#today is an absolutely wretched pain day that makes me want to not be here anymore but guess what! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chelseeebe · 5 months

Text

promise, part 2.

eddie is all too familiar with angry men and their incessant need to destroy. but can he put a stop to it this time?

read part one here.

okkk so this took so long and for literally no good reason other than that i am a lazy bastard! i really really enjoyed this n i hope you do too even if it is three weeks late

18+. mdni!! smut. heavy themes, references to domestic violence throughout. mentions of guns and other violent themes. i understand this is not suitable for everyone so please read ahead at your own risk.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

the last two weeks have been fucking torturous for eddie. you won’t speak to him, won’t even look at him and at some point, you’d obviously requested to move your shifts so you didn’t have to see him.

he feels like a failure, helpless as he watches you groan as you walk, a shell of the woman he shared such tender moments with.

today must be his lucky day, james had called in to tell graham he couldn’t get in to work so it’d just be you two behind the bar. you disappear into the back the second graham leaves, not uttering a word to eddie as you go.

greg, eddie had now learned the assholes name, regularly sat in the bar. watching as you worked like some fucking stalker. jumping up from his seat the second you finished and rushing you out of the bar. that or he’d sit outside the minute you finished, obnoxiously honking his horn to signal that he was there.

eddie wants to kill him. there’s no forgiveness for these people, he knows that better than anyone. the man most definitely didn’t deserve you or your kind soul. he didn’t deserve a pardon for his crimes and eddie feels the need to be the one to inflict justice on this smug asshole.

he peers around the bar, there are a few regulars scattered around but your delightful boyfriend seems to be absent so he takes that as his opportunity. ducking out the back and into the cellar where he can hear you rummaging around.

‘are you okay?’ he asks, not meaning to alarm you but it obviously does as the box comes clattering down to the floor, clutching onto your chest for dramatic effect.

you don’t reply, instead choosing to pick up the box and continue with whatever pointless task you’d anointed yourself. he grits his teeth and takes a step closer, he really doesn’t want to box you in but fuck, all he wants is for you to acknowledge him.

‘just look at me,’ he pleads, reeking of desperation, yet he’s willing to go lower.

you pause and eddie can’t see your face but he’s sure you’re contemplating it. it’s safe here, greg’s nowhere to be seen and it’s not like eddie’d be quick to run and tell him.

‘please.’

the absolute anguish in his voice must be enough to get you to turn, albeit painfully slow. making eye contact with him after a long and lonely two weeks of nothing. he immediately feels a hundred pounds lighter, confirmation that you don’t hate him. he knows that. knows that you’re being manipulated but it’s nice either way.

‘eddie-,’ you warn, closing your eyes. there’s pain and confusion written across your face and it’s tearing his heart apart just to see. he wants to just scoop you up, get away from this wretched place and not look back.

‘don’t,’ he breathes, rushing forward, hands gently holding onto your arms as he gets a proper look. there are no new visible bruises but who’s to know what’s actually been happening. ‘don’t apologise i just- are you okay?’ rushing all of the words out at once.

you look up at him with wide eyes, brimming with tears as your bottom lip quivers. and then you do something he’d never expect, lunging forward and planting your lips on his with a haste. knocking the air from his lungs.

there’s a brief moment of hesitation, contemplating if this was a bad idea. but even if it was, he doesn’t care. kissing you back with an urgency he didn’t know possible. you’re like water, he needed you to feel alive. feeling whole again as your bodies connect once more.

it doesn’t feel real. having you here in his arms once more, and maybe he hadn’t realised quite how empty he’d felt without you until he feels your arms loop around his neck. you’re pressed against him and yet it’s still not close enough.

eddie’s tentative, moving with caution as he’s not sure just that what’s happening is even real but his hands are needy, gripping onto your hips as he backs you into the rickety old shelving unit. hoisting your body onto the wood, slipping into the space between your legs.

it’s not enough and at the same time too much. feeling your tongue slide between his lips as you move your hips toward him, hand sliding down to lazily unbutton his jeans. a deep groan vibrating in his throat as your delicate fingers brush against his already strained cock.

he has to remind himself to be careful, he has no idea what you’d actually endured, what injuries hid beneath your clothes. but his fingers brush against your ribcage as he lifts your shirt, pulling a harsh gasp from your mouth into his, head jerking back with an almighty force.

his mouth hangs open as he peers down between your bodies, ‘what the fuck?’ forcing it’s way out as his fingers reveal the deep violet bruise painting your rib. grip tightening on the worn cotton as you shy away, swallowing the rising anger as he lets go of your shirt.

eddie will wring his neck right now, with zero hesitation. he feels sick just picturing the horrific things he’d done to you. you duck your head, tears spilling over onto your warm cheeks. his hand flies up, cradling your cheek in his palm as his thumb extends to wipe away the salty tears.

‘let’s go, right now- anywhere you want, we’ll go,’ eddie jabbers, tilting your chin upwards so you’re forced to look at him. in this moment, he knows that he’d do anything if you just asked him too. hell, he’d do it without you asking too. and he needed you to know that, he really meant anything.

‘and go where? i can’t leave, eddie, why don’t you understand that?’ you bark, shifting on the creaky cabinet.

he knows your anger is misplaced, you don’t mean it. at least not towards him. eddie was just the easy target, at the right place at the right time. weirdly, it settles something in him. knowing that you know that you can shout at him, you can kick and scream and cry and yet he’d still never lay a finger on you.

‘anywhere,’ his eyes desperately search yours, ‘out of hawkins.. away, forever,’ pleading with you.

‘i.. can’t,’ you sob, shoulders shaking, ‘he’ll find me and he’ll kill me.. kill you too,’ your palm rests atop of his on your cheek, lashes sodden and stuck together with tears.

‘we can,’ he nods, ‘i promise you he won’t find us.. he’s not going to hurt you ever again,’ eddie’s thumb still strokes your cheek, trying his all to assure that he’s right, that you can trust him.

you pause for a moment, blinking away the forming tears as you hiccup, ‘where will we go?’

eddie doesn’t care where you end up just as long as it’s away from this hell hole. away from that maniac.

he herds the disgruntled regulars from their seats and out of the door, telling them to take their drinks with them, he’d close out their tabs for them. it’s not like he really gave a shit. he’s sure that graham would understand eventually, a couple of glasses and a few measly dollars were worth far less than your life.

‘just wait here, okay? i’ll be right back,’ squeezing your hand before he hops out of the van. wayne would be here somewhere, he just has to figure out where.

a couple of the guys he recognises point him in the right direction, walking into the warehouse on a mission. he wanted to get in and get the fuck out before anyone else realised the two of you were gone. he just couldn’t go without at least telling wayne.

‘what the hell are you doing here?’ wayne looks up at his nephew, wiping his hands with a dusty old rag as he gets up. he looks concerned rather than angry, and for that, eddie is grateful. wayne knows that he wouldn’t dare bother him at work unless it was serious.

eddie doesn’t really know how to start, how are you supposed to tell you’re uncle that you’re running away with the same girl you’d harboured in your trailer for weeks?

‘hey.. wayne,’ eddie swallows, feeling like a small child, ‘look, i gotta go for a bit.. it won’t be long, just a few weeks ‘til this all blows over,’ babbling to get the words out quicker.

‘woah, what? is it that girl again?’ wayne asks, one eyebrow raised.

eddie nods, glancing back towards his van though it was out of eye sight. he’s eager to get back, not keen on leaving you alone for too long.

wayne sighs, glancing towards the ground before he gives eddie an approving nod. it means more than eddie could ever imagine.

he had never forgotten the deep regret wayne had held for his mother. not that wayne would ever say, but eddie knows it still kills him inside, knowing that he couldn’t help his sister. it’s not something he’d ever be able to let go of, guilt wracking his bones until the day he died.

eddie smiles slightly before going to head off back to the van, ‘wait.. hold on,’ wayne calls out, hand dug into his pocket.

he pulls out his wallet, shoving a wad of cash into eddie’s shaking hand. he looks to his uncle with a bewildered expression, there must be at least a hundred bucks here. far too much for him to accept.

‘take it,’ wayne asserts, holding his hands in the air, ‘take her up to fort wayne.. it’s quiet, no one’ll even look at you.’

eddie smiles, a genuine smile that makes him feel a hundred times more guilty for what he’s about to do.

he says a quick goodbye to wayne before slipping back out of the door but instead of making his way back to his van, he slips off to where wayne parks his car. he is a terrible nephew and he’s sure he’ll pay the price for this but he has to.

wayne would understand. eventually.

a quick look around the empty lot before he tries the handle, knowing wayne rarely locked it. ain’t no point in stealing this old thing, he’d echo when eddie would remind him.

he leans over, opening the glove compartment to reveal the pistol. he’d known it’d been there for years, since his dad had been in prison at least. before that, it was kept in the drawer beside wayne’s bed. just in case.

sliding the cold metal into the back of his jeans, making sure his denim jacket covered the bulging handle and slamming the door shut again. he’s not expecting to use it, but he wants to make sure that if he has to, he can.

you perk up when you see him approach, confused as to why he’s headed to the back of the van instead of the front. but he can’t have you see it, shoving it into his duffel bag before sliding into the drivers seat.

‘you ready?’ he asks, blowing the air out of his cheeks, relief washing over his face.

you nod, smiling slightly. he can tell you’re worried and until you get the hell out of here, there’s not much he can do.

well, he had contemplated just driving straight to that asshole’s house and shooting him at point blank range but had ultimately decided that probably wasn’t the best idea. a life in prison could never compare to a life on the run with you.

the drive up is quiet and eddie can see your shoulders visibly relax the second you near the motel. as if an invisible weight had been lifted and you could finally be yourself again. the second hand relief makes eddie feel light, you were you again with miles of land between you and that prick.

it’s not exactly the ritz but it’ll do for a week or so until eddie can figure out what to do next. he figured he’ll call wayne on friday, ask him to do some snooping to see if coming back is an option.

you’re sprawled out on the bed, quietly watching the flickering tv. eddie glances over at you, he reckons he’d do just about anything for you. if it were possible, he’d fly you both to some faraway island where no one could ever hurt you again.

‘what?’ you ask, realising that he’d probably been staring a little too long.

instead of replying, he makes his way over to the bed, sitting down in the tiny space between you and the edge of the bed. he so badly wants to touch you but after earlier, he’s reluctant to accidentally hurt you again. seeing you wince and pull away like that had shattered his heart.

‘nothin’, i just like looking at you,’ placing his hand on your knee, it seemed a safe spot.

‘shut up,’ you smirk, shying away from him as your cheeks flush. you’re not helping him one single bit. adoring when you let the tough girl persona down a little, but only if it’s around him.

his hand slides down your leg. he’d like to revisit your moment earlier but only if you want to. it sounded sad really, but he’d felt rather touch starved the last two weeks.

your eyes slide back to him, a glimpse of a smirk on your lips. eddie has a better idea. now he’s never done it before but how hard can it actually be? maybe he’d seen it in one of those magazines wayne definitely shouldn’t have left lying around.

he fully gets onto the bed, perched on his knees just by your legs, spreading them open with a gentle touch to your thigh. you oblige, looking down at him with twinkling eyes.

‘i don’t wanna hurt you..’ he sighs, remembering the harsh bruise that adorned your ribcage. he’s not sure what else is hiding under your clothes, reminding himself to be gentle.

‘you won’t,’ you whisper into the air, reaching down to entangle your fingers into his hair.

you’re a work of art from this angle, from all angles really, but the way your lashes cascaded shadows over your cheeks and your lips wet with anticipation staring down at him made him appreciate it so much more.

his hand creeps up, gently lifting your shirt just enough for the dark bruises to peek out of the bottom. his breath hitches in his throat, moving upwards to place a single small kiss to the surely sore area. your eyes flutter closed, fingernails scratching his scalp as he descends back between your legs.

eddie is sure to be tender, unbuttoning your jeans with trembling fingers, your hips bucking up to allow him to slide them down. the ferocity of your earlier encounter had been lost in exchange of this soft, gentler approach. it makes him feel all the more closer to you, knowing that you trust him wholeheartedly to see the broken parts of you.

he discards your jeans off the side of the bed, your bare thighs now warming his ears as wraps his arms around them. peppering kisses to the faint markings of past bruises, the low sighs coming from your mouth sent shivers down his spine.

stopping just before he gets to your underwear, sending one last look upward while his fingers hook around the lacy waistband. ‘you’re so beautiful,’ it comes out unprompted, marvelling at your features in the dim light.

you shy away, hiding your face in the pillow as his lips twitch into a smile, tugging your underwear down as you move for him, thrown somewhere on the floor while his lips continue to move lower, dotting kisses as he goes.

he’s slow at first, tongue circling around your sensitive clit, your jaw hanging slack as your fingers pull gently at his hair. his mouth laps eagerly at your sopping cunt, hoping to god that he was doing this right.

if the noises tumbling out of your mouth were anything to go by, he thinks he is. strangled moans just barely audible as you continue to hide in the pillow, your legs becoming restless around his shoulders.

eddie’s eyes don’t dip, tapping your thigh in an attempt to get you to look down at him. he wants to see how good he’s making you feel, relishing every second you weren’t in pain and instead moaning under his influence.

‘holy shit,’ you gasp, hips writhing against his mouth. his mouth vibrates against your cunt when you finally allow him to see your face, moaning into the space between your legs.

you are all over him, dripping down his chin, spread across the tip of his nose, even wetting the collar of his t-shirt. his tongue darting up and down between your folds, noting exactly when you’d tighten your grip on his hair, when your eyes would roll back. that’s when he knew he was in the right spot.

eddie’s arm unwinds from your thigh, daring enough to slide two fingers into your entrance, enjoying the chorus of raspy profanities that left your mouth. he wants to be inside of you properly but he can’t, not with what he suspects is a broken rib. no amount of desperation would allow him to even think about possibly harming you again.

‘oh my god eddie jesus christ,’ your voice pulls him from his thoughts as your head lols back against the pillow, chin pointed to the ceiling as you thighs begin to tremble around his head.

his fingers continue to pump in and out, merciless with his tongue on your clit, feeding off of your moans. the way your body reacted to him made his head spin, going dizzy at the feel of your walls clenching around his fingers.

‘shit,’ you whine loudly, ensuring everyone in this dump could hear how good he was, ‘right there eddie please don’t stop,’ drawing out your words as eddie carries on exactly as he was. sucking gently at your clit as his fingers curve upward.

the sounds that follow are simply unholy. whining as you come undone around him, thighs clamping around his head as you cum, your entire body practically vibrating as re-emerges from between your legs.

his mouth is shiny with your arousal, lips glossy and plump as he gazes upward. watching carefully as you float back down to earth, his palms still holding onto your fleshy thighs. he doesn’t make the effort to move, not just get. enjoying the sight of your blissed out face from here.

‘wow,’ you remark, chest heaving as you pull the blanket up around your shoulders. your hair fanned out over the pillow with warm cheeks to match.

‘what? has no one ever done that before?’ he questions, crawling up the bed to slide in next to you. he should shower but he’ll wait for you to drop off to sleep before he leaves you alone.

‘yeah but not like that,’ relaxing into the duvet.

eddie grins to himself. it’s like a badge of honour he’ll proudly wear.

eddie gets up from the bed with a groan, dressing himself in his discarded clothes and slipping his jacket on. you were in and out of sleep and he was really hoping to slip out when you weren’t awake, there was no need to worry you anymore.

‘what’re you doing?’ you mumble from out of the blanket, squinting over at him.

fuck. he didn’t have an excuse.

‘i’m just.. getting a drink, you want anything?’ hoping that your sleepy state would stop any further questioning.

‘mmm..’ you hum, reshuffling, ‘m&ms.’

‘m&ms?’ he repeats, stuffing his feet into his shoes with a tiny grin, pulling his jacket over his shoulders as he nears the door.

‘mhm.’

‘okay,’ he chuckles before stepping out, making sure that the door is locked not once, but three times before he slips off downstairs.

now, he would get your m&ms and a coke but that wasn’t exactly why he’d come out. shoving his hands into his pockets as he scans the parking lot. he hadn’t said anything on the drive but he was certain you were being followed.

the same black dodger had been in his mirror for the majority of the drive up and now he wanted to make sure it hadn’t followed the pair of you here.

he does a quick sweep of the parking lot but it’s mostly empty bar his van and a couple of other cars that certainly weren’t the one he was looking for. he’s not a hundred percent sure that you weren’t being followed but at least now he’ll be able to sleep tonight.

you’re still dozing when he gets back, attempting to be quiet in case you were asleep but it doesn’t work as your eyes open the second the door closes.

tossing you your bag of m&ms before shimmying out of his jeans, collapsing into the empty spot on the bed next to you.

eddie can’t help but determine how he’d get the both of you out of here if he had to. remembering the pistol that sat at the bottom of his duffel bag.

‘you okay?’ you speak up, peaking from the blanket as you shuffle towards him. you take his hand into yours, holding it with both hands, tracing lines and patterns onto his palm as your head rests on his chest. ‘can i ask you something?’

‘go ahead,’ he’s slightly confused and fighting sleep as your fingers trace nonsensical shapes on his hand.

you pause, letting out a nearly inaudible sigh, ‘what happened to your mom?’

eddie freezes, eyes forced open as he looks down at the back of your head. you don’t turn to look back at him, staring at his hand instead. he realises that this question and subsequently his answer would probably be hard for you too and as much as he doesn’t want to think about it again, it’s necessary if he doesn’t want the cycle to continue.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip almost painfully, the words struggle to form no matter how many times he told this story. people didn’t really ask, not anymore, not since he moved to hawkins. he was grateful not to be known as the kid with the dead mom anymore. always feeling like people crept around him, walking on egg shells in case they said something wrong.

‘my dad killed her,’ he squeaks, fingers clamping around yours. there’s no nice way to say it because he did.

eddie can feel you freeze, swallowing the lump from your throat, still avoiding looking at him. he can tell you’re upset but what was he supposed to do? lie?

he squeezes your hand once more, sighing softly, ‘i’m sorry.. i- i didn’t think,’ placing your intertwined hands on his chest, feeling guilty as sin.

‘no.. it’s okay, i get it, i’m just..’ you finally twist round to look up at him, eyes brimming with tears, ‘i don’t want to die,’ you sounded tiny. more of a petrified child than the brave woman he knew.

his heart pangs with utter despair, hating himself for being responsible for that thought ever entering your mind. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, ‘you’re not going to,’ his fingers find their way into your hair, running his fingers through the strands, ‘i’ll make sure of that.’

and he will. it’s a promise that he’ll never break. not a chance in hell.

eddie can’t sleep, not for longer than twenty minutes anyway. he hasn’t since you guys arrived.

he can hear the clock ticking in the far corner, taunting him. accompanied by your soft snores as you lay sleeping soundly next to him. you’re something of an angel when you’re asleep and it leaves eddie questioning how anyone would dare to hurt a single hair on your head.

there’s a scuffle somewhere outside, a raised voice coming from the direction of reception. sliding his arm out from underneath your body slowly so to not wake you. peering out of the window down into the dimly lit forecourt.

that’s when he sees him. sees his car parked hastily next to his van.

his heart drops.

what’s he going to do? bang on every door until he finds the right one? wait outside until you dared to show your face?

he’s seen eddie’s van before, that’s for sure. so he knows you’re here somewhere. he just doesn’t have to know where exactly.

eddie steps into his jeans, pulling his discarded shirt over his head as he rummages through his bag for the gun. he doesn’t have to use it, it’s just a warning. a bit of backup if things went south, that’s what he keeps telling himself anyway. he slides the cold metal into the back of his jeans, hoping it’ll stay there.

he looks over at the bed again just to make sure you were still sleeping before slipping his shoes on. sending a quick nonsensical prayer to his mom before quietly unlocking the door and sliding out into the night.

the conversation is quieter now, eddie can barely hear it without straining but he knows he’s still here. sneaking down the stairs with a single clue what he’s actually going to do when he sees that prick.

as if he was summoned, greg storms out of the reception just as eddie reaches the bottom of the stairs, stood gormless as he gathers the nerve to say something.

he doesn’t have to, gregs eyes are already on him, filled with venom and vitriol. he’s an angry looking fella without knowing his vile history.

‘i fuckin’ knew it,’ greg nods to himself, ‘where is she? we don’t have to make this any harder than it already is.. i’ll take her home and we can forget about this little stunt,’ as if it was ever that simple. so he’s deluded as well as being a little bitch.

‘i don’t think so,’ eddie shakes his head, taking a step forward, keeping his composure despite his stomach twisting into knots. his hand is poised behind his back, fingers resting on the cold handle.

greg laughs, full belly laugh, like some psycho, ‘okay, i asked nicely.. you think i won’t break down every door until i find her?’ they’re almost face-to-face now, eddie can see his cheeks are flushed, sweat dripping from his forehead.

‘i told you.. it’s not happening,’ eddie swallows, fingers tightening around the handle, ‘so you can get back in your car and fuck off,’ his chin tilted slightly, greg has an obvious height advantage but that means nothing to him.

‘and i’m telling you that it is,’ his knuckles coming to shove eddie’s shoulders. eddie’s grateful for the experience, he’s been pushed around his entire life and was yet to let any of those losers win. this was no exception.

eddie’s jaw clenches, pulling the gun from the back of his pants, still hidden behind his back as he works out whether he should blow the brains out of this prick or just scare him a little. he knows that going to jail would help either of you, albeit greg deserves a fate worse than death, he can’t be the one to decide that.

instead, he keeps a somewhat rational mind, pressing the barrel against greg’s ribcage, narrowing his eyes as the other man realises what he was doing. ‘i’m gonna tell you again,’ eddie breathes shakily, ‘fuck off,’ his finger firmly on the trigger, he’s not certain that he won’t pull it.

tempted to just end this whole thing right here right now.

‘what the fuck?’ greg spits, removing his hands from eddie’s chest, ‘a gun?’ he scoffs, his features softening ever-so-slightly, ‘you’re as fucking crazy as each other.’

eddie presses the cold metal further into his skin, hoping at least to leave a sore mark if nothing else, ‘you’re gonna leave her alone,’ swallowing the rising anger in his throat before he continues, ‘you don’t talk to her, you don’t look at her- hell, you don’t even get to think about her anymore because i will kill you next time.. i promise,’ teeth gritting together as the other man trembles.

‘fine.. fucking- fine whatever,’ greg gives in, the beads of sweat now dripping down his face. he’s pale, knees shaking as eddie pulls the gun away, making sure to keep it pointed at his feet as he backs away.

eddie’s eyes don’t falter, stern and unforgiving as he watches the snivelling weasel run off. he wishes he did more. roughed him up a little, maybe even a little warning shot just to show him he was serious but then he thinks back to the image of you curled up in bed, blissfully unaware that he had tracked you down and perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

you’re safe. he’s gone, for now at least, and that’s all that matters. you never had to know this even happened, eddie could keep that secret so long as it meant you were safe. that that man couldn’t hurt you anymore.

‘you deserve each other,’ greg yells before climbing into the beat up old beemer. eddie keeps the gun raised, snarling as he pulls off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

the adrenaline rushes through his veins, making sure the car is truly gone before he puts the gun away. his first instinct is to rush back up the stairs to check on you, ensure that you’re still there, that you hadn’t witnessed any of that.

but he doesn’t.

rather pulling out the box of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one up, eyes honed in on the entrance to the motel, waiting and perhaps slightly even wishing that he’d dare to come back so he could really kill him this time.

thirty minutes must pass before he sighs, deciding to give up and go back to the room. the wooden stairs creak under his weight, the sun now beginning to peek through the clouds, lighting up the dull sky.

you’re still sleeping soundly when he gets back, soft snores filling the room as he re-hides the gun. there wasn’t a need for you to ever know he’d even had it, not anymore.

peeling his jeans off and climbing back into the bed, cautious not to wake you as his arm snakes around your shoulders, pulling your body onto his. the feel of your sleeping body instinctively moving closer could fuel him for another hundred years. eddie would that again and again if it meant you woke up tomorrow with a smile on your face and healed bruises.

you stir, face scrunching up as you look up at him, ‘where’d you go?’ barely able to keep your eyes open, head nuzzling into his chest as it rises and falls.

‘for a smoke,’ thinking quickly. maybe one day he’d tell you the truth but certainly not today. ‘go back to sleep.. it’s okay,’ he soothes into the top of your hair. you do, body nestled into his side and sleep takes back over.

and for the first time in weeks, eddie lets himself feel tired. with heavy limbs, drooping eyelids as he allows himself to succumb to sleep.

going back to hawkins is an ordeal in itself. eddie had expected wayne to be angry over the whole stealing the gun thing, but he hadn’t quite expected him to lose his mind quite so much.

‘you’re a fuckin’ idiot,’ wayne rages and eddie is grateful that he told you to stay in the van while he went to see his uncle at work. his anger doesn’t last long before his arms are slung around his nephew, pulling him into his chest with a loud sigh. ‘i’m glad you’re okay,’ wayne nods, staring into eddie’s eyes, ‘and she’s okay.’

eddie thinks he may just be off the hook until wayne starts up again, ‘but don’t you dare ever take my shit again or i’ll shoot you. got it?’ snatching the gun from eddie’s hand, pointing the handle at his idiotic nephew.

he can’t help but smile as his uncle rambles on, ‘okay wayne.. i’m sorry.’

unsurprisingly, eddie has to make a few apologies. namely to graham after the pair of you go crawling into the bar, tails between your legs, hoping for your jobs back.

‘you are welcome to work for me whenever you want to doll,’ graham points at you, his eyes soft until they turn to a sheepish eddie, ‘but you.. absolutely not.’

he wasn’t shocked, graham was a frugal bastard and eddie had excused a couple of sizeable tabs.. he’s just grateful graham hadn’t called the police on the pair of you.

‘oh graham, please let him work here again,’ you beg, eddie’s eyes flit to you, ‘i’ll control him better this time,’ beaming at the large man, that same twinkle in your eye that eddie could never say no to.

hell, who’s he kidding? he could never say no to you, full stop.

graham sighs, pointing his sausage-like finger at eddie who ducks his head down, ‘one chance.. if you fuck up, you’re gone, ya’ understand?’

he nods, offering a small smile in response. squeezing your hand since he really did owe it all to you.

what eddie never mentions, is how graham had pulled him aside on his first shift back, clapping the boy on the back, offering a sincere thank you for being the one to get you away from that monster. his words, not eddie’s.

eddie shakes his head, refusing to take responsibility, ‘that was all her.. she’s the brave one, not me.’

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things

148 notes · View notes

lovelybarnes · 3 years

Note

for the one-shot

tired eyes , bucky

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, mentions of shuri warnings: mentions of cryo and death (but no actual descriptions) about: tired eyes a/n: i'm so sorry this took so long to post! i got so busy and i had a really bad day and didn't have any time to edit. i hope you enjoy this either way!

“...in other news, a baby penguin was born at the national zoo yesterday, and the subway goats that i told you about were captured, so that’s good for everyone really,” you laugh, skimming through the rest of the words printed on the newspaper you’re holding. the fingers holding it begin to rub at the edges subconsciously, pressing indents into the typed letters while you flip the page once you’re satisfied that the contents of that one were already summarized. “okay, these are comics and crosswords, so i’ll wait for you on these,” you say, eyes catching on the colored squares, chuckling at the images of snoopy. “i think you’ll like snoopy. you probably haven’t gotten to read much on him since he was created in the fifties, so i’ll save all the snoopy bits for you if you’d like.”

no answer, which you were expecting, but the longing for his voice grows either way, exhaling softly and closing the newspaper you were reading from, bold letters forming the date. you look at the books piled next to your chair, reminding yourself to replace the ones you’ve already read. “so, shuri says she’s close to figuring this out. she thinks you’ll be out of cryo this month, so that’s exciting!”

your smile struggles to stay as a thick silence falls on you and you swallow, looking down at your lap, “um, i-” you clear your throat, forcing your eyes to meet the frozen man. “i don’t know if you can even hear me,” you admit, a small watery laugh falling from your lips. “i can’t really bring myself to ask shuri, because i really hope you can and i don’t know how i’ll do if i find out you can’t. i hope you know how much i love you, and-” you sniffle, squeezing your eyes shut, “and how much i miss you. and how much i know you’ll be okay.”

you smile tearfully, wiping away tears that escape your eyes, watching them soak your sleeve. you run your finger over the fabric, bringing it up to your nose and shutting your eyes shut when you realize the red henley doesn’t smell like bucky anymore. although the rational part of your mind reminds you it's been two years and you’ve been wearing the piece of clothing for most of it. the rest of his clothes also lack his smell, worn so much by you that your perfume seems embedded with the cotton.

“you know how much i miss your eyes?” you ask suddenly, the image of them engraved in the caves of your happiest memories. “you have such pretty eyes- i know i tell you that a lot, but it’s true.” echoes of the azure colors lucky enough to reside in bucky’s irises flood the darkness of your closed eyelids. “they were the first thing i noticed when i met you,” you sniffle, “so blue. it looked like they were glowing in the sun. i completely forgot about the plums i accidentally stole from you.”

“do you remember that?” you question, opening your eyes to see the same image from last time. “i just gave you the plums and stuttered like an idiot. then, when i tried to leave because i was so mortified, you stopped me. i got a really good look at you that time. so handsome,” you pause. “but so tired.”

his image is vivid in your mind, clear enough to combat the actual photographs of him that lay everywhere in your apartment. “you looked so tired, bucky,” you admit, “and i didn’t even know what happened yet- what you had gone through- and all i wanted to do from that point was kiss all that pain away. let you rest until the exhaustion wasn’t clouding the color of your eyes.” your fingers twitch, itching to tangle with his own- desperate to hold him after so long.

physical touch was something bucky struggled with when you both met. his skin was unused to gentle touches, always expecting the worst when your fingertips came in contact with any of him; you showed him gentle touches, tender fingers dragging on his jaw in the morning, careful kisses pressed to his nose to wake him up.

“let me do that when you’re out of there, yeah?” you request, playing with your hands to distract from their want to hold his. “you deserve to just... be, bucky. you deserve to be happy, and i swear i’ll make sure it’s the only thing you’ll ever feel again.” you go silent, picking apart your tangled thoughts and attempting to make sentences of them.

