she could be towards victims and indeed how steadfast and unforgiving she could be with witnesses. The more time Lawrence worked with Ellie she got to see how efficient she was, the quick turnaround on any of her tasks and the way she followed up enquiries like a dog with a scent easily impressing her. The more late-night surveillance ops they spent together Lawrence got to find out how funny Ellie was, the other girl making her snort with hysterical laughter as they played silly games of snog, marry, avoid in the lull between any suspicious activity.

The thing is, there’s only so much time someone can spend with a girl like Ellie before they start to fall for her. At least that’s Lawrence’s theory, although maybe she’s just talking from experience. As much as she’s committed to her career and as much as she wants to rise through the ranks (and yeah, she’s earned the right to boast about how much she’s achieved so young), she’s still a lesbian in her twenties who’s never had a girlfriend. Okay, she’d never do what Aurora did and spark up something with a witness and disgraced corrupt officer, even though she supposes it doesn’t matter now that poor Tayce is fighting for her life in a hospital bed, God love her. But she’d always thought, really, how bad could a relationship between two colleagues ever be?

It hurts to remember. As much as those memories of falling for Ellie make her happy, they’re tainted now. Knowing the girl she’s fallen for could’ve ended someone else’s life. Knowing how much she’s wrapped up in armed robberies, drug trafficking, organised crime. But there’s still the ridiculous part of Lawrence that screams, she’s just a pawn. She’s not to blame. She’s small fry, and there’s bigger fish out there.

Fighting past those thoughts and digging deep, Lawrence narrows her eyes at the street below her and curls her finger around the trigger. A lot can happen in a minute. A lot of memories can fly through her head.

***

It all happens so fast. One guard turning his firearm on another outside the interview room and then shooting through the glass walls, the gunshots loud and pummeling Lawrence’s ears as she ducks down under the desk. When they stop, she can only look up to see Ellie sprinting over the carpet of broken glass, running across the office with the guard following behind her. Not in pursuit. As protection.

Lawrence doesn’t think. She dashes up from behind the desk, snatches up the assault rifle from beside the guard who’s bleeding out on the ground and sprints after Ellie, only stopping to snatch up her tactical vest and shrug it on whilst she’s running.

She is not letting her get away.

As she leaves, Lawrence can hear Joe shouting; ordering someone to CPR the wounded guard, to lock down the building. When Lawrence reaches the balcony of the atrium just before she takes the stairs, she can see Ellie hurtling through the main doors, the police officer following behind her pointing his gun at anyone in their way.

She can’t believe Ellie’s wrapped up in all this. Still, that’s the nature of the job. Sometimes it’s the ones that were blatantly bent from the start, sometimes it’s the ones you’d never expect. Sometimes it’s the girls who wear the diamante hair clips and sing along to the radio in the office and squeeze your hand with a gentle smile when you’re tired and flagging. Life’s not like the kids’ movies Ellie loves so much, the bad guys aren’t always clear cut. Although she supposes Ellie’s the perfect modern-day Disney twist-villain if ever there was one.

As Lawrence runs out into the street her heart sinks to find that Ellie and the guard are already a fair distance down the road, their guns ensuring that shocked passers-by leap out of their way quickly. She doesn't think she's going to be able to catch them on foot, and her mind makes the risk assessment of trying to shoot at them in such a public setting.

The truck that's fast approaching on the road makes the decision for her.

Lawrence runs out into the street, wielding her badge (as if the driver can see it from high up in his cab) but luckily the truck stops anyway, and she hoists herself up to cling to the side door, commands the driver to follow Ellie and the guard as fast as he can and not to stop.

The driver obeys and Lawrence shouts directions at him through the window as Ellie frantically pounds the pavements in the rapidly decreasing distance. The lorry keeps up well thanks to the lack of traffic lights on the road, and Lawrence eventually hops off as Ellie sprints down a pedestrianised side street with the guard at her tail.

Lawrence narrows her eyes, aims…

And then a family steps into her path. Dad, Mum, boy, girl. Perfect little nuclear setup smack bang in front of her target line. Lawrence curses loudly, sprints past them and down the scrub of industrial wasteland parallel to the one Ellie disappeared down with the guard. With a pang to her heart, Lawrence considers the barren dirt that frames the path and the washed-out colours that surround her. Old warehouses and scrap metal and the brown of old grass. Insipid and sepia and so Not Ellie.

She skids to a halt, though, when she sees two figures running across the way; baby pink suit, firearms uniform. They’ve slowed to a jog now, it’s no longer the fast-paced marathon it was before. Lawrence takes advantage of their unsuspecting position, and she cocks her gun as she shouts from the distance between them.

“Armed police!”

Both of them whip their heads round as they freeze in fear, and as the guard aims his own gun Lawrence fires two shots towards him in panic. She knows any injury (or death, God forbid) would be lawful, but it never makes it any easier. The guard falls to the ground, disarmed and no longer a threat.

And then it’s just her and Ellie.

Ellie’s got her glock trained on Lawrence as she stands rooted to the spot, blinking at her with those huge lashes and breathing heavily. Her eyes are wide and frantic, panicked. She shouldn’t be in charge of a gun.

“Drop your weapon!” Lawrence shouts, adjusting the gun for emphasis.

“Drop yours!” Ellie retorts childishly, not backing down in any sense. It’s fitting, Lawrence supposes, that they’re still bickering to the bitter end.

They could both fire at each other. Well, Ellie could fire at her. But as Lawrence keeps her aim steady, Ellie suddenly drops her arm to her side, sprints off as fast as she’s able down the alley again. Lawrence could shoot her like she did the guard. But the evidence Ellie can give is too valuable, too precious. She needs her alive.

And as Lawrence runs after her in pursuit, she pretends that’s the only reason she’s sparing her.

***

Selfishly, Lawrence allows herself to think about what could’ve been. She still judges herself heavily for how much she thinks about that night; the night of Ellie’s commendation award, when Ellie had been tipsy off free champagne and Lawrence had been drunk off just walking her home, the pair of them sharing a styrofoam carton of chips with their arms linked together. Ellie had been wearing this mid-length silver dress that seemed to drip with little jewels, and the way she sparkled under the streetlights had matched the stars in the sky and the twinkle in her eyes as she agreed with Lawrence about how these didn’t compare to the chips in Scotland.

As the empty carton was chucked in a bin, Ellie had begun to chat about how much she missed her home city. She told Lawrence about how she’d always dreamt of opening a hair and beauty salon on the high street in Dundee, or maybe even moving to Glasgow and opening it there. Her lips had taken on a dreamy, wistful smile as she spoke about how she’d wanted to paint the outside pink and have hanging baskets with plastic flowers hanging over the windows. How she’d keep glass jars full of sweets on top of the desk and a gingham-patterned feature wall where she’d take pictures of her clients’ hair for Instagram.

