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shinjisdone · 2 months

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𝒯𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒮𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈

(A Yandere Pinocchio X fem!Reader fic from Lies of P)

Pɑɾt 1; Sluɱbeɾ

capitolo uno

capitolo due

capitolo tre

capitolo quattro

capitolo cinque

capitolo sei

capitolo sette

Capitolo otto

capitolo nove

capitolo dieci: is here

Pɑɾt 2; Awɑƙeƞiƞƍ

It was a privilege to share the same blood as Giuseppe Geppetto. To be his family, his niece and take part in the marvelous worlds of puppets. The privilege to learn from him as his apprentice. The privilege to care for the things he cares for and to have the things he cares for, care deeply for you.

Tag list:

@greeknerd007 , @mitsureigen , @kame11a , @thirdblogsacharm , @sarah22447 , @blueberryhitosh1, @written1nthest4rs , @huicitawrites , @wonderlace19

TW in general: Yandere behaviour, creepy and still puppet, dubious intentions and relationships

[TW for this one specifically include: puppets, puppet limbs, moving and talking doll, uneasy behavior, dubious intentions, burnout, exhaustion, slight depression, grief, crying, uncomfortable tension, creepy behaviour, slight disassociation from Geppetto's part, coercion (to force you to have something you do not want + face something emotionally and physically), mentions of liquids (oil and adhesives), reader is having something akin to a panic attack (panting, slipping, and swallowing down vomit)]

The rattling echoed in the hallway with one cable slipping out of the cage and falling on the floor. Its head dragged along with an hesitant motion as more was taken. Finally, the metal plate was given a gentle push and it closed before the chest was carefully forced back into the cabinet.

"I'm...sorry," You tried to smile but it hardly beared any kind of regret, "I'll return it once I'm done, I promise. I can fix you up in no time, after all. I've long achieved the title of expert in this regard. I think." Your smile was met with artificial ones as the puppet butlers remained motionless, hunched close together in the tight furniture. The previous clothes had to be removed for them to fit in. You gently closed the door without looking back.

Quickly going upstairs, you put the box on your worktable and let the tangled wires hang from the edges. Sorting everytging out will be tedious but what got your attention right now, was the small, golden cube. The core looked just as intact as it did months ago, reminding you of its longevity the Workshop Union promised when first introducing it and when Uncle first showed you the object. The mere thought of puppets being able to talk made your heart jump out of your chest and you could only believe it when hearing it for yourself. Many were put off by the prototype's rough voice but you were only mesmerized.

Aurorie sat next to the project, eagerly awaiting your hand as you took her small one and rose her up to her feet. With a slight hitch, the material bent briefly before the limps stayed fastened and she stood firm on her legs. You observed for a while, smiling with a big sigh as she stayed still and began connecting the cables. Even as you opened up her back and rummagered near her neck, the doll did not falter, which only made you smile more. Putting the box near and adjusting the microphone, you let Aurorie avidly waiting.

She stood tall as she stared into your eyes as you took a deep breath.

"Would you like to dance?"

Half a minute passes as you held your breath not have it fawn over the microphone. Staring at the box, the golden frames glowed lightly in the dim room. However Uncle managed to create such seemingly beyond this realm was still a mystery to you.

"...Would you like to dance?"

Your voice was mimicked much higher, resembling that of a bell, just like you wanted it. Though your hesitation was also carried over and so you gave it another shot.

"I'm awfully sorry...I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's just that we've met once before. Once upon a dream."

Inhaling deeply, you lifted her arm and held onto her small palm. Gingerly you slowly pulled her towards the right. Her body would first lean to it, before, surely, one foot after another followed suit. Her steps were small but graceful, giving the illusion of her walking all on her own - or rather dancing as she followed your lead.

"...I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream..."

Even as she danced to the rythm you gave her, the voice echoed back fluently. High-pitched and fitting for a doll her size, high enough to not have it be recognizable as your voice.

"...That glint in your eyes is so familiar, a gleam..."

Cracking a wide grin you carefully got up from your stool and daringly dragged her across the entire table as she danced towards each direction you pulled her. Hooking another finger around her other palm, you'd lightly hold her up as her legs would cross like a ballerina.

"And I know it's true that visions are seldom, all they seem...but if I know you, I'll know what you do..."

You held out a hand near her waist to stop any fall but Aurorie twirled lovingly as you turned her, bringing up one leg just like you programmed. It was meticulously soft but each movement, no matter how slow, made your heart swell. You made this. You made your dearest friend dance and sing just you always did with her, for her and now can do so together.

She is a singing, dancing doll that you made with your own hands.

"You'll love me at once, the way you did once, upon a dream!"

For the finale, you slightly pressed your finger against the back of her head and she bowed.

The rain did everythig in its might to squash him down.

Alas, it was more like an annoying fly in his ear. Rain was nothing compared to that man and his company, alongside his loyal companions who believe themselves to be divine. Having reached the door, the prattling from the sky above seemed to become louder.

Ergo, was it?

'I know what you're thinking. Trust me when I say time is scarce and you should know better than anyone else. We are creating perfection and cannot afford to hold it back any longer for your little projects.'

It fell from the sky, did it?

'You were the one who came to me and I have done my part and more. Be a dear and fulfill your part of the contract, Guiseppe. Hurry up and get rid of anyone not trustworthy. The puppets will do the rest.'

Did it not need more? Love? A father?

The only one fullfilling him with anything was waiting like a good child. Everyone else seemed so disappointing.

'You don't need anyone else anyway, no?'

His voice echoed in the back of his head as he pushed the door open and it left him dazed; Not knowing if he was still calling out to him as a means to motivate him further, push him further into madness - fear and mockery are great motivaters - or if he is just going senile.

Geppetto cannot afford any more years to waste. He's not the youngest anymore but he needs to be to welcome him back.

Like a mantle the drenched clothes weighed him down and he could not help but let out a groan. He slid off his cloak and let the rest fall onto the floor, his long strides taking him to his office. It was routine by now.

Eyes darted around the hallway he passed but barely took in any information he he sees. The mess in the kitchen and remaining food, the disarray of chairs and the cabinet not entirely closed. The only thing that made him blink and sharpen his vision was the constant knocking at his office door. Your clothes, sloppily worn as well as untidy your untidy hair faced him and he inadvertantly had to stop in his tracks. For a moment he realized that you had turned around as well to face him.

"...(Name)?"

You said nothing and continued to stare at him with that surprised look. You looked as unruly as you did from behind. The only things kept in neat order the bandages around your hand, which seem to have become thinner - how long would you were it and did you even need them anymore - and your loyal doll.

His visage softened at the sight of it, though he delfated right after.

"Oh...you weren't home."

"What do you need, dear? I'm afraid I'm awfully busy."

"I thought so...I, uhm, just wanted to check up on you. We haven't talked in long."

"And I don't know if we can." Geppetto passed by you and opened his office's door. You quickly followed after him. "I'm still as busy as ever. Just tell me what you need." Closing the door, you watched Geppetto sit down with a heavy sigh. He wiped his face, then his eyes as they seemed as tired as yours. Wordlessly, he turned in his chair to you. The expression on his face could only be described as drooping. Awaiting for the night to draw closer so he can finally close his eyes.

Rushing over to the other side of the desk, you placed Aurorie on top of it, facing your uncle. He sat with an empty look, staring down at your doll. With an avoidant gaze you held onto both of her hands.

"...It's nothing much if you are so tired, Uncle." "No," he sighed, "show me while you are already here." Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you gingerly lifted her up by her palms. In an moment, she stood on her feet and Geppetto briefly raised a brow. Clearing your throat, you tapped her head.

"What's the meaning behind this-"

"Hello, Mr Geppetto!"

Geppetto halted and blinked. With a deep inhale, he sat up straighter.

It talked. It was a recording of your voice, he could tell, no matter how high-pitched it sounded. Nevertheless, you never had any puppet talk in script before and even if it wasn't its own consciousness, it left him surprised.

After all, it didn't have any Ergo.

"I'm awfully sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

It stretched a hand out.

"But I am just a doll. I like to sing and dance. Would you like to dance?"

Your finger found its outstretched palm and lead it back to you. She took long but careful steps. You glimpsed back at him, watching him raise a brow. Carefully, he slowly let out.

"...Yes. I'd like to see what you can do."

"Yes!" It answered much more solemnly than the man and began raising one foot. Gingerly, you began to guide her in a circle. Her legs would go up and down as her head never turned away from Geppetto. The voice box reacted a moment later.

"When you wish upon a star..."

It was this song. Quickly you let her dance in a slower pace and with much more vigor.

Geppetto's eyes widened at the familiar melody.

"Makes no difference who you are..."

HIs brown eyes trailed after the movements that replicated those of a waltz, he reckoned. One-sided and of an lone dancer though it tried its best to make up for an lacking partner by using his entire desk as its stage.

"Anything your heart desires..."

The shoes tapped on the wood in rythm. By the time the refrain was reached, he hunched lower, forward, staring with a keen eye as its moves became almost life-like, as if these giant human hands guiding it are just for show itself. The singing voice was as clear as a bell and its head would turn with the body. The two parts have seperate screws. The voice box hidden and placed somehow between the crinoline and the dress. The most eye-catching thing out of all for the man were the light limbs that must been taking apart, added joints - so tiny that he did not possess any so small so what did you built in there - and reconstructed it entirely to its original shape visually for it to move so naturally.

His hand went from his chin to the doll. Worldlessly he opened his palms and neared them to its hands - you halted for a moment, staring at him. Hesitating, you let Aurorie tap towards him and he took the lead.

"...Will come to you."

Geppetto fully let the doll have his attention as he mimicked your moves. Just like before it danced over the desk, twirled and bowed, left to right and back and forth, just as he wanted it to. A fine display of a doll obeying the puppeteer.

Then, he let one hand go. Like a dog on a leash, Aurorie is dragged by one finger to one direction to the next. His hold lingered only for a second, before he snapped his finger away and it was left with no puppetteer to guide it.

It stumbled but with a thud Aurorie landed on one foot, the other bend behind it. The upper body leaned forward.

If a puppet was pushed, you could make it regain its balance.

"If your heart is in your dream..."

His hand swept from the left and took it back on stage as he pushed and pushed and pushed it further back. It backed off with small but secure enough steps before it retained its posture, straight as a candle.

If a puppet was hit by a force, it could recover.

"...No request is too extreme..."

Hand in a claw, he dragged it forward before stopping it a second later with a flat palm. Aurorie did while swinging slightly in its spot. Once the limbs stayed still, the voice box finished the last verse before ceasing as well. Like a mountain, it stood tall on his desk, staring into nothing.

You glimpsed between it and Geppetto.

And you could make the limbs move, give an arm autonomy.

Folding his hands, he had his chin rest on them once again as he eyed Aurorie for a few, silent seconds before parting his lips ever so slightly.

"Sing, doll."

The silence continued on. Ever so quiet ticking could be heard within its body and only a moment later was a high "Yes!" let out. The ticks returned briefly before the voice box echoed from the dress.

"...Little wooden head go play your part, bring a little joy to every heart,"

The old man observed it without interruption. It stood still and away from the two of you, creepily even but the voice singing was smooth and assured. Its face might not be able to move, the rosy lips not parting to let out a melody, the eyes set firm like stone but nothing seemed awry to Geppetto as he heard the jolly song.

"Little do you know and yet it's true,"

Finally, he blinked his tired eyes and slowly rose them to you.

"That I'm mighty proud of you!"

"Uncle?" You spoke in between the mirthful verses with your own worried and shaking voice. You stared wide and pale into his narrowed, strait ones. He kept on staring.

Quickly, however, like a sudden draught, he took a deep breath and wiped his nose. "Sorry, my dear," Geppetto cleared his throat and had his wide eyes focus on you, "You caught me zoning out. Today was mighty exhausting, but..." Once again his gaze fell on the doll. It stayed there for a a good few seconds before he began speaking in a sober voice. "...this is a big change now. Something different."

"Oh..." You hesitate, eyes darting around the room briefly before lookng back at him with an hesitant smile. Your voice was quieter than his. "Do - do you like it?"