“y/n.”

it takes you a while to notice the voice, its echo reaching you, prying your attention away from bucky. “shuri,” you realize, mouth moving faster than your brain as it falls behind to realize what exactly shuri might be doing here. “it’s ready- he can come out today.”

your eyebrows furrow, the words foggy as your brain decides to take them in late, examining them for their meaning too many seconds after silence has been hanging in the air, waiting for you to break its delicate thread. “what?” you finally say after a moment, not looking for an answer while you jump from your seat, ignoring the items you’d handpicked as they fall to the floor, clatters ignored while you bounce to shuri, “really? he can- it’s really ready?”

shuri nods, beaming smile as the reaction she was hoping for bounds out of you, albeit a bit later than she’d expected. you’ve turned, eyes on bucky now as your anticipation grows, arms motioning towards him gently, “well, then… please- please,” you beg, unable to finish the plead that shuri already knows.

your fingernails are in between your teeth from the waiting- a nasty habit bucky had helped you break thanks to his wrapped hands around yours- foot tapping incessantly on the floor beneath you. you have absolute trust in shuri and wakanda’s technology, but the worry grows when you stare at the chamber bucky was once in, bright cerulean of his eyes hidden from yours.

every cell of your body is screaming for him, and it might be embarrassing how much you miss him if it were a different situation, a different man with different eyes.

ayo is with him, observing him while the wretched words are said, and every passing second makes your fear grow worse- that he would go back into cryo, that he wouldn’t ever touch you again, too afraid he’d hurt you with the same stained hands with which he’d hurt others.

you shut your eyes again and took a deep breath, feeling your lungs expand and focusing on that.

“y/n,” he interrupts, the cracked word bringing the air you had been missing for so long, eyes opening as quickly as they could and a sob falling from your throat when you stand. “bucky,” you snivel, foot already stepping closer to him before you can instruct it to. you pause for a second to make sure bucky is okay with it, against the will of every voice in your mind and muscle in your body. the man nods, stepping towards you instead and immediately warming you with his embrace. you reciprocate immediately, winding your arms around him while his flesh arm pulls you as close as he can.

“bucky,” you weep, pushing your face into the crook of his neck and crying harder when your nose touches his warm skin and the soft strands of his hair. bucky only pulls away for a moment to look at you, gentle thumb brushing away your tears. you cradle his face in your hand, scanning every feature continuously until you reach his eyes and your breath catches at the brilliant color, realizing the dark sheen of exhaustion was gone, his tired eyes were no longer as tired, offering solid possibility that at some point, they wouldn’t be at all.

381 notes · View notes

tuiccim · 3 years

Text

A Scarred Enigma (Part 7)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC Lexa Green

Word Count: 1.7k

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of scars. Depression, anxiety, fear of touch, panic attack.

Summary: Fellow Avenger Lexa Green is an enigma that intrigues Bucky to no end, but a painful past has left her scarred, both physically and mentally. Will she be able to overcome her past to find love in the future?

Divider by @firefly-graphics/ Not beta read.

A Scarred Enigma Masterlist

Lex couldn’t face Bucky, so she took the coward’s way out. She texted him.

Lex: Hey.

Bucky: Hey. What ya wanna do today?

Lex: Just have a quiet day. I’m tired.

Lex: I need some space right now.

Bucky: Of course. Let me know if you need anything.

Two days after,

Bucky: Just checking in. I’m here. Whatever you need.

A week after,

Bucky: You up for our movie night tonight?

Ten days after,

Bucky: I know you asked for space but I want you to know I’m here for you. Just let me know when you’re ready.

And, feeling absolutely wretched, she never answered and he got the hint. He stopped messaging. She had asked him for space and he had given it to her. He watched and waited for her to make a move toward him, but she hadn’t. She treated him kindly, spoke to him, and worked with him, but she was never alone with him. There were no more movie nights or long one-on-one conversations or inside jokes. She shied away from him whenever he got too close or they found themselves alone by chance.

A month later, Bucky watched Lex across the table as she had a low conversation with Clint and Natasha. He was listening in. He knew it was wrong but he was desperate.

“I need a dress for Tony’s party. Preferably one that isn’t skin tight,” Lex says with a look at Natasha.

“Why don’t you come with me to pick it out? That way you can have more input. Otherwise, you just have to go with what I pick as usual,” Natasha smirks.

“I… fine. I’ll go with you,” Lex shrugs.

“Great. It’ll be fun.”

“Can I come, too?” Clint bobs his eyebrows.

“No,” Nat and Lex say in unison.

The outing was surprisingly refreshing to Lex. She found a dress she was more comfortable in. It was long-sleeved with a flared skirt. Lex thought it was reminiscent of the 40s. She wondered if Bucky would like it, but then shook the thought away. She had successfully kept Bucky at arm’s length but the truth was she missed him. His sweetness and gentleness and just knowing he was there for her without demand. She had wondered many times if she had made a mistake pushing him away but then the fear would take hold of her again and the”what if”’s racked her mind.

She felt intensely guilty each time that Bucky looked at her. If she had been really brave she would have told him to leave her alone. She would have hurt him so he could move on. Not wait for her, but instead she selfishly kept him at arm’s length. Close enough to touch but never to reach her. Maybe she should just leave. The very thought filled her with dread. The pit of her stomach tightened and tears threatened. She couldn’t leave this family, her family. She had to find a way through this. But how?

The night of Tony’s party, she looked stunning. No one would ever guess that under all of it was a scarred mess who shrunk away when someone tried to hold her hand.

“You look great, Lexy,” Nat smiles at her as they enter the common room.

“Thanks. So do you,” she replies shyly.

“I love your dress, Lex,” Wanda says.

“Th-thank you. You look beautiful.”

“Thanks. This will be fun,” Wanda reassures.

Lex nods nervously, “Yeah. Of course.”

“Hey, we’re here for you if you need us. All of us. Me, Wanda, Clint… Bucky. All of us,” Nat says.

“Nat,” Lex’s voice breaks.

“What happened?” Nat asks softly.

“Nothing!” Lex whispers harshly and walks away.

“Lex!” Nat calls after her but she doesn’t stop. Her heart was breaking again and she couldn’t do it. She shook as she pressed the elevator button. The tears spilled over as she rode it and then the doors opened revealing Bucky.

“Lex! What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“I can’t! I can’t-,” she runs for her room but Bucky follows.

“Lex! Lex, please talk to me. Please! I’m here for you. Whatever you need. I’m here.”

“But you shouldn’t be!”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know if I can ever give you what you want! I don’t know if I can ever handle being touched. You deserve to be with someone who can be. I’m just holding you back from having a life. And I can’t! I can’t do it anymore. You deserve so much better!” Lex runs through her door and try to slam it behind her.

Bucky catches it and closes it softly, “Lex, I don’t care if you can never handle touch or if you become the most touch-feely person on the planet. You’re my best friend! I’m going to stick by you no matter what. I will always be here for you.”

“But you won’t be! Not if you see!” She cries.

“I don’t care about your scars!” Bucky says emphatically. “Nothing physical or mental or in your past matters to me. I only care about you! Who you are!” He rips off his jacket and shirt. “Do you see my scars? Do you see this damn metal arm? Do you know what I did for seventy years?”

Lex stares at Bucky absolutely stunned.

“Do you think less of me now that you’ve seen? Are you disgusted by me now? Do you hate me? Do you never want to speak to me again?”

Lex stares at him, lips trembling, eyes wide, until she turns her back to him. Bucky’s heart burns, thinking she was closing herself off, but then her hands went to the zipper or her dress and he realized her intentions.

“Lex, you don’t have to!”

“I want to,” she whispers as she unzips the dress and pulls it from her arms. Bucky’s heart broke for her as he stared at the expanse of scars that riddled her back. The cruelty that she had endured was more than he ever imagined. Before he realized what he was doing, his flesh hand made contact with her back and she gasped but didn’t move away.

“I’m so sorry that this happened to you but you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Bucky says.

Lex slips her arms back into her dress as she turns to face Bucky, “I… I am?”

“Yeah, doll,”

Lex stares into Bucky’s eyes for a moment and then she takes the leap. She puts her arms around Bucky’s neck and hugs him. Bucky smiles with tears in his eyes as he gingerly wraps his arms around her.

“I missed you,” he whispers.

“I missed you, too,” Lex whispers back as she slowly pulls away from him.

“Why don’t we skip the party and have movie night?” Bucky grins.

“Won’t Tony be mad?”

“He’ll never miss us.”

“I’ll make the popcorn,” Lex smiles.

The next day after training Lex gets out of the shower and looks at herself in the mirror for a long moment. She knows her face is passable, but turning around to see her scars she feels a tightness constrict her chest. A mess of scars. Sometimes that's all she feels like she is. And she was sick of it. Lex made a determination right then. She was more than her scars. She wouldn’t let them hold her back anymore. Bucky had seen them and still called her beautiful. It was time to show her team and this way she would claim her team as her family, as her own. Scars be damned.

Having made the decision, Lex gingerly slips on a sports bra, leggings, and a hoodie and heads to the common room for dinner. The entire team except Tony is gathered and dinner carries on without fanfare. As soon as everyone is finished Lex asks, “Can we all go to the common room? I need to talk to everyone.”

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Wanda asks.

“No. The opposite, hopefully.” Lex smiles. Everyone exchanges glances at Lex’s enigmatic response as they take seats in the common room. Lex smiles at Nat and Clint as they pass by her.

Bucky pauses beside her to whisper, “Are you okay? Did I push you too hard?”

“I’m fine. And, no, you pushed me just enough. Everything’s okay.” She whispers back.

Once everyone is seated Lex sits in a chair opposite them and begins, “I wanted to apologize to everyone. I, um, I know I’m not an easy person to get to know and that’s my fault. I don’t trust people or their motives easily, but I want, I need you all to know that I trust you. I trust you all with my life. So, I want you to know my story.” She tells them about her childhood, her father, her family, her scars, and, when she’s done, Lex stands and turns her back to everyone. She pulls the hoodie off and closes her eyes as she reveals her scars to them. The silence is deafening for a moment and then,

“This is awesome! I love scar stories. Check this one out!” Clint bends over and shows his right ass cheek that has a long stripe on it. “So, this one time in Budapest, Nat and I had just gotten through this insane gun fight and then I sat on one of my arrows! Nat had to stitch me up. How many stitches was it?”

“17! Now put your ass away, Clint!” Nat yells as everyone, including Lex, cracks up.

“That’s nothing. Check this bad boy out,” Sam shows a long stripe up the left side of his torso.

“What is this?” Tony yells as he enters. “Everyone put your clothes back on! No strip games when I’m not here!”

“Hey Tony. Where’ve you been? And who’s that?” Steve asks as a tall blond man steps forward.

Tony smirks as he motions to the man beside him, “Picking up our new friend to help us on a mission. This is the U.S. Agent, John Walker.”

Part 8

Tuiccim’s Masterlist

Updates and taglist: Updates for series will be made weekly. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction for update notifications. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

96 notes · View notes

enviedear · 4 years

Text

liability → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which y/n slips herself weak love potion daily to get through the wretched sadness she feels she can’t escape. in her mind, she’s a liability. and unbeknownst to her, draco malfoy feels the same.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 3.2k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

tw for depression ; something i have so please know i understand if you’re going through it. my messages are always open if you need a friend. be good to yourself and if this may trigger you pls don’t read it. all the love, olivia <3

pls enjoy this angst, and also please ignore the science behind love potions in this fic.

after cedric had been killed, life for you wasn’t the same. the two of you were the best of friends. you did absolutely everything together. cedric helped you be the very best you.

after him, life seemed grey, dull, and monotonous. you didn’t have anyone to talk to.

your friends pulled back from you and said they made a mistake thinking they could take you on, and you understood. some days you could be so happy and carefree and the very next minute you drifted into the dark abyss that was your mind. you were a little much, for everyone.

over the summer you began reading to take your mind off of cedric. well, not him, just what happened. you forced yourself to read every book in your home. from books about the stars, to poetry, to books on theories, and finally your textbooks.

it was one of the hottest days of summer when you came across the chapter on love potions. it gave you an idea. the chapter clearly stated that the drinker of the love potion would become infatuated with the person who gave it to them. who’s to say you couldn’t become infatuated with yourself.

of course you didn’t want to become a narcissus, so you brewed a very weak version.

it worked. for a whole day you were happy. you ate, laughed, and were so good to yourself. you were in love with the girl you were. you found yourself slow dancing alone, stroking your own cheek, being there for yourself.

of course, it didn’t last and by night time you were back to feeling all too much. the type of feeling where you’re silent and unmoving, the world a blur but your thoughts in a deathly focus.

it was that night you decided that you’d take a weak love potion everyday until your bad feelings went away on their own. you were tired of being the girl people pushed away because they didn’t understand.

so you did exactly that. your entire fifth year consisted of flying under umbridge’s radar. thanks to harry potter and the order, that proved easier than expected. no one suspected you.

now, you’re in sixth year. everyone is convinced you’re happy again and they don’t treat you like some sort of liability. of course, they don’t know that every night you cry and feel exactly like you did in fourth year. but that’s ok, you can handle the nights as long as the days are good. you find it to be a cycle now. in the mornings you take the potion and it’s almost like the best part of yourself fights the whole day to take care of you, but by night, she looses to the worst part of yourself.

“y/n would you like to go to hogsmeade today?” your friend, cece asks.

“i would love to, but i have to study for transfiguration.” you sigh, giving your friend a sorry look.

“ah it’s ok, you’re taking advanced this year. you’re right to study. mara and i will make sure to bring you back some things from honeydukes.”

you smile and thank your friend before making your way to the astronomy tower. cedric was the one to introduce you to studying here, and you never stopped.

you take a seat on the steps and begin studying multicorfors.

just as you were getting up to practice the spell, a body runs into you, causing the both of you to tumble to the floor.

you look to your side and spot draco malfoy, who, besides being herbology partners one year, you didn’t really talk to.

“are you okay, draco?” you ask, helping the boy off the floor.

he smoothes out his suit jacket, “yes, l/n.”

you scoff a bit and raise your eyebrows at him, “are you sure because it’s unlike you to stumble about. you’re just too good for that.”

draco glowers at you.

“okay i’m sorry. i didn’t want to be here anyway,” you gesture around the room, “the astronomy tower is now yours.”

he doesn’t say anything as you exit the room and you shrug it off.

‘as if draco malfoy could be pleasant’, you think to yourself, annoyed.

once you approach the hufflepuff common room you feel the effects of your potion begin to wear off. you curse yourself a little for not drinking enough potion to last you until dinner and decide to run by the kitchens to grab something before bed. there’s no way you can sit through dinner like this.

by the time you make it to your dorm room you feel heavy with thoughts. you curl into your bed crying and stare at the stone wall until you fall into a dreamless sleep. like most nights.

the next morning is a saturday and you wake up early, before your dorm mates, and grab the bottle of love potion under your bed, hidden in a locked trunk. you down the small bottle and watch it refill thanks to the spell you placed on it, and put it back, hidden away.

you decide to head to breakfast early and grab a muffin to take with you to the astronomy tower. you need to master multicorfors before your test on tuesday.

a half hour into your practice, you’re doing the spell almost perfectly. though, changing your skirt into pants proves to be your downfall. you just can’t get it.

“i need the astronomy tower.” a voice says from behind you.

you turn to see draco malfoy, again wearing a fitted suit.

“you can study while i’m here draco.” you say pointedly.

“i don’t want to.” he scowls.

you roll your eyes, “then study elsewhere.”

“no. you can leave.”

“listen draco, i can argue with you all day, but i’m not moving until i’ve mastered multicorfors. so either you stay here with me or you go somewhere else.” you groan.

he doesn’t reply but takes a seat on the steps, taking out his wand and transfiguration book.

you smile to yourself, happy to win the argument, and go back to trying to change your skirt into a pair of pants.

“you’re too rigid with your movements, l/n.” draco tells you.

“can you show me then? i can’t figure it out.” you ask.

“no. just flick your wand more. it’s not that hard.” he says.

you give him a deadpan look, “please. this is the last part of the lesson i need to get. if you show me i can leave sooner.”

draco groans but gets up and walks over to you.

“give me your hand.” he instructs.

you do as you’re told and he grabs your hand, showing you the correct way to move your wand. his hand is warmer compared to yours and you like the way he warms you up. it’s also extremely soft, almost as if he’s never had a single callous.

“you have soft hands.” you tell him, grinning.

surprisingly draco lets out a small smile, “you’re supposed to be paying attention.”

“i can’t. you have baby soft hands.” you joke looking up at him.

“i just use lotion. you should try it sometime, your hands feel like a house elves’.” he teases.

you let out a deep laugh, “who knew draco malfoy was such a comedian?”

he feigns shock, “i made those hilarious ‘potter sticks’ badges back in fourth year for nothing then?”

you suck in a unnoticed breathe at the mention of fourth year before smiling,“okay i suppose that should have been a hint. but it was mean.”

draco and you continue to talk and practice transfiguration up until dinner. the time flying while the two of you are together.

“would you like to eat dinner up here? i can grab us some things from the kitchen.” you ask him, packing your bag up.

“i actually have something to do, but maybe some other time. let’s meet here again tomorrow though, i can help you with transfiguration.” he says.

“draco malfoy fraternizing with a muggle-born hufflepuff. tsk tsk.” you joke before agreeing and heading to dinner.

you don’t miss the eyeroll he gives you for that remark.

“where were you all day, y/n?” mara questions as you sit down beside her.

“astronomy tower. i was practicing transfiguration. you’ll never guess who ended up helping me either.” you beam, grabbing a plate for yourself.

“who helped you? i’m guessing cormac mclaggen, he seems to have a crush on you.” cece says.

your face contorts in disgust, “no, definitely not. that guy is a creep. it was malfoy actually, and he’s surprisingly funny.”

mara and cece give each other a look before mara speaks, “you do know people are saying he’s a deatheater, right?”

you roll your eyes, “malfoy is not a deatheater. i think a deatheater would oppose to helping a mudblood.”

your friends shrug and dinner continues on with normal conversation.

“cece and i are going to study in the library before bed if you want to join us.” mara says, grabbing her books.

“i’m okay, plus i’m super tired. i’ll see you at the dorm.” you smile, before parting with your friends.

slipping into your bed you begin to feel the come down of your potion. tonight your pain hurts even more than usual. you feel so trapped and can’t seem to catch your breath. you keep thinking back to the last time you had spoken to your best friend.

it was a week before the maze and he was sitting with you by black lake.

“y/n i promise you once i win, i’m taking you and cho to the fanciest restaurant i can find and we’ll all celebrate.” he had grinned, leaning against a tree.

you giggled and shoved him playfully before saying, “if you don’t win i’m still expecting that dinner.”

“i’ll win. i’ve been practicing so much.”

“i know, you barely ever have time to see me now.” you had sighed.

“y/n i’m sorry. i promise that after all of this is over, you and i are going to see each other everyday. i can’t live without you, kid. you’re my best friend.” he soothed, giving you a hug.

you had leaned into him, “forever?”

he laughed, “of course.”

that memory was etched in your brain. you knew it would never leave your mind.

you laid silently crying in your bed as your dorm mates entered to room, ready for bed. they said goodnight to each other before getting into their own beds, assuming you to be drifted off by now, and after a few minutes, their snores are the only sound in the room.

the emptiness of your being feels too much and you’re desperate to escape. you need air. you need something to remind you that you’re alive.

you quietly sneak out of your room, out of the common room, and up the stairs to the astronomy tower.

as you quickly enter the doorway of the tower, a body collides into yours, knocking you back a bit.

when you look up, tears falling out of your eyes, you’re greeted by teary grey ones. draco’s.

he sniffles and steadies himself before asking, “what’s wrong, l/n?”

you can’t seem to find the words. no one has asked you this question in years, and so much is wrong.

all you can do is cry harder.

“you have to breathe l/n. you’re going to upset yourself more, just breathe.” he says, voice breaking.

you try to calm down but nothing is helping. nothing feels real. cedric should still be here. you shouldn’t be this broken. life should be how it was. now it’s just too much.

“i hate it, draco.” you finally cry out.

he wipes the tears from his own eyes, “what do you hate, l/n. talk to me.”

“i hate that i haven’t been the same since fourth year. i hate that my best friend is gone. i hate that i have to worry that everyone around me is going to die, just because of some evil dark wizard. and i hate that i take fucking love potions everyday just to feel okay. i hate it all.” you breathe, finally.

draco raises his eyebrows, “you’ve been taking love potions?”

you nod, weary of your confession.

“i’m sorry y/n.” he mumbles.

your eyes meet his at the mention of your first name. coming from him it seems so genuine. he’s never called you by your first name before.

“you won’t tell anyone will you?” you ask, eyes searching his.

“no, i won’t,” he pauses. “but you should get back to your dorm, i’ll walk you back. a walk might help you calm down.”

you nod and let the boy lead you through the dark castle, lit only by the moon. draco’s steps are lighter than yours, and it causes you to wonder how he learned how to be so quiet. it’s unlike him.

when the two of you reach the hufflepuff entrance you whisper to him, “thank you for calming me down, draco. it means a lot that you would help me.”

in the shadows you see him smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. you bid the boy goodnight, and walk back to your dorm. of course you’re still sad but the sadness is somewhat diluted, thanks to none other than draco malfoy.

you continue to meet with draco daily throughout the months of your sixth year. the two of you finding comfort in each other.

by now, you’re becoming far less dependent on love potions. having someone to confide in proving immensely helpful.

but although you’re getting better, draco only grows worse. you never ask him what’s troubling him. maybe because you’re scared he won’t tell you or maybe because you’re scared to loose the person helping you the most. either way, you still try to help him as much as possible.

today, may the eighth, draco and you have plans to go to hogsmeade to look for a new notebook for you, since your old one is completely used up. you really loved mcgonagall, but the woman sure stressed you out with all the notes she commanded your class to take.

you’ve been waiting patiently for twenty minutes, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight.

maybe he’s still at breakfast? you think to yourself, before heading into the castle to search for your friend.

you peer around the dining hall, coming up short. so you decide to go to the astronomy tower. if you needed draco you could usually find him there.

when you enter the sixth floor, ready to head further up, you hear shouting. curious, you walk toward the noise, which is coming from the boys’ bathroom.

you hesitate going in but once you hear a defensive spell being cast, you draw your wand and bound into the bathroom.

in front of you stands harry potter. he’s crouched behind a wall, clutching his wand and panting. you furrow your brows, and go to question what he’s doing before you see draco emerge and cast the cruciatus curse at him.

before you can tell them both to stop, harry yells out a curse you’ve never heard of before.

“sectumsempra!”

almost instantly, draco falls to the floor, blood pouring out of him.

you’re shocked, and don’t even feel yourself run to him. you don’t hear harry’s apologies. you don’t hear when professor snape rushes in. you don’t hear a thing other than draco’s pained cries.

it reminds you all too much of the chaos of cedric’s death. everything happening too fast.

when snape finally stops the bleeding he instructs you to get back to your common room and keep quiet. you don’t try to fight him on it, and do as you’re told.

after a few hours of worried overthinking, you leave the hufflepuff common room and head to the hospital wing. when you enter the large room, you notice draco immediately. he’s the only one.

“draco?” you call his name, standing beside his bed.

the boy opens his eyes and stares right at you, causing you to cry.

“i was so scared draco.” you cry, placing your hand on your friends chest, feeling his heartbeat. it’s comforting.

“i have to tell you something, y/n, before it’s too late. you just have to promise you won’t tell a soul.” he tells you, voice weak.

“draco you’ve kept my secret over these months. i would never hurt you by telling anyone.” you say.

your friend gives you a weak smile before sitting up in the bed and pulling up his left sleeve, exposing a black ink that contrasts so much from his pale white skin.

“they’re coming here in june. i don’t know the day yet but when i find out i’ll tell you. you have to stay safe, y/n. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.” draco advises.

“you’re a deatheater.” you breathe out, eyes locked to the dark mark on his arm.

you can’t believe the scene in front of you. your draco, a villain that you’ve been so deathly afraid of for years.

“i’m so sorry y/n. it wasn’t my choice. but please promise me that you’ll stay safe. i need you here with me, not gone by the hands of a dark wizard.” the boy pleads, grasping your hand.

you look him in the eyes, “i promise draco.”

he doesn’t let go of your hand and brings it back to his heart.

“i care so deeply for you, y/n. you’re so good. thank you for everything.” he says, faltering.

your eyes are teary when you say, “i love you draco.”

with that you slip your hand out of his and walk back to your dorm. your thoughts seem to be invasive that night. you contemplate grabbing the bottle of love potion you haven’t taken in a month, but decide against it.

you feel cheated. everything had been so perfect. all the excitement you had from running through the nights with the boy you love begin to eat you alive.

it’s not fair for it to turn out like this. the two of you so dependent on each other, but on two separate sides of a war. there’s no way this can end well.

you realize you love draco, as more than a friend. that scares you and so you’re back to thinking that you’re better off on your own.

draco still sits with you in the astronomy tower daily, but the two of you don’t speak much. you, scared of falling deeper in love. and him, too focused on his task.

of course you find yourself loving the boy more and more everyday. the two of you are always embraced when together, and even though it’s unspoken, you know draco loves you too.

it’s the thirtieth day of june, you’re in the astronomy tower alone when draco comes rushing in.

“y/n you have to go, they’re here.” he warns, checking the stairs behind him.

you freeze at his statement. you knew the day would come but you still weren’t prepared.

“y/n! are you listening to me? you have to go.” he shouts.

this is it. this is the final time you’ll see draco before the war officially starts, after this there’s no more innocent days spent together. here you are again, loosing your best friend.

you get up from the floor and walk to draco. you cup his face gently, “take care of yourself. i love you.”

he eases a little and places his hand on yours, “i love you more. i hope you know that.”

and you do. of course you do.

#—myfics !#draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco x y/n #draco x female reader #draco x you #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x slytherin #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts

1K notes · View notes

jadequeen88 · 3 years

Text

Crimson Canopy

The last thing you thought you’d be doing that day was seducing a god-like, mythical creature...

PAIRING: Harpy!Hawks x Female!Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: oral/penetrative sex, praise kink (if you squint), wing kink, (it’s all pretty vanilla)

AS WITH ALL MY WORK THIS IS NSFW. ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS PLS

This is an AU with no quirks. Humans live a long side mythical races and creatures that they abuse for the most part. You’re part of a secret organization that saves and protects them.

**************************************************************

Sweat dripped into your eyes as you reached the top of the trail. Panting, you wiped it away with the back of your hand. Wishing (not for the first time today) you’d gotten your ass out of bed earlier so you’d be out of the afternoon heat, you take a long drink from your insulated water bottle. You knew you had patrol duty today, but you still thought it was a good idea to stay up trying to drown your depression with bourbon.

As your breathing slowed, you pull out your phone to see a new message.

Bre: “Done yet? It’s really hot out! Did you find anyone/thing that was injured?”

You: “Not done yet. Got a late start. No sign of any traps set off so far. I’ll text when I’m done.”

Bre: “Good news! Stay safe :)”

You slide your phone back into the pocket of your cargo pants and sit on a nearby stump. From this vantage point, you could use your binoculars to scan the wooded valley below for anyone who needed help.

As you scanned the area, a thought you’d had a million times before flirted through your brain. “I really am disgusted by my own species most days.” If humans weren’t so ruthless, greedy, and arrogant, you wouldn’t have to be out here in the first place.

You were part of a secret rescue agency that saved endangered mythical creatures and races of humanoids from poachers. Whether it was unicorns murdered for their horns and blood, wood elves captured for horrific genetic experiments, or griffins murdered just for existing, humans were relentless. Although, most of the human population grouped elves and other intelligent humanoids into basically being animals themselves. Despite the fact that these races had their own languages, customs, art, and social hierarchy just like humans. The lack of empathy on the part of your race made your stomach turn and your blood boil.

It didn’t take long to spot your first victim. But this seemed... different. The cries were not fully human, not fully animal, but completely full of rage. And the wind! It was as if a small cyclone had suddenly rose from the ground and threatened to swallow the small patch of forest in the valley. You had no idea what could be causing the commotion, but you did know it was caught and needed help. It needed help fast. A lot of poachers had cameras or alarm systems to alert them when a trap was set off. You knew you had a small window or time before things got dire.

You expertly navigated your way down the hillside, having made a crude path over time on your patrols. Within a couple of minutes, you approached the ring of trees that were being violently shaken by the forceful wind.

When you looked into the chaos, you could see enormous, crimson feathers beating wildly into the air. Your eyes widened in wonder and horror when realization washed over you.

“Holy shit.... A Harpy....”

They were so rare and so removed from human society that many believed them to be fairy tales. But what you saw in front of you was definitely real. The creature beat their wings so furiously you couldn’t even make out the rest of their body. The growls and cries of rage still pierced the air as the wretched creature thrashed against its metal wire trappings.

It never got easier seeing just how brutal these traps were. A simple bear trap would be a mercy in some cases.

Not knowing a better way to get the creature’s attention, you let out a loud, high whistle.

The massive wings froze and you were able to see flesh between them. The harpy’s skin was crisscrossed with thin, metal wires that began to dig angry, bleeding cuts all over. A pang of despair rang through your chest. You noticed a golden blonde head slowly turn to face you.

For the second time today, you were absolutely astounded by what you saw in front of you.

A MALE Harpy! You knew enough about the creatures to know that only about 1 in 20 babies born were male. You’d never in a million years expect to come face to face with a Harpy. Let alone a male.

Once the shock wore off, another realization fell over you. He was absolutely, drop dead, gorgeous.

His long golden tresses hung wild around his face and his amber colored eyes burned through you. He had the chiseled jaw line of a Greek god and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment.

You quickly snapped out of it when you realized why you were there. You had to save him.

You slowly circled around to face him, palms out showing you weren’t a threat to him. He wasn’t buying it, though. You knew if he wasn’t bound by metal wires, he’d be eating away at your throat right this second.

Once you were face to face with him, you were able to appreciate the full extent of his terrifying beauty.

His perfectly sculpted chest was bare and bleeding from struggling against the wires of the trap. His mouth was pulled into a snarl, baring sharp canines and you were absolutely sure they could slice through you in a second. The only article of clothing he wore were a pair of woven cropped pants. They were made in an intricate pattern. The anthropologist in you wanted to ask what the material was made of and how it was woven... until a half growl, half whimper brought you back to the reality of the situation.

Your eyes trailed back up to meet the Harpy’s honey-golden irises. The pain in them made your chest ache.

“H-help.... p-pl-please...”

You froze, shocked that this mythical creature was actually able to communicate with you. Most elves you came in contact didn’t speak English. How could a Harpy, an even rarer species, speak it?