“And then I became a police officer,” Ellie had laughed humourlessly, and Lawrence hadn’t missed the disappointment in her tone. It had been Ellie’s big night, a highlight of her career. A commendation for defending herself alone against a member of the OCG with a firearm.

(Lawrence now knows that the situation had been manipulated to fit Ellie’s agenda and that self-defence couldn’t have been further from the truth.)

But it didn’t make sense that Ellie had been so hung up on this pipe dream of owning a hair salon.

“So why didn’t you?” Lawrence had tilted her head, struck by the beauty of the girl by her side all over again.

Ellie had turned to blink in confusion at her, Lawrence immediately snapping her gaze to the pavement in a show of uncharacteristic shyness. “Why didn’t I what?”

Lawrence had laughed, unable to resist the urge to poke fun at her friend-slash-colleague-slash-crush. “You are a fuckin’ goldfish! Three-second memory! Why didn’t you open the salon? Y’know. What made you join the force instead?”

When Lawrence looked at Ellie again, there’d been a frown making furrows between her perfectly carved-out eyebrows. There was a pause as their heels continued to clack against the concrete paving slabs of the street, a pause filled with words Ellie hadn’t seemed to be able to say.

“Sometimes life just has different plans for you, I guess.”

Something in her answer had troubled Lawrence but, as ever, she deflected with a joke. The night had been so perfect, and she hadn’t wanted to shatter the unspoiled crystal moment just yet.

“What a classic fuckin’ Ellie Diamond answer. No grand speeches about wanting to protect the vulnerable, no humble brags about wanting to help people, no Miss World speech about preserving life. Just life having other plans. Like your whole career’s been an inconvenience in the way of you getting to play hair salons with people like they’re fuckin’ Barbie dolls.”

Ellie had snorted a giggle, shaking her head as she brought her other arm up to rest in the crook of Lawrence’s elbow. “Playing with Barbie dolls. Girl, I am the Barbie doll!”

Lawrence had laughed along, the smile still on her face as she spoke again. “Nah. She’s plastic and out of proportion. You’re far too pretty to be her.”

“Jesus,” Ellie had muttered, the ghost of a smile still there on her lips. “An actual compliment from DC Chaney. Fuck a commendation, that’s the highlight of the night. Maybe I can take early retirement.”

Lawrence’s heart had fluttered as she’d looked at Ellie with a smirk. “Quite frankly flattered to know a compliment from me means so fuckin’ much to you.”

Ellie had only returned her smirk, a brazen glint in her eye that turned Lawrence’s insides to butter. “Too right, hen.”

Something electric had begun to charge between them from there, something magic and organic and real. Lawrence has spent a lot of time since she discovered Ellie’s involvement in the OCG trying to figure out what between them had been real, and she still argues in favour of the authenticity of that moment. The memory of reaching Ellie’s door and standing beside her as she fumbled under the mat for her spare key (having lost her original somewhere in her clutch bag) is so searing that it almost throws off Lawrence’s concentration. She grits her teeth, trying to ground herself as she adjusts her aim so that it’s right in the middle of the road. Any second now…

But the way Ellie had looked at her from under her lashes with a coy smile on her face when Lawrence had asked her if she’d had a good night still remains branded in her mind.

“I mean, apart from the fact I had to spend it with you,” she’d teased, laughing as Lawrence’s mouth had dropped open in outrage. “...yeah. I had a good night.”

“Stop talking shite. I was the highlight of your evening,” Lawrence had poked her in the arm, stupidly delighting in the way Ellie giggled in response.

“Yeah, a chippy in the middle of the street! You really know how to charm a lady. Remind me why you’re single?” Ellie had joked, Lawrence choosing to roll her eyes dramatically instead of growing offended.

“Ellie Diamond, a lady? That’ll be right,” Lawrence had snorted, only prompting Ellie’s grin to grow bigger. “And I’m single by choice, I’ll have you know. Obviously I’ve got lassies throwing themselves at my feet, but none of them meet my outrageously high standards.”

Ellie had giggled, but her laugh had faltered as she’d met Lawrence’s eyes. There’d been something unsure in them, something nervous, but even looking back Lawrence is sure they’d held a certain amount of honesty that couldn’t have been acting.

“I know you’re taking the piss, but honestly…” Ellie had said quietly, breaking eye contact to look down at the ground and the glittery silver heels on her feet. “...I don’t know how you’ve not got girls falling over themselves to be with you. Because, well. Fuckin’ look at you.”

The butterflies in Lawrence’s stomach had sprung to life so hard she’d felt ever-so-slightly ill. Deflecting, she’d shaken her head in self-pity. “Aye, right. Think it’s looking at me that’s causing the problems, doll.”

“Fuck off , Lawrence. Have you seen yourself tonight?” Ellie had laughed breathlessly. Lawrence can still remember how close they’d been, how little distance there was between them.

“Unfortunately.”

Ellie had shaken her head in disbelief, and when she’d moved to take Lawrence’s hands in her own Lawrence still swears the world had stopped turning on its axis. “Oh my God, shut up.”

Maybe that had been another time Lawrence had been so aware of her heart, the way it had thumped violently in her chest in a way that made it seem it was about to give out. She couldn’t stop the way she’d flicked her gaze down to Ellie’s lips for a split-second even if she’d wanted to.

“You gonny make me?”

And just like that Ellie had leaned in and kissed her outside her door in the pitch dark with only the streetlamps to illuminate them, a scene from a movie that Lawrence had always thought only happened to other people. The kiss hadn’t felt fake; the way Ellie had dropped one of Lawrence’s hands to cup her cheek and the intensity after the split-second of initial hesitation had only driven home how much it had seemed to mean to Ellie. How much Lawrence seemed to mean to Ellie.

Lawrence wonders if that’s still true.

Lawrence had known she should’ve pulled away sooner. She knows it would’ve helped maintain the illusion of professionalism, the illusion that the kiss had somehow been a mistake. But the smoke had been cleared and the mirror had been shattered (and Lawrence supposes now she’s got the bad luck to show for it) and she’d kissed back, matched the other girl’s longing because Christ knew she’d wanted the same thing for months.

She’d made sure to pull away first, though, and at least that had been something she’d done right, but the way Ellie had smiled sheepishly at her and loosened her grip on her hand only made Lawrence want to take it all back, hit pause instead of stop and lean in to meet her lips again.

“Sorry,” Lawrence had said, before trying not to pull a face because, Jesus Cartwheeling Christ, Chaney, apologising to the girl right after you kiss her? Nae fuckin’ wonder you’re single.