A finger flicked the doll's locks, gaze glued on it.

"I do."

Your chuckle was as dry as his answer.

"That's great, great. I...wanted to have something to cheer me up a bit," Looking down you fiddled with the bandages on your hand, "I thought maybe it'd make you smile, too."

"Why did you want to make this out of all things?"

Your eyes locked with his crinkled ones, brown seeming to be an endless spiral that you couldn't quite decipher. Again, you glimpsed about before answering. "...I don't know. I saw that at the festival about a month ago and I loved it - but the day turned horrible and," A soft sigh escaped you, "I just, didn't want that to be. I wanted to have fun that day but I ruined it for myself." Looking back, Geppetto could clearly make out your deep frown through his failing vision, an frown so big he had not seen it in years.

"...It's sweet that you dedicate so much of your time for something as droll as a dancing, singing doll."

At that you could not fight the cracking grin. Folding your hands behind your back, you shyly looked away.

"Well...of course. I love her."

Brown eyes, strait and narrowed, opened up like an old door, a secret so well hidden and unknown to the rest of humanity, to the rest of these arrogant bastards, as his eyes widened like that of an child - told of an tale that only he could understand.

The man's head rose as he took in on all that you were, your features so familiar and clear as the first time he held your crying form in his arms, watched as he realized that you, too, could partake in this secret and understand it as well.

"You love her?"

You smiled bashfully once more with an firm nod. "Of course."

"...And you made all this by just observing the perfomance of these other puppets?"

"Ah, yes, well...I suppose. I did some more research though, I didn't just etch that all in my mind."

A short sigh escaped Geppetto as he leaned back in his chair. He hesitated for a bit, a mere moment as he pondered, before slowly getting up. Standing in front of you, the man was unsure on how to approach yet one thing was clear. Folding his hands behind his back as well, he took a deep breath.

"Puppets need love to be created. And love is formed by an genuine wish, my dear."

A brow was raised at his sudden claim. Wit perked ears you listened as he stood there, seemingly staring through you.

"Something as beautiful and heartfelt like puppets can only be created by love. Anything else or below that just makes them tools."

Carefully, he rested his hand on your shoulder and slowly but surely gained the confidence to tighten his grasp. "But we puppet makers do not fall so low. We don't bury ourselves in work just to make some helpful tools, we create things because we desire to! We do the things we do because we love them." Staring back you noted the glint in his dark eyes that do not reach his smile. Another moment of silence filled the room, one where you could not find any words to reply to his sudden but mellow vigor but your uncle was quick to draw back and reach for his desk. "Can I show you something? No, I want to." He opened a drawer before cautiously taking out a piece of paper. Dusting it off, his lips tucked wider. Swiftly, he offered it to you.

With hesitant hands you took it.

A crayon painting of Aurorie.

Your eyes darted around the long, curly locks of hair that waved about in an ridiculous manner. The bright baby blue that was all over the place, as well as the giant tiara sitting on top of her head. Kind eyes and a red smile.

Bandaged fingers carressed the bottom of the paper.

'For my annoying cousin, (Name).'

Your heart dropped.

"This, too, was created out of love."

The ticking of the grandfather clock seemed as light as a bird's dying chrip. The room drowned out. The carpet under your feet nothing but a blotch of red and the smell of the mahogany table so sickening you held your breath. All you could focus on was the crude drawing of your beloved doll and how starkly similiar it looked to the real deal despite the childish doodling and exaggeratedness. The hair, dress, tiara, and smile were all meant for you. The signature had wild scribbles around the word 'annoying' as if he really wanted to hide it even as he failed to.

'For my annoying cousin, (Name).'

Did he really dislike you that much?

Did he really love you that much?

"...When did...he make this?" Discreetly you gasped for air, a mere moment to even find your voice even as your heart spoke before your brain could stop it. "...After your fight when you left back home in the holidays. I brought the doll to you the next time we visited your father."

Gepetto spoke so calmly but none of his words were any news to you. Of course, you thought, you recalled the joy clearly when you held her in your arms for the first time. You knew how old the two of you were but not once did he cross your mind when you got her - and played with her every day after that. The thought of him doing something like that for you, however, made your heart stop. Taking a deep breath you swallowed the lump in your throat. No miracle in the world could conjure a smile on your face - all you could offer was a crooked grin to your uncle.

"It's beautiful." Facial muscles ached and the crack in your voice made you look nothing but a sham but you meant it, you did, and you hoped desperately with an aching chest that Geppetto would see it too. Let the only other man who knew him understand you as well. He, in turn, arched a brow and glimpsed between your face and the drawing you held.

"Do you love it?"

"I do." Another crack followed by a sniffle and the man was quick to come closer and grab your shoulder. "I know. I know you do now. Don't cry, dear. Don't cry. It wouldn't suit you." Wiping your nose, you blinked like a maniac to surpress the tears. The lump in your throat got bigger as your chest was trying to suck you in whole again, a deep sinkhole caving in as if nothing could sate its selfish hunger. It felt more upsetting to have Uncle see through you so easily like glass. All your emotions out on display like a tray of food and out of all people, he was the one feasting on them. Looking over the variety that he could freely choose from.

Instead, he took a step back and watched you stiffle your sobs with a drab expression. "It's alright, dear. You can keep it if you like. It was meant as a reference sheet for me but I believe it was ulltimately made for you."

With a deep breath, you shakily let it out. Clearing your throat you looked at him, misty-eyed. Everything felt like it was crushing you down, including him. "Are you sure?" You sounded like a wounded bird and hated it. He offered a friendlier smile and nodded. "Of course."

Nodding yourself, you drew the paper closer to you. However should a precious treasure like this be kept, you wondered. Crushed as you were, you were unsure if you could fold it properly to keep it, or have it preserved somewhere safe - in an treasure chest itself and nothing less appropiate.

You were not sure if you even wanted to keep it.

Still, words needed to be forced out, "Thank you, Uncle Geppetto." You sniffled again and dared not to look at him - unaware of how he stared down at you for moments that felt like an eternity. The taste of your snot was awful and salty, the paper between your fingers so thin but sharp, either destined to fall to the ground or cut you and spill more blood. The ticking of the clock something you did not hesitate to despise. Everything seemed so wrong and disgusting. With enough bravery and integrity, you peeked from beneath your tears to his hollow gaze. You've never seen his eyes swirl in such darkness.

You prepared yourself to speak but Geppetto was faster as he hastily drew his breath. "I knew that you would understand. Only puppet makers can understand other puppet makers. Thank you for that, my dearest niece." He paused as he mulled over his next words, "...You don't have anything else to do, do you? Of course not, you've got to rest your hand."

Before you could interrupt, he gestured towards his office door with the one hand and fished out a key from his breast pocket with the other.

"There's something else I'd like to show you. Perhaps you could help me."

How one earth could footsteps sound so dismal?

A place lit by lamps so dark?

The hallway you raced over and over and over again lose all meaning and familiarity, like falling out of love and being presented with a stranger?

Your shoes thumped against the carpet one step after the next. You focused on keeping the rythm in tact, your good hand cradling Aurorie while your bandaged one grasped the crayon drawing. Uncle's gray coat always in front of you with great distance. This walk felt like an eternity as well as you wanted nothing more but for it to be over. To close your eyes and be back in your room as if nothing had happened.

"...That song you taught the doll..." Barely you could lift your head up to Geppetto musing. As long as you could hear him, you'd be fine continuing to stare at the floor. "...You two often sang it." Your eyes flickered up to his head slightly turned to your direction but not fully seeing you. Meekly you nodded. "Mhm. It was from that book..."

"A book?"

"...Yes. The adventures of that boy that lied...it had pages with just the song written all over it, it had a fairy that made wishes come true all in blue and, yeah," You nodded along even though he did not see it, "...It was sweet...and good."

The click of the key made you halt like a train. It took a good moment for the door to creak open with your uncle's figure blocking your view. It hit the wall with a thump, startling you and leaving you wondering if the door always was made out of such heavy material in the past. Lighting a lamp, the man gestured towards the darkness below before promptly going down. With a deep breath you pressed your doll closer to you, crinkling the drawing in your hand and gingerly followed.

The creaking your steps would leave was heavier than that of the door, old wood soon replaced by metal that thumped harrowlingly. The air felt stiffer and colder and the room seemed to broaden the deeper you marched down, though that was only a guess. A gut feeling as your uncle was still the only light you could count on.

"Carlo really loved you, you know?"

Geppetto's words left a shiver running down your spine.

"He'd always ask when you'd come back. When the next holidays might be and if you and your family would visit Krat so he could show you more and more. More of what I made."

A long and echoing chuckle escaped him. The thumping continued.

"'How many more sleeps until (Name) comes back?'"

Goosebumps over your arms as the cold sunk deep into your bones.

"He just had a hard time showing it. Carlo is an emotional boy and you know how they get when they grow."

The thumping stopped. You almost bumped into him if he had not swiftly went around the corner and turned on the light. Squinting your eyes at the blinding sight, you were met red and white. A fine, slim, green carpet starting from the staircase and rolled towards the end of the room. Working tables at each side of the walls shaped to a circle with all kinds of tools, parts, material, liquids, adhesives and puppet limbs on them. Lamps symmetrically facing each other on the walls with a few loveseats and wardrobes and small furniture scattered in the basement. Assembly instructions were pinned on a few tables. It smelled of oil and you jumped back when you stepped on documents soaked in some other liquid.

Shrinking, you pressed your belongings further into you. "Uncle...what do you want to show me here? What could I possibly help with?" You tried to laugh but it was squashed by the sound puppet limbs slipping off a table. The porcelain white material was oozing out adhesives.

Hastily you hurried after your uncle. Your shaking feet stumbled as they tried to catch up with his long, calm gait. A red grand drape from the left ot the right covered the end of the room with a bright light peeking from the ground. You eyed it skeptically as your uncle abruptly reached for a switch on the left and the drapes slowly opened. The lamp hanging from the ceiling was the brightest and shown down on the red loveseat like in a play, letting the world know of the star of its show - an otherworldliness that would change a mortal's life for the rest of time.

The lump in your throat turned into bile that rose to your mouth as your uncle stood to the side, the show's light casting a shadow that reached the basement's dark corners. You kept on swallowing it down, down, down, blinking away the tears as your hands reached for something, anything - coming into a contact to the edge of an table to the far right and grasping it with all your might. Wide, burning eyes darted between the dark silhouette and the star sitting oh so peacefully on the loveseat. Shining vibrantly under the light as if it were an angelic being, even with the simple and plain blouse and trousers it adorned. The room spinned and the quietness was the noose cutting your neck from your head, your mind.

"What is that?" You licked your lips as you gasped for air. The older man still took his time to speak. "This," He began nice and slow, almost in an trance when blinded by the star itself, "This is the most special thing I have created yet. Something that will change our world." He reached for the headrest, his fingers grazing the locks, and pushed it further down to have its peaceful face drink in the light, causing you to shoot up your hand to your mouth to swallow down your gall.

"He's not complete yet. There are so many things to consider, so many things to do to make him perfect. He needs to be." Finally, he turned to you, his face obscured by shadows. Your uncle offered you his hand. "Come, take a closer look at this miracle."

The weight you shifted onto the table made you slip curtly before you could quickly get on wobbly feet. With shaking arms you squeezed your doll and drawing to you and walked with a hunched back, agape mouth and slow steps that will be the death of you. Seeing this thing any more closer would be your death. The sight of these featherly light lids closed as if resting in a tranquil slumber made your eyes burn and heave for air that did not reek of oil and dust. The bushy, black eyebrows free from all worries and not arched down when lookng at you. Seeing the short, and unkempt locks of hair kept exactly as he did as a youngster, dark and thick as the midnight sky, that would often fall over his crinkled eyes, and ever so gently weave with every pant you took had you cover your mouth and eyes for moment. You needed a moment - please, please, - to not go mad and fall down on this thing's feet. Gingerly opening one eye, as if one look at it would curse you, your watery gaze travelled up and down its face. There was a clear bone structure to be seen around the jaw and cheek bones. You feared it might be felt too for how real it seemed, how the shadows were cast on the rest of its neck, that did not pulse, and the white, flawless blouse lovingly placed on its figure. The lips were full and pink with something that could not be paint - you swore it on your life - and neither could the perfect, glass skin be. A familiar teint that almost made you urge to reach out and touch it.