You didn’t have time right now. Questions could wait until later. You quickly swung your bag off your shoulder and pulled out your wire cutters.

The closer you got to the creature, you could notice tremors through his body. Especially at the base of his large wings. His right one was bound in what looked like a very uncomfortable position.

You held the wire cutters out in front of you and made eye contact with him.

“These will cut the wires. Okay? This will help.”

You made sure to use the word “help” since he seemed to understand that.

You received a curt nod, his golden, feathery hair flopping into his eyes a bit more.

After snapping ten of the vicious wires loose, he was able to remove himself from the rest. You noticed his hands had long, black nails that were reminiscent of talons. You looked curiously at his feet to see if he had talons. You always heard that Harpy’s had long, nasty talons for feet that they’d gut their prey with. You were slightly (pleasantly) surprised to see perfectly normal feet wearing plain, deerskin moccasins.

You heard a deep, rumbling chuckle and looked up to see him laughing at you while rubbing at his sore biceps.

“You expected horrible talons that I’d use to gut you with, no?” His eyes widened and he exposed his sharp canines when he said “gut you”. Something stirred in the pit of your stomach and you stiffened with surprise.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry! I’ve just... I’ve never met a Harpy, much less a MALE Harpy and you know, we hear so many rumors. I’m just fascinated by your species and culture and-“ you were silenced when he clasped one of his large hands over your mouth. He looked around, obviously sensing something you couldn’t.

He pulled you into a bear hug. You barely had time to register what was happening when the Harpy growled “Hold” into your ear.

With one thrust of his powerful, crimson wings, you were above the tree line. That’s when you heard a gunshot. The Harpy shot forward with incredible speed and didn’t slow down his speed until you were over the next mountain. When you were well away from the danger of the poachers, his wings flapped a little lazier and you were gliding along the air currents at a more relaxing speed.

After the initial shock wore off, you became more aware of your surroundings. You clung to the male like a koala hanging onto a tree. Your arms wrapped around his back tightly and legs around his waist, linking your ankles so you wouldn’t fall.

You immediately blushed as you noticed how hot the flesh of his arms were around you. One arm was positioned under you grabbing your outer right thigh. The other arm gripped your upper back, his strong fingers digging into your ribs right under your breast. You stiffened, embarrassed at the warmth growing between your legs. It’s not like you could really pull away.

You shift your hips nervously, hoping to make your position less awkward. The Harpy caught on to this subtle gesture and you felt his chest rumble against yours. Was he... laughing at you?!

“Excuse me... umm, Harpy... sir. Is something funny?” you ask, growing redder in the face by the second.

“Hawks” he purred in your ear. This did not help the growing heat your body was producing.

“What?”

“Name. Call me by Hawks. It is easier for a human to say than my birth name.” his voice was deep and he spoke with a musical lilt to his voice that was hypnotizing to you.

“Oh...” you trailed off, losing the train of thought you’d had.

There was a long pause before he continued speaking, as if he were pondering the right way to frame his thought.

“Amusing... it is.. amusing to me how easily a human female is....” he trailed off, searching for the right word. “Aroused” the last word was purred directly into your ear.

A shudder went through you and just as you were about to unleash a flurry of curses on him, you felt a jolt as his feet landed on wooden planks.

Hawks leaned forward and let you down gently. You could see you were on a balcony in the top of a massive tree. Branches concealed any evidence that there was a structure built into the tree. You followed the Harpy (or “Hawks” as you now knew him) into a small cabin like structure. Inside was one open room set up like a studio loft. You were amazed at how human everything felt. One wall was lined with bookshelves (guess that’s how he can speak English). There was a small kitchen area and on the opposite wall, a neatly made bed. You didn’t know what to expect a Harpy’s home to look like, but it wasn’t this.

You had so many questions to ask, but didn’t know where to start.

Any questions you had fell silent as the angelic Hawks turned to face you. Two slow steps forward and he was inches away from your face. You froze as his inquisitive eyes trailed your face. From your hairline down to your collarbone. He looked very serious; like he was studying a text book.

Hawks held up one of his hands and gently ran the tip of his index finger down the bridge of your nose. His soft touch ghosted over your lips causing you to involuntarily part them slightly. This caught his attention and his head cocked slightly to the right. He leaned in and you thought he would kiss you, but his face found the crook of your neck and he buried his nose into your warm flesh. You felt him breathe your scent in and your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“You do not stink, human.” Hawks spoke into your skin.

“Umm. Thank you?” You questioned, not knowing if you should be offended or not.

“As children... we learn that humans are vile and evil. But you...” hawks trailed off, nuzzling his nose into your neck. "You are my savior”

Warmth spread through your chest and without thinking, you tangled your hands into his golden mop of hair and massaged his scalp. You felt his hands gently touch your hips and his beautiful wings encircle you both.

“Most of us are vile and evil, Hawks,” you whisper into his hair, breathing in his woodsy scent. “But some of us try to do better.”

As you continued to massage his scalp, you could feel a humming against your neck and a slight vibration running through his chest. Was he... purring?

Now was your turn to giggle. His face met yours with an embarrassed expression this time. He pulled away and his wings drooped slightly.

You cupped his face in your hands and touched his forehead to yours to ease his discomfort.

“That was a beautiful sound...” you whisper against his lips.

His liquid gold eyes met yours and you froze wondering what would come next.

Slowly, Hawks nuzzled his cheek against yours in a tender gesture. The purring noise quietly started back up and you returned his soft nuzzling gesture.

The earthy, warm smell of his skin was hypnotic. You sighed, wondering what his lips would taste like under your tongue. As your thoughts started spiraling further into your fantasies, Hawks froze.

“Taste...” he whispered, “May I taste you, human?”

Your eyes met again.

“Yes...” you whispered, mere centimeters from his face.

Hawks planted his lips onto your collarbone. After a soft kiss, you felt a long, languid lick trail all the way up to your shoulder. You bit your lip to stifle a moan.

Hawks was obviously not concerned with you hearing his reactions, because a low growl/moan escaped his lips as contact broke and he licked up your neck just as slowly.

The second lick made you shudder and your voice escaped before you could bite it back.

The purring sound got louder and he nuzzled your ear with his nose. The grip he held on your hips tightened and he pulled you in to meet his body. You gasped as you felt the bulge rubbing against your thigh.

“CHRIST he’s huge...”

“Hawks...” you choked out his name in a whisper.

He met your gaze. He was smiling sweetly and his eyes were wide with excitement. You paused and looked from his bookshelf to his face. Then, your eyes traveled around his walls. They were littered with paintings of humans (mostly women) and a lightbulb clicked on.

You grinned slyly and he looked confused.

“You have a human fetish....” you growled seductively.

His eyes widened and his cheeks turned red. His embarrassment only turned you on more. Realizing you had an advantage over the god-like being gave you an abundance of confidence.

“Please sit,” you gesture towards his bed. Slightly confused, he follows your direction.

You walk over and stand in front of him. You hold his hands and look into his eyes.

“First thing’s first. My name is Y/N. You should probably know my name before we begin.” He returns your soft smile.

“Y/N.... I like it.” Hawks says softly.

You melt hearing your name on his lips. Still holding his hands, you place them at the hem of your shirt.

You tremble slightly, in complete disbelief. Seducing a rare, mythical being wasn’t even close to on your mind when you awoke this morning.

“You can undress me if you’d like” your voice cracks and he senses the nervousness in your voice.

Hawks grabs you around the waist and gives you a reassuring hug, burying his face in your stomach.

He pulls away and stands to face you. You raise your arms to make it easier for him to remove your shirt. First your shirt, then bra, then pants are removed. You’re standing face to face with Hawks in nothing but your panties.

He sits back on the bed studying you then kneels in front of you on the floor. Your heart does a somersault in your chest as he grabs your ass.

Hawks plunges his face between your thighs and breathes in deeply. You shudder and moan as you feel his sharp nails dig in to your flesh.

He looks up at you, pupils so dilated you barely see the gold irises.

“I will try to be gentle... human” he pauses and smiles showing canines “Y/N”

Hearing him growl your name causes your knees to weaken and Hawks is quick to hold you up in his firm grasp.

With speed and precision, he takes your panties in his mouth and rips them off, tossing them to the side. Before you register what happened, you’re tossed onto the bed and have you legs draped over Hawk’s broad shoulders.

The Harpy’s wings fly open blocking almost all the light in the small room then slowly descend to tuck behind his back. You watch, hypnotized by the beauty of them. He notices and sports a prideful smile.

“Maybe this is part of their mating ritual? Remember to ask him later...”

Your inquisitive thoughts were ripped from your mind as you felt Hawks’ tongue enter your sopping wet hole. Your hips bucked into his face as a guttural moan escaped your throat.

He begins lapping at you gently, drinking you in. Then he pulls away meeting your gaze.

He takes a finger and experimentally rubs your swollen clit. You throw your head back and nearly scream out with pleasure.

“This... is a human female’s pleasure point. Yes?” He smiles, knowing the answer by your reaction.

“Shit, FUCK, yes... ahh, yes it is. But it’s very sensitive and has to be handled gently” you try to talk while he’s still rubbing small circles around your clit.

“Mmmm...” he hums removing his finger. You feel his arms wrap around your thighs then his soft lips wrapping around the sensitive nub.

Your body rolls upward to meet his mouth. This causes Hawks to resume the involuntary purring from earlier. Feeling the vibrations from it nearly sends you over the edge. His speed gradually increases as you reach your climax.

“Hawks!” You scream out his name as you come, tightening your thighs around his face.

He looks up at you, your slick glistening all over the lower half of his face. A wide grin showing sharp canines spreads across his face.

“That was.. orgasm?” He asked, massaging your thighs.

“Yes. Oh fuck yes it was...” you pant.

Hawks licks his lips proudly then pounces on top of you enveloping you in a strong embrace. You bury your hands in his hair and giggle as he peppers your neck with kisses.

You gently grind your thigh into his his crotch eliciting an animalistic growl.

“When a human female orgasms,” you purr into his ear, “it means her body is ready to take the male,” another slow grind into his bulge, “inside her...”

This sent Hawks completely over the edge. His pants were off with lightning speed and you felt the head of his swollen member at your entrance. His wings flex out again in another impressive display. As he slowly enters you, his wings draped over your bodies forming a cocoon of crimson feathers.

You writhe and moan as he plunges into you, inch by delicious inch. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him into you. This awakens something in Hawks. He growls and plunges into you.

As he ruts into you mercilessly, you feel sharp canines begin to bite into your shoulder. The mixture of pleasure and pain causes you to cry out.

“OH FUCK, Hawks... yes!” You scream, clawing into his shoulders.

This causes him to bite hard enough to draw blood and his pace quickens. Without thinking, your hands trail inward to pet the downy feathers at the base of his wings. This set Hawks over the edge.

Throwing his head back, he growls and you notice a trickle of blood dripping down his chin. You take it as a good sign and begin massaging the base of his wings. A shudder runs through his body and his eyes roll back into his head.

Feathers trembling, Hawks cries out as he releases inside of you. Your hips roll into his as you ride the wave of your second orgasm. Your walls clamping around his cock causes him to whimper and sink into your chest.

Once you both even out your breath, you wrap your arms tenderly around his waist and massage his muscles.

“So...” you pant looking into Hawk’s golden gaze, “ your wings?”

He turns red and grins sheepishly.

“A Harpy’s pleasure point.” he whispers, gently touching his lips to yours. You realize this it the first time you actually kissed him and close your eyes relishing his velvety, plump lips.

“Mmm...” he hums before breaking the kiss, “Y/N... you are the most...” he stops to run his tongue along your lower lip, “delicious creature...”

Your smile widens as you kiss him again. This time, your mouths part and tongues touch gently.

“Hawks, you’re amazing,” you whisper, relishing the taste of him lingering on your lips.

Hawks nuzzles back into the crook of your neck and resumes his hypnotic purring.

“My... savior...” he breathes. Your hand strokes his golden locks as you feel him drift off to sleep.

A smile lingers on your lips as you drift into sleep under a canopy of crimson feathers

#hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks #hawks bnha #bnha smut #bnha au #no quirks au #jade writes smut

200 notes · View notes

goldenlaquer · 3 years

Note

oh shit I didn't mean to press send so early

uH Abuto breeding kink but uh reader's been trying to flirt with him all day but he couldn't get out of work because of The Menace, Kamui?

man oh man, it’s been a long while, hasn’t it? lemme me pour all the repressed feelings for Mr. A here. AFC meeting, start!

Abuto NSFW Headcanons:

Abuto doesn’t remember picking up another brat along the way.

Brat #1 was his fault, he can readily admit. The mile-long stacks of paperwork that precariously perch on top of his desk now? He had it coming. It’s a punishment of his own making that started all those years ago, from the first moment he stuck his meddling nose in between something that ought to have made its natural course. The overtime of today (and the many other days that will surely succeed it) is his penance, and Abuto, though indirectly (and rather unwillingly actually, but hey, who’s keeping track?), had signed up for it.

But Brat #2. No matter how much he scratches at his mug, he sure as hell didn’t ever sign up for a second one to come pattering into his office like she owns it, his shirt and nothing else hanging loosely over her shoulders like a trophy and a jaunty smile on her lips like no one else’s business. You demand (your exact words) that he gets some rest, that the work can wait (it really can’t) and that he must return himself back to you (shit, he wants to).

The first time, it’s adorable. It makes him break out into a grin and chuckle. It gives his tired geezer eyes a reprieve from black and white and numbers as they sweep down from your wiggling toes up to the where your naked thighs disappear under his shirt. It stirs his dick with interest, however: Tempting as it is, sweetheart, Abuto regretfully shrugs at you, humorously wagging his brows to soothe the no, but these papers don’t do themselves.

The second time, it’s still adorable. You pop your head in, playfully licking your lips, and tell him that you want his tender love and care, please, and while he wants nothing more, nothing more, to take you on that offer, the work is never-ending, and if he does them now then he’ll have so much more time to spend with you later. Surely you’re not that antsy to waste time with an ossan right? Abuto jokes. Patience!

Your wishes for him gradually grow more humble in the third, fourth, and fifth. You walk in, ask him to indulge in you, let you take care of him like he needs to be taken care of, or at the very least, maybe you can give him something to eat? And the every time that he has to double down and say no to that... well, it might just make him go and give Brat #1 a deserving knuckle-sandwich.

The sixth is where everything cracks. Makes him snap his pen and make the ink run down his fingers. It ruins a document as he watches how his rejection all day has given you no choice but resort to desperate measures.

You brace against the closed door, shaky legs spread wide apart as far as it can go without compromising the support. His shirt bunched up and cinched by the side of your arms, showing off the view of your sopping cunt, three fingers snugly buried in, a thumb rubbing frantically at your swollen clit.

“Y-you promised, “ you stutter off into a gasping mewl, jerking your chin further in, dew clinging to your lashes as you move your trembling hand. “Y-y-you p-promised. You, you said only t-three, three more h-h-hours—”

Yes, Abuto vaguely remembers that he did promise something like that, three hours ago. A promise he’s failed to keep, because there’s so much he has to do still.

Your hands speed up and your knees begins to dangerously buckle. A wretched cry spilling past your lips. You’re so, so close. He can tell. You’re about to finish what he couldn’t, taking matters into your hands because he was too busy and you were too impatient to simply wait. You do it in front of him as a punishment, trying to give yourself a good time while he’s working his ass off for you.

Abuto doesn’t raise his voice in anger often and he doesn’t do it now either, but the “Don’t.” that hisses out between his teeth has all the impact and intensity of it. The harsh sound hangs in the air between you. Mercifully your hands still, the chase to a paltry orgasm forgotten. Your eyes widen in surprise, shiny and doe-like.

The desk is perfectly split into two. Wood and paper rain down, hours of meticulous, hard work littering the ground. And Abuto walks through the carnage; he’s past caring.

Sweetheart, Darling, Doll. Brat. The petnames that he uses for you, breathed hotly against your mouth while he backs you up further against the door, easily swinging your legs around his waist and pushing your hips up and up until your quivering pussy is dragged against the front of his open pants, his thick length catching on your soft lips. Your hands scrabble across his chest, breathing hard in excitement, kneading as his shoulders. There’s a flash of emotion across your pretty face. Victory. Abuto growls, inflamed by the audacity. You really have too much time on your hands, don’t you? Must be nice. Maybe he’s been spoiling you too much, readily giving in to what you want, whenever and wherever you want it. Because the moment that he directs his attention elsewhere, you suddenly don’t know how to act right.

Or is it because of something else? Is this what it is? His cockhead bobs against your clenching hole, and he has to quell the faint surprise as he’s practically sucked in. He bends his head to look at where you connect, at the absolute mess of a state your cunt is in, folds dripping and your clit red and engorged. You can’t even keep a squeeze on him more than 2 seconds, your walls anxiously contracting around him like it’s afraid that he’ll leave. He hasn’t done a single thing to warrant this reaction and you’re already desperate. Too desperate. Somehow, Abuto tells you, he thinks that this goes way beyond you just missing him.

I-it’s just... it’s just... I don’t know. You’ve been caught, and you try to avoid answering by thunking your head against the door behind you, struggling to keep yourself from bursting around the seams as you adjust to the delicious throbs of cock in you.

Ah, no. He’s sure that you do know. A big hand slithers under his shirt, palming your sensitive tummy. What’s the matter? What’s got you acting this way? Abuto, damn him, takes a softer approach, beguiling his tone and rubbing his thumb in comfort on your skin. He can take care of it. You know he can always take care of you.

Of course, it works. You can’t help the shaky jolts of your hips as you disclose the reason, burrowing his cock in deeper as you tell him how you’ve been worked up all day, thinking about just how much you wanted to be full with him, how much you wanted to spread your thighs for him as he takes his reward for all the hard work he’s been doing for you, reaping his benefits again and again, round after round, until you’re dripping his seed down your thighs, and until your tummy feels full.

“A-a-and...” You make bashful eye-contact with him then. “M-maybe... after.... I-I’ll be full with something else too.”

oh. fuck.

Abuto is completely stopped in his tracks. Not his first time with you, honestly. But the shy confession that you’ve been trying to get him to stop work just so he can fuck a baby into you, make you all nice and soft and plump with his kid, is something— something else.

Abuto wasn’t lying when he said he can take care of it, of you, but it’s not you that’s been spoiled, it’s him who was slacking. Clearly, he was doing something wrong if you’re the one who has to come forward and ask him for something he already should’ve been doing in the first place.

You whimper in panic as his cock swells up further, pushing against your tight hole beyond what it’s usually put through. His grip on you tightens to almost-pain, and you feel a hot tongue lick at the sweat misting your temples. He starts moving again, shoving up deeper into sensitive flesh that your previous weaker attempts couldn’t reach.

Abuto apologizes. For the lost time. And for making you wait. He’ll make it up to you, with Brat #3.

#gintama #gintama headcanons #gintama imagine #abuto #abuto yato #abuto x reader #answered ask #not sfw

102 notes · View notes

penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories · 4 years

Text

No Matter How Many Skies Have Fallen

A/N: I really have nothing to say for myself at this point.

Sequel chapter to this fic here, if you’d like to catch up.

Thank you to @caffeine-in-an-iv for being my incredible beta and to @maybege for letting me rant to you and giving me so many wonderful ideas when I hit my walls. Also to the Obi-Wan fandom in general: Y’all are some of the kindest, most supportive people I’ve ever encountered on this hell site. Thank you for your support and your content!

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Force Sensitive! Fem! Reader (no Y/N)

Word Count: 11.9K (I lost all control)

Warnings: SMUT!!! Soft Dom! Obi rights, Also, Sub! Obi vibes, Foodplay (but not how you’d think), Inappropriate use of the Force, Voice Kink, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Hands Appreciation Society, As Usual: Too Many Feelings For Porn, Emotional Competence Kink, Trust Kink, TW: Pregnancy, TW: A character draws blood on themself unknowingly

Title from one of my favorite quotes:

“Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”

-D.H. Lawrence

What infinite irreverence the galaxy has for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

As if his master and only semblance of a parent wasn’t taken from him when he needed him most.

As if a boy who needed a father wasn’t entrusted to Obi-Wan quickly following, far too young and full of his own loss.

As if he wasn’t thrust onto the pedestal of parenthood when he really only wanted to be a brother.

As if that isn’t what they became anyway, and as if that wasn’t the exact cloud that hung over the atmosphere of your lives ever since you’d arrived on Tatooine.

As if the being whose life signature resided in your abdomen didn’t throw a punch into each of those blooming bruises by its very existence.

Which is why, you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you couldn’t tell him yet.

Normally, it’d be no small feat to keep something of this scale from him. But these days, he’s so focused on having his shields up around you, keeping you from both being hurt by or helping with his torments.

You have to take great care to control your body language, because even when he’s shut off from you in the Force, his keen perceptiveness will pick up on something being off anyway.

The art of a convincing lie is having layers. If he senses your feelings and decides to dig, then only give up one layer, and he’ll stop looking.

In this case, it’s your worry over him. It is true you’re trying to shield him from feeling that, not wanting him to carry the burden of it on top of having to work through his own pain.

But it’s not everything you’re trying to hide from him. So you let a small projection of your fear over his well-being escape, like you’re losing control of your feelings. It’s enough to convince him, and something critical inside you dies at the victory every time.

He deserves your honesty, and you’ve never given him anything less until now.

You hate how well your strategic deceit takes root. Because only part is due to your talent as a liar. The rest comes from how much he trusts you.

You’re not stupid, though. You know it’s only a matter of time before the biological changes in your body betray you.

Obi-Wan said he needed time, and you’re going to give him as long as you possibly can before dropping this anvil on him, hoping the further he gets from it all, the better off he’ll be.

You could kick yourself for not being more careful. You hadn’t missed any dose of your herbal Ho’Din contraceptive. It was one of the few things you shoved in your bag with the mere minutes you had to leave Coruscant for good. It was from a reliable medicinal shop, and there’s no good reason it should have failed in any way.

But here you were anyway.

Of course, there are options that free you from the obligation of carrying the child to term. All are expensive, and Tatooine is sorely lacking in any trustworthy medical facilities. The alternative methods could put your own life in danger as well.

Even if it wasn’t, you’d feel so strange making that kind of decision without Obi-Wan. Not that he wouldn’t support whatever decision you needed to make for yourself if you did, but going behind his back is something you’re not sure his trust could recover from.

And really, far too much has been decided for him in his life.

The worst reason why you can’t bring yourself to move towards any solution that ends the pregnancy now, the reason you abhor, is because somewhere within you, despite the awfulness of the time and place, you want this baby.

You couldn’t give a definitive explanation for yourself, but you did. Undoubtedly

Obi-Wan doesn’t press when you ask to cease your combat training for a time, asking to start learning the new offerings of the Jedi texts instead.

He’s concerned when you tell him, but if he’s suspicious as for your reasoning, he doesn’t show it outwardly, at least.

The way he doesn’t even ask about why, though: It makes you wonder if he had a reason all of his own why he’d rather not fight, even in imitation.

The Jedi writings given to Obi-Wan by Master Yoda are often more cryptic and mystifying than logically applicable without deciphering, which you are at first annoyed by, but then strangely thankful for, as Obi-Wan verbally processes his understandings of it, knowing what he does of the Jedi way, and you adding your thoughts from the stance of fresh eyes.

The conversations distract wonderfully, and you savor any way you still get to connect with him.

You don’t push for the ways he doesn’t allow you to connect with him anymore. The way he won’t let you in his mind. Because now, you too have a reason to not let him in yours.

*******

When it’s time to go into town for supplies again, you make up some feeble excuse which you know Obi-Wan sees through as a lie, and this time, he does pry, eyes soft and concerned. He knows you love going to the markets. You simply explain that you’re tired, which is true enough to satisfy him, leaving you behind with a kiss on your forehead before you watch him saddle up your eopie and ride off.

You sigh, sagging against the closed door once he’s disappeared into the horizon. You do love the markets. They’re the most colorful thing the planet has to offer, textiles and rugs and shiny, hanging things.

But the spices. Fragrant and potent, usually so appetizing and intoxicating, you know would turn your stomach alone. And that doesn’t even account for the strange meats being cooked at different vendors, and Maker help you if anyone was selling raw meat of any sort today. You’ve done your best to keep your nausea at bay, at times even tapping into the Force for centering when the world felt like it was rocking. But you know the market would be too much, too many variables.

It’s not a fast journey, even on the eopie, and you don’t expect Obi-Wan to be back for hours. Which is why when you hear a knock on your door, the tool in your hand clatters to the floor, as does the remnants of your project.

You quickly grab one of the long staffs you and Obi-Wan had only begun to use in your defense training, trying to recall the lessons as adrenaline begins to rush through your veins. Tatooine isn’t known for its pleasant company, and if anyone was going to try to rob your home, now would be as good a time as any.

The knock sounds again, and you shout from the inside, “What do you want?!”

“A peace treaty in the form of baked goods,” comes the feminine voice, one you recognize.

Opening the door, you lower the weapon in your hand as Beru Lars blinks at you.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were…” You step aside, gesturing for her to come in.

She waves a hand, dismissive. “I understand.”

You lead her over to the small living area as you fix two glasses of water from the kitchen.

When you set them down on the table, Beru speaks. “I apologize for the intrusion, if there was another way of contacting you before coming here…”

“It’s absolutely fine, I’m glad to have you.” You smile in what you hope is an assuring way. “Although, I’m surprised at it just being you. Where’s Owen?”

Her eyes flick to the stone floor. “He um… doesn’t exactly know I’m here. He’s out on a business deal today.”

You feel your eyebrows go up at that, waiting for her to continue. But instead, she changes the subject. “Where’s Ben?”

“In town. We needed some things from the market.”

Awkwardness settles in as a conversation topic evades you.

She breaks the beat of quiet. “Here, I brought these for you.”

You take the basket in her hands from her, peeling back the thick woven cloth to reveal a simple form of bread. It looks so appetizing your stomach clenches, and you instantly realize you haven’t had anything since breakfast.

But then the smell hits you, hard and powerful, and stars, it’s just bread, there’s nothing that should do that about bread, but you’re on your feet in a minute, forsaking the basket on the ground as you bolt to the fresher, barely making it in time to the sonic sink before you start heaving.

In a moment, you feel soft hands at the nape of your neck, gently holding back the fabric of your shirt and blowing cool air as you continue to wretch.

By the time everything has settled again, you’ve dealt with the aftertaste in your mouth, and splashed on your face with a precious cup of cool water, hot shame rises in your cheeks at how this must seem to Beru.

You wipe at your face with a rag, half muffling your words when you address her. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure they’re absolutely delicious, It really has nothing to do…”

“How far along are you?”

Your spine straightens instantly, and you let the cloth drop to the floor.

“I… what?”

Now she’s the one to flush. “My apologies, it’s just that it’s known for being a very gentle bread, it’s one my mother used to feed me when my stomach ached. If that smell turned you... I just assumed, and I shouldn’t have.”

Your lips purse as you consider your options. It’d be easy to say nothing, or just to nod.

“Two months,” you hear your own voice answer despite yourself. You’ve never been one for easy anyway.

A surge of emotion wells up in you at even being able to speak it aloud, aloud to another human, and next thing you know, to your absolute horror, you’re crying into your hands as your shoulders crumple in on themselves.

Why now, of all times? In front of Beru Lars? Whom you know accepted Luke with her husband without question because they couldn’t biologically have any children of their own?

“I’m… so… sorry,” You manage to choke out through the sobs, disgusted at your own lack of control.

At some point Beru must join you on the floor, patting her hand soothingly on your back. “Shhh, it’ll be alright. You’ll see. It’s not so bad having a young one around, you and Ben have so much to look forw…”

“He doesn’t know.”

Her hand pausing briefly on your back is the only indication she gives of shock.

“Would he not be happy?”

You take a steadying breath in, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t know,” you whisper, small and almost frightened to let the room hear you say it.

It falls silent again, but it echoes around in your brain, bouncing against your thoughts until you feel the onset of a headache.

After you’re to a numb enough state to enjoy yourself, you and Beru make tea and bring it back to the living area.

She lifts her glass to yours, clinking them. “To secrets kept from men and the mischievous company they bring.”

Your head now throbs with pain, but you smile anyway. “Thank you,” you say to her, and you mean it so very much.

********

The next time Obi-Wan goes into town, you’re feeling well enough to go with him.

You’re not visiting the food portion of the market, after all, so you’re not as much of a risk to set your stomach off. He’s taken to fixing small machinery for trading with the Jawas recently, the extra income helping with the projects around the house.

There’s a trap door that you found within the first day of being there. The staircase carved out of the bedrock beneath the hut leads to a small room that has now served as additional storage and a place for Obi-Wan to work. It’s also quite cool during the day, so if you can stand the smell of the various meats hung to dry, you’ll sit down there with some sort of project, or even reading material if you come upon it.

So today, he’s looking for a few specific tools that will streamline his working.

It doesn’t take long to find a promising stall among the maze of shopkeepers, selling everything from trinkets to weaponry of questionable legality. Obi-Wan finds what he needs easily enough, and it looks like the trip is going to be as efficient as it is successful as you walk through alleyways with him.

At some point, he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, projecting an assuring strand of affection toward you. It’s such a small gesture, but you’ll never tire of the feeling of his hand clasped in yours.

You’re almost back to where the eopie, Rooh, as he named her, is stabled when Obi-Wan abruptly slows his pace, dropping into a stall. An alarm goes off in your head when you watch him pick up a frivolous trinket on a table that you know he has no interest in.

You open your mouth to inquire at his actions, but it answers itself once you see him glance out of his peripheral vision to where the holonews plays in the stall adjacent.

Battle footage on what you recognized to be Kashyyk at the presence of the many Wookies plays with the Emperor addressing the viewers in a very two-dimensional, sugar-coated, thinly-concealed threat to any other world that would try to resist occupation.

There’s wreckage and uncensored violence, and you turn your head away.

“May it be known that Lord Vader is quite capable and willing to help those into compliance that require assistance... “

The item in his hands crushes, ceramic tile cracking into his hands, breaking the skin and drawing out drips of red.

But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even seem to register the glass he’s pushing into his own hand. His eyes are wide and he makes a wounded noise from the back of his throat, eyes peeled to the holonews now, not even trying to feign disinterest.

His signature sparks, giving a flash and then a severe cry of anguish, and it hits you then. Pieces of information coming together as you feel Obi-Wan tear apart at seams.