Ellie, in fairness, had shaken her head. “No, you’re fine. I’m sorry, I know how seriously you take all the regs and stuff-”

“Yeah,” Lawrence had agreed, regret coating her words. “But, y’know, we can...we can see what happens. Who’s to say further down the line…”

“Sure, sure,” Ellie had nodded, smiling as she turned back to her front door, turning the key in the lock and pushing it open ever-so-slightly. “Well. Thanks. For walking me home. And, uh. I’ll see you at work, I guess?”

“Yeah,” Lawrence had nodded, looking from the ground and back to Ellie.

It must have been the way they were looking at each other that had made Ellie begin to lean in again but Lawrence, in all her ridiculous, law-abiding glory, had stepped back awkwardly, not trusting herself to meet Ellie’s lips again only because she knew that once she started kissing her she’d never be able to break away. They’d blushed awkwardly at each other, and as Ellie pushed her front door she smiled gently.

“I do really like you, Lawrence.”

Lawrence hadn’t been able to trust herself to speak in case she said something she’d regret. Instead she’d smiled bashfully at her shoes before Ellie finally said a quiet goodnight, and then Lawrence had disappeared down the road to hail a cab, not daring to turn back and look at Ellie’s door.

She wonders if Ellie meant any of it. Felt any of it at all. If it was all just a plot to get the sad, fat wee lesbian onside, to try and get her into bed so the stupid cow would fall in love with her and tell her all the department’s secrets. She wonders if Ellie closed the door behind her that night and laughed at how simple it had been, made some calls to whoever low-life she reports to and had a good giggle about how easy it was to wrap her round her finger.

But then under the bridge not even two minutes ago…

Well. Ellie had still got in that car and sped away.

Lawrence’s arm is stinging in pain but before she can dwell on it, something enters her line of vision. A blacked-out Range Rover making its way across the road she’s pointing the rifle at.

Her finger is pulling the trigger before she can even pray the bullet doesn’t hit Ellie, and in the distance the car swerves out of control and out of her sight.

***

The first thing Lawrence sees when she rounds the corner is Ellie. Middle of the road, under the bridge, houses on either side. Her blonde hair in her face, mouth slack as she breaths frantically. She’s scrabbling at the screen of her phone with one hand- of course she’s impeded by those fucking pink acrylics- while the other is curled around the glock at her side. Lawrence knows she writes with her right hand. She’s chosen it to send the text, meaning the gun’s in her non-dominant hand.

Lawrence throws all hope of strategic thinking out the window as she skids to a halt, points her own gun at Ellie, and all of a sudden she’s shouting across at her.

“Drop your gun, drop your phone!”

She’s only managed to get two words out when Ellie’s arms switch position and the gun is suddenly trained on her. Her blue eyes are wide and panicked, but her arm’s straight. Steady. The distance between them is metres and yet it seems like nothing at all.

“Lawrence,” she says, her voice flimsy and paper thin and without any conviction. It makes Lawrence’s heart want to crack in two, but it’s past that. It’s already broken, as is her trust.

“They’re not here for you then,” Lawrence sneers, casting a glance down the empty road.

“Not yet,” Ellie scowls, a fresh sense of confidence to her words. “But they will be. So you should run while you still can.”

“I am too fuckin’ shattered to run, drop the gun!” Lawrence insists with a yell, keeping her aim steady despite her heavy breathing.

Ellie’s still got the glock trained on her, but her eyes are filled with something that doesn’t match the hardened criminal image Lawrence has to acquaint herself with. It’s something akin to betrayal, and Lawrence would snort at the audacity if the situation wasn’t so tense.

“You went into my flat that morning. You saw I wasn’t there.”

Lawrence pauses, shrugs slightly. “Not like I needed a battering ram, I knew where you kept the spare key.”

Ellie seems to remember that night as well, judging from the way her stony expression falters and the betrayal on her face only becomes more apparent. “When did you know? About me.”

Lawrence refuses to crack under the kicked puppy expression Ellie’s choosing to deploy. Instead she only hitches her rifle so it’s steady in her grip. “A lady never tells.”

Ellie gives a single snort, regret painted on her face like her perfect makeup. There’s a smirk on her lips and a slight sadness to her gaze as she speaks again. “Well now I see why we never slept together.”

If she wanted to hit Lawrence where it hurts, she’s succeeded. Lawrence pauses before weighing up her tactics, willing that Ellie’s feelings for her were real enough for her own words to touch a nerve.

“Wasn’t that I didn’t want to.”

Ellie falters. The gun’s limp in her hand now, and she takes a few steps towards her before seemingly remembering they’re both holding firearms. “Look, please. Just go before they get here.”

“I get it,” Lawrence disregards her, keeps her talking until the ART (where the fuck is the ART?) can get here before Ellie’s guys can. “Frame Aurora Boyle as the bent copper, as the one who pulled the hit and run on Tayce. She goes down and you can retire at the tender age of...thirteen and three quarters, Adrian fucking Mole. With the emphasis on mole.”

“I'm not bent!” Ellie protests in anguish, beginning to grow visibly upset. She’s cracking just like she’d done in the interview room, only this time it’s ten times harder to watch. “Tayce Szura-Radix was...I had to, she was going to leak the list of names and I...I couldn’t let her do that. It was going to be bribery originally, but then they told me to get rid of her and-”

“And she still managed to hit send on the fuckin’ email before you hit her with the car. So how did that work out for you?” Lawrence bites back bitterly. Ellie squeezes her eyes shut, her arm lowers ever so slightly. It’s the picture of a girl who’s too wrapped up in a world she knows so little about, a kid in the deep end with no armbands. She regrets hitting Tayce. Lawrence can see that.

“They picked you out,” Lawrence continues. “Made you feel special, made you feel clever, guided your career. I know what it’s like, Ellie, we're young, this is a tough fucking game. But you know everything. You really think they’re going to let you just stop, let you go have your wee happily-ever-after fairytale ending?”

“Lawrence, I know what I’m doing,” Ellie sniffs, switches the arm that’s holding the gun and aims it steadily at her with only the slightest tremble.

“Bimini,” Lawrence says simply, and Ellie’s face flinches in recognition. “They’re saying they’re going to get off their charges. You know names, dates, places. You know as well as I do they’re not at the top of that fucking tree. We’re so close to cracking this whole OCG. Money laundering, drug trafficking, more armed robberies.”

Ellie is faltering. Her eyes dart down the road behind Lawrence and when there’s no relief to her expression, Lawrence continues.

“You were just a kid. They picked you up off a Dundee scheme, got you into the force and then you had access to operations, evidence rooms, kilos and kilos of currency that can get used to frame people, blackmail people, get them off the hook and make them money. Ellie, do you honestly think you were the only teenager they’ve trained up? You know how wide-reaching this is. How many other kids lives’ have they ruined? How many other dreams have they thrown on the scrapheap? How many other wee girls aren’t ever gonny get their hair salon?”