The nose was a perfect shape, littered with heavy and dark freckles that began from the chin and travelled up to the even forehead. They congegrated the most across the cheeks, like stars in the sky that created a constellation. A few small, lone stars were near and on its lips.

Carlo didn't have any freckles.

"Uncle, what is that?" Your voice cracked as you stifled a sob. The man in turn, only strode to the thing's side. One hand on the head rest and the other on the arm rest. He was careful not to touch it. "A miracle, I've told you. He is special and he needs to be completed." His voice was laced in something you wished to forget. The times where he chastised you, when he stared at you with such disappointment, when he completely looked down on your injured hand that his puppet caused. "He barely knows the outside world. The legion arm keeps falling out of his socket and the lad doesn't know how to talk and walk." Instinctively, you snapped your head to the metal arm to the right, fastened by belts on the upper arm to keep it from falling. It was thicker than the other limbs, littered with golden joints and much more advanced than any other puppet part you have ever seen.

With fear in your wide eyes, you looked back to Geppetto.

He looked back with an small and expectant gaze. In his hand, an opened box with a golden clump in it, the thick cables hanging from the edges. A clock was installed, ticking away.

"Something as special as him needs love to blossom into what he needs to become. He needs you, (Name)."

𝐸𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝟷; 𝑆𝑙𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟

#yandere lies of p #Lies of p #lies of p x reader #lies of p pinocchio #yandere pinocchio #Pinocchio #Lies of p pinocchio x reader #Pinocchio x reader #P x reader #Yandere #my writing #my fanfiction #ticking springs

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cerise-on-top · 2 months

Note

Heyhey..h um could you write some fluff/comfort with reader x 2bhank? Pretty pls? Like where the reader has been depressed(?)/burnt out for a few months and has been going on less and less missions and one day just refuses to leave their room for one self deprecating reason or another so 2b and hank try making them feel better in their own ways

Very self indulgent request I know but sometimes you gotta give yourself a little treat <:]

Hey! Sorry, I sort of misread this and thought you wanted 2BHank helping a burnt out reader, so I wrote that instead ^^; Again, I'm really sorry about that!

2BHank with a Burnt-Out!S/O

For as dense as Hank could be most of the time, even he can tell that you haven’t been doing too well as of late. At first he’d think you were just sick and needed some time to rest, which meant he would take on the missions you would have gone on otherwise. He was a competent grunt in his field, he could accomplish just about any task given to him. 2B, while he could sense that something was up with you, would let Hank do just that so you could recover a bit. He didn’t think you were just sick, he somehow could feel that it was something worse, something that wouldn’t go away by just letting you rest for a few days, but he left it at that. After all, you did go on missions again, some with Hank, Sanford or Deimos, some on your own. However, at some point, you just hid away from everyone, shying away from the dim light of the sun as well. Hank wanted to see you, he really did, but you wouldn’t open your door. Why? Were you doing alright? It was obvious you had been “sick” again as of late, but even he stopped buying it at some point. While he wouldn’t be too concerned about your physical wellbeing, you could handle yourself in a fight, he’d kick the door in anyway to see if you were there in the first place.

Lo and behold, you were in your room after all, lying under the blanket, not moving, merely sighing as you heard the door fall. Polite as he could be, Hank picked up the door and leaned it against the wall before walking up to you and sitting down on your bed. He’s not usually one for too much talk, but he would ask you what’s wrong, why you didn’t open the door and why you’ve been “sick” so often as of late. He won’t judge you, but he just wants to know the reasons. When you tell him you’ve simply been burnt out on it all, he wouldn’t know what you mean. Hank genuinely doesn’t know what burnout is, so you’d have to explain it to him. But even then, I don’t think he’d really understand the gravity of the situation. You’re tired? Then take some time off. He tries, but it’s not that simple.

The open door would catch 2B’s attention and he’d enter to check up on you, involving himself in the conversation as well. He, too, would ask you how you’ve been feeling and what has been the matter. When you tell him you’re pretty sure you’re burnt out, he’ll sit down on the bed and ask you how he could help. He may not be an expert by any means, but at the very least he knows that this will likely be something that will last a long time. Although he may not be too happy about that, he won’t push you to be better immediately. Will also explain the situation to Hank, whose gears have started turning. If you know how they can help you, that’s great. There’s no one solution that fits all. A few people at S.Q. have been burnt out from all the missions they had to go on, so you’re definitely not the first.

2B will let you rest for the time being. If you ever feel up to it, then he’ll send you on a small mission that doesn’t involve too much danger, such as picking something up from a vendor. However, he won’t have you fight for your life while you’re burnt out, those tasks will be left to Hank and the others. 2B will also be checking up with you more often. He’s not the best with his words when it comes to more emotional things, but he tries. Will comfort you to the best of his ability and won’t stress you out about all those things. You need rest, that much is obvious, so he’ll let you have just that. S.Q. will continue to perform. If anyone ever talks badly about you, then they’ll be sent to him and will have a stern talking to. No one will talk shit about you as long as he has something to say about it. Overall, he’ll be very compassionate about it all. If you need something from him, he’ll give it to you, just give him the word.

When it comes to slowly reintroducing you to small things, it will actually be Hank who does that. He just really wants to spend time with you and 2B, but you’ve been so distant as of late. But he remembers 2B’s words and won’t force you to do anything, but will ask you if you’re up for something small. This might start out with something along the lines of playing cards or board games with him. If you say yes he’s actually over the moon and his metaphorical tail will start wagging. Slowly, he’ll bring you more and more things to do. New things for you to try, and old things you used to enjoy before you got burnt out. Naturally, there’s no pressure from his side, he just really wants to have an excuse to spend time with you. And if you simply do something along the lines of knitting while he’s sitting on the floor, just watching you, then he’s content.

Overall, neither of them will blame you for what happened. In fact, they’ll try to help you to get better again. If you ever just want the two of them to stay with you, then you can ask them to. Of course, if they’re going on a mission, then they won’t have too much time to cuddle with you. However, you’re more than welcome to call on either, or both, of them to just get something off your chest as well, they’re more than happy to listen. 2B and Hank just wanna see you smile again. If it takes a lot of time, then so be it, but they both just hope things will go back to how they used to be. They’ll both do just about anything for you, so don’t be afraid to ask them for anything at all, you’ll likely get it eventually.

#madness combat #madness combat x reader #madness combat doc #doc x reader #hank j wimbleton #hank j wimbleton x reader #2bhank x reader #got to learn a thing or two about burnout today which was nice #now I have a better understanding of it than I did before #again I'm really sorry for misreading your request!!#it's nice to have another madcom request though it's been a while since the last one #I do like cod a lot but sometimes it's nice to have some variety #sometimes I'm also curious about what fandom will come after cod #because cod came after Madness Combat #my fixations usually last for roughly a year before I move onto something new #so I have another three or four months of cod before I get into something new. probably #I was really into madcom for roughly one year. like really really into it #even now I really like it and am looking forward to another episode #I wonder if I'll be writing this many requests for the new fandom as well #well only one way to find out

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mayhem-neverending · 8 months

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The Big Bad Wolf

Summary: Obito survives the fourth shinobi war, and with Kakashi's help, is sent to live in the forest surrounding Konoha. He's a prisoner in his home, the property warded so that no one can enter or exit without the Hokage's explicit permission.

After two years, Kakashi can't ignore the fact that his old friend is wasting away in his home. Thankfully, though, he finds someone (reluctantly) willing to help bring him back to health.

Also, I know that his hair turns white, but I'm keeping it black here. Annnd there are cell phones in this au. I'm pretty sure those are the only major changes I'm making.

Obito Uchiha x Fem!Reader

Warnings: single mother reader, slowburn, angst, canon violence, depression, Uchiha bullshittery, mentions of abuse, alcohol usage, sexual themes

Part I

Word count: 1266

Note: New WIP because my brain can't focus. This is incredibly self-indulgent, because I am a slut for Obito. I will be back on my other WIP soon, I promise. This came to me after I read a fic on AO3, although I can't remember the name.

The Hokage’s tower was intimidating. It was your first time stepping foot anywhere near it in years, and you wondered if it had somehow risen in height. You adjusted your button up and slacks, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

You navigated the busy hallways swiftly, muscle memory kicking in when your brain wanted to give up. You found yourself in front of the door to the Hokage’s office in a flash, and knocked before you could psych yourself out.

“Come in,”

You opened the door and stepped through, eyes wandering around the room. It looked much the same as it had a few years ago and the familiarity eased some of your nerves. The man in front of you wasn’t necessarily an unfamiliar face, either, and his smile further calmed you.

“Y/n L/n, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen you,”

You smiled politely at him from your spot near the door. “It has,”

He gestured you forward. “Come, sit,”

You settled yourself down in the chair across from him, and he folded his hands on the desk.

“Thank you for coming in today,”

“Thank you for having me, Lord Sixth,”

“Call me Kakashi,” He waved his hand.

You just managed to keep your disapproving look from fully forming on your face. “Yes, sir,”

He rolled his eyes playfully. It made you shift a bit uncomfortably. You had never been close to the man, and when you had known him, he had been much more serious. He seemed to sense your discomfort, and switched back to a more professional tone.

“So, you’re here for the personal assistant position, correct?”

You nodded.

“Before we continue, I would like to make you aware that this position is not as an assistant to me,”

You frowned, confused. Who would be so important that the Hokage himself would interview for them? Surely he was incredibly busy. It was clearly evident that the aftermath of the war was still weighing heavily on Konoha’s government, even two years later.

He continued, “A close friend of mine has been struggling, and I believe hiring him some help is the least I can do,”

You nodded, curiosity replacing the nerves that had lingered. He drummed his fingers on the desk, eyes cast aside in contemplation. After a moment of silence, he started again, “I suppose I should re-title the position,” His eyes slid to yours. “It’s more of a caretaker job,”

Now you were really confused. “What exactly would I be doing?”

“Cooking, housework, grocery shopping, etc,”

Your lips quirked up and you nodded. You would call yourself an expert in those things after the last two years you had had. “And what would the hours look like?”

“Monday through Friday, starting at 8:30am and ending when you finish your tasks. The position is salary,”

He was ticking off each of your boxes the more he spoke. But, after struggling to find a job that fit all your needs for the past six months, you were quick to hold back your excitement. You were tired of being disappointed when you either didn’t get it, or something just wouldn’t work.

“That sounds like a good deal to me,”

His eyes crinkled into his little half-moon smile. “I’m glad to hear it. I have to ask, what brings you here today?”

“My current job just isn’t a good fit, and I want something that feels more rewarding - like I’m making a difference… I wouldn’t be upset about a pay raise, either.” You half-shrugged.

Kakashi chuckled. “I hear you. What do you think qualifies you for this position? I know it’s a bit different than what I advertised, so don’t worry about taking a second to answer,”

You shook your head, a little smile on your lips. “I’m more qualified for this type of work than what you advertised, so I can answer easily.”

You straightened up in the chair. “Before the last six months, I was a stay at home mom. I handled every piece of housework, managed our finances, did the shopping for the three of us, and took care of my son. It’s almost second nature to me to manage a household now,”

Kakashi nodded. “I was wondering about the gap in your resume,”

You quirked a brow. “Are you telling me you didn’t do a thorough background check before bringing me in here?”

He smiled widely, a sparkle in his eye. “Now there’s the little chunin I remember,”

You smiled bashfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“No, I have extensive investigations performed for each person before they enter this office for an interview. I like to see who is honest with me when I ask questions, though,”

You ignored the urge to roll your eyes. “Well, based on mine, how much of a chance do you think I have to get this job?”

He hummed. “Pretty high, I’d say,”

You perked up.