Anakin Skywalker turned to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan thought him dead. There’s a new Sith Lord now; the correlation and timing can’t be coincidence.

The Toydarian male behind the stall shouts something about paying for it in full, and you quickly hand over the credits with a glare.

You start to pull Obi-Wan’s other hand off the table, but you quickly realize your mistake in that.

The moment it isn’t holding his weight anymore, his knees start to give, and you’ve only a second to react, jamming your body under his arm to keep him upright. His momentum nearly pulls you forward, but you plant your feet and remember at the last second to call on the Force to assist you.

He seems to come to himself enough to walk somewhat as you steer him to the nearest alley away from the vendors.

He braces a hand on the stone wall, but even it isn’t enough as he drops to his knees. He doesn’t even seem to have the will to stand.

Crouching beside him, you place one of your hands on his chest.

“I…. I…” The tremor in his usually so crisp wording and steady voice crushes your chest, making it hard to breathe. “I failed him. I failed him.”

“Obi-Wan,” you start, trying to grasp at anything, everything to comfort him, not even thinking of how you can’t call him that here, even if there’s no one in sight.

If he registers your call, he doesn’t let on, continuing in his whispers to the wall. “He was burning. Burning, but I couldn’t do it. It would have been mercy to kill him, it was my mandate to do it, but I could not...” his voice gives out on the last word, and his shoulders fall forward in a shuddering inhale that transforms into a cut-short sob on its exhale.

“And now…” as the words pour from him, his shields fall, and so do the floodgates on his emotions, and it takes all the training you know to not be washed away in the torrential current of his grief. Does he even know he’s doing it, or has the insurmountable weight of his burden finally overridden his innate control over them?

“I’ve sentenced him to a fate worse than death.” He’s only barely choked out the end of his thought before his shoulders start to shake in earnest and he crumples in on himself as he begins to weep for his brother.

Giving no heed to the odd angle, you throw your arms around him. Trying to get your arms around his body is exactly the embodiment of the feeling of the moment, this anguish you don’t even begin to be enough to cover.

What could you say? What could you do? What would even begin to…

When you press your fingers to his temple, it’s light, a show of how unforced this is, how much he can say no if he needs. Because this isn’t for you. No, it’d be so much easier to not know the exact depth of his pain and rip your chest open with that knowledge. But you’re offering it, meaning it absolutely, desperate for him to take the hand offered to him. “Please let me in. Don’t do this alone. Let me…”

Then he’s pulling you in, not just letting you come in yourself, clinging to you like a person drowning. You remember to steady, to try to keep your own head above the water as wave after surging, overpowering wave of soul-crippling agony like you’ve never felt it engulf you in their surge.

You can’t hold out against it no matter how hard you try, so you refocus from centering yourself to pulling his signature into yours as you wrap your arms tighter around his torso.

And you begin to weep with him.

*********

The suns are drifting low by the time both of you have any intelligible thought, far too late to start the journey back to the hut.

At the inn, as Obi-Wan falls into the beginnings of a restless sleep, a thought emerges, clear and crisp in its awful truth.

You cannot tell him for a long while still.

*******

It’s different now. Because when he wakes in the night, he doesn’t give you falsehoods you see right through. He lets you into the terror and distortional dreams that all reside over one theme.

There’s silence in the first days after. Just silent tears and still embraces and the way time seems to freeze when grief is at its worst.

But then he starts talking. It comes in little pieces, then in larger ones.

The loudest thing his signature screams is guilt.

You tell him how it isn’t his fault, how Anakin is responsible for his own choices, but he just gives you a new reason every time as to why it is his fault, how he could have stopped it.

Because even in what he considers his worst failure, his verbiage is indicative of how it’s not his own image and pride hurting that he’s even considered. All of his thoughts, all of them, are on what Anakin needed that he didn’t give.

At first, it’s just impressions from his mind, unsorted, blurry thoughts and feelings, but it eventually begins to become words.

“After his mother died… I know that he blamed me. How couldn’t he? He told me of his dreams, dreams he knew were foresights, but I dismissed them, multiple times, at that. And the council… advised me against comforting him, but he… I… I did anyway.” His shoulders are forward, body sagging with unsureness that doesn’t fit him right in the slightest. “But it was far too late. I know there was something pivotal about the death of his mother, and I am...” he hesitates, seemingly not because he doesn’t know what to speak, but because he does. “Terrified. Terrified it’s all because I didn’t validate him sooner. If I had not...” His voice breaks off, as he shuts his eyes.

Fear is not something admired by the Jedi, you know. When he speaks of his own emotions, he speaks them like he’s confessing them.

And as he confesses and confesses, you comfort where you can, cry with him when you cannot.

*****

The swells of sorrow ebb and flow in their intense bursts and receding stillness, and despite the moments of not being able to breathe under the weight of it, there are miniscule, almost violating, hysterical intervals where smiles and life spring to the surface, gasping for air.

Or in this case, the inexplicable desire to dance.

You don’t even really know when you start, simply going about cleaning clothing in the sonic washer, and the next, some ridiculous, repetitive tune sweeps you to move your hips and feet, uncoordinated and graceless. The tune itself played from a datachip, scrapped with some pieces Obi-Wan was repurposing to make repairs. You’re not even familiar with the type of music, and it’s hardly the type of music you’d normally choose, but you find that today, it’s an improvement on the quiet that falls upon the house as Obi-Wan works outdoors.

The song swings into a bridge, and you slide across the stone floor, imitating something you saw in a music holo years ago, as you do, your foot catches on the rug you recently added, sending you fumbling for your footing. You eventually catch it before you fall, but as you look up, you decide to lower yourself to the ground anyway at the sight of Obi-Wan, leaning up against the door frame, watching you with an amused expression, the fingers of one hand tracing between his lips and chin.

You sit splayed as tactless and gangly as you danced and let out a short, startled laugh.

“Please, don’t stop on my account. I was quite enjoying myself.”

Maker, could you just hide under the rug you tripped over? “Please tell me you haven’t been standing there long.”

He pushes off his lean on the wall, crossing the room to you. “I won’t tell you lies, my love.”

Shame twists in your gut at his words, chasing the laughter in your throat away. But Obi-Wan extends a hand down, and you take it, letting him draw you to your feet.

He kisses the back of your hand before taking it in his, extending the clasp out to the side of your bodies as his other hand rests hot on the small of your waist.

“But I will join you, if you don’t mind a style change.”

“I don’t know how to dance like this,” you say, factually.

“Then allow me to teach you.” When you look in his eyes, they’re lined with the etches of heartache still, but there’s something else too, brimming to the surface.

“What, to this music?” You give your last, unconvincing protest.

He simply drops his forehead to yours, and the small sounds of the room fade to white as a sweet, moving melody replaces it. It’s not perfectly clear, and it takes a moment to realize that it’s because it’s coming from Obi-Wan’s memory.

The music has a distant, foggy quality, and it has potential to be eerie, but instead, it just lifts you into an ethereal feeling.

He steps, and your feet follow, not as graceful, but he makes it easy for you, the steps hinted out in his thoughts before taking them in actuality.

When you start to feel confident enough in the movements, you look up at him. “Does this mean I can teach you my dances next?”

He laughs, laughs, unabashed and with no emotion harbored under it, and some torn piece of your heart mends at the sound.

“Certainly not.”

You laugh too, even at the thought of him trying. The laugher rolls into a smooth quiet, and you let yourself bask in the feel of his body against yours, the press of his hand on your back as you rest your cheek against him.

Obi-Wan cradles you to him, forsaking the pattern of the dance as he encompasses you in his arms, lowering his lips to your cheek, then your mouth in a blazing kiss.

He takes your hand in his, lifting it above your head. Then you’re guided into a spin, and the room spins double with it as you abandon all endeavors of trying to get the dance correct. Your hand drops protectively to your belly before you can even think better of it, and by the time you know you’re not going to throw up, it’s too late. You already feel Obi-Wan’s unmistakable concern right before he asks, “What’s wrong?” extending an arm out toward you.

His complexion is ashen with worry, and when you don’t respond, you feel him start to reach out to your mind; a spike of panic zaps down your spine, and you’re suddenly not sure you’re not going to throw up after all.

Your shields crash down, not enough time for subtlety, and he retracts both his hand and inquiring tendril of energy as hurt and confusion shape his features.

You can’t do this. You can’t keep up this facade or cover this moment with a lie you know he’ll see through. But you can’t tell him either. After all the weight he’s carrying, the weight of the being that grows in you should be yours alone. You can’t thrust that upon him.

But it’s a delusion that you can keep this from him forever. You’re going to hurt him one way or another, and the weight of your silence and lies multiply every day you insulate him from the truth.

You take in a shuddering breath as dread settles into your bones. You know what you have to do.

Even as you slowly lower your shields, opening your signature, your mind screams at you in opposite directions, ripping you in half, and your hand shoots out to the nearest wall to stabilize yourself. How could you be so sadistic to tell him this? How could you not tell him? After all the trust you have in each other?

But he doesn’t take the invitation. “I will not touch your mind if you are still unsure you want me to,” he says softly but resolutely as he approaches you, but stays an unthreatening distance away, as if approaching a frightened animal.

No, no, no. You won’t have him being the one to sturdy you through this. You need to be strong, be ready, don’t force him to coddle you through the blast to his own chest.

So you dial down your own emotions and switch your absorption to amplifying the still tiny, barely recognizable life you’ve been carefully censoring ever since you heard it yourself.

You want to close your eyes, blockade the pain of both how it impacts him and how it will impact you, but that’s not how you two do things.

Summoning every iota of bravery and resolve running in your veins, you force yourself to look up at him as you watch understanding coat him.

His eyes go wide, and his hands clench and flex at his sides in an erratic, nervous pattern.

You can’t keep your signature open to his mind’s reaction, you just can’t. He’s seen enough, and you can put your shields up again. His face is enough to confront all on its own.

Obi-Wan steps toward you, slowly, dazed in a completely uncharacteristic way. With the way he seems to ever be prepared for the blows life throws at him, you hate how you have to be the harbinger for the second one that’s knocked him off his feet.

When he stops in front of you, he places his hands on either of your shoulders and looks into your eyes, searching for confirmation, and you nod, trying to not let fear seep into your expression.

One of his hands covers his mouth as he takes it in.

And then he’s sinking in front of you, off of his feet indeed, and onto his knees. You want to follow, ready to hold him through the heartache sure to follow, at the second child he didn’t ask for while he still grieves the loss of the first.

But his hands instead take purchase on your stomach, tightening the fabric of your tunic around the barely-visible bump before bunching it up and lifting, just enough so he can tilt his forehead against the skin there.

You can feel him reaching out, not taking him long at all to find what he’s searching for, and curiosity beats self-preservation at the last moment, prompting you to open your mind again, just for you to be able to catch elation coursing through Obi-Wan.

You don’t even bother trying to stifle your confusion as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

Sinking to your knees to meet him, you take his face in your hands, trying to make sense of it all as he takes your hand in his. “I never... “ when his voice comes out unsteady, he clears his throat and tries again. “I never thought I’d have... That we could… didn’t occur to me that now...stars above, how long have you known?”

You don’t recall when you start crying, but tears are falling freely down your cheeks as you shake your head. “I’m so sorry. I… I would never want to keep something like this from you, Obi-Wan, but I couldn’t tell you, not with everything, not with all you already have…and i’m so sorry.”

“Oh, heavens, no. You should not have to do this alone. Please don’t keep things from me, even if you think it to be for my sake. We can…”

You fix him with a pointed, unamused stare. He exhales as he must notice his hypocrisy.

“Your point is well-put and taken, but the sentiment still stands. We’ll not keep secrets from each other anymore. Do we have an accord?”

Despite it all, you smile at his overly-formal phrasing, something you’d normally have a quip about if it weren’t for the concern still nagging at you.

“Are you not angry then? Or disappointed?” you watch him carefully, praying to any deity listening that he doesn’t concoct some half truth to placate you. His first instinct is always to protect, but you’d never want it at expense of his authenticity.

Bafflement marks his brow at first, then he takes your face in his hands. “Darling, no.” He says your name, gathering every bit of your attention. “I dreamt of you. During the war, when I was away. I did not sleep well, even then, but when I did, I’d sometimes dream of you, holding a child that I knew to be ours. When I woke, I would remember it so vividly, so painfully, because I never thought that was an attainable future for us.”

But that doesn’t need to matter if you… do you want this child?” His eyes are so full of hope, and it was the last thing you expected, but here he is laying it down on the altar of your preference, and maker, are you glad those two things aren’t opposing each other.

Because his hope and yours are one in the same, and once he knows it too, at your whispering, choked, “yes,” he’s clutching you in his arms.

And for the second time in a month, you’re both huddled on the ground in tears. The first, bowing under the mass of catastrophe. Now, at the glowing relief of the sprouting of a dream sown in tears, too tender before to even say aloud.

But now? You’re saying it, back and forth, from him to you as your walls fall, permitting him into your mind as he welcomes you into his, and finally you take true comfort once again in the home you’ve built in each other.

*******

The night after, you lie side by side, hand in hand, on a blanket splayed not far from the hut. The suns have sunken, but the pinks and oranges of their palette still paint the sky where it hasn’t yet turned to midnight cobalt. The light of the lantern gives off a similar hue, dousing everything in your reach in soft, warm hues.

It has taken Obi-Wan some convincing, being so out in the open with everything he had to worry about wasn’t his first choice, but you compromised for a small alcove in the rock formations which surrounded you on two sides. More easily defensible. Not that he needed it, but if he was cautious before, it was borderline unbearable now. With the added danger of the Empire knowing without doubt that he lived. With more than ever to lose.

So, he was in charge of safety, you were in charge of snacks. And if they so happened to be almost entirely comprised of those melons you couldn’t quite get enough of lately? That was no one’s business except yours. You brought a few things you knew Obi-Wan liked too, of course.

What little remains of the miscellaneous spread you push to the edge of the blanket so you can both lie down.

“I dare say it’s almost pleasant out tonight.”

You turn your head to him, a snort ready at him discussing the weather of all things, but it instead forms a cloud in your throat at the sight of him.

His eyes are closed, hair rustling in the slight evening breeze, a tranquil ease over his profile.

The small patches of grey in the part of his beard next to his ears catch the first glints of moonlight in a way the rest of his hair doesn’t, giving them away.

The mellisonant lowness of his voice brings you back to yourself, cheeks heating.

“I can feel you staring, little one.” He opens his eyes, leisurely rolling to his side. “Some say it’s quite impolite.” Slanting over you, he lifts a brow, daring your response.

“And is that a problem?” You look up at him through your eyelashes, feigning innocence.

Obi-Wan’s gaze follows back up to the stars, as he plays right along, pretending to have to think on it. “I suppose it depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not you allow me to return the impropriety,” he responds with a coy smile, moving back to you, so close now you can feel his exhales on your cheek.

Warmth blooms through you as you answer back, “You can always look, Obi-Wan.” You lift yourself to close the short distance between your face and his, pressing your lips together, which he deepens right away. Using the hand not supporting half his body off of you still, he fans out his fingers across your belly, towing the line between caressing gently and clutching protectively.

You pull your lips back from his as an uninvited slither of insecurity slips into your chest.

He senses it, of course, so you speak before he even needs to ask. “Are you really, truly, certain this is what you want? Now? I don’t want you to just say so because…and we could wait, we have...”

“I am,” he says, adamantly, before you even have a chance to finish. His eyes flash to the side. “I…” He rolls back onto his back, looking straight up as he talks seemingly half to you, half to himself. “There is not much I know for certain these days. Some days… I scarcely can remember who I am anymore.”

He turns his eyes back to you, unwavering. “There are seldom few things I haven’t questioned of late, and my love for you isn’t one of them. And from the moment I’ve known, from the very first instant you let me feel the life within you, my love for them hasn’t been one either.”

Your thoughts split into two, one wanting to lean into it, to take him for his word that’s always true, and the other cautioning you, telling you to keep distant and watch for the surface level honesty he gives that hides the brutal one he safeguards you from.

But you’re not hiding anymore, feelings unconcealed in your energy and on your face, so he leans back into you, grasping your arm in his hand, squaring your shoulders to him. You cringe at yourself when you know he’s heard the impression of you questioning. It’s redundant, but self-doubt always is. “Know, please know, my darling.” Taking your hand in his, he brings it up to his temple with an insistence that you have no desire to counter.

And it’s there. Right there and sparking in its clarity, right at the threshold of his mind as you enter it. How much he means his words, no holds barred, no cleverly crafted glazes to an unly underbelly of reality. His reality was this, how severely he craves starting a family with you. How much he already loves the being within you, how he looks forward to the day he gets to hold them in his arms.

The fear is there too, quiet, but not kept from you. The fear of failing as a father, unsure of assuming any role that resembled a mentor again, all-too-familiar with the ghost that will float over him in every lesson he teaches.

What shocks you there is his faith in you. In how much he’s already learned from you about the impact of open affection, in how you don’t let your feelings lead you, but you let them breathe, not suffocate them. It’s part of how he even can acknowledge his fears to himself and to you without berating himself under the too-simple phrase “fear leads to the dark side.” There’s truth in it, but also inaccuracy.

Because he’s afraid, and yet, there is so much light in the acknowledging of it to himself, and in that very act, it loses much of any power it could have had over him. Oh, how deeply he wishes he could have articulated that understanding to Anakin.

The pain is fresh, but so is his anticipation for the future, swirling together in a potent drink, and his throat bobs with the effort to swallow them down simultaneously.

He knows you’ll help ground him through it, he trusts you, even in his uncertainty in himself.

It breaks your heart but also warms it: the knowledge that he lets you into that place where he keeps the questions of himself, the place only you and the man who’s caused most of this doubt have been permitted.

With a thankful short farewell, you part from his mind as you know exactly what you want to do.

The remains of your snacks still rest on the edge of the blanket, including the shells of the deep purple-pigmented melons. The one draw-back to their delightful taste was how badly they stained your fingers. You had to break them into tiny pieces, plopping them into your mouth without allowing them to touch your lips unless you wanted your mouth to stain too.

But right now? The staining quality was just what you needed.

Although first you needed a blank canvas.

“May I take your tunics off?” you ask, sitting up.

Despite a short twitch of confusion and then interest, Obi-Wan follows, raising himself up into a kneel, slightly lifting his arms in compliance.

The paleness of his skin catches all the light of the lantern, highlighting your view as you slowly slide the fabric up and off, gliding your hands up the line of hair dipping below his navel as it becomes more exposed. It grants you a quiet, steep intake of breath from him and you suddenly give halt momentarily, distracted by the alluring appetite you’ve created.

No, you won’t give in. Not yet. He needs to know this.

You take one of the broken pieces of melon rind in your hand, where little tart bits of the fruit still cling, dribbling pigment, but before your finger makes contact with the taut skin of his chest, you pull back at the realization you might have bitten off more than you can chew.

How do you even begin to describe him? Obi-Wan is so many things at once, so many attributes, and every descriptor that comes to mind falls blatantly short of him.

Then you recall Obi-Wan going through the motions of Alchaka, watching his body fight to maintain the poses at times. Being such a personal practice, you felt honored that he let you see him go through the exercises, and even more honored that he opened up to you about the purpose behind it later. It was an exercise of both physicality and Force use, and the goal was absolute exhaustion. That was the destination. Trying, knowing from the start that he’ll fall short in the end, but doing it all the same. Because there’s so, so much to be said for the trying.

So you do. You bring the messy fingertip to his clavicle, smearing the first word you know to absolutely be true of him, as if starting the premise with a whisper of I know you’re even more than the sum all of these singular praises.

The word “complex” appears in your penmanship on his skin as you drag it to life. You look up to his eyes, and his curiosity is clear there, but also so is the tenderness that is elemental to any time he looks at you. And just like that, you have your next word.

Kind.

And at the way he flushes so lovely for you at that?

Beautiful.

You feel his protest before you see it, the objection in his signature, and you know you’re going to have to switch methods.

Just then, a droplet from where you’ve written the last word on his pectoral falls, down, down, threatening toward the hem of his trousers, but you’re fast, dropping your mouth down and catching it all on your tongue before it can stain the bleached beige of his remaining clothing.

When his stubborn revolt at the affirmation quiets in his mind in exchange for a flash of searing lust, you know exactly how you’re going to continue.

Because Obi-Wan Kenobi, general, warrior, negotiator, Jedi Master, legend, has rarely ever been affirmed as such, and he squirms under the thick blanket of his humility and deprivation anytime someone endeavors.

So you need his mind to be preoccupied enough, guards down low enough, so he can even hear the message get through.

When you place your hands over his waistband, locking eyes in inquiry, stopping when he hesitates, scanning the area around you, vigilant as always. Overly so now.

“We’re alone. And wouldn’t you be able to sense it if we weren’t?”

He looks down at you as he answers. “If I stay mindful enough to do so, yes.”

Good, he’ll be even less prone to fight you if he has some of his mind sensing outward.

You look back up at him with the facial equivalent of asking “well?” to which Obi-Wan sighs in response. “Very well then.”

With your familiarity with ridding him of clothing, it only takes moments before you can finally taste him where you want to, where he’s already hard and swollen for you.

You know you won’t be able to take him as much as you want, a recently-developed overactive gag reflex preventing you. But it just so happens to be convenient tonight, as the resulting taunt should have him right where you want him.

A gentle kiss, right to the head of his cock is all the warning you give him before taking the whole tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him, pulling a choked hum deep from his throat.

Oh, oh, Maker, have you done a grand miscalculation, because you forgot an entire factor in this equation: the way you have been borderline hysterical in hunger for him.

You’ve kept so much from him, and part of how you’ve even managed is starting to convince yourself of less than fact. Facts like how many times you’ve had to change underthings recently, physical evidence of desire unwilling to comply to your head’s demands. Facts like how you’ve literally had to bite your finger to keep the feelings at bay.

You’d expected changes in your body even before your belly grew, but this was one you hadn’t anticipated. In some ways, it wasn’t that different than usual. You never knew you could want someone with the breadth that you want Obi-Wan.

But this? Of late? It feels like it’s been amplified tenfold.

You’re not keeping any cards close to your chest anymore, but you do have to ignore your own body’s screaming cries as you complete this.

He needs to know.

Nerves still serenading his brain with feedback, you re-wet your finger with the purple juice and write the next words across his abdomen.

Wise.

Perceptive.

He’s caught on to your scheme by now, cued by the all-too appropriate addition of the last word, and he lets you know it, an impression projected, speechless but still unobstructed. He’s still powerless against it. Or rather, letting himself be powerless. Trusting you with the control he has left, trusting you in his vulnerable places. The places where he’s weak.

Strong.

The word spread over his right upper arm, where he’s obviously just that. But may the tint of the word bleed through his skin, may it run through his veins, because that’s how deep and deeper still that his strength runs. It’s in the way he doesn’t flaunt it. It’s in the way he chooses to wield it.

Gentle.

He closes his eyes, flinching at the onslaught of acclamation, and you dip your head down again, wrapping your lips around his cock, letting him slide to where you can take him comfortably, just starting to build a pace as his hips squirm in harmony with his suddenly erratic breaths. Oh, how you’d love to let him deeper, allow his cock past your lips beyond the teasing amount you can take now, but the little writhes his body gives in protest are enough to almost make you okay with how your mouth won’t agree with your ambitions. He says your name, groaned out in bliss as he cups a hand on your cheek.

His barriers are down, so it’s easy to hear when his deprecating thoughts quiet again, and you switch back to coloring him again.

You know the moment you look up at him that it’s a mistake, because he’s flushed, so torn, suspended in the limbo of your give and withdrawal, mouth ever so slightly open, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

You’re only human, so before you draw anything else, you bring your lips to his, which is yet another mistake, because among the many things Obi-Wan is, he is a deep kisser, and as his tongue delves into your mouth, your will power takes a devastating blow.

You pull back, reeling at the reminder of how easily he can take back control, knowing you have to complete this before you let him.

Stars, how you want to let him.

For now, you need that control back, so you take him into your mouth again, filthily wet and not nearly long enough as you quickly pull back, watching in satisfaction as he heaves forward at the loss, correcting himself quickly back into straight posture.

With a smirk, you drag your slippery, pigmented finger across his lower stomach.

Disciplined.

There’s so many more words, so much more he needs to know, and if you covered every inch of his skin in the smallest writing it still wouldn’t be sufficient of all that he is.

Or you could whisper it all through the Force, embed it all in his mind.

But because you’ve been there, know his mind inside and out, you know every time he sees his own skin, all he sees is the red of blood on his hands. The blood of his brother.

And that’s exactly why you’re going to stain it in your own colors. Take back territory and push back the front lines that the army of guilt has taken over on him.

Your Jedi, ever-adorned in unassuming beige, now drips in the color of royalty.

Charming.

Humble.

Confident.

Steadfast.

You’re only left with enough space for one more word, and you want some sort of conclusion to it all, something to summarize the expanse of the man kneeling in front of you.

Nothing can.

But maybe, just maybe, one word encapsulates what he is to you.

Treasure.

This time you do chant it across his thoughts, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you.

Cerulean blue blinks open, slowly, almost painfully and nearly overflowing with emotion.

Thank you, is all he says, unable or unwilling to say it out loud, much too heartfelt and newly-budded for that.

You know his pain has older roots than those tended to in this moment, but you vow to yourself that you’ll never stop trying.

Lowering your mouth around him once again, you don’t tease him anymore, at least not intentionally, even though you still can’t take more than half of him.

“Look at you, you’re…” he hisses in a breath as you swipe your tongue against that vein on the underside of him. “Stunning. You’re doing so well, little one.”

The taste of him compels you as much as his words, seizes you in spice-like addiction, and how interesting it’s going to be explaining that taste craving to him, among your sudden adoration for those damn melons.

“Darling, I’m…”

You feel it in his energy before he says it, already pulling off, replacing your mouth with your hand, dropping your lips down even lower, mouthing at his balls, and the feedback is instant. An outpouring crest of his pleasure blasting outward as he lets out a depraved moan, netting his hands into your hair.

Your hand is wet and so is where he’s spilled on his still flexing and releasing stomach, clear white maring the lettering halfway through “disciplined.” You’d clean it with your tongue if you weren’t sure how your overly sensitive taste buds would react now.

It’s not the first time you’ve had sex since you’ve known you were pregnant, but it’s the first time since he’s known, and it’s the first time you’re not hiding the symptoms. Before, you carefully shied away from anything that might give you away, and between the preoccupation of everything on his own mind he was trying to keep from you and his respect for your boundaries, he never pressed. He had questions in his eyes, but you knew how to carefully reveal partial vulnerabilities to keep him off your trail.

Your chest flares at the memory.

We’re not hiding now.

It’s your chant, your reminder, your comfort. How nothing of this caliber will be kept between you again.

His eyes confirm it, sincere and exact as they fight to break through their dazed slipping.

Never again. His voice in your head is home, so consoling it can and has put you to sleep before.

Right now, it wakes you up in a different light, dowsing you in heat as Obi-Wan takes your hand in his, wiping it on a piece of his discarded clothing before wiping the spend off himself.

Then he’s taking your face in both his hands tilting you up before kissing you soundly.

I love you, he says across the wire that ties your minds, the wire that keeps growing stronger every day. So, so very much.

You say it back, a fact as simple as breathing. You love him.

You want him, borderline need him the way you need your next inhale, you don’t say, but he must hear it anyway, because that cocky little smirk that’s been gone far too long is back.

“Shall we do something about that?”

You’re about to just lift your shift dress up and off in response, but he halts you, grasping your wrists.

“Allow me.”

He pulls you into another sultry kiss, completely neglecting the task of ridding you of clothing.

Or so you think.

There’s buttons all the way down the dress, and you’ve never used them, always wondering at their purpose if it can so easily lift over your head.

At first, you don’t even know he’s doing it until you start to feel the coolness of the night air on your nipples. Opening your eyes, you pull back from him to watch as seemingly in thin air, your buttons undo themselves.

“You needn’t seduce me further. You already know how much I need you,” you gasp, breathless from the kiss.

Obi-Wan just gives a small smile as he drops a hand, dragging it down your side, then down your thigh. “Hm. So impatient. All this from just pleasuring me?”

Maker, he knows! He knows that you are. You always have been, and it’s not as if you weren’t projecting your feelings too.

When he reaches a hand between your thighs, parting them and making a single, tempting stroke through them, his fingers come back glistening.

“I should think you could feel that I am.” You let the tide of your frustration spill over into your connection to his mind.

You know he had to hear you, but he gives no indication that he did.

“Mm. Desire needn’t always be indicatory of impatience,” he punctuates his statement with a hand at the base of your skull, tipping your head back to expose your neck. “I need you to be patient, little one. Let me savor you.” And with that, his mouth makes contact with your neck at the same time his other hand plays with one of your exposed nipples.

You whimper at the attention, quietly pleading with him for more. Among the still slight changes to your body, this has been the most notable one. How sensitive your breasts have become to even the scrape of the fabric of your clothing.

And with the rough pads of his fingers working only one, leaving the other to pang in want...

“Obi-Wan,” it’s a prayer, a request. He doesn’t need his hands to cause sensation, and you’d beg him right now if he asked.

He lets up on your neck, only barely, lips moving against the now throbbing skin. “Answer me first.”

Clearing your throat, you give the most cogent response you can muster. “Depends on if you’re definition of savor is synonymous with torture.”

He locks eyes with you then, gently grasping a breast in each of his hands, dragging his thumbs over the nipples as you moan out your assent.

His chuckle is far too self-satisfied to be becoming of a Jedi, but you’re already too far gone to call him on it.

“Is that what you want, little one? For me to torture you so?”

An affirmative whimper is all the response you can give, and Obi-Wan reacts quickly, taking your chin in his fingers and tilting your eyes up to his again.

“Then you will be patient for me. Because I’m always happy to stop, and we can begin again when you decide to adhere.”

Your brain short circuits on the spot, and all energy is redirected much, much lower. His voice, stars above, his voice when it takes a commanding tone.

It’s intimate, it’s personal, and yet this game is almost inappropriately playful for how sincere the moment is.

But such was being loved by Obi-Wan. Full of dissimilar feelings that shouldn’t fit, but moved together in liquid consistency. Like metaphors that didn’t rhyme but still somehow gave their own life-giving rhythm, not dissimilar to the sound of his heartbeat when you lay your head against his chest at night.

Making quick work of the remaining buttons of your shift and underwear, he beckons you to join him as he lies back down, large, warm hands guiding you to turn around so you’re facing away from him.