Ellie’s expression is blank, supposedly steadfast apart from the tears that’re making tracks down each cheek. Lawrence can feel the lump in her own throat before she swallows it, narrowing her eyes to stop the tears that are threatening to spring up in them.

She’s part of the OCG. She’s corrupt. Her actions have resulted in lost lives.

And yet she’s not a killer. She’s in too deep and she’s drowning. She deserves a second chance.

“Do the right thing,” Lawrence pleads, having to readjust her own gun as she realises she’s lowered it while she’s been talking. “Tell us everything you know. Confess.”

There’s a flicker in Ellie’s eyes that makes Lawrence think perhaps this is it. She’ll put the gun down and run away with her, back to AC-12 and then to a protected witness safehouse and maybe Lawrence can still visit her, maybe they’ll work something out.

And then there’s a screeching of brakes and tyres behind her, and before Lawrence can turn around she’s struck to the ground, the side of an ugly blacked-out Range Rover scraping her left arm. Lawrence can hear herself groan in pain, couldn’t prevent her own cries even if she wanted to because fucking Jesus she’s hurt, and as the car screeches to a halt she’s willing herself with every fibre of her being to get up, catch the fuckers because she can’t let them away with this.

She can’t let them away with what they’ve turned Ellie into.

As she rolls over onto her side, though, the sight that’s in front of her is strange. The car hasn’t yet sped away, and Ellie doesn’t appear to be in a rush. Instead she’s rooted to the spot, staring at Lawrence with her jaw slack and helplessness smacked across her face.

They lock eyes, and Lawrence knows she wants to help her.

Then something takes over; whether it’s a realisation that she can’t help her or a change of heart, Lawrence doesn’t know, but suddenly Ellie’s wrenching open the side door and scrambling into the back seat, and the accelerator is getting slammed as the car drives away in too low of a gear.

Lawrence looks at the bridge she’s just run down the stairs from and knows that this isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

***

She’s audibly gasping. How pathetic. Countless years in the police service, the exertion she’s had to go through in fitness training, and yet this is the thing that’s got her the most out of breath in her whole career.

Sprinting down to an OCG car to see if she’s killed the criminal she’s fallen in love with.

The Range Rover has crashed into a parked Citroen, and there’s a car alarm piercing through the air as Lawrence runs up to the scene. Which car it belongs to, Lawrence doesn’t know. She supposes it doesn’t matter. There’s smoke pouring out of one of the vehicles under the bonnet which makes her panic, wonder if suddenly one of them is about to burst into flames action-movie style. She supposes the last hour couldn’t be much more beyond parody if it tried.

The doors to the Range Rover are closed. That is until Lawrence runs up parallel to the vehicle and the passenger door swings open, Ellie falling out of it with a pained grunt, bent double with her palms against the ground. There’s a nasty cut on her head that blood is already pouring out of, but Lawrence knows it’s not a gunshot wound. That seems to have been reserved for the driver of the car, and Lawrence is grateful with every embryo she possesses that Ellie wasn’t the target.

Even in Ellie’s shaken state she’s still holding her glock, so Lawrence keeps her rifle trained on her as Ellie aims messily, sways from left to right a little like she’s drunk. Even though Lawrence wants nothing more than to just drop her weapon and wrap Ellie in a hug. To tell her it’s over now, that she’ll be okay. Protected, safe.

Although the illusion that she could be any of those things is beginning to crumble to the ground as the gravity of the situation hits Lawrence like a freight train.

“Ellie, drop the gun. Put it down,” Lawrence commands from behind the gun.

Ellie disobeys her, stubborn til the bitter end. They look at each other, their gazes challenging but holding an equal amount of hurt and regret. As Ellie stumbles towards her and lowers her weapon, Lawrence in turn lowers hers. She’s giving nothing away on her expression, but the action lifts Lawrence’s heart. As she catches her breath her heart is in her mouth, wondering if Ellie’s going to drop the gun, if she’ll say something, if she realises this whole mess could be over if she just-

Click.

Lawrence’s face drops as she seems to take in what’s happening at a thousand miles an hour. The passenger seat of the Range Rover, a man in a helmet with the visor up aiming a rifle straight at her. This is it. Ellie was just a decoy to distract Lawrence long enough to be offered up like a lamb to slaughter. The dread and panic and sheer realisation that her life’s about to be ended by a round of bullets grips Lawrence to the point of paralysis.

And then she sees Ellie’s head turn, and where once before everything was fast, events suddenly slow to half speed.

There’s a raw, visceral, almost animalistic “ NO!” that’s ripped from Ellie as she steps in front of Lawrence, and then the BANGBANG, BANG of three bullets that fire through Ellie’s body before she falls to the ground. Without any prior thought and as though her body is being controlled for her, Lawrence aims her gun at the man who’s just killed the girl she loves and fires three right back, only satisfied when his helmet thrashes against the passenger window in defeat.

Lawrence’s face contorts into one of horror and disbelief as police sirens enter her consciousness, and the ART arrives. She stumbles a little on the spot as firearms officers spill out of the van and aim at her. Her voice shakes as she produces her badge.

“I’m AC-12!” she yells over to them, her words cracking as she lowers her weapon and finally, finally rests it on the ground. “I’m AC-12.”

She can barely stand to look at Ellie, but she does. Her body isn’t horrifically mangled or contorted; there’s just three red circles that’re bleeding through her baby pink suit and crisp white shirt. Her eyes have fluttered half-closed, and Lawrence’s heart shatters at the thought of never getting to see that blue again.

She races to her side, presses two fingers against her neck. She’s no paramedic, but she thinks there’s a faint pulse.

And then Ellie’s lips are moving.

“Lawrence,” she whispers near-silently, and Lawrence kneels down next to her, brings her face close.

“It’s me. It’s me, Ellie.”

Ellie takes a heavy, laboured breath. “...’m sorry.”

“It’s...it’s okay, you’re safe now. You can get to hospital and we can get you a safehouse and you can help us and we’ll help you. And we can…” Lawrence takes a second to breathe, swallowing her tears as she fights the helpless feeling that all her hopes are dying in front of her. “...we can be happy, the pair of us. I mean you canny fuckin’ die on me, you bitch, eh?”

Ellie takes another shaky breath in, not a single trace of any emotion apart from a dying light on her face as she speaks. Her eyes seem to shut further. “Loz, look at me. I’m fucked.”

Lawrence feels her face fall and her heart drop. “No, Ellie…”

“Declaration,” Ellie says quietly, and like an obedient fool Lawrence just nods, fishes her phone from the pocket of her vest.

“Get away from her!” one of the firearms officers yells at her; cold, professional. Lawrence supposes they’d never understand.