He tapped a tinger to his chin. “Actually, since you caught me, I think it’s only fair to offer it to you, if you want it,”

You blinked in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded, his face sobering quite suddenly. “Although I can’t divulge why at the moment, you are my first choice out of all of the applicants.”

You looked at him in bewilderment, but held your questions in. His eyes flickered around the room. He scratched the back of his head, and brought the smile back to his face.

“Starting pay is seventy-five thousand a year, would that be sufficient?”

It took you a moment to respond. Your head was spinning with the possibilities that would open up to you with that kind of money. The foremost thought in your mind, though, was: I won’t have to struggle anymore.

You finally managed a nod. “More than,”

“Perfect, how soon can you start?”

“Uhh, Monday, probably,”

He started to say something else, but you accidentally interrupted him with your next question. “Who am I supposed to be taking care of?”

Kakashi met your gaze with intensity. He searched your eyes for a long moment, and you tried so very hard not to shrink into yourself. After an eternity, he let loose a heavy sigh. His reaction was making your nerves rise back up at full force.

“Your.. ward, for lack of a better term, is.. Obito Uchiha,”

Your jaw dropped and you stopped breathing, your mind going completely blank. When your thoughts finally filtered in again, your first coherent thought was: So that’s the catch?

Why would you be his first choice for a war criminal’s babysitter? Kami, what would your family say if they found out just who you were working with? Despite your negative internal dialogue, you couldn’t help but think about the money. It would do you so much good, even if you only worked the job for a year or two.

You scrubbed a hand over your face in a jerky movement. It wasn’t much of a debate. You would benefit far more by taking the job than denying it. A sudden thought popped up - something that you should have thought of right off the bat.

“What if he tries to hurt me?”

Kakashi frowned, but his eyes were understanding. “He won’t. I wouldn’t have created the position if I thought he would try something.”

You nodded slowly. It tracked. He didn’t fight at the frontlines during the Fourth Shinobu War to put his people in danger. You knew he was a good man.

“Okay,” you said quietly.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” It was hardly more confident than the first.

“Alright, let’s go over the details then,”

Part II

#Uchiha #Obito Uchiha #Kakashi Hatake #x reader #y/n #Naruto #narutoverse #Obito Uchiha x reader #Obito x reader #au #obito lives

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fragmentating · 2 months

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Honestly not much radicalized me in regards to bodily autonomy the way being a chronic selfharmer for 10+ years has. And one of those things that really are so awful to deal with is a lack of privacy.

When I go inpatient and they ask me if I have wounds, and I answer honestly, they dont just write that down. They make me undress and show each single one, otherwise I wont be "processed" and let into my room.

In the underage psych ward I was in they would sometimes search the rooms of known selfharmers while we were away at a therapy appointment, or seeing family in the visitation room, etc. They wouldn't tell you. They would lie about it if you asked about it. But all your shit had been moved around slightly, enough for observant people to notice. If they found blades, or any other sharp object regardless of it you had used it to selfharm though, you would obviously be punished.

One time I cut and went to the nurses for help, I was scared because it had never been that deep before and their response was tossing my room after I had voluntarily given them the two blades i had, while a male nurse kept saying how uncomfortable he was that he "had to" inspect my pads, saying "why would you need that many", ... they had metal detectors. They could've just swiped it across everything. But that wouldn't have been humiliating enough like seeing a nurse dig through my underwear and pads and diary.

Outside of the psych ward, my family kept up a similar approach. They did not search my room at least, knowing it was futile because there were always knifes in the house if I was desperate anyways, and a store down the street that sold razors. But locked doors were my mothers enemy. If I locked my door to masturbate, and she noticed it was locked? She would knock and yell until I opened it. If I simply wanted to relax in a bath but she decided it was suspiciously long ? The same.

When they couldn't catch me in the act but my scars kept getting more and more theyd threaten me with being hospitalized again.

When the hospital ER would send me to the closed ward for cuts that had nothing to do with suicidal ideation, but they decided I must be lying because it was deep enough, no matter how often I said I simply "messed up" because of adrenaline and blades that were sharper than expected. They had no legal ground to lock me up again but who cares, right. Its just one of those freaks who cuts themselves anyways.

And none of this kept me safe. None of this prevented me from cutting majority of the time. It made me distrust the ER. It made me distrust nurses. It made me hide my body even around my family. And when it did momentarily work I simply started harming myself in other ways. I ended up covered in bruises, with minor concussions, increasingly starving myself, depriving myself of sleep, ...

No one ever went "let's really try to figure out why you do this." Instead they went "why the fuck wont you just chew some bubble gum and roll a spikey ball on the soles of your feet you depressed fuck" or some shit like bro I am being severely traumatized by the world and this is my reaction. It's all "you are the problem".

And as an adult whos decided that I'm not interested in quitting, who "only" practices harm reduction I know that absolutely no one wants to accept that as a choice I should be allowed to make. Doesnt matter that I'm an expert at taking care of wounds and I have not had a single infection in 10+ years aside from once on wounds that got fucking stitched at the hospital. that I actively do my best to avoid lasting damage. That I try to keep the frequency low. They put me through years of surveillance and shame and threats without ever trying to see the root cause, only ever treat me as a bratty problem child who's being difficult just to fuck with them, and can not understand why that wouldn't make me want to stick to the goals they have set for me.

Therapists genuinely lose their mind when I tell them I don't want ~sobriety~ I just want to reduce harm and get on with my life. Their teachings do not allow for this to be but a short term compromise. I do not care.

#harm reduction #i guess sort of #selfharm cw #selfharm #anti psych #psych critical #bodily autonomy #(respect my choice or die by my sword)

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mar3ggiata · 3 months

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professional help, c2. preview

simon riley x original character.

abstract: this is Jude, this is a little bit of information about me since you care so much, I don't even know you… anyway yes, I really like being mysterious, what you gonna do about it, punch me in the face? I'm not even real, grow the fuck up. see ya.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, eating disorders, depression.

song to listen to when reading this: *The Chain*, Fleetwood Mac.

Sometimes, she just fucking hated her life. She supposed it was normal like that, it happened to everyone to absolutely fucking despise their lives, no? She wakes at the same hour everyday, does her makeup. Not too much, just enough so she looked like she had slept the night before. She conceals her identity under eyeliner and blush. She looks like a doll. She likes her makeup, she's quite good at it. She plays with her hairstyles, sometimes a bun, sometimes braids, sometimes loose with a headband, depending on the mood. She walks her dog and cleans his poop.

She always comes in dressed in dark colours, dark red, dark blue or black. She has 10 male patients and 8 female soldiers. Some of them are combat medics, some snipers. Demolition experts. She works till lunch time, eats alone, sometimes skips lunch just to make her body feel something and indulge in disordered eating, then goes outside to smoke and comes back in. After the afternoon sessions, she sometimes has groups together for some group therapy.

She didn't work for the entirety of 2022. She had an accident with one of the patients, classified information. She survived, but man was it hard to live after that day... Spent time with her dog, visited a friend in San Francisco, taught ballet at the local dance school. Price and Laswell felt so guilty they continued to pay her even if she wasn't working. Why she decided to come back she really didn't know. She thinks the truth is she likes helping people, makes her feel good. She liked crazy stories and she had a reputation at the base, she was starting to be respected. She craved that. And it really started to bore her, the routine. Until Arash.

She was used to raising her voice and presenting herself as stoic and cold. She knew perfectly how to be violence. She noticed a familiar face once she opened the door of the briefing room. A familiar face mask. The skull guy, she had seen him before. Was he the guy… She could't get distracted. Her little mission went smoothly. She always knew Price liked her and feared her at the same time, and when it came to his little soldier boys, she really didn't care what they thought about her. The guy from the day of her accident even spoke to her. Poor thing. She was really amused no one told him about the reason why she didn't want to go home alone. He did really good that night, she remembers him well. He didn't try to speak too much, he sounded gentle. A gentle giant. Unfortunately for him, no one was gonna tell him about that day. When she left the room, she went straight home. She doubted someone would ever contact her again about the situation, they would handle it themselves, and probably very badly.

notes: full thing on sunday!! let me know what you think <3

love, mare.

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 2 years

Note

So! Hi. Potentially cursed by fae hair anon back (also Bronwyn anon just y'know as long as we're being honest,) so I've been paying close attention to my hair and trying to will it into submission since the lack of Welsh lakes with which to ask the fae for help is a hurdle I cannot overcome on account of there not being any Welsh lakes in the Upper Midwest of the US. I could hike over to Wales, WI where the road signs are in Welsh but it is also full of People Whom I Will Not Associate With on the basis of the prevailing political clusterfuck happening there. Also it's a 6 hour drive in what is gearing up to be A Winter (tm) and if I'm going to commit myself to a slog I may as well just save my pennies and get a passport (previous one was in deadname and I let it lapse for reasons that should contextually be obvious,) and go to Wales to attempt your suggested solution. HOWEVER More recently, I've noticed that the excessively straight hair has begun making itself even more obvious in one particular place: The Cowlick at the back of my head. I have discovered through Totally Scientific Means that no amount of brushing or combing is helping this; a new intensity to which it hated me before as if I let it get long enough it would eventually cave under its own weight and chill out sort of. At any rate I get up in the morning with this lock of hair fanned out behind my head. I brush it. It does not give up. I wear a beanie for hours on end. It remains undeterred. Eleanor, my not a hair expert, the only person whom I can possibly rely on. I have found the answer to my query of whom I upset. I exist as a fucking peacock. I pissed off Hera. Now, fortunately I have done a good deal of independent research on this particular subject and to my knowledge I have not insulted her or fucked Zeus and have Definitely Not borne a child because I'm fairly certain I would've had to be in the room for that that has not happened. So here's the depressing answer: my hair is subject to whatever I did to displease her and there is nothing I can do about it but ride this out and accept my fate because there are many many records of what happens when one challenges the gods or displays too much hubris. Spite may be my primary motivator, but I know when I'm outmatched. If it ever changes, I'll be sure to let you know that I have been released from my Hellenistic hair purgatory and will probably come off anon for that just as a treat.

Hmm. Okay. Perhaps you could consider a votive offering? You need to get a little metal or clay tablet and write across it "I, Wyn, make this offering to the gods to right the wrongs I have done, and beg them to ease their wrath upon my hair. If they do this I promise to build them a lil shrine." and then you take it to an appropriately godly water body and chuck it in. I'm pretty sure you do have to build the shrine if successful though or the whole thing starts again.

Alternatively, if that doesn't work, right, maybe we're looking at this wrong?

My husband, also straight-haired, also has a permanent cowlick at the back of his head. In HIS case, he has a double crown in his hair. Two crowns! Two of them whorls, it is. Which is very appropriate, because he's third in line to the throne if we ever revived the Welsh monarchy of the House of Gwynedd.

Are you perhaps a Lost Heir?

#asks #hair

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salternateunreality2 · 5 months

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Preggoroth: Pregnancy Brain

Fun fact: your brain is cooking in so many hormones that you can experience all sorts of fun symptoms, like memory issues, fatigue, mood swings, anxiety, depression, inability to concentrate, memory issues, fogginess, and more! This highly vulnerable time is also when abusers often start ramping up, so keep an eye out! 800-799-7233 - DV hotline

------------

Sephiroth: *walks into a room, drenched in blood, Masamune out* Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten why I came in here...

Random kitchen worker: ...

The wererats he was chasing: ...

Couerls he was also chasing: ...

Sephiroth: OH! Duh! Orange juice! *Pours himself a glass*

Kitchen worker: ...

Wererats: ...

Couerls: ...

Sephiroth: *slurp* ...OH AND THE CRITTERS! Haha silly me... *Massacre resumes*

---------------

Sephiroth standing outside his apartment door, on the phone with Genesis: I forgot my keys again.

Genesis: STOP DON'T...

Sephiroth: *CRUNCH*

Genesis: ...break the door down again. SIGH. Did you at least check your belt loop this time?

Sephiroth: ...

Sephiroth's keys: *jingle jingle*

Sephiroth: ...

Genesis: ...SIGH. I'll send Zack over with a new door.