You know that the purple stickiness of the fruit will smear from his body to yours like this, but you can’t at all bring yourself to care.

You gasp a sigh of relief as one of his hands finds your breast, brushing a knuckle over the too-sensitive nipple.

“Please.” Your whispered beg sounds pathetic, even to your own ears. But as you arch against him in a frenzied attempt at skin contact, Obi-Wan juts his hips forward, grunting into the exposed column of your neck, and stars, yeah, maybe he didn’t find that so pathetic after all.

“What do you want, darling?” His voice doesn’t divulge any desperation, and for only the hundredth time do you envy his immaculate self-control.

“You know, don’t pretend you don’t.” Leaving any doubt to the wind, you push your chest against his barely-touching hand.

“Specificity can be a virtue; that I also know.”

You change techniques, driving your hips back softly into where he’s hard and insistent against your ass, hoping it compels him.

Then you simply… can’t anymore. You’re frozen, unable to move your lower half at all.

Tangling your desires into a knot and tucking it away, you find the mindfulness to reply. “Yeah, so is mercy.”

“Indeed it is. I shall concede when you do.”

You won’t win a battle of the wills with him. You’re not sure anyone could.

So you bring his hand over to your nipple. “Touch me here.”

You feel his smile without even seeing it as he starts tweaking the bud. “Like this?”

It’s so much sensation, all concentrated on such responsive flesh, that you want to beg for him to switch to touching you between your legs.

You haven’t even finished the thought when you feel his unmistakable metaphysical brush against your thigh.

Extending a tendril of your own energy, you invite him in, and he takes it eagerly, ever as eager if not more to be entwined with your mind as with your body.

He hears it all, the besottment, the arousal, the neediness. The panic that he might drag this out longer, that you’ll have to go a single minute longer without...

“It’s alright. It’s alright.” He sends soothing waves through your connection, and he swaps the positioning of his hand with the curl of power. He turns his hand so that the back of it runs through where you’re aching for him, gathering up your slick on the backs of his knuckles. You have to contort your neck to see what follows when he takes the hand back behind you, and your mouth goes dry when he sucks the knuckles in between his lips.

You want to hear, you want to know what he’s…

He’s welcoming you in, navigating you to the brink of his mental barriers, letting you take that final plunge into the unsuppressed fullness of your bond to each other.

Now it’s your turn to hear it: how his carefully constructed unaffected persona is not at all a match for his naked, wanton need for you.

And under that, the foundation on which that desire is built, not the product of it, is his love, his unyielding, unashamed, iridescent love for you.

It’s all you can do but to pour it back, affirming and soothing and calling his love into action with your own.

You both don’t want anything else except the most complete of entanglement, and that’s exactly what he moves to do, situating your bodies, hiking your top leg in the crook of his arm as you feel the initial breach of his body into yours, and all breath leaves your lungs in an exhilarating evacuation.

His audible gasp is an echo of his emotions, how he thinks he’s prepared for this onslaught of feeling, but how you take him off guard, how his equilibrium threatens to teeter every time.

The web of his consciousness enveloping you, it’s easy to pick out a single thought blaring within him: How much he adores the way you fit together. Your back against his chest, how your breast fits in his hand, how the snug joining of where his cock presses into your body sends you into trembles, how comforting your very presence is to his soul when he lets you in like this.

Tears, without warning, seep out of your eyes as he starts to move against you, slow and deep. You close your eyes, willing the powerful emotion away, but glimmers of light flash out behind our closed lids the moment you do, and how the kriff does he stay composed?

Anchor. Anchor against me.

He stills, letting you have a break from the barrage of pleasure blinding you as you search him out, looking for the cords of his intellect that seemingly both steam downward and beam upward, grounding him.

You find it, and you clasp on tightly.

But the moment he starts moving again, you lose sight of it all over again.

Your heightened hormones make your flesh so susceptible, and the tears start to fall again. Obi-Wan rolls your nipple in between his thumb and index, and he’s so good, and you’re so full, and you can hear his pleasure as your own, adding, doubling everything…

Scorching, electrifying heat speeds through your veins, hitting hard and fast, leaving you astounded and even more sensitive than before.

Obi-Wan’s signature spikes as your climax resounds through him, and you can feel the vibration of the wanton noises he’s making right where his beard scratches against your neck.

But he doesn’t allow it to overtake him, letting it run through him without resistance, making himself pliable but unmovable, keeping himself back from the edge.

You still have much to learn.

Because that control? Gives him the ability to not even stop, not even hesitate once, even at both yours and his own ecstasy flowing through him.

When he starts striking his hips hard into yours, the weight of him inside you dragging exactly in the right place, you start to cry in earnest. Obi-Wan stops for a millisecond, concern radiating off of him, even when he can hear how much you want this so clearly, has access to every little passing thought.

“Don’t stop, I’m fine, I pro…” He does just as asked while moving his hand down to your belly again, a soothing touch to his rough thrusts. Your eyes are blurred with wetness, overwhelmed with him.

He’s listening to it all, applying every micro-feeling of feedback into action against your desperate, post-orgasmic skin, hand switching back and forth from your nipples to loosely clutching your neck, Force energy focused on applying pressure to your clit.

“You’re doing so well, so good for me,” comes the wisp of his sultry tone, lips pressed against your ear.

Since you aren’t even thinking about changing position, you know it’s his own preference that has him withdrawing, guiding you onto your back.

There’s no inhibition this way, not the way there is when you’re on your side, no separation from your bodies being flush when he pushes into you again. You have to anchor in him, both mentally and with your fingernails clawing at his shoulder blades as your body starts into tremors.

He’s keeping the weight of his chest off of you, even though your belly is still barely swollen into distinguishable roundedness, and as much as you miss the contact, you can look into his eyes like this, can see the unfiltered attachment and all the weight of all the emotion he wills his body to not cave under.

But then the tremoring transforms into series of contractions throughout your body, centering through your slick core, and you thrash your head to the side catching a glimpse of Obi-Wan’s fingers clenching into white knuckles, grasping into the exposed sand from the blanket being bunched up.

He projects his thoughts across the tether to you, how thoroughly impacted by the very fact you’re carrying his child, how affected he is by every little thing about you, honored that he’s allowed to touch you like this.

You roll your hips back up into his, and that’s what it takes. His stuttering body is the lightning, and the searing, molten pleasure across your connection is the thunderous repercussion.

It completely overthrows you, and your body bows against him as his high instantly cues yours again.

You can feel him throb inside you at the very moment you do, his turn to experience the secondary sensory white-out of your mate’s climax through the Force, his shuddering shout meeting your breathy whines in the close distance between your mouths.

And he does kiss you then, soundly but with the haze of afterglow slowing it.

“Have you any idea how bewitching you are to me?” He breathes it out, and despite all the ways you’d normally scoff at such words, his eyes tell the story, and you listen to it’s truth.

His eyes hold that constant infiltrating study of you, the one that could be unnerving if his mind, still tethered to yours didn’t hold such amor, heart bleed such fondness that settles in the creases around his eyes.

How interesting it is watching someone as knowledgeable as him having such an inquisitive outlook on life, and being so frequently the object of those investigations.

Did the galaxy know her debt to him? Did she know the sum owed to inflicting the worst of life’s pains on someone who refused to let it build anything except an even gentler man of himself? When does she plan on repaying him? What does she offer in exchange for her cruelty of the hand she’s dealt Obi-Wan Kenobi?

Then the whisper comes, soft but crisp, from somewhere in the threads of existence around you, “Can’t you see? It’s you, child.”

You could argue it. You could scream how it’s not enough, how you’re not enough, how he deserves so much more from some dark insecure place inside you. Or how love shouldn’t be treated as currency in exchange for pain, how the galaxy could still have your fists if that was how it tallied.

But the finality of it settles in your soul, more impressionistic than in solid wording: there is no easy conclusion that ties the suffering of life into purpose, no experience that erases or mends its pain. But love. Love makes the complicated endeavor of trying to find purpose in the madness worthwhile.

Obi-Wan’s hum of agreement resounds in your ears and through to your head. His Force signature feels so familiar, so at home within yours and yours within his, that you’d briefly forgotten he could still hear you.

With all the strength still left in quaking limbs, you wrap your arms around him, and he melts into it.

The compassion of his soul hardly matches his war-ravaged skin, his guilt-ridden memories. Every good thing here came to be with a war waged, refined and not burnt away in fire at his sheer tenacity.

It’s a growing thing, blooming in the desert. The beliefs in both of you. Your love for each other. Your own trust in the Force.

Healing is no short journey, but her two sojourners here are determined.

And if that tender hope can blossom here?

Then maybe, just maybe: Tatooine is exactly the place for a baby after all.

*********

In the valley beyond the hut, a boy jets quickly away in some mechanical contraption he recently motorized, a girl in a similar vehicularized compilation of junk not far behind.

On the cliff’s edge stands Obi-Wan, eyes scanning the landscape intermittently for any sign of threat between longer affectionate looks at the children before him.

He turns, feeling your approach in his keen awareness as you set a hand on his shoulder from behind. His temples are now even thicker with sun-bleached silver, and his eyes wield the lines of laughter around them.

And you? You’re as roped in by his gravitational pull as you’ve always been.

He puts a hand over yours, clasping it to bring you in front of him, where he can still watch the children and encase you in his arms at the same time.

“Slow down, Luke! You’re going too fast!” comes the distressed cry of your daughter, Ahlina, drawing your attention away from admiring Obi-Wan and back to the valley. Her vowels curl in the same way her father’s does, but her more casual phrasing was certainly thanks to you. Luke shouts back at her, “Come on, keep up!” while he races on ahead.

Obi-Wan smiles, seemingly amused at a secret joke.

“They are much too young for this nonsense still,” he speaks, muffled slightly as he hides his lips in your hair.

“Probably,” you reply with an airy laugh.

Not long after, the engine on Luke’s small contraption gives out, jutting him off and tumbling forward into the sand.

“I told you!” Ahlina yells, her own machine coming to a halt not far away from Luke.

When they make it back up the cliff, Obi-Wan couches and opens his arms, and they both come running with smiles. They’re still young enough to be unshy about affection, and Obi-Wan knows to soak it up, closing his eyes in relishment.

Luke is the first to wiggle down, waving before running over to hug your leg, which you happily return, brushing some of the blonde mop of hair from his forehead. You adored the nights that the Lars let him sleep over.

Although the nights that Ahlina slept over at theirs certainly had their allure too.

“Can we have a snack, Daddy?” Ahlina asks, still happy to be hoisted up on one of his arms.

“Hm. Perhaps I can make some of those ahrisa sweet breads again?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Can Mommy make them?”

“Why not mine?”

“Because you always burn them.”

He bops a finger lightly on her nose with a smile. “Cheeky.”

She goes to bop him on his nose in return, but he catches the finger, holding it.

“Give it back!” she screeches through a giggle.

“No, no. I think I’ll keep it now.”

The suns are dipping low as you retreat into the hut, the two children running ahead, racing to gather the ingredients to help you bake the bread. Luke especially was an enthusiastic sous-chef.

You step to follow them, but Obi-Wan grasps your hand. You turn back to him, and he barely gives you a second before he joins his mouth to yours. Sliding a hand into the auburn beard, you open your mouth to him, letting his familiar taste permeate your senses.

He reluctantly breaks after a long moment, and you take his hand in yours. When you turn back to the horizon, the suns are dipping, blanketing the landscape in the most celestial light of the day.

The planet’s eyes aren’t harsh in the way you used to see them. They’re still intense, and frequently unforgiving.

Perhaps they never changed. Maybe only you did.

But as they sink now, you give a silent, partial farewell, knowing they’ll greet you again in the morning.

Because if Dark’s patience is infinite?

So is the promise of the return of the Light.

Tagging upon request: @million-dollar-legs

#obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi wan x you #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi wan smut #obi-wan smut #obi-wan #obi-wan x oc

560 notes · View notes

novemberandmay · 3 years

Text

After All

Chapter Four

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter2 Chapter 3

Warning: Contains cursing, self-harm(mentally), voices in head. It may not be suitable for younger viewers. Viewer discretion is advised.(is that how you word it?)

Let’s do this

She placed her foot in front of her, carefully stepping into the wretched building. She took another deep breath before making her right foot continue the cycle. She kept at this, making her feet step in front of her, forcing her forward. She did this until she reached the doors, where she reached for the door handle. Twisting it lightly, she took a step back, she yanked the door open. The slightly muffled noise became shrill voices, if a bit generic. Marinette calmed down a bit from hearing them, as it sounded completely different from her old school. The tone was more cautious, but it was light. Much lighter than Collège Françoise Dupont. Thinking that she shuddered. That awful school- no. It wasn’t a school.

It was fucking hell.

No! Don’t think about it Marinette! No bad thoughts-

Marinette headed to the school’s office, with it being right next to her.

“Umm, hello?-“Her voice felt forced, unused to the English it was being forced to speak. “-I’m the new-“ What was the word? Tran-something. Umm...hm. Ah! To move something from what file to another, you need to transfer it. Yeah!

“-transfer student, from France.”

A different voice rang out from in front of her, it felt more rough, unkind.

“Ah, yes. Mars-net Do-pain sh-ang, was it? Well, you’re in fucking luck today, as I’m in a good mood. Here’s your shitty schedule or whatever. Now get out of my sight, kid.” The woman’s voice was crude, sounding like chalk against a chalk board, and her lips smacking each other as she chewed some gum was disgusting. Marinette just took the schedule and scampered out, scared of getting in trouble.

well, that wasn’t the greatest start, but I’m sure it gets better! Definitely!

Stop lying to yourself Marinette, it never gets better. It will-

She should probably ask someone to help her out with her classes locations, as she most certainly doesn’t want to go back to the reception lady about them.

-Always be the same, no one loves you. You’ll just get used and thrown away when the next FUCKING shiny thing gets thrown their way. DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?! WHY HAVEN’T YOU LEARNED YET?

Oh look! There was someone over there! They look nice. She should go talk to them. Maybe they can be friends?

Stop it. Just stop it. STOP LYING. STOP HURTING YOURSELF. YOU’RE JUST A STUPID LOSER. THE UGLY DUCKLING AMONG SWANS. YOU’RE ONLY FORCING YOURSELF TO GET HURT MORE. STOP.

Well, it’s worth a try! Let’s do this Marinette! We got this!

“Uh, hi there! My name’s Marinette, and I’m new here. I was wondering if you would please show me around? I’m kind of lost, haha.”

“Oh, um, sure! My name’s Jon! If you already got your schedule, I can show you your classes and stuff!”

“Here you go, thanks!” She passed him the paper, quickly yanking her hand back once it touched his fingers.

How odd.

“No problem! Anyways, where did you transfer from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m from Paris, of course!”

“WaiT, REALLY?! How is it there? I heard it’s beautiful!! I always wanted to go there, but never had the time!”

“It’s a wonderful city, with the lights giving it the loveliest tone! You should see it at night, it’s miraculous!”

“That sounds awesome! But why’d you leave if it was such a wonderful place? And to a city in Gotham? They’re, like, completely different! Absolutely different!”

“...I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh. Um. Well, okay! Any who, here’s-“

The tour continued, with Jon showing Marinette her classes. But the atmosphere never really recovered, it still having a more awkward sense to it.

“Well this is your stop! It was nice meeting you Marinette!”

“It was nice meeting you too, Jon! I hope to see you around!”

“You as well, good luck!” He ran off, quickly finishing off the conversation.

“Thank you...I guess..”

Taking in a shallow breath, she turned to the door she had been left at.

708...

Taglist:

@toodaloo-kangaroo @solangelo252 @moonlightstar64 @nyx-in-line @liquid-luck-00 @mochegato @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @user00000003 @imchaotic-dontmindme @neakco @dood-space @jjmjjktth @animegirlweeb @nickristus-dreamer @talushi2002 @miraculouslydumb @stellar-star

Notes: AHHH! SORRY! I was busy with school, and then was sucked into another fandom (Dream SMP, of course.) and didn’t have time to update! Sorry for the rushed chapter, I might change it later if you all think I should. Anyways, how was everyone’s day? I hope it’s gone well!

-November

#maribat #daminette #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #mlb x batman #mlb x dc #batman x mlb #dc x mlb

75 notes · View notes

andrewmoocow · 3 years

Text

Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 18: Growing Pains (originally published on July 12, 2021)

AN: Welcome back everyone. Now, this is going to be a pretty heavy chapter for me to write. Well, mostly the A-plot, the B-plot will be courtroom nonsense ala Phoenix Wright and Harvey Birdman. But I'm getting off track, as someone who have faced some very tough times before in my life, I hope I can be as respectful to both the original episode and everyone who watched it as possible. Now then, let's get rocking and rolling.

Synopsis: Steven goes to his first doctor's appointment and realizes how deep his problems run.

Cast:

Zach Callison as Steven

Estelle as Garnet

Michaela Dietz as Amethyst

Deedee Magno-Hall as Pearl, Volleyball, Yellow Pearl

Grace Rolek as Connie

Mary Elizabeth McGlynn as Priyanka

Tom Scharpling as Greg

Christine Pedi as Holly Blue Agate

Charlyne Yi as Navy

Hayley Kiyoko as Morganite

Jennifer Paz as Lapis, Zuli

Shelby Rabara as Peridot, Squaridot

Uzo Aduba as Bismuth

Amy Sedaris as Yellow Zircon, Blue Zircon

Patti LuPone as Yellow Diamond

Featuring Casey Lee Williams as Cat's Eye

The day after his failed date with Connie, Steven stayed in his bedroom for most of the morning where he was surrounded by ice cream and watching the preview for a new Dogcopter movie, which showed the titular canine standing on top of a black car chasing a blue car and a mail van while a pug gave him orders.

"I know you're eager to catch the mail truck Dogcopter, but it's really a decoy!" the other dog at the wheel named Drew ordered Dogcopter. "Chase the blue car instead! Good boys chase the blue car, and you're a good boy Dogcopter!"

With a fearless expression, Dogcopter leaped off the black car and used the propeller on his back to fly towards the black car, followed by using a pair of extendable hands to open up the trunk, revealing a bomb and a ring box inside.

"Nice work DC, now get the bomb outta the trunk and off the bridge!" Drew congratulated Dogcopter. "We're almost out of time!"

However, it was too late for Dogcopter. The bomb went off as he tossed it off the bridge, and the resulting explosion blew him away. As Dogcopter collapsed on the bridge, the ring box fell from his mechanical hands and onto the asphalt.

"Dogcopter, no!" Drew cried as he burst from the car to keep his friend alive. "I can't lose you Dogcopter!" Luckily, Dogcopter was unharmed and he woke up to pop open the ring box, which contained a ring shaped like a dog bone that he presented to Drew. "Is that?"

"DOGCOPTER 6: TILL DEATH DO WE BARK: I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU MAN AND WOOF!" the announcer read the film's title as it appeared on the screen, making Steven groan in agony at the irony of the trailer he was watching.

"Everyone's getting married except me!" Steven yelled as he sank into his bed and started turning pink. "Even Dogcopter succeeded in popping the question! I feel like poop." Steven then picked up his phone and tried calling one of the Crystal Gems, but he unfortunately got no answer. "Wish the Gems weren't doing a field trip to Homeworld today. I wonder if they got any reception?"

Meanwhile, on the Gem Homeworld, it was a rather tense time. Following the exposure of Black Rutile's revolution and attempted massacre of the Crystal Gems, the citizens were in fear of who among them could still be a supporter of her. And three followers, in particular, were about to be put on trial.

Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, Peridot, Lapis, and Bismuth led their classes into the Diamonds' throne room, which was already set up like a courtroom with stands for the judge, jury, witnesses, attorneys, and the accused. Those accused were Holly Blue Agate, Morganite, and Navy, who sat down at the plaintiff's bench with varying expressions of irritation, resignation, and sadness.

"Now class, we want you all to be on your best behavior," Garnet advised the Gem students. "This is a serious time for our kind, and we want absolute silence for most of this trial. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Garnet." The Gems obliged before they retreated to the jury box while their teachers took their seats at the prosecutor's stand. That was when Garnet took notice of Pearl sticking her nose in the book by George Ikari that she had gotten at yesterday's signing.

"I see you're keeping yourself busy Pearl." Garnet remarked, forcing Pearl to look up from her book.

"Thanks for noticing Garnet." Pearl replied to the fusion. "I've just been a little enraptured by this little tome lately. George uses such flowery terms for such simple concepts, and the concepts in question could be very useful to Steven too."

"All y'all, shush!" Amethyst ordered her two seniors. "Here comes the judge!"

"All rise for the honorable Yellow Diamond!" Yellow Pearl announced, serving as the bailiff for this trial, before her former Diamond emerged from the curtained entrance and made her way to her throne.

"Good day to you Gems." Yellow Diamond greeted the other Gems in the makeshift courtroom with utmost seriousness. "In case you are wondering, Blue and White Diamond are out searching for more of Black Rutile's supporters, so I shall serve as sole judge for these proceedings." She informed. "Now without further ado, read the charges."

"Holly Blue Agate-12B, Morganite-8HK, and Ruby-EJ9, you stand here accused of your support of the intelligence officer turned terrorist Black Rutile." Yellow Pearl announced as she read off a hologram. "How do you all plead?"

"Not guilty!" Holly Blue declared, speaking on behalf of all three of them. "Black Rutile is no terrorist, she had big dreams for our kind! She simply wanted to restore us to our old ways because she believed Steven had made us weak, no doubt weak enough to be so easily conquered!"

"Liar. Kinda not surprised you would do this." Amethyst snarked in-between fake coughing, inciting a glare from the Agate before she continued her plea.

"If you can find it within yourself, your most grand clarity, to scrub this silly trial altogether and let us go, it would be most grand." Holly Blue continued.

"Request denied." Yellow declared coldly. "If you really insist on begging on your knees this whole time, then I guess your defense attorney might not be needed."

"Wait, attorney?" Amethyst wondered out loud just as a new Gem stepped into the room.

"Sorry for being so fashionably late, Yellow!" a tall, confident Gem apologized as she strode into the throne room. In addition to the honey yellow pantsuit with large diamond-shaped buttons she wore to match the gemstone above her upper lip that resembled a mole, a straight bob-cut, and a cat's tail emerging from her rear, this new Gem also wore a large sunhat, a neon fur coat, sunglasses, high heels, mustard yellow opera gloves, and a cigarette holder in her left hand. "Had to quell a few uprisings a few districts over. Hope you're not too mad."

"Oh goody." Bismuth shared the sentiments of her fellow Crystal Gems as they grimaced at the cat-like defense attorney, all except for Amethyst.

"Who's the new pussycat here?" Amethyst asked about the attorney.

"That's Cat's Eye, one of the most affluent uppercrusts on Homeworld." Bismuth informed the smaller Gem.

"And one of the most irritating." Lapis groaned as she buried her face in her hands.

"She's almost like an Earth cat in a way." Peridot added. "Incredibly smug, loves making others mad solely for her amusement, and that grin on her face just rubs me the wrong way."

"So Cat, how have you been lately?" Pearl asked the opposing attorney with a strained smile.

"Miserable, my darling Pearl. Perfectly wretched." Cat's Eye answered as she made her coat, hat and sunglasses disappear with a snap of her fingers, revealing a pair of cat ears atop her hair. "Now then, let us get down to business." With that, Cat's Eye took her place alongside the prosecuted trio and kicked her legs up on the table.

"Oh Cat's Eye, thank you so much for coming out today!" Holly Blue exclaimed gratefully. "These horrible traitors have framed us for a crime we clearly didn't commit, and now we could lose every-"

"Could you move approximately 30 centimeters away from me?" Cat's Eye raised a paw-like hand to Holly's face while filing her sharp nails. "You're invading my personal space." The Agate meekly complied and returned to her seat, causing Amethyst to laugh raucously.

"That cat may be trouble, but seeing Holly put in her place will always crack me up!" Amethyst cackled, but her chuckling was cut short when Cat's Eye turned her cigarette holder into a riding crop to whip Amethyst in the hands with. "MEOWCH! Bad kitty, what the H?!"

"Order in the court." Cat's Eye declared crossly as she returned her weapon to her gem and took a stand. "Now, without further ado, I'd like to make my case for these three Gems and call a witness."

"Go right ahead Cat's Eye." Yellow rolled her eyes before the cymophane made her plea.

"Your honor, Gems of the court, these three stand here wrongly accused by these band of ingrates for allying themselves with a known terrorist who once filled a high seat in White Diamond's court." Cat's Eye stated. "But, maybe they could've been spared this fate if the Crystal Gems had simply shown them a little kindness."

"OBJECTION!" Pearl yelled and pointed an accusing finger at Cat. "We tried to show Navy here kindness, but it was all a ploy to steal back her squadron's ship!"

"That is true." Navy agreed. "But I simply played nice because you left us all to drift forever in space, even after Steven said you'd get us all back!"

"I'll admit, she raises a good point." Garnet found herself agreeing with the Ruby. "We were in a rush to get back to Earth, so rescuing the Rubies just flew over our heads."

"I rest my case." Cat's Eye declared with a prideful smirk. "Now, if we have nothing else to discuss, I'd like to call Yellow Zircon to the stand."

The Gems in the gallery began muttering among themselves as Yellow Zircon sadly got up from her seat and marched to the witness's stand, while her blue counterpart gave her a cheeky grin. "Whatever you do," Yellow Zircon said to Blue Zircon. "don't make a fool out of me."

"Oh, I won't." Blue Zircon said innocently as Yellow Zircon made her way to the stands, where Cat's Eye sat down in front of her with a seductive gaze.

"Now my dearest Zircon, do try to not make a fool of yourself for me." Cat cooed, cupping the Zircon's face in her hand and squeezing her cheeks, making her usually arrogant witness blush.

"I-I won't." Yellow Zircon sheepishly obliged and sat down in the witness's box. "But how did you become an attorney? You don't know the first thing about law and order!"

"Well, I'm here because I'm smarter than you think I am!" Cat's Eye yelled at Yellow Zircon's face, a far cry from the smug seductress she presented herself as. "Not because I'm so gorgeous! Though I really am."

"This is going to take a while." Pearl groaned before picking up her book again. "I wonder how Steven is doing."

Back on Earth, Steven continued to scroll through all the numbers he had on his phone. Pretty much most of the people in his contacts had either already began to drift away from him, would probably be too busy to call, or simply didn't have time for him. All except for one.

"Hi, Steven!" Greg greeted his son on the other end after Steven decided to give him a call.

"Hi Dad, how's it going?" Steven asked his father.

"The tour's been going great!" Greg replied happily. "Which reminds me, how have you been doing? You been throwing any dope ragers while you got the house to yourself?"

"Yeah, you know me. Steven the party animal." Steven responded sarcastically. "I'm glad you're finally coming home tonight Dad. I wanna talk to you about something that's happened between me and Connie?"

"Oh, this isn't that whole situation after you came back from Homeworld the first time again, right?" Greg asked sympathetically. "By the way, Sadie and Shep wanna say hi while they're working on a new routine that they're excited to show off. And guess what? The tour got extended!"

"Wow, that's-that's great." Steven tried to sound happy for the musicians and their manager, but at the same time, he was sad that he'd have to wait a little while longer for his dad to come home.

"Yeah." Even if they were far apart, Greg could sense the disappointment in his half-alien son's voice before trying to turn things around. "I get that you want to see me again soon, but this manager job is working great for me! Takes me back to when I was touring as a lad. Anyways, we're gonna go through a tunnel. You wanna call me back about your Connie sitch?"

"I-it's not really important." Steven fibbed.

"You sure?" Greg asked Steven. "You know, I can make a quick stop when we pass through Delmarva."

"No, I'm totally fine. Have fun!" Steven reiterated before hanging up and letting out a deep sigh. "Maybe I should get some more ice cream."

Steven then walked down to the kitchen to fetch some more of that dairy goodness from the freezer, but when he opened the freezer door, he discovered Connie's glow bracelet left in there after last night. Taken by surprise, the depressed half-Gem once again turned pink, but this time was different.

This time, parts of Steven's body began swelling up like a balloon and tearing through his pajamas as he accidentally tore the freezer door off its hinges before slowly turning back to normal. As Steven was left aghast at this new development, he decided to take a breather on the couch. However, his body began swelling up for the second time in a row as Connie began calling him on his phone.

"I shouldn't worry her." Steven tried to hang up on Connie upon realizing her promise yesterday to call him at noon. "You know what, I'll let her go to voicemail!" Steven's body had other plans as his right arm began to inflate and took the call for him, allowing Connie to be seen on his screen while the arm returned to normal.

"Steven, are you there?" Connie asked through video call.

"Hey Connie, what's up?" Steven casually asked, trying to hide the strange new changes his body was going through.

"I've been worried about you Steven." Connie answered when she noticed how pink her best friend was. "Um, are you glowing?" she asked before Steven's face began to puff up. "Good grief, what's wrong with your face?!"

"Wait, my face?" Steven mumbled through his inflated head. "What's wrong with my face?"

"Uh…." Connie replied.

"Oh right, the swelling." Steven realized what his would've been-wife was talking about. "Parts of my body have been randomly growing for some reason. But I'm sure it doesn't hurt, I'm perfectly fine!"

"How long has this been happening?" Connie inquired.

"Since this morning." Steven meekly replied, causing his face to blow up some more.

"What do the Gems think?" Connie began pressing further.

"Can't reach them right now." Steven answered as his face returned to normal while the rest of his body kept growing. "Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were asked to serve as prosecutors for a trial on Homeworld, so they decided to make it into a Little Homeschool field trip." As Steven finished, his form returned to its normal size. "It's really nothing to worry about."

"You don't look well." Connie nervously observed. "I think you should see a doctor. I can ask my mom if she'd like to give you a checkup."

"I wouldn't want to bother her." Steven declared. "Besides, I already got a pretty okay idea of what doctors do when I went to see Lars in the hospital after his crash landing."

"Steven, you need to see a medical professional," Connie demanded. "Doesn't matter if my mom can see you or not, you need help."

"Okay, you're right." Steven accepted the opportunity while his face began to deform yet again. "Call me when she's ready."

Thankfully for Steven, Connie's mother had an opening and soon enough, Steven was sitting in her office with Connie by his side.

"You're lucky I had a cancellation today," Priyanka stated as she prepared for work. "Usually, I'm booked weeks in advance."

"Think you'll be able to help Steven out?" Connie asked her mother. "Even if this is some sort of Gem issue?"