“I’m taking her dying declaration, for fuck’s sake, Sargeant, you will stand down!” she shoots back. She turns all her attentions to Ellie now, and her heart hurts and her chest aches and she’s forcing herself to look at her painted face and the wings of her eyeliner and every little lash that frames her eyes and the pink of her lips and not the ugly, leaking holes in her body because Ellie isn’t ugly, not a single part of her.

Lawrence is ashamed to admit it, but she still loves her for everything she is.

And as if she reads her mind, Ellie’s eyes flutter slowly open as if the action takes all the strength in the world, and she looks deeply into Lawrence’s as she gropes blindly for her hand, which Lawrence rushes to take. “Before...the recording. Want you to know that...us. It was real. To me.”

Lawrence doesn’t know when she began crying, but suddenly her cheeks are wet and her tears are dripping onto the lapel of Ellie’s suit. She leans close to Ellie’s side, murmurs into her ear.

“I forgive you. And I love you.”

Lawrence hears Ellie as she whispers out. “I love you too.”

And as Lawrence tells herself she needs to get it together, and that she’s still a police officer in the field and she needs to get evidence from a key witness before she…

Well. Before the worst case scenario.

...she turns her face, presses an urgent kiss to Ellie’s cheek that she doesn’t give a fuck about anyone witnessing. The implications of that can be something for her to worry about once she’s healed, grieved for a girl she both knew inside out and didn’t know at all. Instead, she sniffs, straightens up and holds the phone to Ellie’s lips.

“Come on, Ellie. Say it.”

And as Ellie’s eyes drop closed and her lips move, Lawrence tunes out the chaos of the police presence around her and condenses the moment to Ellie’s hand in hers, and the gentle wind that plays with her hair splayed out on the grass, and what could very well be her final words.

“DI Eleanor Diamond...in the hopeless expectation of death...I record my dying declaration…”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #s2 #urgent exit required #ortega #line of duty au #lesbian au #angst #ellie x lawrence #implied taywhora #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #joe black #tw violence #tw major character death

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disneydreamlights · 4 years

Text

Across the Stars: Chapter 4

AO3 | FFN

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Summary: Tensions between the Separatists and the Republic are climbing as the Senate debates whether there is need for an army. Anakin Skywalker, Senator of Tatooine, has recently returned to Coruscant to speak against its formation, resulting in an assassination attempt that forces him to reunite with long time friends Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and the newly knighted Padme Naberrie for his own protection. [Anidala]

(Or, an Attack of the Clones Roleswap AU)

A/N: Aka the Obi-Wan centric chapter where I take Obi-Wan’s clone quest and put it all into one chapter.

With Padmé and Anakin having left Coruscant for Tatooine a few hours prior, it was now time for Obi-Wan to get to work so he could help the Senator return to his job of stopping the war before it got too far out of hand. The temple archives had little information on the poison dart, and so he was forced to find information somewhere else. His first stop was a small diner in the middle of Coruscant, to visit an old friend. He stepped in, and bowed to the droid that was taking the information. "I'm here to see Dex."

"Someone to see ya, honey! Jedi, by the looks of him," The droid called in the back, and before long a besalisk emerged from the kitchen, a huge grin on his face.

"Obi-Wan!"

"Hello, Dex." Obi-Wan smiled. The visit may not have been a social visit, but it had been far too long since they'd last spoken anyways.

"Take a seat. I'll be right with ya." Dex indicated the booth by the door, and Obi-Wan sat down, accepting the droid's offer of jawa juice while he waited for his friend to re-emerge from the back of the diner.

It wasn't long before Dex finished his prep work and sat across from Obi-Wan. "Hey, old buddy! So, my friend, what can I do for ya?"

Obi-Wan pulled out the white dart, placing it in Dex's hand, watching as he looked at it with interest. "You can tell me what this is."

Thankfully, it didn't take long for recognition to form on Dex's face. "Well, whattaya know! I ain't seen one of these since I was prospectin' on Subterrel, beyond the outer rim." Beyond the Outer Rim? Just where had the bounty hunter after Anakin even come from?

"Can you tell me where it came from?" An answer of the system or planet would help greatly narrow down the search, perhaps he could find who was after Senator Skywalker long before the vote he was partaking in was decided.

"This baby belongs to them cloners. What you got here is a Kamino saberdart."

Obi-Wan frowned. Dex knew that so easily… "I wonder why it didn't show up in the analysis archives."

"It's these funny little cuts on the side that give it away. Those analysis droids only focus on symbols. Huh! I should think that you Jedi would have more respect for the difference between knowledge and wisdom." Dex let out a laugh, and for a moment Obi-Wan let himself get caught up in joking with an old friend.

"Well, if droids could think, there'd be none of us here, would there?" He frowned moments later, trying to figure that out. Kamino? Cloners? "Kamino. I'm not familiar with it. Is it in the Republic?"

"No, no. It's beyond the outer rim. I'd say about, uh, twelve parsecs outside the Rishi Maze. Should be easy to find, even for those droids in your archives." That's right, Dex had mentioned that Kamino was outside the Outer Rim earlier, hadn't he? Either way, the knowledge that it was in the Rishi Maze greatly helped him reduce the search radius he'd need to check.

"These Kaminoans keep to themselves."

Dex nodded. "They're cloners. Damn good ones too."

There was the mention of the word again. Was there really an entire group of people who could clone others easily. "Cloners. Are they friendly?"

"Oh, depends." The way Dex said that made Obi-Wan feel ill at ease.

"Depends on what, Dex?" he asked, the way Dex leaned back with a smile made him feel a bit more like it was a joke, at least.

"On how good your manners are, and how big your pocketbook is." Well given how Obi-Wan had no intention of purchasing any clones, that second wasn't a matter of concern, and the first...well, Obi-Wan was rather popular. He was sure he could win the Kaminoans over without issue.

"That was quite informative, Dex." Obi-Wan smiled, thanking his friend. "I believe you've helped me tremendously with my search." Given him a starting point, if nothing else.

Dex simply laughed. "Always a pleasure Obi-Wan. Whatever mystery you Jedi are working on, I hope you manage to solve it soon." So did Obi-Wan, he could only imagine what Anakin was putting his poor Padawan through alone, given the reputation he had.

-x-

Having a place to start was helpful, at least in Obi-Wan's mind, as he searched through the Jedi archives with new energy and attention. Before, he'd relied exclusively on the Droid's intel, but with Dex's direction. It wasn't long before he'd gone over all the information on Kamino that the Jedi had.

Mostly because, he realized with a frown, there was no info to be had. Which was a problem. How did Dex know about this system but not the Jedi? Evidently, he'd been radiating his displeasure enough for it to be sensed in the temple, because moments later the main Jedi archivist, Jocasta, arrived. "Are you having a problem, Master Kenobi?"