Zack, in the distance: woohoo! Door dashing right over for you! *NYOOMs*

-----------------

Sephiroth: ...this concludes my purple.

Lazard: Your what?

Sephiroth: Purple?

Lazard: Sephiroth, are you a-

Sephiroth: I MEAN REPORT. Slip of the toggle.

Lazard: Please take the rest of the day off.

-------------

Hojo: Why haven't you come to the lab lately, don't you care about your child?

Cloud: *growling*

Sephiroth: I was just there.

Hojo: My records only have you coming in last Saturday. You're so forgetful.

Cloud: *growling*

Lazard: Excuse me, what the fuck, he was there yesterday.

Angeal: He was?! Saturday AND yesterday?

Lazard: Yeah I'm going to put my blackmail to use and get a restraining order. Cloud, please remove the professor.

Hojo: *shouting* THESE NEANDERTHALS KNOW NOTHING! I AM YOUR FATHER!

Cloud: *rabidly hustles the grease monster out, spooky Nibel wolf growling the whole time*

Sephiroth: but the ba-

Angeal: No way is this creep getting access, we're calling my mom. Don't worry, she's an expert on the entire process, including mako issues and enhanced fetuses.

Sephiroth: *warm fuzzies at the word "mom"*

#cloud strife #ff7 #sephiroth #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #zack fair #lazard deusericus #preggoroth

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disasterfandoms · 27 days

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Don't Go Where I Can't Follow, Chapter Two || A Seal Team Story

A/N: This is Chapter two of the story that started this entire series: The Fix it! I will have the masterlist and the first chapter of the story linked! Reminder that this is set during/after the season 4 finale, and is based on the premise of Metal not dying. Pease note that I nor @bravo-four-seal-team are experts in medicine and therefore there are probably inconcistencies in this story.

TW: suicidal ideation, suicidal attempt. sex, pregnancy, vomit, alcohol use, description of medical procedures, death, near-death, code blue, domestic violence, PTSD, depression, anxiety, graphic language, mental abuse, hallucinations, blood, panic attacks, mention of miscarriage, mention of past abuse, mention of past injury, mention of disabilities, stalking, kidnapping, mention of ventilators, mention of comas, mention of past abuse, mention of stillborns, mention of rape, rape, mentions of gags/bondage.

AO3 Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

It was easy for her to run, she could get away from her thoughts for a while, forget about the emotions, just focus on breathing, where she was going, how she held herself, she just kept moving. They all had their own ways of coping and processing the day, running for her allowed her to escape from everything.

She was tempted to drop Adonis back to Amelia and then just go back to base, work on the things she needed to do, but she knew that would never happen, knew Amelia would be on her ass if she decided to up and vanish, like she had done multiple times when things got tough.

She slowed down, checking her watch and seeing the time, she’d stay out for another hour, sitting on the grass she huffed, getting the water bottle she had picked up and a collapsible bowl, popping it open then filling it so the german shepherd could drink. She never took her phone with her, it was still sitting on the table at Amelia and Trent’s place, she really wished she was overseas, least she would be able to focus and keep busy, no one would complain if she didn’t eat, there were times when they couldn’t, and they could only have protein bars, which she hated, but would eat.

The Marine soon stood up, starting at an easy pace, before picking up speed and running with Adonis back home, well back to Amelia’s. She hated having to stay at hers, always feeling like she was just getting in the way of things. Eventually, she did get back, removing Adonis’ leash and letting him inside, she followed behind, the house was dark and quiet, so she would keep quiet as well, moving silently, locking the door and moving to get water. She was now exhausted, so sleep would hopefully come easily to her.

“How was your run? Hi Donnie! Hi baby, you have fun? Hmm? Gonna sleep with me tonight? T’s gonna kill us when we comes back, isn’t he?” She would have laughed, seeing Ash jump a foot in the air, had the face mask she put on after her shower allowed her to.

Ash would never admit that Amelia caught her off guard, but she jumped and felt her heart rate skyrocket "the run was good, Adonis was an absolute angel, I'm gonna turn in for the night" she says "I'll need to go to...the store get things in the fridge for when they return." She speaks quietly "How was your call?" She asked as she took a drink of water. As much as she wanted to toss back a glass or two of whiskey, she couldn't, she hadn't eaten, but she also was cutting down on how much she drank "You should be in bed Ames"

“Donnie’s always a good boy, aren’t you?” Adonis barked in response, his tail wagging. Amelia nodded, and he ran upstairs to her bed, jumping on where Trent usually slept and waited.

“Call was good, Scott was asleep, Trent looked exhausted. And it’s only… 8:30. I’m gonna have a cup of tea and work on the schematic and some ideas on trying to convince Trent on turning the formal dining room, which we don’t use, into a playroom for Willow, a place to keep all the toys her auntie Ash, Uncle Scot-Scot, and her grandparents keep supplying.” She said, poking fun at how they love to spoil her daughter.

The young woman grinned slightly, she had a habit of coming back from wherever she had been deployed to with toys and clothes.

"Well," she says "You enjoy your tea, but I'm gonna go to sleep." Really she just couldn't continue to stay awake, letting the worry eat at her, it had gotten to the point of the feeling of being hungry and gone, the water she had drunk was the only thing she had since being told about Metal.

"Enjoy your evening Amelia" she smiled to her sister-in-law before moving to the guest room.

“Night Ash, come get me if you need me,” Amelia told the young woman, but in the back of her mind she knew Ashley would rather suffer and die than as for help. She sighed, grabbing a mug and filling it up, before heading back upstairs to Adonis and her laptop, enjoying the time alone.

——————————————————————

Downside of sleeping on a ship, you could hear every little noise. Voices would bounce around and stop people, the crew from getting a decent sleep.

Metal was being woken and checked on by medical staff, which he wasn't too pleased about, however they were beginning to prepare for transport off the ship and to a plane.

The rest of Bravo had been woken and told to go pack their gear and get sorted out. There was still some tension between Clay and Sonny, which wasn't helping matters "Think he regrets his words?" Clay asked.

"Who?"

"Metal" Sonny added, looking over, to the others "you know 'Chernobyl of fun' from where I'm standing none of it was fun" the Texan said as he zipped his bag closed.

Clay nodding "Pretty sure he jinxed himself" he sighed

Jason rolled his eyes "Yeah well someone still owes him a case of beer." The others stopping and looking at Clay and Jason "Clay did the needle decompression" Bravo one informed "First time"

"Thought I was out of firsts" Clay smirked. Trent during this time had kept quiet "How's the family holding up?" Brock asked. Drawing the attention to Trent who still looked exhausted.

"Amelia is trying to hold it together, Ashley I'm pretty sure is on her way to a breakdown, someone else talk to that stubborn ass of a man about calling his family" Trent huffed.

"I'll give it a shot, but I make no promises I'll get anywhere" Jason states, Soto appearing in the doorway "Be ready to go, got word that they're sending a bird for us in the next hour." He informed them.

The team all relaxed knowing that they were getting out and away from the ship and never needed to be on one again for a long time. "Hey Brock" Sonny smirked "You still gotta tell Metal about the fun he missed out on"

The team laughed, while the dog handler did not look too impressed to be the one to speak up and say something.

——————————

After Jason finally got all his stuff packed away, he made his way down to Medbay to see his brother. Jason, deep down, feels like shit that Metal got injured saving his and Clay’s asses from the RPG. Metal is his teammate now, he felt the need to protect him as such. It always hurts a little to go down and see him, just because, god, he must be in agony from the wounds he suffered.

Jason walked into Medbay, finding Metal being poked and prodded by the nurses, trying to make sure he’s safe and stable for transport. He had to laugh at the sight, Metal looked terrified of needles.

“Don’t.” Metal growled, then smiled politely at the nursing staff who seemed a bit afraid of him.

That caused Jason to double over in laughter. “I-I’m sorry, Metal, but you’re afraid of needles?”

“Always have been. Pain in the ass to give vaccines to. Why are you here when they’re loading us all up on the same aircraft?”

“Trent asked someone to get it through your skull to call your family.”

Metal groaned, shaking his head. He didn’t want to talk to anyone yet, he’d rather just wait until they were all stateside and they could just see it for themselves. “Not happening, Hayes.”

“Why the hell not? Just send an email to the both of them saying you’re fine, you love them, and you’ll see them at the tarmac.” Jason huffed, putting his hands on his hips. He didn’t understand why Metal was being so damn stubborn about this.

“Dammit, Jason. Not ready to talk to anyone about any of it, and I know my family. They won’t leave it alone.” Metal said, angry at the injuries, at his sister’s stubbornness.

“They’re worried about you, Metal. Trent’s worried about all of you. Tell them you don’t want asked anything, not yet.”

Metal scoffed, “Yeah, like that’ll work. You met Amelia? Ashley? They’re both equally as annoyingly good at making someone talk.”

It hit Jason what might actually be wrong with Metal, why he won’t talk to his family. “You’re worried you won’t operate again. Is that it?”

“Hayes I swear to god, leave it alone.” Metal said menacingly, and it would have worked if he was able to do anything.

Jason just shook his head, and sighed, “Scott, send them the email. You’re alive, they don’t expect you to be 100%. Ashley, who I know you love, is going through some rough shit because you won’t talk to her.”

Metal sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to get the headache to go away. He finally resigned to emailing them, nodding, and shooing Jason away before everyone gets yelled at. He then sends an email to both Amelia and Ashley, before shutting down his laptop and pulling out his book again.

This was gonna be a long flight home.

——————————————————————

The time it took from the ship to land, to board the plane, was already hell, especially for Metal since both Clay and Sonny had begun to quote things at him, Trent silently watching from where he sat, offering no help to his friend at all.

They had 6 hours in the air, before they landed home.

Trent just hoped both Clay and Sonny realised that Metal could probably kill them with the book he was holding, and was trying to finish. “Bet you totally regret the fun meter idea” Sonny grinned, Clay nodding “Got jinxed man”

“If you like living you’ll leave me alone” Metal responded, trying to focus on the page he was re-reading for the 8th time. Trent sighed “Clay, Sonny, I got watch go sleep” he suggested, no one argued, both SEALs moving towards where they had set up so they could sleep.

“Don’t start” Metal warned, Trent raised an eyebrow “Don’t start what? I’m sitting here keeping an eye on you” he responded, almost challenging his friend to make an excuse about what he thought he was doing.

“You sent Jase to talk to me about emailing the girls” Metal frowned “I told you I would do it when I was ready”

“When would that be? Once you got to a hospital stateside, where, you’d deny them entry for visiting? Or maybe you plan on shutting them out fully? You do realise your gonna be stuck with them, if it wasn’t Jason, I can guarantee, Amelia would have called Blackburn to order you to make contact”

The look on his friend's face was enough to tell him that he got off lightly with Jason talking to him “I think you’d prefer Amelia and Ashley checking on you, rather than these guys pestering you.” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms “Won’t be long until you have to deal with Amelia worrying, she’ll be at the tarmac, your girlfriend however is gonna wait until your settled in hospital to check on you. Get some sleep.” Trent stated, removing the book from Metal’s hands.

The unimpressed look Metal shot Trent spoke a thousand words,but Trent really didn't care at this point.

______________________________________________

4:30 AM.

She’s going to kill Trent for making this her normal. Here she was, though, wide awake before dawn, Adonis sleeping peacefully where her husband should be laying. She gives him the lightest kiss on the head, and petted him a little bit before getting up to start the day.

She first checks on her daughter, making sure she was okay before going downstairs and starting a pot of coffee, considering what to do for food since Ashley has takeout from the night before. She also needs to go to the store, get Trent some of his favorites before he comes home, it helps him get back to normal faster after a deployment. Amelia gets a cup of coffee, sits down at the bar and opens her laptop, checking her email.

She’s received two of importance: one from Trent, saying they were on their way home and should be there by noon; and the other from Scott. She quickly opens the email from her big brother, which reads:

“Mellie,

You need to stop worrying about me. I’m okay! As long as they have me drugged up, I can barely feel any of it. You probably just rolled your eyes at that, and if so, then mission accomplished.