"Gem issue or otherwise, he still has a human body, which means we can run tests." Priyanka remarked. "At the very least, we can see if you're suffering from a non-Gem condition, Steven."

"See? Everything will be fine." Connie assured Steven. "I'm sure everything will be fine." As Connie left the examination room, she began dialing on her phone and put it to her ear.

"Okay, give me all you got." Steven said reluctantly to the doctor.

"Alright, let's check for symptoms first." Priyanka said before putting a thermometer in Steven's ear to check his temperature. "Mild fever." She observed before walking away to pick up a stethoscope, returning to find that Steven is starting to once again glow pink. "Glowing pink color to the skin." Priyanka continued as she put the stethoscope to Steven's heart and then his gem. Next, she reached for a blood pressure device to check Steven's blood pressure, but it caused his arm to swell up and break the machine, causing his doctor to fall over in alarm.

However, Priyanka was quick to regain her composure as she looked over the notes she had taken. "Blood pressure is high!" she realized as she got up. "Well, these readings are quite interesting. Tell me, Steven, if you don't mind, who's your GP?"

"GP?" Steven wondered.

"Your general practitioner?" Priyanka explained to her patient. "As in, your regular doctor?"

"I guess you?" Steven answered confusedly. "I never have been to a doctor's appointment before, mostly because I have the Gems, my dad, or my healing spit to rely on whenever I get hurt."

"You're almost seventeen and you have never seen a doctor?!" a shocked Priyanka yelled, causing Steven to once again turn pink and inflate before she tried to calm him down. "I-it's okay, it's okay! I'll talk with your father later, but now we'll just need to run some more tests."

Steven looked nervously at Connie's mom as she walked over to a cupboard, opening it to fetch some hospital gowns. "Get undressed, then we'll help you into a gown." Priyanka ordered.

"Is that one of those blue things that don't cover your butt?" Steven asked embarrassedly before he was thrown a hospital gown.

"Yes, now let's get started." Priyanka declared before snapping on a rubber glove.

"Thank you for your testimony little Peridot." Cat's Eye thanked Squaridot, while licking the back of her hand, as the square-headed Peridot finished her testimony. "Tell us your designation so we may enter it into the records."

"Peridot, Facet-4E3M Cut-7ZY." Squaridot stated as she left the witness's stand and rejoined her classmates. "But everyone calls me Squaridot."

"Squaridot?" Cat's Eye repeated with utter disgust. "Who comes up with these abhorrent names?! I mean, Laz, Zuli, and now Squaridot?!"

"Would you care to get to the point?" Bismuth snarked to the catlike defendant.

"Gladly." Cat's Eye answered before clearing her throat. "Gems of this courtroom, the testimonies we have heard so far have given me enough to make my deduction." She announced to the courtroom. "These Crystal Gems are only kind to other Gems who treat them kindly in exchange. And that DOES, NOT, MAKE, SENSE!" She emphasized her declaration by slamming her fist into her open palm with each word. "If they say that they practice restorative justice, then why didn't they use that kind of justice on my clients here?"

"OBJECTION!" Amethyst yelled. "Girl, did you even see the Human Zoo back in the day?! Holly Blue was treating my quartz peeps like garbage!"

"That is because they were beneath her in the caste system!" Cat's Eye argued with Amethyst. "I swear you droll quartz, did you emerge yesterday or something?!"

"Actually, she was," Pearl answered for the purple Gem. "And you're just making stuff up in the hopes of sounding smart!"

"Do I have 'stupid' written on my gem, you no-good servant?!" Cat's Eye shouted at the white Gem, making sure to whip Pearl's hands for added emphasis. "Let's review what we have learned so far. Those two Lapis Lazulis retaliated violently when ordered to not terraform and their friend came close to poofing them both, yet 2F8D immediately forgot all that when coming to your silly little school!" she analyzed. "That does NOT, MAKE, SENSE!"

"Laz and I argued about going to Little Homeschool!" Zuli objected to Cat's Eye's observation. "An argument you obviously weren't there for-" Before Zuli could finish, she got a whip in the hands by Cat's Eye's riding crop.

"No backtalk!" Cat's Eye exclaimed as she returned to her statement. "Back on subject, then came Miss Squaridot here," she once again cringed at the name while gesturing to Squaridot. "who was given a second chance, yet was poofed without a second thought! That does NOT, MAKE, SENSE!"

"I tried to give Squari a second chance after I released her from her bubble," Peridot began. "but she then just ran off and got herself taken over by Hessonite's warship."

"Ah yes, the swashbuckling vigilante Hessonite." Cat's Eye said smugly. "Tell me, why isn't she here today to give a testimony?"

"Hessonite is off weeding out more of Black Rutile's supporters across many of our former colonies, alongside Citrine." Yellow Diamond answered.

"Speaking of Black Rutile, what if, and a very big if here." Cat's Eye stated. "What if Black Rutile wanted to do better than the Crystal Gems by offering these lost Gems a helping hand?"

"OBJECTION!" Pearl roared and once again pointed straight at Cat's Eye. "That no-good Rutile didn't care one bit for her subordinates! Not only did she let them all get defeated by us, but she abused her Topaz as well!"

"As I had stated earlier with Holly Blue, the Topaz was merely a subordinate to Black Rutile, especially since the Rutile had such a shockingly high status in White Diamond's court." Cat replied.

"Same with my Ruby and Pearl that fused into Rhodonite," Morganite spoke up. "It was only natural that we mistreated those beneath us."

"And on the topic of Pink Diamond's entourage," Cat declared. "allow me to call her former Pearl to the stand."

Rising from her seat, Volleyball separated from her Little Homeschool classmates to walk to the witness's stand, where Cat was awaiting her.

"My dear Pearl, you truly deserved a better Diamond than Pink." Cat cooed to Volleyball while stroking her broken eye, which was now showing the absolute faintest signs of a pupil following her fusion with her white-colored successor at the Reef. "Tell us all this court needs to know sweetie,

"Actually, you can call me Volleyball now." Volleyball corrected the defense attorney. "That's the name Steven gave me."

"VOLLEYBALL?!" Cat's Eye shrieked outrageously at the top of her lungs, quickly returning to her normal condescending tone. "I shouldn't have spoken too soon after complaining about that Peridot." She muttered while pointing a thumb over to Squaridot. "Now tell me, word on the street is that you may know a thing or two about this revolution. Is this true?"

"Yes, it's true." Volleyball revealed remorsefully, shocking the prosecutors and the jury. "Not too long after Era 3 began, I was left wondering what purpose I could still serve now that Pink Diamond was gone, until Black Rutile and Holly Blue Agate approached me with the chance to seek revenge by spying on their enemies."

"That is a bold-faced lie if I ever saw one!" Holly Blue fibbed while beginning to sweat profusely. "I never approached her in the slightest, the poor Pearl came crawling to me in tears, begging, no, pleading that she get some sort of payback for the abuse she suffered!"

"Really laying it on thick Holly." Morganite stoically muttered to the Agate.

"Yes, I can clearly see you lying." Pearl added before she walked over for Volleyball. "But as for you Volley, is it true? Did you really join Black Rutile and spy on us this whole time?"

"I'm truly sorry Pearl, they gave me no other choice." Volleyball apologized, now on the verge of tears. "I was so horrified by how they wanted to fight back against you, that I decided to back out after you and Steven offered to fix my eye." Volleyball then began to sob as she rushed out of the witness's stand and into Pearl's arms. "Please forgive me, I just didn't know any better!"

"It's okay VB, I'm here." Pearl comforted her crying fellow ex-servant. "Just let it all out."

"Wah wah wah, I betrayed your trust!" Cat's Eye mockingly cried. "Please forgive me even though I was allied with a proud sociopath! Oh brother, this era has lost all sense of justice. At least give her a week's punishment, anything."

"Big talk coming from the alleycat who doesn't have a single clue about justice." Pearl growled at Cat while Volleyball's tears started drying and she returned to the jury.

"Big talk coming from a Pearl who wanted to be free despite still essentially serving her Diamond." Cat snapped back at the Pearl. "And on that note, I feel we are ignoring the big Jasper in the room." Biggs Jasper raised her hand. "I wasn't talking to you!" Biggs lowered her hand while Cat kept a stiff upper lip. "But really, I wish to speak of a certain Jasper that has been housed on Earth lately."

"Here we go." Lapis rolled her eyes at whatever outlandish claims the defendant was going to make now.

"You see, the Jasper is just as much of a victim of Pink Diamond's faked death as pretty much everyone on this planet." Cat's Eye proclaimed. "And did the Crystal Gems ever try to extend a hand in friendship and sympathy? NO! They just let her get dragged to the bottom of the ocean in an unstable fusion, fall into an earthquake, rocketed sky-high by that Lapis, and later corrupted! That does-"

"Not make sense, we get it." Garnet interrupted what was essentially Cat's catchphrase at this point. "We tried so many times to help Jasper, but she just kept refusing out of her vendetta against Rose."

"And doesn't anyone find it ironic that Jasper has a burning hatred for a Gem that was her Diamond in disguise?" Cat shook her head with a cheeky smile. "Oh, how cruel fate can be."

"Good grief, how long can this puddytat keep yapping?" Amethyst whispered to Pearl, who just groaned and got back to her book.

As for Steven, Priyanka had gotten to work on examining her unusual patient. However, with each test she made him take, things just kept going wrong. Sticking a tongue depressor in Steven's mouth made him glow pink for the second time this appointment, taking his height stretched his neck up high, and testing his reflexes bubbled the hammer she was using. But it was taking Steven's X-rays that really clued Priyanka in on what was going on.

"So this is an average human skeleton." Priyanka demonstrated the X-ray image of exactly that to Steven before moving on to X-rays of the Crystal Gems. "By comparison, these are X-ray images that the Crystal Gems allowed me to take for research purposes. Their charts look like this."

Due to Gems having bodies of light, only their gemstones could be pictured. And in Amethyst's case, whatever she ate that day could be seen too. The doctor then showed off Steven's own skeleton, which was covered in cracks. "And this is your chart." Priyanka continued. "Definitely the skeleton of a human your age, albeit quite a large amount of fractures in the skull." She pointed out the various cracks that decorated Steven's skull. "Yet despite the injuries, everything is still perfectly aligned. Almost like the injuries healed just as fast as they were gained."

"That's good, right?" Steven nervously asked.

"Well, you've made miraculous recoveries," Priyanka replied. "but that doesn't change the fact that you've clearly been traumatized. You may have recovered physically, but what about mentally?"

"Are you saying there's something wrong with my brain?!" Steven cried as he glowed pink.

"Not wrong!" Priyanka assured Steven while kneeling to his gaze, turning his body back to its normal hue. "It's that adverse childhood experiences, or childhood trauma, can leave a lasting impact on how your body reacts to stress." She explained. "This can affect all kinds of development, social, emotional, and physical. When humans are in crisis, their brains release a hormone called cortisol. It can cause your heart to race, your muscles to tense, among other effects. I wonder if your body is perhaps reacting to the Gem equivalent of cortisol, if any. Steven, can you recall any childhood experiences that particularly stuck with you?"

"I can list so many." Steven stated before he began recounting some traumatic experiences. "It all started when I learned my favorite ice cream was discontinued around the same time I nearly got eaten by a bug monster. Then there were even more monsters that threatened my life, I got stuck in a bubble & nearly drowned, I made a new friend who nearly killed me; which is pretty often, I got turned into a giant pulsating blob of cat heads after an attempt at shapeshifting, got so old I nearly died, saw the Gems die multiple times, I woke up on a spaceship with a black eye, and more recently got tossed off a cliff."

"Steven, this is serious!" Priyanka yelled worriedly.

"That was only some of the earlier stuff!" Steven cried. "You really should've been there when I was tossed off the cliff. Black Rutile was a sociopath and proud of it!"

"I think all these experiences have subjected your body to an almost inhuman level of stress, and it's affected your ability to healthily react to new forms of stress." Priyanka deduced as Steven looked back on more harrowing experiences he's been through, from legitimately traumatizing moments to parts that would at first be seen as mere jokes or accidents. "You've been dealing with genuine threats to your life from such a young age, whether big or small, your body is responding to such minuscule threats like your life is always in danger!"

"But, why am I only swelling up now?!" Steven began fretting as he slowly felt his body change once more.

"Stress can be far less harmful when we have a circle of loved ones who can help you," Priyanka advised, causing Steven to flashback to yesterday evening's failed proposal. "Maybe if you've been drifting away from people who would've supported you, or if a recent experience had felt particularly off-"

Before Priyanka can finish, Steven began trembling in place while bolting from his chair before he began to swell up to possibly the biggest size he's ever been today, to the point of cracking the ceiling with a bash of his head.

"There are just some who don't want to be helped, and we try to respect that!" Pearl kept arguing with Cat's Eye while everyone else in the courtroom awkwardly spectating the event.

"And there are also some who you've forced to change without their consent!" Cat's Eye replied, baring her sharp teeth at the former servant. "Think of it, Black Rutile believed she could be a better ruler because she would take into account the feelings of everyone!"

"Are you sure you're not another one of her spies?!" Pearl asked, folding her arms and turning away from the defendant.

"I couldn't care less about what she's doing, I just think she raises many good points for a maniac!" Cat answered while her stuck-up image began cracking apart more and more, slowly revealing the petulant aristocrat underneath. "For example, in ending an oppressive empire, Steven created an even worse one where all who don't agree with him are deemed outcasts!"

"Steven is simply trying his best!" Pearl yelled back.

"You know, I am so glad that we invited our Homeschool classes, because this is way too much fun for just us three to get involved in." Amethyst whispered to the other Little Homeworld teachers.

"You're right, watching an uppercrust get humiliated puts a real big smile on my face." Bismuth grinned.

"They've been going on for too long." Morganite mumbled as her face was buried in the table. "Can't we just shut them up and reach a verdict already?"

"Well, if you're so loving towards Steven, then where is he now?" Cat's Eye asked one final question. "Did you actually care for him to begin with?"

"That is where you are absolutely wrong Cat." Pearl declared with a smug grin as she presented George Ikari's book to her opponent. "Steven is currently going through some tough times, and we're trying our best to help him thanks to this book from Earth. The author has a son much like Steven who lost his mother too, so he knows what he's talking about." With that, Pearl returned the book to her gem and took a bow. "Court adjourned."

It was here where Cat's Eye finally lost all control and lunged at Pearl with a mighty yowl. Gone was the smug and austere wannabe lawyer, and in with the furious predator going in for the kill.

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS!" Cat's Eye shrieked as she wrestled with Pearl and kept trying to chomp at her face. "I AM CAT'S EYE, AND I WILL NOT BE TALKED DOWN TO BY A MERE PEARL!"

"Woo, catfight!" Amethyst cheered before Garnet put a stop to her revelry and prepared for a fight.

"Get ready Gems, we're in for a fight." Garnet declared while summoning her gauntlets, and the other Gems prepared for battle against the feral defendant. But fortunately for them, and unfortunately for Cat, the judge finally decided enough was enough.

"Okay, I've had enough sitting down and watching." Yellow declared fiercely before getting up from her throne and flicking a ball of electricity at Cat's Eye, making yellow lines course through her body and finally poofing her, leaving only her small gemstone to be collected by Yellow Pearl. "Now that that's settled, have we reached a verdict?"

"I believe so." Pearl responded after getting up and dusting herself off before turning to the other Gems. "What shall be decided?"

The Gems in the jury all rose up, their decision clear as day. "We, the jury, hereby declare Holly Blue Agate, Morganite, and Navy guilty as charged. In addition, Cat's Eye shall be tried for public assault of the prosecutors." Squaridot announced on the behalf of her classmates, to the horror of Holly Blue as she and her two compatriots were escorted away by Amethysts. While Morganite and Navy had resigned themselves to their fates, Holly was far less than pleased. In fact, she was furious.

"Get your hands off me, you no-good Kindergarten spawn!" Holly Blue shrieked at the Amethysts dragging her away by the arms before turning to the Crystal Gems with hatred in her eyes. "I hope you're happy Crystal Gems! Era 3 has destroyed this planet!" she yelled at the Gems. "Pretty soon, this planet is going to burn! We're all going to die! The Gem race shall be driven to extinction all because of you!"

As soon as Holly Blue was fully removed from the premises, all was finally quiet in the makeshift courtroom as the trial adjourned. Pearl let out a dramatic sigh as Garnet and Amethyst helped her back to her feet and walked her back to the prosecutor's table.

"Court is usually a lot more funny on TV." Amethyst remarked. "What Cat and Holly tried to do was just sad."

"Still, what if they're right?" Pearl moaned in exhaustion and grief. "What if we are soon to be our kind's downfall? Maybe we should've just ended colonization and left it at that."

"Don't get too down on yourself Miss Pearl." Blue Zircon lent some comforting words to Pearl. "You all tried the best you could, and that's all that should matter."

"Uh, can I go now?" Yellow Zircon shakily inquired to her fellow Gems, still reeling from being publically humiliated at the witness's stand.

"Yeah, you're dismissed." Blue Zircon told her fellow Zircon and turned back to Pearl.

"Yeah, we tried our best with Era 3, kinda like how we're trying our best with Steven." Lapis reiterated the other blue Gem's kind words. "Speaking of which, wonder how he's doing?"

"I'll go call him right now!" Pearl stated eagerly as she unsheathed her phone from her gem and began dialing Steven, but she got no answer. "Darn, no signal on Homeworld." She huffed in frustration. "Well, I hope he's doing fine."

Little did Pearl know, there was more than one reason why as to why Steven was unable to reach her, that reason being he was so stressed out, he was swelling up to a massive size.

As Dr. Laurie walked past the office Steven was in with a cup of coffee, he took one look at the giant pink boy, then back at his mug before dumping its contents into a nearby drinking fountain while Connie raced back to the office to aid her friend.

"Mom, what's happening?!" Connie asked her mother while they watched the inflating Steven fill up most of the doctor's office.

"I'm not sure dear, I just asked if he had any stressful experiences lately." Priyanka answered, trying to remain as calm in a crisis as possible while other doctors huddle around the window to watch what was happening, along with a man in sunglasses who seemed to blend in with the crowd.

"Steven, you don't think?" Connie then asked Steven.

"It's not you Connie, it's everything that's been going down lately!" Steven yelled as he grew larger and larger with every second.

"What is he talking about?" Priyanka asked, glaring at Connie.

"You haven't told your mom yet?!" Steven yelled.

"Told me what?!" Priyanka started yelling as well.

"It's not your fault Connie!" Steven tried to assure Connie amidst his growing stress. "But I still think you need to leave!"

"I refuse to leave your side!" Connie's mom fiercely declared. "This is a medical emergency!"

"Hey, you know one of us can take over!" one of the doctors watching Steven called from outside.

"No, he needs to be alone!" Connie stated. "I think anyone else being in here with him is making things worse!"

When Steven's height increased to the point of ripping his hospital gown, breaking the ceiling over him, and causing alarms to sound, the doctors took it as their cue to leave. "Point taken." That same doctor who suggested one of them take care of Steven realized before rushing away.

"Oh no!" Steven was in full-on panic mode now. If he grew any larger, the hospital would surely be destroyed. "Please, just go!"

"Steven!" Connie yelled sorrowfully.

"I just…" Steven began to cry before starting to get angry. "I CAN'T BE AROUND YOU RIGHT NOW!" The Maheswarans braced for impact as Steven's screaming broke the window behind them when suddenly, Greg came barging into the office.

"Steven!" Greg called his son's name while Connie and Priyanka turned to notice him.

"Dad?!" Steven exclaimed while finally beginning to settle down at the sight of his father.

"I'm here for you kiddo!" Greg declared as he ran up to his giant son, turning to the Maheswarans who took it as their cue to leave the area as well.

"Come on Mom, let's give them some space." Connie said to her mother as they abdicated the office.

"Alright." Priyanka agreed and took her daughter's hand while Greg took Steven's side.

"How did you know I was here?" Steven asked Greg.

"Connie called me an hour ago." Greg answered comfortingly. "Plus, I was the only one she could reach since she told me the Gems were off in space today."

"Connie?" Steven called for his friend when she and her mother were outside. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Connie beamed and spoke to him through the broken window. "I'll come when you're ready."

"I'm so sorry Steven." Greg apologized to Steven. "If I had known, I definitely would've been a big help."

"It's alright Dad," Steven sighed. "you were super busy and I didn't know what was going on."

"Come on Steven, talk to me," Greg suggested. "Just you and me, father to son."

"I, well, um," Steven stammered before tears began welling up in his eyes again. "I tried proposing to Connie!"

"You what?!" Greg yelped in alarm. "Steven, aren't you a little too young to think about marriage right now?"

"I know." Steven kept on crying. "That's one of the reasons why she said no."

"Oh, Steven." Greg sighed.

"My body, it keeps reacting like it's always the end of the world." Steven kept on complaining tearfully. "I think I've nearly witnessed the end of the world so many times now, that everything that goes wrong for me just feels that extreme! I should be feeling happy these days, Earth is at peace and it's Era 3, but Black Rutile is still out there saying I'm a bad person and I'm swelling up over all these third-era problems! What do I do now?! How do I move on after every horrible thing that's happened to me?! How can I still live my life when every day it feels like I'm going to die?!"

Despite Steven being overcome with trauma to the point of sobbing, Greg was there to lend a hand like he always did. "It's going to be alright Schtu-ball." He said while holding his son's giant finger. "I'm here for you till the end of the line."

At long last, Steven finally calmed down and began to regress to his normal size, and he only had one request for Greg. "I just want to go home."

"You bet." Greg obliged, and Steven began to fetch his clothes while Connie and Priyanka stepped back into the office. "So, what's up doc?"

"This has certainly been an eventful appointment," Priyanka stated shakily. "Real eye-opener. As I'm sure your son has already told you, he has been through more stress than is normal for a human. I suggest finding ways to monitor these breakdowns."

"I'll see what I can do." Greg nodded while Steven returned to his side fully dressed when Connie gave Steven a big hug.

Outside the office, the doctor in the sunglasses from earlier peeked from behind a corner and spoke into an earpiece. "Giant boy crisis averted." He spoke in a deep voice to someone on the other end. "Yes sir, retrieving copies of the Gems' X-ray scans as we speak." Looking around to see if anyone had caught him, the man then took off his doctor's coat to reveal a black suit underneath and walked away with no one the wiser.

That night, Steven had been returned home and taken to bed, where Greg had prepared him a warm cup of tea and a sympathetic ear to his son's plight.

"I guess I thought I could follow Connie to college." Steven explained to his dad while sipping the tea. "Like, if we got married, I'd know what to do with myself for once. But turns out I still gotta figure everything out on my own."

"Cut yourself some slack, kiddo." Greg smiled earnestly. "It's okay to be worried and make mistakes when figuring out what to do with life, nothing unusual. Okay, maybe turning pink and the swelling is kind of unusual, but I'm sure the Gems will know what to do. And if you want to be a giant boy, I can lend you the carwash to take a shower in."

"Yeah, that's the thing." Steven revealed calmly. "I haven't told the Gems everything yet because I don't want them to worry so much, just like the old days when I was just some little kid who was way over his head." That was when he made a realization and spat out his tea. "Wait Dad, your tour!"

"Don't worry about me." Greg assured his son. "Shep and Sadie will be fine on their own. Just get some rest Steven; you can't just solve every problem in one night. Speaking of the Gems, where are they?"

Just then, the father and son heard the Warp Pad activate from Steven's conservatory, and the Crystal Gems marched into his room utterly exhausted from the trial they had just returned from.

"If I meet another Gem like Cat's Eye ever again, I swear I'm going to freak!" Pearl yelled with her hands buried in her face when she noticed Steven and Greg in the same room. "Oh, good evening you two. How was your day?"

"Nothing really special you guys." Steven fibbed. "Nothing at all."

So ends Growing Pains. Have to say, this might be one of the longest chapters of Alternate Universe yet, probably because of the B-plot. How hateable did you think I made Cat's Eye? I specifically wrote her with Cruella de Vil and Franziska von Karma in mind. And speaking of despicable characters, next chapter has Steven facing quite possibly his greatest challenge yet: making Kevin a better person. Oh, this should be fun.

#steven universe #steven universe future #fanfiction #steven universe alternate future #steven quartz universe #garnet #amethyst #pearl #connie maheswaran #priyanka maheswaran #greg universe #lapis lazuli #peridot #bismuth #holly blue agate #morganite #navy #yellow diamond

15 notes · View notes

itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

Text

Shadows and Pills - 2

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME. If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it.

A massive thank you to all my friends for support, especially to @glassjacket and @thoughtslikeaminefield . I say it a lot, but you need to know I love you.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: Part 1 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

Shadows and Pills

Morning Routine: Already woken up. Shut off alarm with a shriek of terror by heaving it across the room with enough force that it shatters against the wall. Breathing exercises for thirty minutes to lower accelerated heart rate. Shower until the hot water is long gone and hypothermia is close to setting in, but she still can’t get clean. The thick, mucus-like sensation won’t leave her skin, glue and ashes spread thick over her flesh in a foul assault to her tactile senses that leaves her dizzy and faint if she considers it for too long. Throw out every scrap of food in the apartment; just the sight of it makes her gag and retch. Choke down the meds (the only thing she can stomach, at this point). Throw on clothes she’s mostly sure are on the correct end of her body. Grab her keys, and…

Where…

She always puts her keys in the same spot. Dish on the tiny table by the door. That’s her key dish. She knows she put them there. They are always there. She can remember putting them there; it’s one of the precious few things she knows she can do right these days.

So…

Why aren’t they there?

Thirty minutes turning the entire apartment upside down looking for the keys, ignoring the shadow that follows her from room to room, skittering to a far wall whenever the shadow runs too near, pretending that she is still alone, searching, searching, where the hell are they, I always put them in the dish, I know I dropped them in there, I can hear the clink from when I put them away yesterday where could they possibly have got to it’s not like THEY’D WANDER OFF BY THEMSELVES WHERE ARE MY GODDAMNED KEYS-

A searing, ripping pain tears her from her spiraling thoughts and back to the present where her hands are clenched in her hair, her nails dug into her scalp, and something slick and hot slides between her fingers. She releases her clenched fists, but her fingers come away smeared with blood and clumps of hair, and her shoulders begin to tremble, her mouth quivering and eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“I just...need my keys. I need to breathe. I need my keys. I need-”

<clink>

Her head whips toward the sound, and there they are. In their dish. In the same dish she knows she left them in last night. Where they absolutely were not sitting seconds ago.

“But. I didn’t. They-“

No.

She snatches her keys and flees, followed closely by her personal nightmare.

...

The silence stretches out longer than even Alexa is comfortable with. The constant scratching of the doctor’s pen has quieted, and still Alexa sits, unnerved but unwilling to speak without direction. Answering questions is fine, but if she speaks on her own, she’ll start babbling. And there are a few things she needs to not say.

Like how she’s averaging about an hour of sleep a night, according to her clock. The nightmares start every time she falls asleep. She remembers less and less about any of them, to the point where the only way she knows she was even asleep is the inevitable rip back to consciousness.

And she’s not just missing parts of her dreams. Her days are beginning to blur, individual moments bleeding into others until she’s lost whole chunks of time, hours that are a smear in her memory with no real details. The loss, both of her days and nights, shakes her more than the lack of sleep. What else is she losing, along with her memory?

She can’t tell him why she’s wearing a hat or how she has to set reminders on her phone to stop tearing at her hair, how she has to clean her scalp and hold pressure at least once a day to stop the bleeding and try to repair the damage done by digging nails and ripped follicles.

She can’t tell him about how she can’t look in mirrors anymore. Two days ago, she was brushing her hair out into a ponytail with the intention of wrapping it into a skull-aching bun that might help hold everything inside her head and maybe possibly help her keep her fingers out of her hair, and then suddenly the eyes looking back out at her weren’t her own. Brown bled into ice blue then green in a flash; a wicked, cruel smile curved her lips, and she could feel herself smile, but she wasn’t smiling, and-

So, no, she shouldn’t lead the conversation today. Today Alexa needs a little guidance.

She feels the doctor’s gaze, but there’s less scrutiny than usual. His eyes feel a little more sympathetic than she’s used to, but she still won’t look up. He’s good at getting her to talk, and she needs every ounce of self-control just to keep herself held together and not exploding across his polished, pristine desk.

“Alexa, you don’t look like you’re...How have y-”

She must look pretty wretched if even the doctor is at a loss for words. She wouldn’t know. She has actively avoided all reflective surfaces for two days and has no idea of the state of her appearance. She can’ remember the last time she ate. What’s left of her hair is tucked under a knit cap; she’s cold all the time now, anyway, so the cap is a constant accessory. And it helps keep her hands out of her hair. If her looks are anything as bad as the state of her thoughts-

“I’m sorry it’s so bad for you right now.”

The statement is quiet, sincere, and wholly unexpected. Alexa almost drops her guards, almost meets his eyes. Her hands quake with the effort of maintaining her silence, clutching the edges of her chair with aching, creaking fingers. Her control is as brittle as her nerves; she wants to share, wants to not be alone with the shadow that’s her only company these days, but if the doctor knew…

“Are you sleeping anymore at all?”

She nods once, a sharp, staccato gesture that leaves out more than it says. It’s not a lie. One hour, however broken up in however many fragments, is still one hour, and sleep is still sleep.

“Are you following your medication schedule?”

Another single dip of her chin. She gives herself a little credit for not leaving anything out of this answer. She’s even remembering to follow the dosage increases. Maybe even a couple of increases of her own. Anything to numb, to shut out, to keep...it...away.

“Alexa, are you still with me?”

God, she wishes...everything feels muffled and thick, like her existence is coated in petroleum jelly. She's just so tired, and everything is so heavy and...and difficult…

“I can’t help you if you won’t communicate with me. Help me help you. Anything. Just the basic facts.”

Where to even start? Maybe getting locked up would be worth it if he really can help, can really make this...stop…

“I can ease your pain and get you on your feet again.”

She’s pretty sure nothing can help at this point, so really there’s no need to keep anything back. Being hospitalized can’t be any worse than living like this…

“Relax. Can you show Me where it hurts?”

No.

...no...not here, not…

“Your lips are moving, but I can’t hear what you’re saying. Is there something you wish to confess? The good doctor can’t reach you now, but I am ready to receive your prayers. Speak, Alexa. Tell Me everything.”

Get out, get OUT, I have to go, I can’t, you can’t this isn’t - GET OUT!

“ALEXA! Wake up! You’re safe! Come back!”