Well, if he couldn't find it, then perhaps she would be able to help him locate the hidden planet. "Yes, I'm looking for a planetary system called Kamino."

"Kamino?" The fact that it wasn't even recognizable to Jocasta, that she'd never even heard of it, was concerning. Did that mean that it didn't exist? But that still didn't make sense if Dex recognized it.

"It doesn't show up on the archive charts." Obi-Wan attempted to explain his problem, which in turn caused Jocasta to frown.

"It's not a system I'm familiar with. Are you sure you have the right coordinates?"

"According to my information, it should appear in this quadrant here... just south of the Rishi Maze." She stepped in afterwards, looking at the archives and starting to search for information. Something that never ceased to amaze Obi-Wan was just how well Jocasta knew them. He wouldn't be surprised if she was the only person who knew the entire system and how to work it best.

After a few moments of her search, she ceased, the frown growing deeper as her forehead creased, showing her displeasure. "I hate to say it, but it looks like the system you're searching for doesn't exist."

Didn't exist? But then how could Dex have been there? How could the dart have come from there? How could a bounty hunter be targeting Senator Skywalker from a place that simply didn't exist. It didn't make any sense. "Impossible. Perhaps the archives are incomplete." That had to be the explanation.

"If an item does not appear in our records, it does not exist." Jocasta left the computer to allow Obi-Wan to continue his research. "I apologize, Master Kenobi, there's nothing more I can do to help.

"Thank you for your time then, Master Nu." He bowed his head and stood up, leaving the archives behind. He needed help from somebody older and wiser, perhaps somebody on the council could fit the bill. Mace was currently in the Senate, attempting to help navigate things and stall the vote as a favor to Anakin, and at the current moment hardly anybody else on the council was even on Coruscant, the efforts to delay the war and find peace having spread the Order out to barebones.

That left him with one option. He hoped Yoda wouldn't mind the interruption as he approached the creche, looking at the younglings as they learned the same lessons he had once been taught. There were several, most of them growing near the age where they could be considered to start becoming Padawans. He smiled, perhaps one of the faces here could end up under his tutelage, or the tutelage of Padmé should she so choose.

"Younglings! A visitor we have." It appeared he was unable to hide his presence for long, as the moment he entered the room, Yoda ceased his teaching and brought the attention of each of the kids to his presence. They greeted him in echo, each looking at him with wide eyes. The tales of him managing to kill a Sith had brought attention to him by these kids who thought of Sith as nothing more than nightmares and monsters in bedtime stories.

He waved to the younglings. "Hello. I'm sorry to disturb you, Master."

"What help can I be, Obi-Wan? Hmm?" Thankfully, the old master seemed unfazed, merely greeting Obi-Wan with a twinkle in his eye and a smile, which helped to alleviate some of the guilt he felt at interrupting the lesson.

"I'm looking for a planet described to me by an old friend." Obi-Wan explained, catching the look Yoda gave him as he attempted to continue his explanation. "I trust him, but the systems don't show on the archive maps."

"Lost a planet Master Obi-Wan has. How embarrassing." Yoda laughed, and so did many of the younglings watching him. Perhaps had Obi-Wan been less affected by the situation, he might have found it funny as well, if he was honest. Still, moments later, the laughter died down, and Yoda turned serious again. "Liam, the shades. Gather round the map reader. Clear your minds and find Obi-Wan's wayward planet we will." The room turned dark as one of the human Younglings, Obi-Wan assumed Liam, closed the window, reducing the light in the area.

Sensing that was his cue, Obi-Wan pulled out a holoprojector of the space around the area, what little information he had managed to find based on what Dex had said. "It ought to be here, but it isn't." He indicated a dark spot with nothing there. "Gravity is pulling all the stars in the area towards this spot."

Yoda looked over the map as though he was solving the puzzle as he looked at it. "Gravity's silhouette remains, but the star and all the planets, disappeared they have." He turned to the younglings, waiting for an answer. "How can this be? Hmm? A thought? Anyone?"

One of the initiates, a girl with dark hair and eyes raised her hand. "Because someone erased it from the archive memory." The answer was the most simple and obvious of the explanations, and yet...

"Truly wonderful the mind of a child is." Yoda smiled, proud of the girl. "The youngling is right. Go to the center of gravity's pull... and find your planet you will." Moments later, he stopped, as though realizing exactly what he had said. "The data must have been erased."

"But, Master Yoda, who could empty information from the archives? That's impossible, isn't it?" It didn't make sense. None of them would have had motive to remove Kamino from the archives entirely, it seemed that none of them had even heard of the system before. If that was the case, then why had it been removed?

Yoda remained silent for a moment before finally responding, "Dangerous and disturbing this puzzle is. Only a Jedi could have erased those files." Yoda had come up to the same conclusion he had, that the removal of the files was an inside job. "But who and why, harder to answer. Meditate on this I will."

"Thank you, Master Yoda." Obi-Wan bowed to the Grandmaster, grateful for his help, and turned to leave.

"Wait! Master Kenobi!" Before he could step out, another young girl, a Togruta, smiled at him. "Why do you need to find this planet anyways? I know if it was deleted it had to be important at some point, but that doesn't explain why you're looking for it now."

Obi-Wan hesitated. "What is your name?"

"Ahsoka Tano," she answered with no hesitation.

"Well, Ahsoka, I'll tell you what. Once I return from my mission, come look for me. I'll be happy to answer that question when somebody's life is no longer in jeopardy should people find out I'm searching."

Ahsoka's eyes shined. "I'll hold you to it."

-x-

It had taken a few days to make it outside of the Outer Rim to the dead space where Kamino lay. Obi-Wan had expected it to be empty. If he was honest, a part of him couldn't wrap his head around the fact that a Jedi had willingly erased an entire system from the archives, yet the evidence was right in front of him as he came across a storm covered planet. It was raining, but R4 was a good copilot and a reliable astromech, he could rely on the droid to get him down with ease, and it wasn't long before he was stepping out of his ship and onto the only building in what had appeared otherwise as a giant ocean.

He entered, expecting a cold welcome from what appeared to be a strange species of sentients. They were tall, taller than most other sentient species he had met though most of their height came from their necks, and a sickly shade of white, the same colors as the walls and floors they favored. They were harsh looking creatures, and a part of Obi-Wan couldn't help but worry for his safety as was noticed by one. "Master Jedi. The prime minister is expecting you."

What? "I'm expected?" That had been about as far from what Obi-Wan had been planning for when he set foot on the strange planet as this could get. His hand went to his lightsaber, just in case he needed to make a quick escape.