Take care of Ashley for me while I’m stuck on this godforsaken ship, and while I’m laid up in the hospital stateside. She’ll never admit it to me, but she’s probably terrified, unnecessarily so.

Also, where the hell have my Willow pictures and videos?!? Thought you promised me at least one video and one picture a day of my little Willow tree. Yes I still call her that, and yes it’s still hilarious to me you named her after a tree.

Most of all: Take care of yourself while I’m trapped. Know this stuff is never easy on you, even though you hide it well. Lean on your husband, dammit, it’s what he’s there for. Well, when he is there.

Love you, stop worrying.

Scotty.”

Amelia’s eyes couldn’t contain her tears as she read the email, she’s been trying to keep it together since she found out, but hearing from him broke the dam. She let them fall for a few minutes, everyone was still asleep upstairs and she didn’t need to be strong for anyone in that moment. After that, though, she wiped up those tears and went on when her morning, drinking coffee and reading the news, making a grocery list, and then getting ready to get her daughter’s morning started after she got dressed.

————————

She was never a fan of sleeping, it's always been that way, she would nap here and there, 20-40 minutes each time.

One thing that she hated was not knowing, she preferred having a plan, routine, so by 5am she was up, bed straightened, made to military standard like how she was taught. She began with push ups, which changed to sit ups then squats.

She would need to eat something, so she reached for her uniform pulling out one of many protein bars she carried, opening then eating it.

Why did they all taste like paper?

Grabbing paper from her notebook she carried she wrote down things she needed to do.

She grabbed her toothbrush from her bag sighing slightly, she was supposed to be deploying in 24 hours, now she wasn't. Going to the guest shower room, she turned the tap on, brushing her teeth, once that was down, she grabbed a quick shower, dressed in what she had, plain sandy colour t-shirt and cargo pants, tying her hair into a bun out her face. Then pulled on her boots and headed downstairs.

Second thing on the list, make sure Amelia was ok, see if she needed anything picked up "Morning Amelia" she said when she saw her friend "I'm gonna head out, gotta feed that kids, Void got into the main container again" she says showing her the video alert she got from the feeder "You ok?" She frowned, looking at her friend "You've been crying" she states worried, watching the woman Infront of her "Trent and Scott ok?"

Seeing her friend nod, she raised and eyebrow "So why were you crying, don't give me that look" she warns "I know you, and know what your look when you've been in tears"

“It’s nothing, I’m fine Ash. Seriously, nothing’s wrong. Got an email from Trent, they’re on their way home, said something about them touching down at noon,” Amelia says, smiling. She’s omitting Scott’s email purposely, she doesn’t want Ash to feel like something is wrong with their relationship on purpose if he for some godforsaken reason didn’t email his girlfriend too.

Ashley shrugged "Alright, you need anything picked up? I'm gonna head out, gotta drop something at base, sort out the cat feeder, actually probably replace it, then head to the store,” she says.

The marine leant against the wall, checking the time "I logged out of the email account, pretty sure sitting refreshing that app was not helping my sanity." She smiles slightly, clearing her throat "Better crack on with the day. See if I can get my co to let me cover any training session while I'm stateside" she hums, picking up her keys "If you need anything call or text me, I can pick up a few things to save you rushing about"

Amelia smiled, “I’m making my grocery list now, Trent has a rough time readjusting so I try and accommodate by getting his favorites for him. Me and Willa-loo are going when they open, then it’s just a matter of getting her ready to see her Dad in person for the first time in two months. He told me last night he’s worried she’ll think he’s a stranger.” Amelia chuckled, then continued, “Hey Ash? … check your email.”

“Willow will be so happy to see Trent” Ashley grinned, glancing at the time “I will check later, once I sorted out a few things required to do” she hummed. “If you need anything, let me know, I’ll see you later at some point. Gonna be a while at Base” she huffed, walking towards the front door.

“I know that, but he’s not convinced. Bye Ash, read your email and i’ll see you at the hospital later.” Ameli said, waving goodbye to her friend and getting on with her day, starting with taking Adonis out and then getting the baby’s outfit picked out.

______________________________

Time passed quickly, and soon everyone found themselves back on home soil, the team made sure Metal was safely off the plane, jokes being shared, the team laughing and smiling, promise to visit Metal when they could, of course he did not support that idea and wanted to be left alone and not be disturbed, as Medics took over the transport to the ambulance.

Blackburn bringing Amelia and Willow over to their family, knowing that Amelia would settle better once she had eyes on her older brother, the commander of DEVGRU looking to Bravo, congratulating them on a job well done, telling everyone to go home, while he made sure everyone had downtime until they were needed again.

Trent grinning as he saw his wife, and his daughter, who had grown since the last time he saw her. The rest of the team moved to their own families, but told the little family to call them, if they needed anything.

It was always like that, when someone was hurt, or it was a fresh relationship or newborn, everyone jumped in to offer a helping hand, it was always like that.

“Hey sailor, how was your flight?” Amelia asked, laughing as Trent dropped his bag and barreled into them, giving her possibly the biggest hug she’s ever gotten in her life.

“Fine, full of people annoying Scott while he tried to read. Hi sunshine! Can I hold?” He asked their daughter, making a “come here” motion with his hands. He was incredibly relieved when she moved her grip off of Amelia and reached for him instead.

“Think someone missed her Daddy as much as I did.” Amelia smiled, hugging Trent on one side while Willow was happily kicking her feet, looking around the tarmac. She waved at Scott, before removing herself from Trent and walking over to him. Trent nodded at her to go, he knew she needed to see him and he was happy to just be holding his daughter.

Holy shit, she’s grown so much since he last saw her.

Amelia didn’t take long with Scott, just gently hugging him and telling him she’s glad he’s alive, before she nodded to the paramedics that they can take him. She watched them be wheeled away, before walking back to her family, beyond happy her husband was home, was safe.

“You ready to go, love?” She asked Trent, whose entire focus was on Willow, talking to her about how big she’s gotten.

“Yeah, can we stop by the house, let me shower and change before we go?” He asked, moving to the side of the vehicle with the car seat, putting Willow in and making sure she’s secured.

“Yeah of course. Probably easier if we let her have her morning nap at home, let her eat lunch and then leave. Gonna text Ash, tell her he’s on his way to the hospital and we’ll be there around one.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Hey, T?”

“Yeah honey?”

“I love you, and I’m glad you’re home.”

“I love you too.”

---------------------

The second Amelia text her, she grabbed the things she knew would be needed for Metals hospital stay. It took an hour to get to the hospital.

It then took her a while to actually go into the hospital, she mostly just sat staring at the building, god she hated these places, she waited for a while so she was sure that Scott was by now in his room, probably complaining, maybe sleeping, most likely reading.

Asking for the information, and sharing her relation to him, she made her way to the ward and then the room, taking a breath, waiting until the nurses and doctors left the room. Knocking on the door and smiling slightly “Hey” she whispered “I brought you, well things I guess you’ll need” she says, holding the bag up.

She was surprised when he closed the book, and set it down “Have you even slept?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, Ash rolled her eyes, setting the bag down on the chair next to the bed “Few hours here and there, how are you holding up?” she asked.

“Surviving, in a shit load of pain, but I'm alive” Metal responded, reaching out and taking Ashleys hand “Stop worrying.”

“Oh please. We both know that I won't quit worrying about you, just like you worry about me” Ashley tuts “You know that talk.” she smirks, seeing the look of confusion cross his face “Something along the lines of, you can be heroic, but you need to deal with the consequences?” she states.

“Ashley, don’ start” he warns, but Ashley laughed “Like I would, as much as I love you, and your need to look after the team, I need you to get better, then I’ll rip you a new one for freaking me, right, Ames says she and T will be here at one, but...I gotta bounce, finish sorting things out, but I will be back, you play nice”

“I'm always nice”

“Only when you want to be, get some sleep.”

“You too Ashley”

“Eh I’ll sleep when your home”

______________________________________________________________

Coming home was always weird for Trent. He tried to spend his deployment completely focused on the present, trusting Amelia has the home front settled, so he can enjoy himself if he can and focus on getting home safely.

That focus, however, comes with a price when he comes home. Everytime he walks through the door, for the first couple weeks, he feels like a stranger and a guest, all at the same time. Doesn’t matter the state of the deployment, home never feels like home until he gets situated again.

This deployment is no different. Walking into the house feels foreign to him, especially since this was the first time he’s been gone for more than a week since Willow was born. Even though Amelia had cleaned before they picked him up, he still saw the toys, the playpen, not that he minded, helped him to know life went on while he was gone.

Still, feels a little weird.

He put his bag down in the entryway, immediately going upstairs to shower, scrub his skin raw, try to was off the stench of the ship, the memories burned into his brain. His mind kept skipping to the last mission, seeing Brock struggle with the terrorist while Ray froze. Then when he froze again in the field, only this time it was both Ray and himself in trouble. He tried to push it out of his mind, he was safe at home, with his wife and daughter. He wouldn’t be able to, though, not for a little while.

After a while he gets out, changes into clothes that aren’t his uniform, and heads back downstairs, petting Adonis when he sees him. Amelia’s in the kitchen, the baby on her hip, making a bottle. He comes up behind them, putting one arm around Amelia’s waist and digging his face into the crook of her neck.

“I’ll feed her, go take care of yourself,” Trent offered, letting go and backing up a few steps, letting Amelia turn around. Amelia nods, smiling and leaning her hip with Willow on it towards him, letting him grab her. She gave him the bottle once it was ready, and he went to sit on the couch, propping his feet up, laying Willow down and giving her the bottle. God she’s grown up on him, he couldn’t believe that in just two months she’s as big and strong as she's gotten.

“I’m, uh, gonna go on a run with Adonis. He got a good one in with Ash last night but it’s been a while since it’s just been the two of us,” Amelia smiled, leaning on the doorframe, her arms crossed, Adonis’s leash in her hand.

“Go, I got her. Gonna get some snuggling in with Willow and watch something. Have fun, and be careful.”

“We will, won’t we Donnie? Yeah? Ready to go? C’mon! Be back in like an hour.” Amelia smiled, clipping the lease to the German Shepherd and walking out the door.

Trent looked down at his daughter, her bright eyes staring back up at him. Seeing her just instantly puts a smile on his face. He tickles her leg, his fingers going up her side, then pinched her cheeks, causing her to giggle.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

——————————————————————

Ashley had returned to the hospital, but never went in Metals room, standing watching him read, she was just glad he was relaxed.

She kept out the way while staff checked on him, letting out a sigh, she moved forward, knocking once again on the door then entering when he looked over "Forgot how fast you get through books" she states leaning against the wall, allowing the nurse the room to move around and do the checks, the marine couldn't tell you what was being checked, all she knew was, her boyfriend was trying to hide the pain "Could he get painkillers or something? He won't ask, he's too stubborn" she grinned.

Moving to sit down, making sure not to knock the side of the bed. "So, other than, these lovely injuries deployment go ok?" She asked

"Was slow, boring, Brock got sea sick, Trent decided to research, think it was scurvy?"

"...Brock got sea sick and he's in the Navy…" she blinked, smirking slightly "Course Trent was more worried about some weird sickness...I swear I thought he was the sane one in the family" seeing the small smile she got from the man. "Heard you managed to create a fight club and take down all of Bravo"

The injured man chuckled "You'd think they'd know they can't beat me" he said, setting the book down "took the rest of them to tackle me down, somehow turned to the Bravo pile"

"You get to fight Hayes? If not I want front row seats"

She was happy that Metal was talking to the, though she could see the energy leaving, while sleep tried to take hold. "Babe, rest up, it'll help the pain, when you wake up, I'll be here ok?" She said quietly, watching him nod slowly "Good, gotta get rest before your friends come crashing your peace" she hummed while she watched as the man fell asleep.

Leaning back in her chair letting out a breath, and closing her eyes, counting to ten before going on her phone and researching some things.

#seal team #trent sawyer #full Metal #Jason Hayes #Scott Carter #Ray Perry #Sonny Quinn #Clay Spenser #Eric Blackburn #original characters

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yiminsuu · 2 years

Text

Discombobulated

(adj.) emotionally confused or uncertain.