Fingers, firm in their grip, but warm and clean and so very present, clench around her hand, pulling her out of her mind and back to the office. The rushing noise in her ears fades until she realizes it is the heaving of her own panicked breaths. She clenches her fingers, catching the doctor’s hand before he can pull away.

She hasn’t touched another person since she left the hospital.

“Please...I just need...a minute.”

He sits in the chair closest to her, holding her hand resolutely, despite any personal protocols to the contrary that he has demonstrated in previous sessions.

“As long as you need.” There is no eagerness, no exasperation, only concern and calm, and it soothes her raw nerves in a way nothing else has. She focuses on the warmth, the sheer thereness of his grip, and breathes, squinting her eyes against the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds.

Too bright, too warm, too…

The fingers in her palm chill suddenly, their embrace tightening painfully. Her hand feels slick, not with sweat, and her teeth begin to chatter. Her eyes squeeze shut as her stomach shatters, and a pitiful mewling escapes her lungs.

“Take all the time you need. I possess the patience of millenia.”

Breathe. Breathe slowly, you’re asleep. You’re exhausted, you just fell asleep. Wake yourself up. You can do this. Just...just breathe and wake up.

And then her hand is free of all contact, and the air in her lungs comes easily. The warmth of the filtered sun returns to her frozen limbs, not overly bright in the least.

“I think our session was particularly productive today.”

The therapist's voice comes from farther away, and she opens her eyes to find him back at his desk, pen in hand, legal pad full of fresh notes. She blinks, swallows, and sits up a little straighter.

“You seem to be making excellent progress with your strategies. Go ahead and up your dosage to the next step. Remember, I’ll be out of town on Thursday and Monday, so I’ll see you again in ten days. You have the emergency number if anything goes wrong?”

She nods numbly, unable to process anything beyond the basic requirements of behavior needed at the moment. He eyes her, his forehead wrinkling in sudden concern.

“Don’t hesitate to call that number at any hour,” he finally says, his fingers steepled to show just how serious, how sincere, he is. “Anything at all, whatever you need to talk about, call that number. The nurse will transfer you immediately if it’s an emergency. Will you call if you need to?”

She nods, a little more vaguely than she intends but her throat is paralyzed, her tongue nerveless and useless. He accepts the gesture at face value, though, and dismisses her with wishes for “continued progress and a good weekend.”

…

Afternoon routine: Stay out as late as possible, put off the inevitable. Stay out all goddamned night if she has to. There’s no point in voluntarily returning home; she knows this with a sense of dread as acute and sharp as the pain in her scalp. So she shuffles on, unseeing and unseen in the city that never sleeps, one of a numberless mass who denies reality for the sanity that fantasy provides, pretending that she isn’t being stalked, that she isn’t haunted by a continuous loop of ghosts and flashbacks of the dead from that day reminding her over and over that she survived while they didn’t, that she must remember them, that she isn't losing her mind, that the shadow isn’t constantly whispering to her, commanding her over and over and over to simply let go.

She pretends that she isn’t blacking out and waking to find herself in bed, night after night, in the midst of torment and debasement that her ragged mind can neither handle nor shut out. The shadow rips at her in a thousand ways, and she feels all of them, every shred of her consciousness pulled apart and examined and manipulated until she can’t remember who she was before this fundamental desecration.

Release yourself. I can break you completely, help you forget the pain and the misery. Let Me shatter you, remake you in My Glory. Only then can you truly be free from pain.

She fights. It’s all she has left, this battle of wills, and she clings to the tattered bits of her remaining self with a tenacity that impresses even the shadow.

How you shine, even in My darkness. Let me turn your burn to an icy one, let Me freeze your pain, let go and drift in My adoration. I shall raise you up; only grant Me entrance, give Me leave, and I will bless you, bring meaning and solace to your piteous existence.

God help her, she’s starting to slip. She just wants everything to end. No one will miss her, no one is depending on her. The only noise her phone has made in weeks are the reminders that she has set. She hasn’t sent in an assignment for nearly a month, and no one has so much as emailed. What is she holding on for, anyway?

You have fought so long and so hard. I can reward your valor, provide you a balm for your suffering. I will keep you safe from pain, from truth, from choice, from other poison devils. I can take the very memories from you, just as I did before, save you from yourself.

What?

And then her mind is flooded with a scene, a memory of the attack, but she sees it from outside herself, as if watching a film with herself as protagonist. She flees as debris falls all around, narrowly missing pipes, concrete, and office furniture as it rains down mindlessly, destroying life after life. By the time she reaches the ground floor of the stairwell, everyone is packed tight and covered with blood, dust, unspeakable filth, and the wretched crowd bursts into the lobby in a blind panic. They reach the street in the same state and turn as one to flee in the direction of least resistance.

Alone in the crowd, Alexa is jerked to a halt, nearly losing her feet as bodies plow around and nearly through her, but she is frozen as if glued to the pavement. There is no safety anywhere. A battle rages around them, monsters everywhere, incomprehensible and terrible, and then the glass lobby doors behind them explode, and Alexa knows the brief but exhilarating sensation of flight.

And then she crashes, and she knows the timeless and terrible sensation of fire. And pain. And crushing weight.

Watching the scene passively, she remembers everything, she feels everything even as her other self does, but now she is also an outside witness to the anguish. She knows the lines of suffering etched on her face and knows that she wears them even now. She feels the words echoing through her mind from that day, a thought, a plea, a silent prayer to someone, anyone who can help, can end her suffering.

How long...minutes...hours...years...just help, please…please, I don't care how anymore, just...end it.

And then a figure drops from the heavens, it seems, falling from one of the monsters’ flying vehicles, and it crosses the street and sidewalk as if drawn straight to her by the waning strength of her silent screams.

An impossibly cold hand grasps hers, pulling her up from the rubble, sliding her from underneath the bits of building as if they aren't present and pressing the life from her, bringing her face to face with darkness. The sun dissolves, shadows descend, and she decides that, as deaths go, hers could be worse.

She is lifted as if she weighs nothing, the fingers pressing into her face. A bitter, gelid frost flows through her veins, and the pain is mercifully dulled, lessened to a mere phantom, and then the god (for surely her savior can be no less to have such power at hand) pulls her into an icy, terrible embrace.

I find Myself in need of a conduit. Grant Me some small space of sanctuary, and in return I shall heal your broken body. Allow Me entrance, now, woman, before you depart this plane entirely. I am your God, your only chance of salvation. Do you accept Me?

His voice is black velvet, midnight shadows slipping across the moon, and she can’t find the will to say no. Giving in is so much easier, hurts so much less, and she feels as if she’s been hurting forever, spent her whole life being crushed to death.

“Yes.”

His lips press to her, but there is nothing tender in the kiss. Ice, death, absence rushes into her, infecting a small fraction of every cell, sinking deep into her psyche before erasing all remembrance of its presence.

Alexa thrashes under the weight of the memories, the weight of the phantom debris crushing her down, only to find the man, the god himself lies atop her, pinning her emaciated form to her ruined sheets. His pale skin glows in the night, his ebony hair falling around their faces in an blasphemous mimicry of a halo. His painful beauty rips one last thing loose within her, and she remembers.

I would that you should allow Me leave to heal you once more, to form you into a proper vessel. I shall alleviate your anguish, and you may sink into My worship with euphoric, blissful abandon.

She is tempted, more so than any other time in her existence. She thought her imprisonment under the shattered building was horrible, but now she knows true torment. And yet, she resists.

Why do you continue to battle? You cannot prevail, and submission will bring you such pleasure as you have never known. Am I not your own personal God to worship? Do you not wish to drown in My blessing, to submerge yourself in My oblivion?

But he is the author of her suffering, as well, this would-be god who attacked her city, killed thousands of people for his ambitions and family squabbles. Who is she to tarnish the world’s grief for her own personal relief?

But he knows what is in her heart and her thoughts; it was there he planted the seed that has grown to strangle her sanity and reality, and he sends pressure through the roots of this vine to dig into her very soul. She shivers beneath him with wordless agony.

His face presses against hers, tongue snaking out to trace a tear track up her cheek, back to its source. Frozen lips ghost over her clenched eyelids, and she swallows the miserable moan that rolls up from her stomach.

I saved you once when I could so easily have allowed you to continue your half-life under the rubble until your flame sputtered and died, as it was meant to. And I shall show Myself once more a merciful, benevolent God. For you, My pet, a gift.

And suddenly there is a space in Alexa’s mind, a blank where something, someone, important once lived, someone vital stripped away. She gets a last glimpse of a smiling woman, proudly showing off a photo of a swaddled infant, of a filing cabinet collapsing, of a curling hand, before Brenda is ripped from her mind like so many strands of hair from her scalp. The pain of Brenda’s death, the horror of her last moments, yes, but also every bit of the love between them.

And then the name is gone, too.

Have I pleased you? Do you see now what relief can be had with submission?

“That...wasn’t...she wasn't yours to take-” But even the memory of the violation is fading, leaving only breathless, panicked horror and dull, aching want in its wake.

The shadowed god frowns, displeasure pressed into every line of his face, and his fingers tighten until the bones in Alexa’s wrists shriek in protest.

Must I nail Myself to a cross or rip out My eye to be worthy of your reverence? I grant you one more gift, then, of choice. One day to consider. Embrace My oblivion freely, willingly, joyously, as you know you should, and feel My pleasure. Or suffer in your belief that this pale, pointless realm offers you anything like what I can give. This shall be My last offering. Submission is sweetest when freely given, but so, too, can I revel in seizing what you so stubbornly withhold.

His lips seal over hers, stealing air and screams alike, and she feels him everywhere at once, emphasizing his threat, his promise. Her traitorous flesh, craving any tourniquet to stem the endless flow of pain, cleaves to his frozen form, curving against his body in a mockery of love making that leaves her stomach heaving.

And then he is gone. His presence, his pressure, his shadow, even his laugh lingers, but his form vanishes with her next thought. She falls from the bed, a perspiring, retching, wailing mess. There is nothing left within her to eject, but her digestive tract makes a resounding effort.

It’s hours until the sun comes up, and she counts every second from where she shivers, wedged tight between the bed and the nightstand. ...

3 (end)

20 notes · View notes

yanderefantasies · 3 years

Note

𖦹BACK BY UNPOPULAR DEMAND, ME!!! ON TODAYS EPISODE OF "WHAT TF DID DUMB-LITTLE-IDIOT WROTE TODAY" IS:

𖦹Frankeinsten!Au(??)

𖦹Au introduction➢

Death

A concept that for some may bring fear

To others, it brings questions

Some even felt happy when the topic was brought

But why were they happy for?

Why they were so afraid of the day where their body would stop functioning?

Oh there were so many questions

Questions that nobody wanted to answer

Questions that nobody wanted to be answered

But we shouldn't dwell on those questions at the moment

You had an experiment to execute

Some days had passed since one of your experiments had come to life

Even if just for some minutes, your years of research finally paid off

So many years studying the human body

So many years accidentally electrifying yourself

So many years of the gods stopping you from reaching your goal

But now

You had done it

You had finally done it

You had brought the dead to life

Oh you longed for the answers for what happens after death that the once-dead body would tell you

Was there a God out there?

What was their name?

Were the Greeks right?

Or the Egyptians?

Or maybe the atheists?

Are we just a rock floating out there in the vast space?

Oh so many questions and oh so many answers

But happiness doesn't last for long

Of course, the experiment had to go back to their eternal sleep

Bloody hell

Why cant those people stop being so selfish

It wouldn't hurt to stay alive for some bloody hours, or even minutes

You had so many questions

But so little time

And all of these people were so ungrateful

You brought them to life

You gave them another chance to live

And yet not even a simple "thank you" exited their dry and slightly rotten lips

Even the youngest people seemed to become rude after death

They were so ungrateful

So disgusting

So...so-

UGH!!!

Then a sudden pain stopped your line of thought

The scalpel that you were holding penetrated your calloused hand

You would have to remember to clean it soon

Soon after you disposed of your anger that had been accumulating since your fourth experiment

And now, you would make sure to not hold back

You knew that nobody could recognize the body

Or else they would probably come to you

But you would make sure that not even the gods that watched you wretched figure disfiguring the body of the poor unfortunate soul that had the sad destiny to end up in your experiment table were unable to be recognized by them

They would call you a madman

Just like your professor Diruse had called you

He said it was dangerous

That it was an insane wish

Nobody should interfere with "god's plan"

"God's plan" your ass

You would show them that you weren't insane

You would show them all

You would open their eyes for the secrets that were hidden from them for centuries

And then

Nobody had to suffer anymore

Nobody would have to see their loved ones die

Nobody would have to accept death

Nobody would ever suffer

Just like you did on that unfortunate day

The day that death took everything from your

--------------------------------------------------------------------

𖦹➢

→on this Au!, the reader takes a similar role as Victor Frankenstein

→after the mysterious death of their now-dead partner, the reader lives the rest of their life searching for how to bring someone back to life

→Luchino in this Au! is on his human form, he works as the science professor where the reader studies

→Luchino understand the distress that the reader is going through at the moment, but he keeps trying to convince the reader to stop with their experiments that, in the worst case, could end up in their death

→Ouroboros(Antonio) though, is very interested in Reader's experiments, even going as far as support them financially so they wouldn't give up on their experiments

→after discovering about Luchino, Ouroboros keeps trying to make the reader stop talking to Luchino, as he sees him as an "obstacle" to the reader's progress

→I am VERY tired right now sadly, I don't have a lot of ideas to keep writing but here are some of the roles of some characters and the relationship that they have with the reader( I'm only putting the ones that have A LOT of importance in this Au, I didn't put everyone or else it would be too long)

(Note: They are still yandere for the reader depending on how the reader sees it, this is not how the characters see the reader, but yes how they see them)

→Luchino Diruse: Luchino is the reader's science teacher, he considers the reader as one of his best students, but since the death of their lover and the start of their research on how to bring the dead back to life, he has been extremely worried for the reader. He tries to convince them to stop but his warnings seem to fall on deaf ears( relationship: Questionable, because of Ouroboros influence, the reader started to see him as an obstacle)

→Ouroboros/Antonio Paganini: Ouroboros liked to see himself as one of the most powerful scientists to exist, sometimes, he also saw himself as a god, but that was only his gigantic ego talking, the moment that he saw the reader buying some items at the black market, Antonio decided to follow them home, "What would that simple mortal do with all of these things?", he asked himself. It took some days of Ouroboros stalking the reader until they noticed the presence of the tall men following them around, and when they did, they had already fallen for his trick( relationship: Very good. Ouroboros helps the reader with his experiments not only financially but also gives them a lot of knowledge that they couldn't learn in their class, which only helps Antonio to manipulate them and make them abandon the outside world and only focus on their research, also making it extremely easy for Antonio to keep them all to himself, he already has them on the palm of his hand anyways)

→Aesop Carl: Aesop also has an interest in the dead, even wanting to pursue the career of an embalmer when he finishes his studies. After the reader tells him about his experiments, unlike some of the other students that heard about his ideas, Aesop liked that idea, even though he preferred the dead over the alive, the idea of bringing someone who was once dead back to life seemed very interested, so interesting that he volunteers himself to help the reader on their little "project", to Antonio's dismay of course.

→Andrew Kreiss: Andrew is kind of the provider for reader's experiments, at first it was kind of weird how this stranger came almost every week to buy one of the graveward's bodies, but with time, the stranger became some kind of comfort on the lonely nights where Andrew guarded the graveward. Though he didn't like to admit it, he always got a little sad when the stranger's " assistant" was the one to come. (relationship: Neutral)

→Robbie White: He is not very important to the plot but you know that I had to put him here, my boy sells newspapers to people and he works with Victor, the reader really likes(PLATONICALY) him so he always buys a newspaper when he has a chance

.Extras

→Lucky Guy, Norton, Eli, Naib, Freddy, Xie Bi'an, Fan Wujiu, William, Eli, Edgar and Ganji are reader's classmates

→Jack is a local murderer, he knew reader by their frequent visits to the black market

→Burke, Bane, Joseph and Leo are teachers at the reader college/school

→Polun is a street performer, they knew readers because, when their(reader) lover was alive, they used to go to their performances

→Percy works as a Hitman(??), he was the one who killed the reader's lover they were involved with some...' nasty' things, he meets redder because they have been contracted by Antonio to 'keep an eye on them' *cough* make sure they are working on the experiments and not slacking off *cough*

→Kurt works as a librarian on reader's college/school, they've each other by reader's constant visits to the school/college library

→Servais, Murro, Mik,e, and Smiley work at a circus in the center of the town where the reader lives, they know each other because the reader and their lover used to go there a lot

→ Jose and Kevin work at Demi's bar, they know the reader because of their frequent visits to the bar, especially after their lover's death

→Victor works to the town's mail, he meets the reader by Robbie, who managed to sell a lot of newspapers to them

→Luca was one of Ouroboros little specimens, before Ouroboros meets the reader, he used to "help" other people on their projects and then steal them, accusing the real creators of stealing from him and forcing him to pay for their things, which ends up on his victims going to jail, Luca meets the reader by trying to kill them out of rage, after knowing that Ouroboros is helping them, but gives up on the last second

→Emil is a patient in the asylum that the reader goes to get some of the bodies for his experiments, Emil doesn't know that the people that the reader takes out of there are dead, so he thinks that the reader is saving these people and taking them out of that hell

----------------------------------------------------------

𖦹➢This was rushed af and probably sucks bc I'm writing this for some time now and I have tucked or any calligraphy errors (Grammarly is doing it for me lol). Also sorry for putting a lot of characters as classmates or teachers, I didn't know what to make them and I am exhausted today, (once again, sorry for the bad writing, this one was the most rushed one that I made)

My fingers are hurting help

Babes/p this is absolutely amazing oh my god- I’m so sorry I didn’t get to this before- I was setting up something for my rabbits lmao

I love how this plays out though, it’s really good!!! Tysm for sending this

#idv harem discussion

16 notes · View notes

some-dr-writings · 4 years

Text

Gundham and Kokichi get Hanahaki

Gundham Tanaka:

· Gundham stared down in disbelief at what he had coughed into his hands. No longer was it flower petals but full, pink, camellia blossoms… longing. His loyal generals scurried about in panic. “Hmm, so the curse you sensed on me. Is this it? … not just Hanahaki but these blossoms... their meaning…” He wanted to keep denying it like he had been for the past month but no longer could he.

· He had heard of Hanahaki before, but he thought it was but a rumor. He knew of the only three cures, death, a surgery that removes that wretched plant at the price of the feelings it bloomed from, or confessing… He bitterly chuckled which swiftly morphed into that booming laughter. “So the world now seeks to end me by any means necessary. Whether it be by my body, or my spirit…” Clenching his fist he crushed those soft pink petals. “Fine! Let it try, for all those efforts will be in vain. I’ll carry on these emotions and live! I shall not sacrifice my life in this world nor lose my spirit in doing so.” Immediately after that hacking started up again as he felt that irritable scratching crawl through his throat and lunges. Concerned, his generals cuddled up to him, wanting to help him in some way.

· As he was lacing up his boots that winter morning, he heard a knock, knock, knocking from his door. “I’ll be but a moment my Emperor!” He called out, hopping on one foot towards the door, making that last knot. Swinging the door open he was happily greeted by your pale smile. “Running a little late I see.” “My apologies should I have kept you waiting for long.” “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just used to you being ready before me. Like, seriously, how do you get all that makeup done every day and be ready before me?” He smirked seeing your genuine curiosity. “Ibuki helps Gundham get ready on date day!” “Ibuki!” The girl merrily slipped past you and Gundham. “He always goes on and on about ‘not keeping his beloved waiting’ how ‘on the days of courting rituals he must be as presentable as possible as to-” “ENOUGH IBUKI!” His face was absolutely flushed as he began to chase after her. She dashed away wishing he and you well. “I-ignore those words. They were but nothing!” You had your arms crossed, a sharp smirk creasing your lips. “Suuuuuuuure. Absolutely nothing. Heh.” “E-enough! We must get our ritual started.” Still chuckling you took his bandaged hand and lead the way. How was it that even thinking of your laugh send his heart a flight.

· He strolled down that path, getting absorbed in the light sound of his footfalls against the stone. It was a particularly hot and muggy day, not helped by there not being a single cloud in the sky, allowing the sun’s harsh rays to beam down in it’s full glory. Sighing, he loosened the scarf around his neck. Holding up his hand to shade his eyes just a bit from those rays, his gaze lingered on the dull red and black bandana tied around his wrist.

· “Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to wander around like this?” “I’m fine! Don’t worry so much! I got permission from the doctors and everything!” You trotted on ahead down the trail, spinning around loving the fresh air. You had been cooped up there for far too long under observation. It was good to see you out and so lively at that. All too quickly you got winded and started to collapse. Gundham dashed to you, cradling you against his chest. “My Emperor don’t be so demanding on your body right away. You’ve yet to be released fully. This is but a day to get fresh air.” “I know, but… I want to enjoy being out… even if it hurts a little. But I won’t do anything stupid!” Snow gently fluttered down and Gundham pulled you closer. “All I ask is you be careful.”

· Sitting under a lone tree he felt that awful sweltering heat suffocating him. He felt his heart beating just a little faster than usual. He looked out to the lake, the blue sky reflected on it’s surface. Mindlessly he fiddled with the ends of that bandana.

· “… Gundham.” “Yes?” “What do you think it means to survive?” He looked to you, raising a brow at the question. He was intrigued why you’d ask such a thing, but his own questions could be saved for later. He looked out to the horizon to ponder, though an answer had already sprung to mind. “To survive is to do anything and everything in your power to stay in this realm. To survive in some cases may even mean to allow your own life to extinguish so the majority may live on and prosper even in your absence.” “… Is there a difference between surviving and living?” “Surviving and living you say… Hmm.” He shivered as the cold wind rolled past. “… Living is making the most of each moment you have. Even if it’s something small like being awake in a dream or merely being near a cherished one. Living is appreciating the moment.” “So… can you live and survive?” “… That depends on the circumstances.” “If you had to choose one, which would it be.” “Me?... I’d choose survival.” “I thought so.” “And you?” “… Don’t know. I… I think it depends on the circumstances.”

· Survival…

· Placing a hand on his propped-up knee, he tried pushing himself onto his feet. Even merely standing up caught his breath in his throat, those accursed blooms clogging his windpipe. He desperately tried repressing those blooms, keeping it all in, even covering his mouth with his hands. He couldn’t let them out. Not just yet.

· “Hey, there’s a street market! Let’s go check it out.” As the two of you entered you were immediately hit by the wafting sent of fried food and incense. Hand in hand the two of you wandered from stall to stall, admiring the unique items. In one such stall as Gundham was looking at some plain furin bells you approached him. “Hey, I got you something!” “Oh? What sort of charm have you procured?” “Hold up your not bandaged hand.” Obediently he did as told. “I thought this’d look good on you!” You then tied the bright red and black bandana around his wrist. “Hmm, you have a good eye. I can already feel the power you transferred into it, radiating brilliantly!”

· Sitting at one of the stalls Gundham ate a tin box of jam and powdered sugar covered aebleskivers with a small paper bag of newly bought items. He watched as the thinning crowd almost dissipated entirely as the midday heat made being outside too unbearable. He watched as the wind rustled the leaves of the trees. Unable to take it anymore he took off his scarf and instead tied it around his waist. He reached for his wrist, flinching, feeling the fabric. He felt that cough seemingly puncture his throat.

· As he walked, he slowly came to a stop. For a moment, he looked to the hospital that stood just across the street. He continued to walk. Down the street, down the sidewalk, up the hill, across the road, past the temple and into the large, lush green forest. The wind seemed to howl the deeper he went. The cool air and shade complimented the calm of the forest. His eyes wandered from the treetops to the moss-covered stone walls. Off in the distance he heard, assumedly a monk, playing a tibetan bowl. The stone pathway was neatly cleaned, hardly even any dirt on it, clearly well cared for. Down the stone stairs he had but needed to take a left to arrive at his destination. As he offered incense, he couldn’t keep it in anymore coughing and hacking up pink, bloodied camellia blossoms between raspy gasps for air.

· Shaking he fell to his knees before the snow-covered stone.

· He clutched a hand on his chest that prickling pain seemingly wanting to burst through and break his rib-cage. He managed to force himself up, ladle out water on the grave from a wooden tub.

· His eyes blurred only seeing a haze of gray and white when he poured the water.

· He placed a hand on the grave.

· He…

· “It’s not winter, but summer.” Looking to the dates he sighed, only for that coughing to start up again. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands flat together in prayer. “It’s been a year and a half since you’ve passed on my Emperor.” His scratchy voice began to crack. “I… I’ve come to you today to apologize. I wish to live, but more so to survive. I can no longer confess my love for you, for your everything over and over as I once had done when you were beside me in this world. Even if I continue to do so in my dreams this curse won’t leave me be… so… it seems…” His breath trembled just as his body did, tears streaking down his cheeks. “My… my Y/N… I thank you, for spending your time with me when you were here. I… I love you so much, even now that you’re gone and can no longer love me back, I love you… And… goodbye… for… forev-…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish that last word. Hiccups, raw sobbing, gasps, and coughing got in the way.

· On unsteady feet he dragged himself away. He couldn’t be late.

· As snow drifted down past the window, entering the room he saw how longingly you looked to him. “Gundham… I… don’t worry about me, please.” “How dare you say that! I always shall!” “No, Gundham. Look at me. I’m withering away here. All this stuff is just prolonging the inevitable. No cure is just going to suddenly appear! It’ll be at least ten if not more years before there’s even anything close to a cure. I don’t want to just sit here and wait to die!” “… W-what are you saying?” He clutched you hand tightly, interlacing your fingers. “I was told that I can give my body to research, but… I… won’t be here…” His eyes widened, staring at you in abject horror. “no. NO! Y/N YOU CAN’T! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!” Tears cascaded from his eyes as he hugged you. “Y/N I… You… please…” He sobbed even harder feeling you hug him back, hearing your own cries. “I… I understand why, but… my Emperor, Y/N…”

· Taking a deep breath, he wiped the tears from his eyes before entering the hospital. That oppressive summer heat seemingly choking him.

· The surgery was successful with no complications, so he was able to leave right away. After collecting his belonging, he swiftly left, wanting to make sure his creatures were properly cared for in his absence.

· Without a second thought he tossed his bag of items onto his bed to be placed away later. He needed to care for his creatures.

· It was late into the night when he finally got the chance to put the bag of items away. His zodiac generals scurried up to him, bucking the bag and nuzzling into him.

· The last item he had taken out was a worn out red and black bandana…

· He hated this.

· This was ridiculous. His vision blurred, and he hurt. He hurt knowing looking at the cloth no longer hurt him so deeply. It meant nothing to him now… that’s why it hurt so much… because he still knew it used to mean something to him… but not anymore.

Kokichi Oma:

· The moment he felt that tingling in his throat and he coughed up petals Kokichi already knew what had befallen him.

· Hanahaki.

· This… was a very cruel thing to pull on him, especially considering his situation. He thought it stupid that the universe or his own body or whatever made Hanahaki happen decided to set this into motion. He was content, even happy with the way things were and he didn’t care that you didn’t love him, as long as you were happy, he was fine. So, though he was fine with this, something he thought most people would not be, whatever made this happen forced him into the position of dying or getting rid of his feelings all together!? Those were the only options, he never even considered confessing to you. At heart, Kokichi was a clown, all he wanted was joy and laughter, confessing would only hurt you, so it was not an option to him.

· Immediately he set to researching what accursed plant was entangling and clogging up his lungs and throat.

· Scilla meaning loyalty and constancy… Truly the irony was palpable with this flower choice.

· Sighing he flopped onto his bed, letting the sketchpad, papers, crayons, and colored pencils momentarily hopped up. “So… what am I to do now… Die, or throw away my feelings?” He stared up at the ceiling before gleefully hopping off of his bed. “I’ll make a game out of this!”

· Having bought his bouquet, he skipped out of the flower shop. He mindlessly hummed to himself plucking the petals of one of the flowers. Then the next. Then the next. And the next, and so on. That was till he was down to the last flower. “… Die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live, die, live… I guess I’ll live. Maybe. No I will!” Dumping the stems and wrapping in a garbage can, Kokichi smiled, reminding himself that when lying to anyone you must be confident! No room for doubt.

· Well, if he were going to live, he was going to have to get the surgery, to entirely remove his feelings for you… You were his best friend. He was not sure if his friendship with you was entirely removed from his more romantic feelings for you. If he were to remove his feelings, would you two still be best friends, or friends at all? You were very observant, it was one of the many things he loved about you, because of that, you’d likely notice he was acting differently. Maybe your friendship would end up breaking apart… He might end up hurting you because of that. he couldn’t bear that thought. So… by removing his feelings he decided to end your friendship while he still loved you. He wouldn’t actually end the friendship though, just make some excuse as to why he would be far away for the rest of his life and how you and he could only have very minimal contact. Yeah, something like that. You wouldn’t get hurt that way, the worst of it would be missing him, but nothing more.

· Now that he had finally come to a decision, he had some planning to do!

· He gathered all of D.I.C.E. at their headquarters in order to plan this out. He needed this to be perfect. They spent hours and hours on end planning, only taking short tea breaks for rest.

· Kokichi was surprised at how quickly his condition had worsened in only a week. What had been single petals had already evolved into closed blossoms. He needed to hurry.

· He had boiled down everything to two plans.

· Plan A. Make you hate him so you wouldn’t care about him. There were… several problems with this plan. Even the mere thought of actively hurting you, to the point of getting you to loath and detest him, to not caring he no longer was your friend… He’d have to hurt you, but at least if you weren’t friends, you’d never miss him… But he was a clown. Even the mere though of this plan sent him into an awful wheezing, coughing fit. Tears would percolate in the corners of his eyes from all of the pain. He knew he’d act on instinct and rush to your side and make a fool of himself. He’d do anything to make you laugh and smile…

· To hear that beautiful bubbly laugh that sent his heart a flight with fantasies of always being by your side, of no matter come what may, being there to make you happy after you indulged in the pain accepting whatever happened.

· … He could never hurt you.

· So all he could do was go for the other plan.

· Plan B. Make a giant show for you. Endless pranks for an entire day and by the end tell you he was moving very far away, maybe to Prague or something he still hadn’t decided where he was going yet, and tell you all these pranks were to make up for all the lost future time together. You’d likely hurt from missing him, but it wouldn’t be anything major…

· Maybe even after a while you’d forget about him. Then you wouldn’t care at all. You wouldn’t get hurt… Maybe… Maybe that would be for the best. Even if it made him feel sick, terrified even… maybe it would be what was best for you.