"Of course. He is anxious to meet you." The Kaminoan smiled at Obi-Wan, an expression that left him uncomfortable, as though it was an appearance for his sake over genuine happiness at the Jedi's arrival. "After all these years we were beginning to think you weren't coming. Now, please, this way." She led the way deeper into the facility, and Obi-Wan tried to take in as much as he could, keeping his eye out for the potential assassins or bounty hunters. "May I present Lama Su, prime minister of Kamino. And this is MasterJedi…" She indicated Obi-Wan, who bowed out of respect.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Lama Su nodded, showing acknowledgement of the introduction. "I trust you're going to enjoy your stay." He continued immediately, not giving Obi-Wan a chance to respond. "And now to business. You will be delighted to hear that we are on schedule. Two hundred thousand units are ready with a million more well on the way."

It took all of his energy to keep the surprise out of his voice. "That's good news." Two hundred thousand units of what? He remembered what Dex had told him of the Kaminoans. They couldn't mean…

"Please tell your Master Sifo-Dyas that his order will be met on time." Lama Su's voice pulled him out from his thoughts, reminding him he couldn't linger on what exactly this meant right now if he wanted to know more.

Speaking of, that was another surprise to hear. "I'm sorry. Master–"

"Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas is still a leading member of the Jedi Council, is he not?" If they were waiting on Sifo-Dyas, that explained a fair amount of just what was going on, and why they had waited so long.

"Master Sifo-Dyas was killed almost ten years ago."

Lama Su frowned, though he didn't seem all that bothered. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. But I'm sure he would have been proud of the army we've built for him."

"The army?" For the third time today, Obi-Wan was thrown off balance by information from the Kaminoans, and he'd only been there ten minutes.

"Yes. A clone army, and I must say, one of the finest we've ever created." There was pride in his voice. Pride at the clones, and at the army he had made, yet Obi-Wan was bothered. An army of people specifically crafted for war showing up now of all times. It seemed almost...too perfect. He thought back to Senator Skywalker's concerns about the bill that would be coming up soon. Could it all be connected?

"Tell me, Prime Minister, when my master first contacted you about the army, did he say who it was for?" There was only one way for Obi-Wan to confirm his theory, at least.

"Of course he did. This army is for the Republic." Obi-Wan felt his blood run cold at the answer. "But you must be anxious to inspect the units for yourself."

He put on a fake smile. "That's why I'm here."

"Then in that case, let us begin the tour." Lama Su placed his hands on a scanner, and within moments they were allowed inside the clone facility. It was, in its own way, a feat of ingenuity, and an impressive sight to see. On either side of them as they walked, hundreds of individual clones, most with a Mandalorian esque white armor on though some with their helmets off, wandered the floors of the facility. Some were practicing using blasters, others were simply conversing, and others studying in a classroom. It was...a lot to take in, to say the least.

The Kaminoan, who had left him with Lama Su, had briefly left, but returned moments later with one of the many clones, though this one slightly different due to his blond hair. "Sir."

"Jedi Master Kenobi, might I introduce you to CT-7567." She indicated the clone, who was standing rigidly at attention waiting for orders. It was...uncomfortable.

"At ease." Obi-Wan watched as the clone relaxed moments later, and stuck out his hand, which the clone looked at warily. "Don't worry, my friend, I have no intentions of harming you with it, just introductions."

"Of course." The clone grabbed his hand to shake it, but was still clearly ill at ease in all of this. "As you've already been told I'm CT-7567. I was a part of the first batch, sir."

Obi-Wan frowned slightly. "Yes, so I can assume. Tell me, do you have a name besides these designation numbers?"

"Rex, sir." If he was going to end up working with these clones at some point, Obi-Wan was definitely going to make sure that the numbers first introduction was long gone. That was one thing he'd work on.

"Very well, Rex." He smiled, and Rex further relaxed, as though sensing that Obi-Wan meant him no harm. Deciding he could use this as a moment to ask questions without seeming clueless as to what was happening, Obi-Wan decided to take advantage of it. "Rex, can you tell me why you and the other clones were created?"

"My brothers and I were created to serve the Republic if there was ever a need." They were on the Republic's side, though the answer told Obi-Wan little. "I'm assuming there's a need for us now?" He almost seemed...eager, as though he was dying to get out and see the world outside the cloning facilities. His desire to explore almost reminded Obi-Wan of a young initiate who had stolen away on the ship of another Jedi to prove that she could handle the outside world. If this army was ever needed, he'd have to do his best to ensure that Padmé was the one who got a chance to work with Rex. The two would work well together.

"Not quite, a war hasn't broken out–" yet "-but there may be one on the horizon. Perhaps you and your brothers will be out in the real world sooner than you think." He purposefully used the term brothers. The clone's terms for how they define themselves were more important than anything else.

"Understood." Rex nodded, before the Kaminoan left to return him to the rest of the clones, leaving Obi-Wan once more alone with Lama Su.

"Very impressive."

"I'd hoped you would be pleased." Lama Su certainly seemed happy with the fact that Obi-Wan was impressed, at least. "Clones can think creatively. You will find that they are immensely superior to droids. We take great pride in our combat education and training programs. It's important to prepare them as quickly as possible, so they'll be prepared for any situation they might encounter."

Obi-Wan frowned at the sound of that. Something about the way Lama Su mentioned speed. "You mentioned that they need to be prepared as quickly as possible. Is there a reason for that?"

"Of course. The clones are genetically modified to age at an accelerated rate for quick production and results. If they weren't, a mature clone would take a lifetime to grow. Now we can do it in half the time."

He could understand why, disturbing implications into what that meant for the clones aside. "I see."

"They are totally obedient, taking any order without question." Lama Su continued on as though nothing out of the ordinary had been said, Obi-Wan felt his skin crawl. That wasn't like an army. That was like a slave. "We modified their genetic structure to make them less independent than the original host."

Had he not been looking for somebody clearly not Kaminoan, he might have focused on that detail in particular, but right now, his mission for Anakin took precedence. He could worry about the clones later. "And who was the original host?"

"A bounty hunter called Jango Fett."

"And where is this bounty hunter now?" This might be the lead Obi-Wan was looking for, and if not, it might have enough info to allow for him to ascertain whether or not at least there was something more disturbing at the center of this mystery.

"Oh, we keep him here." That made his life significantly easier. "Apart from his pay, which is considerable, Fett demanded only one thing: an unaltered clone for himself. Curious, isn't it?"

"Unaltered?"

Lama Su nodded, confirming that Obi-Wan had heard correct. "Pure genetic replication. No tampering with the structure to make it more docile and no growth acceleration." So the clone with him wouldn't be an older man, but a younger boy.

"I should very much like to meet this Jango Fett." He supposed it didn't matter.

"I will talk to Tuan We about introducing you when she returns." Lama Su turned back to the facility, looking over the clones. "For now, I will continue our tour."