Pairing: Cal Kestis x F!Reader

Warnings: Sexual themes (+18), violence and blood, angst and fluff, low self-esteem and depression, jealous reader, Cere and Merrin know what’s going on, virginity loss, vaginal fingering, implied smut.

Author’s Note: It’s because of this game that I like Star Wars, and it’s also the first thing I wanted to write since I finished it. If the creators wanted to hype Merrin x Cal, I have to admit it is cute but kinda rushed.

I always make decisions like this.

Decisions that put me in danger, and the day-- or more like the week started pretty great, until the Nightsister came aboard. It's not that I hate her, she's nice and makes attempts to indulge in conversations and understand humans. I thought Merrin would be a good member given that she is powerful and not easily stressed in mission, but the moment she came... The moment Cal introduced her... I noticed it. I noticed everything.

He's with her every single second, minute, and hour of the day. When Cal came back from his missions she would be the first to welcome him back, with a hug that felt so awkward between the two of them. I sensed it without having to ask, I just needed to watch them. I don't blame Cal, she's bewitching in all the right senses... Except when she tried to kill us. The reason I felt so distraught is that Cal wasn't this attentive to me when we met, and suddenly he's so fascinated by Merrin that I feel... Left aside, or downright ignored by the people I call family. Why am I feeling so awful?

"Is everything alright?" I glanced at Merrin and flashed her a small smile, she didn't believe it and we both know that. "Yeah, I'm fine." I mumbled back.

Little by little, I stopped asking for any aid, I didn't want to partake in the team's conversations and refused to go on more exploring with Cal. I closed myself in my room for many days, only getting out to look for food that Cere leaves for me, I didn't want to see anyone. The Jedi knocks on the door many times a day, but I ignored it, I don't want him to see me in this horrendous state. He pleaded for me to let him in, and promised that whatever was bothering me would only stay between us, I almost opened the door for him, almost... But I stepped back, and he left.

I have no idea why I'm doing this, I just know how horrible I feel when I see them, I can't even stare into Cal's eyes without feeling like someone deserving punishment. I need this sensation to vanish completely, so I set myself ready to go out early the next day, and clear my mind if only for a moment. Of course, I'm not a stealth expert. "Where are you going at this hour, (Y/N)? And alone, you can't go--" I interrupted Cere immediately. "Please Cere, I need to walk, to breathe, to be alone and think of what's happening... I don't plan on bothering you anymore."

Cere crossed her arms after she gave out a gentle sigh, her eyes fixated on me like a worried mother. "You aren't a bother." She started, and for a brief moment, I felt the desperation in her voice. "It's been four days since I've seen your face, and I want to stop you from going... But I won't. (Y/N), when you come back, speak with Cal."

I looked down. "I'll-- I'll see what I can do..."

"Be careful out there." With that, I nodded and ran out of the Mantis.

And this is how I got myself into this mess, with the simple decision of running around alone on an unexplored planet. In a temple in which I just found out my father died many years ago, blood flowed down my cheek and arm as the Inquisitor lays dead under my body, with stab wounds created by my twin swords. If my hands weren't shaking, I would've slashed the body of the bastard several times more for the killing of my father. My pupils shrunk at the merciless thoughts and fell back, away from the inquisitor and the damned red color splattered all over his clothes. "Shit... Shit... Shit..." I whimpered without shame.

The cascade decorating the insides of the temple cleaned the blood off my swords, leaving a sense of tranquility in my chest. I refuse to see this as a victory, no matter how hard I defended myself I ended up killing someone when in the past I always knocked them unconscious. I remember when Cal praised me for my compassion with such an admirable look, my heart fluttered, and millions of butterflies invaded my stomach. I forced myself out of the flashback, cleaned most of the blood from my clothes, and made my way back to the Mantis. This time, I eliminated every Stormtrooper in sight.

I wasn't even close to the vessel when Cal and I crossed paths, he had this expression of gladness that quickly changed to shock when his eyes landed on the dead soldiers. "Are you okay?!" He immediately asked, running to me and staring at the blood which BD analyzed upon setting sight on me. "You are bleeding--"

"It's not mine." I spoke, and poor BD sounded preoccupied. Cal shut his mouth as he looked me in the eyes, which I avoided staring at for long. "What happened? You don't... You don't do this, (Y/N)." The Jedi questioned.

"A trap. It was the only way to get out." It wasn't a lie, I'm sure I wouldn't have gotten out alive if I didn't use violence. "(Y/N)..." He reached out to me but I took a step back. "Cal, please don't..." I walked away and left him behind, but he soon followed to the Mantis, not saying a word.

When I set foot onto the vessel, I was greeted by Cere with a disappointed look and Greez standing behind with interest in what I will say as an excuse. For how long was I gone?

The former Jedi's mouth opened to say something, but every sound that this space has vanished, there was only a void and my heartbeat accelerated. I killed without mercy, Cere and Greez are upset, Cal looked sorrowful beyond belief, and Merrin... The Nightsister embraced me, it took me a while to realize that, and I cried and sobbed in her robes without holding back. "It's okay..." She muttered.

"I know..." I lied.

"Yet you keep crying." I gave up on trying to lie, perhaps all I needed was to speak out, reach someone, accept someone, and trust that their care for me is real. I let out a very small giggle at Merrin's attempt to make me laugh, no wonder Cal likes her.

Hours later, following a warm bath, the chilling night kept me awake and thinking about everything that happened today, I didn't have any other option but to tell them about my father and the Inquisitor. Cal seemed tense after hearing my rambling, and if Cere hadn't stopped him he would've probably 'give 'em hell again', Merrin's words. There was a knock on the door and I let in whoever was outside, Cal walked in and quietly sat on the bed, slightly worrying me. "I'm sorry." He muttered. "I should have been there for you and I'm sorry I wasn't, I thought you wanted distance and I ended up letting you get hurt."

"This is not your fault." I sat beside him and let him continue. "It is, (Y/N)! I wasn't protecting you and I swore to myself I always would! I left you alone!" I didn't expect this from Cal, I understand every person has weaknesses and flaws but seeing him so insecure saddens me. "Cal, it was my choice to go out, we didn't know this would happen..."

"Perhaps, but if I hadn't looked away for a second you wouldn't have raised your swords. You didn't need to go through that hell, not alone, not... Not against an Inquisitor..." I furrowed my brows and took his hand into mine, entwining our fingers slowly but softly. "Thank you for being here... That's the only thing I want. I will be okay..."

"You trust me that much...?" I smiled softly at that and felt him move closer, his grip on my hand getting tighter. "Why wouldn't I, Cal?" We looked at each other and my smile disappeared when his green eyes glanced at my lips. He... D-Doesn't he... What about--?

Cal's lips shut my capacity to think, he's so gentle as he touches me, and kisses me over, and over and over again. When his breath whispers across the nape of my neck, filled with constrained want, my eyes close with a shiver. "W-Wait!" I half-shouted, and the Jedi stopped at once, he looked surprised at the state I was in, the state he put me in. "What about Merrin??"

"What?" He was astonished at my question. Cal then chuckled, the motherfucker chuckled as I was embarrassed for no reason at all, just being like this with him is enough for me to feel everything at the same time. "Now I understand why you avoided us." He said, and I looked away and whimpered when he let out a small laugh. "She-- Well, she was interested in my behavior around you... Merrin interrogates me about how I try a little too hard to make you laugh, the way I stare at you when you're not looking..." Widening my eyes at his confession, I recollect our moments together since we met. "You always want me out of danger, no matter how harmless it can be... Cal, were you the one that placed that chocolate under my pillow when I had my period?"

"I wanted you to feel better..." Cal scratched his head nervously and I felt my cheeks burning up, I placed a hand on his cheek and joined our lips together, slowly, the sensation of pleasure and desire grew. We needed friction, both of us need more, Cal and I need each other. The Jedi lays me on the bed and a hand slips lower, dipping up the underside of my nightgown, trailing his fingertips so delicately against the bare skin of my leg. It is obvious that both of us are inexperienced, but Cal explores, and a voice in the back of my head tells me he won't be going anywhere until he reaches deep inside my soul. Hot breath soothes my skin as his fingers stop close to my undergarments. "Your skin feels so tender against my fingers..." If there was ever resistance on my behalf, I let it fall, head falling back on the pillow.

Parting my legs, his hands slip the cloth away, and seeks out the burning warmth of my cunt. He stares into my eyes as his fingertip traces the soaked line of my slit, watching every reaction, hearing every whimper and moan. He's slow, afraid to hurt me but unable to stop. I mewl when I notice his bulge, how ready and eager he must be for me, and only me. "C-Cal..." Then he pushes his digit deep inside, making me shiver and slightly hiss in discomfort. "I'm here, I won't hurt you... Please (Y/N), bear with me..." My Jedi is so sweet to me.

Cal continues experimenting with my body as he pleases, up to the point of sliding three fingers inside me, my bottom lip wobbled, tears stinging my eyes as he worked his fingers against my walls. He poked something inside that made me feel like I was gonna die. He was a little too excited, and a small cry had him by surprise, looking at me in concern and mouth parting to apologize, I hid my mouth in my hands. "D-Don't stop...!" A breath of relief left the Jedi as he gently reached up to move my hands from my face, kissing me passionately. "As you wish, my princess."

Cal was already working his fingers again, faster this time, my juices were coating him, wet and slightly sticky as he paced himself. My eyes closed as he worked his momentum back up, short and ragged breaths falling off my lips. A whimper escaped me as his fingertips brushed up against that sensitive spot he touched earlier, my hands tightly wrapping around the sheets of the mattress. I was close, squeezing him tightly as he stared down at me.

My eyes widened and I let out a rather loud moan as I felt pressure on my clit, but his free hand is holding me in place by the waist, I can't believe he was using the force on me. "I knew you'd like that." Fuck, Cal!

The power the force is putting on me felt unnatural, and my breath wavered as I groaned out his name. "You're beautiful, (Y/N)..."

He coaxed me into a high that left me shaking, breathless, and tightly clamping down around his digits. The soft noises I was making filled the room for as long as the orgasm lingered, and he withdrew his hand, a small noise of protest leaving me. "Did you like it...?" I nodded and pushed him down to meet my lips. Cal's kisses are full of passion, not once taking his hands off me even if his life depended on it, unfortunately, we had to let breathe. He stood between my legs staring at the entirety of me, and as I glance up at Cal between tears of pleasure, I see him full flushed to his ears, his gorgeous, red hair disheveled, and his bulge leaking precum through his pants.

I chuckled heartily. "Let's take care of you, Cal."

#star wars #star wars x reader #jedi fallen order #cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #star wars fallen order #fallen order x reader #oneshot

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eskawrites · 9 months

Note

top 5 memorable ronance fic scenes?

okay i really really love this bc there are so many scenes that live rent free in my head, i'm so excited. these are in no particular order btw half of them just popped into my head at once

5) from entirely on purpose and according to plan by @dufrau this lil moment:

"It, uh," Robin tried. "It sounds like you've given this some thought." "I give everything a lot of thought," Nancy said. "The timing is right. You said it yourself, it's a summer for harebrained schemes. How about this one: fall in love with me." "That's, um," Robin started. For once she, was way ahead of Nancy. Done and dusted. She had tears in her eyes but Nancy wasn't looking at her. "I'm open to that. That sounds like a good plan. That's... I want that."

idk man i teared up and i had to put my phone down when i first read this. it's just the perfect dialogue to me, it sums up both their characters and everything that happened to get them to this moment (and everything that's going to happen now that they're here) in one cute, tidy little moment. wtf

4) the ending of chapter 4 in like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird by @monstrous-femme

“So you can only change small things?” How horrible, Nancy thinks, to live in a world where nothing of substance can be fixed. Where the same terrible things are doomed to repeat themselves, over and over without end. This, of course, leads to a round of bickering from the boys that leaves no room for other thoughts. “Small things can matter,” she hears Will say, before being drowned out by the others.

in a fic with such a haunting atmosphere this just stuck out as the most haunting thing not because it's eerie or inspires dread or whatever, but because it's such a quiet, crucial moment of hope. 10/10 chapter close

3) the coming out scene in girl that's a friend by ratgirl110 on AO3, which tbh is basically the whole fic. it's so poignant and messy and i love that you can feel the magnetism between nancy and robin as much as you can feel all the trauma and the fear of the future that hangs like a knife over their heads (this is true of both fics in the series, i love them so much)

2) it's too long for an excerpt but the scene in chapter 8 of monster of the week by @freezeveganpolice where nancy and robin and max get drunk and share trauma (oh, not-sober depression bonding should've been on my favorite tropes list)

1) the kiss scene! from Robin Buckley's Expert Field Guide to Catching Fireflies (and Other Childhood Favourites) by @smileweakandwrong !

i'm not gonna put the specific paragraph i'm thinking of because if you haven't read it you should, the payoff is incredible. but it felt so so magical, like a freaking fairy tale the way everything ties together in the end

#there are only about 50 million more and i was gonna do honorable mentions but this took too long to write out lol #asks #smirk47 #ask me top 5 things!#this really was such a lovely and creative question this was fun #fic rec

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pancake-breakfast · 9 months

Text

Now that Bluesummers is back on the playing field, I'm a bit scared of what's to come. He better not hurt my precious Livio.