· He just wanted you to be happy. He was determined to conceal you in a kind happy lie, surely it was better than a painful truth.

· Reading over his plans his vision began to blur. That awful scratching pain clawed up his throat, erupting into that hacking and coughing. He shut his eyes, clutching a hand to his chest. Keeling over he gasped for breath. This was certainly the worst fit by far. Slowly opening his eyes his vision cleared. There were the full blue blossoms, red dripping from them and dyeing the pages beneath. “Already? I thought I had more time…” he then noticed which page got covered in red. Plan A. “Heh, plan B it is. Guess I’ll have to put this plan into action tomorrow.”

· All through the night he made calls and plans with D.I.C.E. to have everything prepared for endless pranks. He needed this goodbye to be perfect. It was the last time you’d be seeing one another after all, and he wanted his last memory of you to be happy, smiling, and laughing. As long as you were happy, he’d be okay, no matter what.

· Till the early morning hours, he and D.I.C.E. was running about preparing pranks in any and all locations you frequented and could possibly even go to, even if it meant breaking into your bank and some other places. It was no big deal, it was for very good reason after all, the best goodbye ever!

· As he and two other D.I.C.E. members were trying to break into a rather stubborn vending machine, he got a call from another member saying you had left your place, awfully smiley in the way you only were when Kokichi pranked you. “Yes! Keep an eye on them! We need to know where they’re going!”

· Dashing after you, he managed to catch up rather quickly. You were sitting at a park bench. He was about to run up and tackle you when he suddenly stopped himself and instead hid in a tree. You promptly stood up, running to your partner, hugging them… He desperately tried repressing that coughing. It hurt. It hurt so much. Just everything. The one thing that made you even happier than being surprised by Kokichi’s mischief or seeing him playing the fool or him telling you an off-hand joke was your partner. Your partner was the light of your life, what Kokichi wished he was. You were always so undeniably happy with them, you didn’t want anyone else.

· … This was fine, this just meant he’d get to see more of your smiles on this last day together. He just had to pull back on the pranks as to not be overbearing and annoy you and your partner.

· Kokichi’s plan had now changed slightly. There were still pranks through the whole day but now he and D.I.C.E. decided to help out the date.

· When things were getting dull they’d add in a prank. When things were getting romantic, they start playing a beautiful song adding to the mood. They’d separate you from crowds so you could more easily steal a kiss. They’d dim the lights around you and place spot lights on you. They made sure you always had something fun to do. And with each time they intervened you’d catch a glimpse of Kokichi somewhere smiling that toothy grin, giving you a thumbs up. Little did you know that the moment your gaze shifted back to your partner, when they were the center of our world, capturing all of your attention Kokichi hid away, the pain of those cuts slicing deeper and deeper into his heart, lungs and throat came bursting out of his mouth as bloodied flowers, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutched his chest. Yet moments later even with the red staining his lips and petals clinging to his chin he smiled, knowing he was helping to make this day great. After all, he was a clown. Clowns make others happy at their own expense, even if it hurt them. As long as others were happy, if you were happy, he was happy too. Perhaps, that was the one solid truth he had never lied about in any capacity to others or himself. One could lie just about anything, but that was the one undeniable truth that could never be obscured no matter how he tried, even if he wanted too.

· And thus, the day went on, joyously, as it should have. Till you heard it. From his hiding spot under the bridge where he and D.I.C.E. set off fireworks for you, you heard that horrendous hacking. Kokichi crumpling over clamped his hands over his mouth. Just a little longer he had to keep it all in. But… he couldn’t breathe, no matter how he gasped, he couldn’t get anything. His vision was darkening and blurring. Everything was suddenly so cold. Even his hearing was muffled as if he were underwater. “Kokichi!” Suddenly he was in your arms, cuddled against you… You were crying. You… you had said something else but he could only clearly hear his name, everything else was a blur, like how only you were clear and everything was a haze. “s-sorry… I… want to… to leave you with… a smile… n-not this.” This was the first and only time he truly broke down before anyone, not trying to hide or obscure anything at all. All the pain and heart break was etched into his every feature. You screamed something… he thought… it was hard to even think.

· … Even in the end he was a liar. He had to lie to himself to do this. He was a clown, it was in his nature to only make you smile, but… this was his only choice. He was loyal to himself and you alone. He would never throw away his feelings for you. It was simply not even an option he truly considered, even if he lied to himself saying he would. “hey… it’s… okay… you shou… laugh… i… want you too… it’s what I do… you’re alright… live happily… that’s… all I ask… and… that’s…… not…… a……… lie”

132 notes · View notes

sickficsforthesoul · 3 years

Note

Sick kenma kozume who is very pukey ♡○♡

Three Cats and All That

Sick Kenma with caretakers Yaku and Kuroo.

Word count: 1310 words

Kenma was sick, both physically and from boredom. Kenma had been feeling sick all day, but he still came to afternoon practice because Kuroo would have thrown a fit if he didn’t. Kenma had just finished warm-ups with the team before Coach Nekomata arrived. The elderly coach took one look at Kenma’s flushed cheeks and ashen complexion and promptly declared that Kenma would be taken to the infirmary as soon as possible.

Kenma gathered his things gradually, aggressive nausea slowing his actions considerably. Once everything was packed away, Kenma dragged himself to his feet. Nausea flared, and Kenma fell onto his knees with a wretch. Another heave followed, and then Kenma was spilling his guts on the gym floor. Cries of shock filled the air, but Kenma was far too miserable to pay them any mind.

Kenma heaved, and heaved, and heaved again. By the time Kenma’s nausea abated enough for him to catch his breath, a large, putrid puddle had formed underneath him. Kenma leaned back on his heels with a pained groan. He felt absolutely terrible. Kenma’s immune system wasn’t the best, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so sick. Someone’s hand came to rest on Kenma’s shoulder, so Kenma looked back blearily.

Yaku was kneeling on the floor next to Kenma. “Do you think you’re done for now?” Yaku asked gently, his hand rubbing small, soothing circles on Kenma’s shoulder.

Kenma nodded with a faint hiccup. His stomach was behaving at the moment, but he knew it wouldn’t last too long.

“That’s good,” Yaku’s smile was wide but concerned. “Let’s go to the infirmary. You can rest there until your parents come to get you.”

Kenma nodded in agreement, and Yaku reached up to pat Kenma’s head softly. “Hey Kuroo,” Yaku called across the gym, “come help me out. Kenma’s going to the infirmary.”

“Sure, Yakkun,” Kuroo replied as he jogged over to the pair.

Kuroo and Yaku cautiously pulled Kenma to his feet, and they began their journey. Kuroo supported the bulk of Kenma’s weight while Yaku kept Kenma steady and upright. Together, the third years successfully got Kenma to the infirmary and settled in a bed, intentionally propping him up in case of more vomiting. The nurse had already left, so Yaku busied himself adjusting Kenma’s covers while Kuroo ducked into the hall to call Kenma’s parents.

“Sorry you’re feeling so awful, Kenma,” Yaku said as he finished tucking Kenma under the blankets.

“It’s not your fault,” Kenma sighed as his stomach gurgled ominously. “I was feeling sick this morning. I shouldn’t have come to school.”

“Well, we can’t change that now,” Yaku shrugged, ruffling Kenma’s dyed locks gently.

“I guess not,” Kenma agreed. “I wish I could time skip to tomorrow already.”

“Time skip?” Yaku laughed at Kenma’s word choice. “Like the video game mechanic?”

“Yeah,” Kenma said, “it’d be super useful in real life, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Yaku conceded, “but it’d cause a lot of problems if everyone could time skip, right?”

“I guess so,” Kenma conceded, “but it’d still be cool.”

Yaku stifled a laugh and patted Kenma’s head. Kenma leaned into the contact briefly before settling back onto the pillow behind him. Kenma laughed a little too, but the laughing soon turned to hiccups, which quickly dissolved into gags. Yaku jumped to attention, shooting across the room to grab a small trash can from beside the nurse’s desk. He rushed back to Kenma, depositing the trash can in Kenma’s lap just in time to catch the first splash of vomit.

Kenma curled around the trash can, hugging it like a lifeline as he threw up a nasty slurry of half-digested food and bile. Tears gathered in Kenma’s eyes from the exhaustion and discomfort of yet another vomiting fit. Yaku stood beside Kenma, wrapping his arms loosely around the sick boy. When the vomiting finally slowed down, Yaku nudged Kenma gently to one side of the bed, hoisting himself up and onto the now-empty side.

Kenma’s vomiting continued for another minute before eventually coming to a stop. Yaku rubbed Kenma’s back sympathetically and tucked Kenma’s head into his chest. Kenma smiled slightly and snuggled deeper into Yaku’s embrace. It was an unusual display of affection from the normally apathetic boy, but Yaku supposed that anyone would want a hug after throwing up so much.

By the time Kuroo returned to check on the other two, Kenma was fast asleep in Yaku’s arms, and the libero was dozing lightly too. Kuroo chuckled and walked over to the bed. He took the filled trash can from Kenma’s arms, wincing slightly at the horrible appearance and smell of the can’s content. Kuroo dropped the trash can into the sink to be dealt with later. Then he returned to the bed and carefully shook Yaku’s arm.

“Wake up, Yakkun,” Kuroo whispered, mindful that Kenma was a surprisingly light sleeper.

“Mmm,” Yaku yawned softly while he opened his eyes slowly. “Kuroo? What is it?”

“Kenma’s parents are almost here. Can you help me get him to the front doors?” Kuroo asked softly.

“Yeah,” Yaku whispered. “Can you carry him? I don’t want to wake him up.”

“Sure,” Kuroo agreed, “help me get him on my back.”

Yaku delicately shifted Kenma until he was sitting up while Kuroo turned around and squatted low so his shoulders were the correct height for Yaku to help. Yaku slid Kenma’s arms over Kuroo’s shoulders and pushed Kenma’s body against Kuroo’s. Kuroo grabbed the undersides of Kenma’s knees and cautiously stood. When Kenma failed to wake up or fall off, he nodded to Yaku, and the third years left the infirmary with Kenma in tow.

When they exited the front doors, they found Kenma’s parents sitting in their car. Yaku ran ahead to open a backseat car door. Then he helped Kuroo gently slide Kenma off his back and into the car. Yaku buckled Kenma’s seatbelt and placed an empty trash bag that he’d snagged from the infirmary onto Kenma’s lap. Kuroo closed the car door and pulled Yaku back from the car.

“Thanks for your help, boys,” Kenma’s father whispered through the open window of the passenger’s side.

“It was nothing, sir,” Yaku replied respectfully. “We’re just doing our jobs as upperclassmen.”

“Indeed you are,” Kenma’s father smiled. “We’ll take him home now. Be safe going home, boys.”

“We will, sir,” Kuroo nodded as the car drove away from the school.

Kuroo and Yaku stand in silence for a moment, watching Kenma’s family drive away.

“What now, Yakkun? Back to practice?” Kuroo tilted his head down to look at the short libero.

“Obviously,” Yaku said, “We’ll never make it to National if we don’t practice.”

Kuroo smirked and ruffled Yaku’s hair. “Race you back, Yakkun?”

Yaku smacked away Kuroo’s hand, but his cheeks still flushed a little. “Sure, but the winner chooses today’s team snack.”

And then Yaku took off without warning, darting down the halls and racing to the gym. Kuroo stared for a moment, eyes and mouth wide with shock before he recovered and ran after Yaku. “Yakkun, you cheater! Get back here!”

(Kenma recovered quickly, returning to school two days later. To no one’s surprise, both Kuroo and Yaku collapsed vomiting in the middle of practice a day after that, and Nekomata mourned his sanity and a week of lost practice as the virus slowly but surely infected all of his team. From then on, Nekomata instituted a rule banning his players from attending school and practice if they had any sort of illness. The punishment set for breaking the rule was no practice for two days followed by a day of absolute hell, focusing on suicides, flying falls, and a myriad of other brutal exercises and drills. Needless to say, the number of sick players attending practice dropped dramatically by the next day.)

#haikyu!! whump #haikyu whump #haikyuu whump #haikyuu!!#kenma kozume #yaku morisuke #kuroo tetsurou #sickiesoul writes #sickfic #vomiting #etemo #anime whump

14 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Written for an anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Drow!OC/Teifling!OC.

Word Count: 3.6k

Synopsis: Edel spent just enough time in captivity to know she doesn’t care for it. And, through careful observation and evaluation, she’s decided she cares for it even less when Jeret happens to be her captor.

TW: Non-Con, Blood and Bruising, Bondage, Mentions of Branding, Non-Consensual Touching, Dehumanization, Unhealthy Mindsets, Themes of Imprisonment, and Slight Mental Break.

Edel didn’t like feeling trapped.

Most people didn’t, but Edel liked it even less than most people. She’d always hated it, whether she was trapped in a cramped, mountainous cave during an untimely snow-storm or cornered by an opponent she didn’t have a chance of beating on her own or chained up inside of a dark, humid pit, not unlike the one she’d woken up in, today. It was a prison, she guessed, the point was to make her feel trapped, but Edel didn’t think she’d ever manage to give whatever glorified hellhole she’d been thrown into enough credit to give it a proper title. It was bad enough she’d been brought back to Velkynvelve, stripped of her weapons and her potions and given two pairs of iron shackles so heavy, just trying to lift her wrists or take a full step served to be a challenge, by way of replacement. It was worse that she’d been separated from the rest of her group, given a cell to herself with only thick stone walls and a tattered blanket for company. It was awful, it was degrading, it was infuriating, but there was one thing she couldn’t - absolutely could not stand.

Edel didn’t like feeling like a prisoner.

Somehow, she liked feeling like Jeret’s prisoner even less.

This was his work, it had to be. She didn’t know him, she wasn’t fond of him, but she loathed him enough to warrant keeping an eye out for certain details, to recognize the work of the man she’d never really escaped. It was every terrible threat he’d ever made, every vile thing he’d whispered in her ear, every laugh and every smirk and every possessive comment he’d ever made, after he decided his calling in life was to ruin hers. So confident in her assumption, Edel didn’t bother glancing up from the bare stone floor when she heard the jingle of a jailor’s keys, a lock clicking into place and a rusted door creaking open as calm, measured footsteps approached her chosen safe-haven in the farthest corner. She thought about looking away, by the time polished boots came into view, but she couldn’t swallow enough of her pride to give him that small of a victory. Just the hint of his presence renewed her anger, stoking her rage as a hearth-keeper would stroke a pit of lively embers.

Predictably, hearing his voice did little soothe her temper.

“Mornin’, firefly,” Jeret started, not bothering to spare her the pretense of faux-levity. “Did somebody need her beauty sleep?”

At least he wasn’t trying to play nice.

“You bastard--” She could barely begin to voice her muddled thoughts before nimble fingers entangled themselves in her hair, nails digging into her scalp and chains rattling as he jerked her upward, forcing her spine straight and a small, pained whimper from the back of her throat. Despite his time in captivity, his strength hardly seemed diminished - what he’d lost replaced by the cruel, cold satisfaction of having his captive-turned-captor once again under his heel. She was familiar with the feeling, despite her loathing for the man. She’d spent his interrogations in an over-zealous haze, but her righteousness had been earned. He’d imprisoned her, first. He’d been playing out his sadistic fantasies, and she’d been avenging herself and her comrades. The two barely warranted comparison, beyond first glance. “Let me go!” She didn’t try to stop herself from yelling, why would she? If he had a deeper, darker dungeon to shove her into, she doubted he would waste his time with a holding-cell. “You don’t have the right to touch me--”

“You’re really gonna make me go through this again, huh?” There was a heavy sigh, a slight tilt to his posture as he rolled his eyes, but he didn’t move to release her. If anything, his grip only tightened as he wretched her higher, forcing Edel onto her knees just to alleviate the pressure. “Can’t say I expected anythin’ less,” He went on, a touch of fondness seeping into his voice as he watched her writhe. “It took quite a bit of work on my part to getcha back here, y’know. I mean, it’s one thing convincing busy men to take prisoners, but souvenirs ain’t that easy to explain. If I wasn’t so insistent, you probably wouldn’ve made it here in one peice.”

For the first time, she dared to look up, if only to finally direct her anger at something tangible, but she cursed her own boldness the moment their eyes met.

It was easy to lash out at something cold and calculating, something abstract and swirling below the surface of stormy lilac, but Jeret seemed to be done playing coy, if he’d ever made an effort to. That, or he just didn’t see the point in trying to hide his aggression, anymore, his anger burning brighter than hers ever could. It almost made Edel hesitate to speak. She might’ve, if she hadn’t been so desperate to make herself seem as valiant as her captor. “Do you want me to thank you?” She spat, recognizing the condescension in his tone, the self-righteousness. “All you’ve done is earn yourself a slow death, after I get out of here.”

“Ain’t that precious.” Jeret let go of her hair with another sudden yank, but the freedom was short-lived. As soon as she could start to fall back, a fist was wrapped around one of her tethers - the leash-like chain attached to the thick metal collar curling around her neck. “The rat still thinks she’ll be able to crawl away.”

Now, she paused. It would’ve been impossible not to. “You’re… You brought me here just to kill me?”

Edel shut her eyes as Jeret chuckled, the noise slow, throaty, like the clash of metal on metal, like the howl of a blood-thirsty monster. “Sweetheart,” He cooed, sparing no amount of sickening, sickening sweetness. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over things like that. As long as I’m around, nobody’s gonna lay a finger on you.”

He tugged her forward, using just enough force to pull her off-balance. But, she didn’t have a chance to worry about falling, not when his free hand caught her chin, tilting her head back and giving her a perfect view of his grin, wide and just as crooked as it ever was, as it’d always been.

As it had been, since the first time she found herself at his mercy.

“This time, I think I’m gonna be a little more selfish with my toys.”

Meals came twice a day.

That was the only way Edel had of measuring time, now - Jeret’s visits, and how low the torch outside her cell got to burn before it was replaced. The food was better than it was during her first imprisonment, with Jeret being more inclined to keep her healthy now that he’d gotten it into his head to keep her, but drow ingredients were always remarkably bland, just teetering on the border between flavorless and inedible. Good food was a fantasy, by her fourth day, and she swore to herself that when she escaped, when she finally saw an opportunity to slip out of her restraints or drive something blunt and jagged into Jeret’s chest, seeking out a warm tavern would be the first thing she did. She’d thought starvation would be better than accepting his minimalist hospitality, for the first few days, and she had tried to stave it off for as long as she could, but…

Jeret could be persuasive, from time to time. And when she proved she could stand the hunger pangs, he’d set out to find something she couldn’t.

Three weeks in, she knew better than that, and submitted herself to gnawing on a stiff, colorless chunk of bread. Surprisingly enough, she couldn’t say that was the worst part of her morning.

That would be her company.

Jeret never failed to find a way to be close to her - it was something she noticed as he found an excuse to play with her fraying sleeves or toy with her restraints or just settle himself down at her side and stare on with a small, lopsided smile as she fought not to acknowledge him. The task was easier than it should’ve been, honestly. It’d always been difficult to get inside his head, but in his terrain, in a trap he’d been the one to set, it was all-but impossible, and she didn’t know what he could stand gain by watching her in tense, frigid silence until he was forced to go and tend to his daily responsibilities. Maybe this was his way of getting her used to the idea of treating him like a superior, rather than a source of irritation. Maybe he just wanted to get on her nerves.

In the latter case, it was working.

Given her situation, her isolation, Edel’s wisest choice was to stay where she was until her captor made a mistake, until her restraints were loosened her or his skepticism faltered or a chink in her cage become just big enough for her to slip through. Stay still, don’t cause trouble, then run as soon as she got the chance. She had a plan. She liked plans. It was a plan she wanted to stick to, too, but she hadn’t accounted for the identity of her captor, for the reason she was so desperate to flee, in the first place.

Silent or not, Jeret always provided more than enough motivation to do something rash, something dangerous. As long as it got her just a little further from him.

Ultimately, her resolve broke before her sense of better judgment could reinforce it. “What do you want?”

“Don’t want anythin’.” His answer was rehearsed, as if he’d been waiting for her to ask. “I’m just enjoyin’ the view. That a crime?”

The crust scratched her throat as she choked it down. Absently, she wondered how long it’d been since he’d last brought her something to drink. “Kidnapping is.”

He sighed, but the sound came out wistful, almost nostalgic. “There's no reason to be like that. You an’ your gang’s locked me up plenty of times, and I’m not holdin’ it against you.”

“You said it wasn’t about--” She cringed, suddenly, gritting her teeth as his fingers brushed against her tail, carelessly left to lay at her side. He was tracing the tip, following its spade-like pattern, and without thinking, she let the often-unruly appendage rise and whip, snapping against the back of his hand before seeking out the safety of her lap. “Don’t touch me,” She snarled, baring her teeth as Jeret barely tried to suppress a laugh. “You said it wasn’t about that, so what is it? You can’t just be keeping me alive to… to stare at me, for half the day.”

“Bet I can, if I want to,” He countered, shrugging causally, as if there wasn’t anything wrong with his answer. This time, when he reached for her tail, she was quick to pull it away, attempting to draw it behind her back, but he caught the shaft before she had the chance, taking smooth, sensitive skin and burying his nails into it, marring it, leaving small crescent-moons by the time her bound hands shot to his wrist and he reluctantly loosened his grip. Involuntarily, the appendage thrashed, attempting to free itself with harsh, graceless movements, but Jeret only clicked his tongue, eyeing her twitching tail as he went on. “You teiflings get a bad rep’, but I always thought these things were kinda cute. Fuck, might be even cuter mounted on my wall, after I chop if off your frustrating little body.” He paused, his gaze flickering towards her. “What do you think, firefly?”

She froze. Caught between the temptations to call his bluff and beg him to reconsider a threat she knew couldn’t be hollow, she didn’t know what to do - she couldn’t know what to do. Her tail fell limp, but that was hardly a comfort, Jeret’s full attention having drifted to her expression, to the way she'd gone paler than she had been, a moment ago. She opened her mouth, but if he really cared about her response, he didn’t bother listening. Instead, he was leaning in closer, watching intently as she fought the urge to flinch away. “You’re here because I want you to be here, and because if I didn’t snatch you up, someone else would. If there’s anythin’ I want to do to you, I’m gonna do it. And if you have somethin’ to say about that, I’ll take this--” There was a sharp jerk to her tail, making her wince. “--and whatever else you don’t need away. Nod if you understand, now.”

To her credit, she didn’t nod, not frantically - no, nothing about the gesture was desperate. It was slow, jerky, just bordering on mechanical, but Jeret must’ve found a drop of mercy in his shriveled, hardened heart - only offering a smile in place of a mocking comment. “C’mere,” He said, any trace of hostility gone from his tone. “Kiss and make up, before I say somethin’ you really won’t like.”

Taking a deep breath, Edel clenched her eyes shut, steeled herself, and did as she was told.

In hindsight, minding her manners might’ve been a mistake.

It felt like one, as Jeret ran his thumb over the space between skin and metal, the spot where her bruised wrists met cool, sivery steel, a layer of velvet padding the inside and a mantra of scrolling enchantments carved into the surface serving as a decorative upgrade from her last rusted, creaking pair. It was a gift, he’d said, as he forced her to stand and fastened the chain from a hook that was just a little too high on the cell’s stone wall. It was a gift. He thought he was giving her a gift.

They were supposed to be a gift, and although he hadn’t been so blatant about it, she supposed this was supposed to be one, too.

He was treating it like one, acting like he was going her a favor by digging his fingertips into the flesh of her thigh and encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist, to lock her ankles behind his back, to drag him closer and make things easier on herself in hopes that he might be kind enough to take some of the strain of her shoulders, her arms struggling to support her weight now that her feet her no longer on the ground. She’d already been stripped of the remnants of her clothes, promised something more substantial in exchange, but if Jeret had an intention of delivering his end of the bargain, he obviously didn’t feel the need to do so swiftly. In fact, he didn’t seem to feel the need to do anything.

Well, nothing she’d enjoy, at least.

“Thatta girl,” He muttered, more for his sake than hers. He was distracted, preoccupied, but she couldn’t seem to block out the feeling of calloused fingers running over her cunt, teasing her slit just to leave her equal parts disgusted and frustrated, or his touch, the way his eyes flickered from her hip to her collarbone to her cheek, his gaze soon accompanied by his free hand, his thumb prodding at the corner of her mouth, tracing the outline of her bottom lip.

She didn’t think. With a half-hearted sense of rebellon, she lurched forward, biting down on whatever she could reach, but Jeret’s stifled grimace did little to provide the satisfaction she hoped it would. “Ain’t no reason to act like that,” He went on, pouting as he pushed a slow, forceful circle into her clit, forcing her to writhe and grit her teeth before he bothered to continue. “I’m just tryin’ to make things right.”

Make things right. Make things right. It’d been a miracle that she’d managed to find a healer in time to reverse the effects of his branding - his first branding, rather, the scarred imprint of the traders he’d been working for. It’d been blissful, the cool rush of a magic that could only do good, and she relished being able to run her hand over her thigh and only feel unmarked, untouched skin.

Now, Jeret was going to relish the act of undoing her progress just as much.

She almost wished he’d just hold her down and stab something hot and glowing and searing into her, again. At least then, she already knew how long the pain would take to fade.

“I don’t--” Her voice cut off as he forced two fingers into her tight enterence, abruptly choosing to chase his goal in earnest. Like everything else he did, it was a lazy pursuit. Not ineffective, not unattentive, but lazy, slothful, almost idle in the way he watched her, his expression more curious than invested, his movements anything but impatient. She almost wished he was. If Jeret had chosen to take this task on as impulsively, as joyfully as he took on most, it would’ve been quick, it would’ve been sudden. She wouldn’t have to feel the dread welling up in the pit of her stomach, her nerves beginning to fray every time he found something new to play with and a slick, wet click echoed through the claustrophobic cell. That’s what he was doing, really - playing with her. Edel didn’t think she’d ever liked being played with. “You can’t do--”

“I can, firefly, I always can. I can do whatever I want, when it comes to you.” He pouted, shaking his head slowly, as he was disappointed she hadn’t come to understand him, yet. Leisurely, he pumped his fingers into her, setting his pace to something painfully slow that left her curling into herself, resisting the effort to buck into his hand just to get it over with. Even when he spread his fingers apart, when he aimed to scissor her open and make her whimper, make her whine, it was agonizing, the sensation falling somewhere between teasing and torturous. “What don’t you understand about that? You know I don’t care for repeatin’ myself.”

He didn’t, but at the moment, she was fond of the idea. She must’ve said it in a hundred different ways, ‘no’ and ‘don’t’ and ‘stop’, but Jeret never seemed to hear her, not as his palm ground against her clit, earning a shudder and a loud jerk against her chains, or as he pulled away, leaving her relieved and unsatisfied, at the same time. Any gratitude she might’ve found was quickly abandoned, though, replaced with the soft sounds of fabric rustling, a whispered curse as Jeret moved closer, closer, always impossibly closer. She wished he’d stay away. She’d wish he’d go anywhere but near her.

And, for a one traitorous second, she wondered why he’d ever bothered being so far away.

She shut her eyes as he leaned into her, his chest pressing against hers as he forced his cock into her cunt with a low, stifled hiss. It was awful. It was awful, and it was violating, and it was disgusting, but there was nothing Edel could do to stop herself from gasping, bowing her head as his hips grind against hers and he found a pace that suited his preference toward indulgence and his need to make her miserable. “That’s it,” He encouraged, his voice breathy, the words spoken barely a hair’s width from her ear. With his free hand, he pushed her hair back, over her shoulder and away from her face, but she couldn’t bring herself to appreciate the gesture. Not when it just made the callous brutality in his eyes so much easier to see. “Nobody’s gotta have a bad time, right now. You don’t gotta pretend to suffer.”

But she was. She was suffering every time he thrust into her, aiming for that sensitive spot inside of her, the one he’d always been too selfish to properly abuse, every time his head dipped and she could feel his parted lips against her skin, every time she felt his teeth. Compared to some beasts she’d seen, they weren’t sharpened, weren’t deadly, but that only seemed to make him more determined, to spur him forward as he bit down on the area just above her collarbone, on the tender junction of her shoulder and her throat, on her neck, delicate flesh tearing under his unexpected mania. She could feel the bruises forming, the blood dripping down her chest, staining evergreen skin and smearing across pale hands, as he absentmindedly wiped a stray trail from the corner of his mouth.

“Gonna mark you all over, this time,” He muttered, the declaration barely loud enough for her to hear. She almost missed it, she regretted that she hadn’t, but she had a feeling awareness wouldn’t make much of a difference, wouldn’t deter Jeret from fucking into her like a man possessed, from slamming her back against the wall and clamping down over her jugular. Involuntarily, she cried out, clenching around him, and Jeret let out a low growl in response, the noise reverberating against her, not allowing Edel to ignore the pressure building up in her core, the clumsy way his pelvis rubbed against her clit, the hot tongue soon running over her throat, all of it, everything. Every awful, undeniably, miserable thing.

Everything she couldn’t escape, even if she tried to.

“Never gonna let it fade again, either,” He went on, his tone softer, but no less pointed. Fond, but no less fatal. “It doesn’t matter where you are, doesn’t matter who you’re with, you’re always gonna belong to me. No one else is gonna put their hands on you, no one ‘xcept me.” There was a pause, a strong jerk to her hair, wrenching her eyes open. Forcing her to take in his crooked smile and the awful glint in his stare, whether or not she wanted to. “C’mon, firefly,” He coaxed. “I’m doing you a favor. I’m being loving. What do we say when someone’s bein’ nice?”

She could’ve struggled. She could’ve refused to speak, or cursed him out, or told him all the grisly things she’d sooner do than accept any of his favors willingly. She could’ve, but she couldn’t, at the same time. Her body was so sore, and her mind was so foggy, and more than anything, she wanted this to end. She wanted this to stop. She wanted everything to stop.

If that meant giving Jeret what he wanted, then so be it.

Her head lulled forward, coming to rest against his shoulder. She didn’t feel her lips move, didn’t register the words until they’d already passed over her tongue, but she could hear them, loud and clear. Her death sentence, spoken in her own voice.

“Thank you.”

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x oc #yandere prompts #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere scenario #yandere commission #commission #writing commission #Commision #comission #writing comission #yanderecore #yancore

46 notes · View notes