-x-

Not longer after, the Kaminoan, Tuan We, returned from taking Rex back to his fellow and Obi-Wan was following her through pristine white halls. Despite that no clones would be here aside from the single, unaltered one that Tuan We mentioned, the facility had not felt anymore welcome in what were clearly its living areas. She stopped at a door and knocked, and a young boy opened the door. "Boba, is your father here?"

"Yep." Boba gave a short answer, and a glare at Obi-Wan.

"May we see him?"

"Sure." After a moment more of uncomfortable staring, Boba stepped out of the way of the door to let Obi-Wan in. "Dad, Taun We's here."

Tuan We entered and smiled at the bounty hunter, although Obi-Wan doubted she cared one way or the other about how he was doing. "Jango, welcome back. Was your trip productive?"

"Fairly." A Mandalorian man stood off to the side of the room, clearly the bounty hunter template for the clones. Obi-Wan however frowned. If Jango had recently left the world, then it was possible that…

"This is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's come to check on our progress." Tuan We's introduction forced Obi-Wan to move on from his train of thought for now, and he put on an attempt at a pleasant grin, likely only succeeding due to his ability to keep a facade in the most trying of circumstances.

"Your clones are very impressive. You must be very proud."

"I'm just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe." Jango's answer was evasive, a bad sign if Obi-Wan had ever seen one.

He decided to press him for more answers. "Ever made your way as far into the interior as Coruscant?"

"Once or twice."

"Recently?"

"Possibly."

"Then you must know Master Sifo-Dyas." Obi-Wan watched as Jango stiffened slightly, it was for but a moment, and something somebody who wasn't trained as a Jedi would be unlikely to catch, but the change in body language was all Obi-Wan needed to know that Jango was hiding something.

Jango said something to Boba in another language, possibly two seeing as he recognized some of it as Mando'a from his time guarding the Duchess from harm. "Master who?" he asked.

"Sifo-Dyas. Is he not the Jedi who hired you for this job?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Never heard of him," Jango said.

"Really?"

"I was recruited by a man called Tyranus on one of the moons of Bogden." The answer to Obi-Wan's question could not have possibly been worse, if he was honest. There were no Jedi he'd even heard of named Tyranus.

"Curious." And leading to so many more questions. If Sifo-Dyas commissioned the army, then why hadn't he found Jango for this.

"Do you like your army?" Jango took back control of the conversation, making it relatively clear that this line of questioning was over, or at least it was for now.

"I look forward to seeing them in action." Obi-Wan bowed, making it clear that he was ending the conversation as well. Besides, he'd gotten the information he'd needed, or at least a new lead to explore. "They'll do their job well. I'll guarantee that. Thank you for your time, Jango."

"Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi." From Jango's remarks, it was clear to Obi-Wan that he was being dismissed. So he left. Besides, he was sure he'd need to contact the council on these matters. It was urgent that they be kept in the loop of what was going on.

-x-

As soon as he left the facility and the Kaminoans behind, Obi-Wan pulled up his comm unit, and within moments, a holographic version of Yoda and Master Windu appeared in front of him. "I have successfully made contact with the prime minister of Kamino." He reported, not wanting to waste any time. "They are using a bounty hunter named Jango Fett to create a clone army. I have a strong feeling that this bounty hunter is the assassin we are looking for."

Mace frowned, and Obi-Wan couldn't blame him. The whole situation reeked of suspicious circumstances. "Do you think these cloners are involved in the plot to assassinate Senator Skywalker?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. As far as he could tell, the clones were unrelated. Or he wanted to believe they were, at least. Rex had left a good impression on him, after all. "No, Master. There appears to be no connection between them."

"Do not assume anything, Obi-Wan. Clear your mind must be if you are to discover the real villains behind this plot." Yoda was right, even if Rex and as a result, his brothers, seemed like they were good. He had to try to look at this objectively. Anything involved with Kamino was suspicious.

"Yes, Master." For now though, Obi-Wan decided not to linger. "They say Master Sifo-Dyas placed an order for a clone army at the request of the senate almost ten years ago. I was under the impression he was killed before that. Did the council ever authorize the creation of a clone army?"

There was a look of surprise on both Mace's and Yoda's faces, as though they had not expected this. Their reaction was enough that no answer would be necessary, but Mace still gave him one anyways. "No. Whoever placed that order did not have the authorization of the Jedi Council."

"Bring him here. Question him we will." It made the most sense. Jango was the most suspicious figure here. Perhaps he could shed some light on the mysterious events.

"Yes, Master. I will report back when I have him." Obi-Wan hung up for now, and looked to the corner of the building to see Jango preparing to escape.

That was going to make his job a lot harder.

-x-

Obi-Wan had planted a tracker on the Fetts' ship, and fortunately for him, it seemed to have paid off as he piloted himself down towards the desert planet of Geonosis. He landed the ship down on a plateau, and entered one of the caves. He needed to avoid being seen if he wanted to gather as much information as he could. He extended his senses using the Force, careful of any other beings he ran into as he went deeper in.

Slowly, his footsteps started getting louder, despite attempts to silence them, and he looked down to see that the floor had become metal. Geonosis wasn't known for an industrial sector, and he felt ill at ease. As he continued down the hallway, everything felt more and more wrong, the stalactites replaced by metal columns, and the cave walls smoothed down. At the sight of a window, Obi-Wan looked down to see thousands of droids being manufactured. Battle droids, similar to those they had faced on Naboo a little over ten years ago.

He continued down the hallway, only to freeze as he heard voices.

"We must persuade the Commerce Guild and Corporate Alliance to sign the treaty."

"What about the senator from Tatooine." Obi-Wan froze at that statement. These people...they were the ones who hired the assassins to go after Anakin. "Is he dead yet? I'm not signing your treaty until I have his head on my desk. Every policy he pitches for the 'good' of his people is making it harder and harder for us to make a profit."

He thought back to the bills Anakin had been working on recently. He hadn't been following the young Senator closely (that had been Padmé who'd kept tabs on what he was doing in the political sphere) but it was clear that within the year he had been working in the Senate, he'd managed to find quite a few enemies.

"I am a man of my word, viceroy." Obi-Wan frowned. Viceroy. There were dozens of viceroys in the galaxy, but only one who was invested in profit to the point that what Anakin was doing was likely a detriment. He heard more voices further down, likely the Commerce Guild and Corporate Alliance signing an agreement to join this cause, but Obi-Wan didn't have time to listen in.

The Viceroy of the Trade Federation, Nute Gunray, was the one behind the assassination attempts.

He had to tell the council.

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#Star Wars #Anakin Skywalker #Anakin #Padme Amidala #Padme #Obi Wan Kenobi #Obi Wan #Anidala #Heather Writes

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