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 11, Chapters 5-6 below.

Chapter 5: Get Ready, Get Set

HAhahahahahaha, Knives is double-D's....

Chronicaaaaaaa!!! I've been waiting to meet her since I heard about her in Stampede! Look at her, sitting there all pretty with her hot tea.

"This kind of problem"? This suggests they've dealt with it before, or at least have taken the possibility of it into consideration.

Well, if fusing with other plants gets around the black hair phenomenon, then Knives should be fine. That's... a... good thing....?

Yeah, I'm beginning to think the dependent Plants are legit trying to overwhelm Knives with their own consciousnesses to sort of save him without killing him. Kind of like what he's doing, except there's a LOT more of them, and they're a LOT less violent.

Uhhhh... did this guy just lob a coin at them and then... die??

LOL, Vash is being way too dramatic about this. You can't tell me that, in all his years on a planet with a decreasing population, he never learned to recognize a dead body.

LOL, random question about clams vs. fish. Where are they getting either of those on this planet? From Plants??

Ohhhh, Zazie. That explains a lot. Zazie's done with Knives right now. And since Zazie's worms, being shredded up by Legato isn't exactly gonna stop them.

I like the little worm halo. You know, so we know it's dead.

LOL, panic and descending chaos. I approve.

LOL, EVERYONE is crying. Worm panic causes tears.

I wonder if Stampede will introduce control worms or if they'll just stick with the extensive spy network.

Dude, Meryl and Milly did a thorough search of the device and didn't realize it has an audio playing function embedded in it??

Wait, he's connected to Legato now?? That's so impractical. What if Legato was still in a coma? Or taking a leak? Or had his mouth full of beef that he was slurping up??

Also, whyyyy does he have a new weird iron maiden puppet thing?? Do I want to know? I feel like I don't want to know.

Man, I get Vash's depression over this. But Livio is here to cheer him on!

Oh, gosh, Livio.... You aren't a monster, my friend. You're just a person.

"That bitch"? Strong words. Does he mean Elandira?

Ah, yeah, he does.

I... do not know if Livio can actually handle Elandira. She's pretty unhandle-able.

Ok, this right here is a good moment for Livio.

LOL, did Vash hurt his hand giving Livio a friendly pat?

Vash is the resident Plant expert here.

DIY explosives. Not concerning at all. Luida looks ready to smack him if he gives the wrong answer here.

Wait, Luida hears the voices of the Plants? What does that mean??

Ohhh, NM, that was Vash speaking.

"Is it possible for something created by humanity to completely break away from their creators?" Let me direct you to Exhibit A: Vash the Stampede, and perhaps more convincing Exhibit B: Millions Knives. Yes, I realize there's room for debate on how much either of them have "broken away," but they definitely have a will that is independent of the will of those who created them.

Ohhh, these are Plant thoughts. That makes them a LOT more significant.

Aww, Vash calling the Plants in the arc "the girls."

How the hell is Vash gonna keep both Knives and Legato in check? That didn't work out so well for him last time.

OMG everything about this. Thank God these two are finally hugging it out. They need this.

Milly telling Vash that Meryl can still get sad. Good on her. Anyone can still get sad. Being able to get sad isn't a sign of weakness.

Ugh, them kissing their fists and then bumping them. This is why people ship these two.

"Who's that helping us? Vash the Stampede, you say? Hmm, sounds familiar, but I just can't place it." Something something social strata. This guy's never been low enough on the totem poles to keep abreast of bounty hunter knowledge.

FYI, the untranslated Japanese across the top here is basically, "What the hell?!" or "What was that?!"

Ohhhh, that stupid-ass military general doesn't look like he's prepared to comply.

The Earth forces are not happy about Knives. Including Chronica.

Aaaand Livio's hunted down Elandira. I'm sure this will go smoothly.

Chapter 6: That Which Can Be Protected

Why do I feel like this volume is gonna end on a major cliffhanger?

Oh, hey! Baby Livio!

That's right! You've protected others before, and you can do it again!

What, you guys just gonna stare at each other all day? I mean, that's not necessarily bad. I'm just asking.

She looks kinda sad.

That... is one giant nail.

Yeah, she's pretty scary. The only thing that gives Livio a chance here is how crazy his regenerative ability is.

How did she know where he would stand so her nail landed in the right spot?

TBH, Elandira doesn't seem to like most people, regardless of gender. Have we met anyone she likes? She tolerates Zazie and Wolfwood, and didn't seem any more positively inclined than that toward any of the other Gung-Ho Guns. She hates Legato. She's dedicated to Knives, but she doesn't seem to like him. He's her boss and is gonna take her to Armageddon. It seems more transactional than anything else.

Ooh, low blow, Elandira. Very in character for her, but... but... I, the reader, don't want to hear people insulting Wolfwood like that.

Mmmmm, this is not a secluded fighting spot. That's... problematic.

"I was going to let you go because we're all going to die anyway." Hahaha, she's such a nihilist. I would have loved to have seen her in a more casual, less murder-ful setting. She would LOVE running her own drag bar, I think.

Hahahaha, all the random civilians being like, "You guys are too rowdy! Get out!" Good for them. Also, they clearly don't know who they're talking to.

Noooooo! Stop hurting my Livio! He needs to be protected, not FILLED WITH GIANT NAILS!!!

Ok, this is interesting. It sounds like some part of her wants to hope, or maybe did hope at some point in time, but the world beat it out of her a long time ago. She sounds... like Livio in the Before Times.

Man, I thought that looked like a nuke, but I didn't want to assume something about this world's tech like that.

How did she get the key for the bomb??

Hey! I recognize that hat!

Awww, of course he was protecting kids! And now these kids are gonna have the kind of trauma one gets from seeing someone who was trying to protect you brutally stabbed through with a bunch of nails.

Aww, Livio's decided kids are cute. Good for him.

They just met him and they're so worried about him! Oh, I think I should probably be worried about him, too, but for some reason I'm not? IDK, I just think he'll pull through.

See? He's fine. And apparently about to try to adopt half a dozen kids.

Oh, they have a mother-type person. Good. Livio's life's a bit dangerous right now to be looking after a bunch of kids. Maybe when things settle down.

He seems hesitant to accept this gift, but he also knows this act of gratitude is important to her.

Hahahaha, this little hat kid is determined. Scared, but determined.

Oh, man. When do you think Livio last felt his heart soar? This is giving me the feels.

Ohhhh shit, it's his old crush! Also, six years my ass.

Hmm, not so cliffhanger after all. Nice.

Archive

Trigun Vol. 1: Covers + 1-3, 4, 5-6, 7-8, 9-10 || Vol. 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

TriMax Vol. 1: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 2: Covers + 1, 2-4, 5, 6-7 || Vol. 3: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-7 || Vol. 4: Covers + 1-2, 3-5, 6-7 || Vol. 5: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 6: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 7: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 8: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5 + Bonus || Vol. 9: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 10: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-8 || Vol. 11: Covers + 1-2, 3-4

Extra Credit: Trigun Vol. 1: Nebraska vs. Vash's Motivations, Vash's Loneliness, Vash's Depression (pt. 2 of post), Soupy Brains || Vol. 2: Coin Factoids || TriMax Vol. 1: Lina, Vash, and a Haircut || Meryl, Vash, and the Pursuit of Happiness || Vol. 5: Knives, Vash, and Hatred for Humanity || Vol. 6: Coping Series: Wolfwood, Meryl, Vash || Vol. 8: The Uncoordinated Counterattack || Vol. 9: Justice, Punishment, and Mercy, The Tolling of an Iron Bell || Vol. 10: Crucifixion Symbology (pt. 2 of post), Merging of Families, Being Childlike (And Why God Hates Chapel)

#trigunbookclub #trigun maximum #volume 11 #pancake thoughts

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seasonsbloom · 2 years

Text

planets orbit around you. ( cassian andor )

pairing ; cassian andor x female!reader

synopsis ; on a rainy night, on a planet made for leaving, you and Cassian dream.

wc ; 6k

warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; angst; explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral m receiving, unprotected p in v), alcohol abuse, some unnecessary musings on class disparity

note: ... at this point, i don't even know what to say anymore. sorry if there are any inaccuracies in this, I'm not an expert on Star Wars lore.

title stolen from "wish on an eyelash" by mallrat.

thank you goes, as always, to sunderlust for reading over this for me. i'd be nothing without you bestie, and I mean it.

When it rains on Farrix, all the dark and twisted things crawl from their hiding places.

The streets turn into ankle-high sludge then, mud that sticks to your boots, that dries stiff and crumbling on your bare legs. Dampness settles everywhere - your clothes, your hair, your home. Even the moon seems to swim in the sea of the sky, plunging its silvery head through the surface only for a moment when a cloud parts before the night goes dark again.

You live in the filth here, live with the clanging of hammers on metal, with the roaring of sawing and scraping and metal being welded to or pried from other metal, with the sounds of people working their way steadily, constantly, unyieldingly toward an early grave.

Cassian Andor is a sad man, you know this the first time you ever meet him. It’s the sort of sadness that lives in the eyes; it lingers even when he smiles.

Not that you plan on that, anyway. You like to keep your cards close to your chest.

“Tsiraki,” he says, pointing at the shelves lining the wall behind you, the rows and rows of bottles.

You raise an eyebrow but don’t comment. That’s not usually his drink of choice. It’s not usually anybody’s drink of choice unless they want to get drunk fast and don’t care how they’ll feel in the morning. Judging by Cassian’s current state, you think any aftereffects of the drink will do little to worsen it.

When you turn to get the bottle off the highest shelf, you watch him in the mirror mounted behind the counter. The circles beneath his eyes are deep and dark, something haunted ghosting through his eyes. He’s always scrappy, always rides the razor’s edge of paranoia: Quick glances over his shoulder, tensing before he rounds corners, positioning himself so he can keep his eyes on the door. Like he’s always half-expecting something to finally catch up to him.

Tonight, there’s something heightened to all that. Something acute.

You pour the blue liquor into a glass before you put the stopper back in the bottle, strain to return it to its original spot on the shelf, nestled between other drinks that promise better times, better cures, better things. When you turn, he’s already looking at you.

It’s quiet in the bar tonight. Barely anybody braves the rain for the watered-down, overpriced stuff your boss makes you serve, and you can hardly blame them. It’s marginally less depressing in here than it is outside, lamps hovering over greasy tables dipping the room into purple plumes of light, soft music playing from hidden speakers. The air smells like sweat, and the overly sweet fumes of the hookah a group of men is smoking.

“Busy night,” Cassian says, something like a smile lifting the corner of his mouth half an inch.

You return the expression, push the drink toward him and get to wiping down the counter. “I hardly know what to do with myself.”

He chuckles, then winces as the movement of his mouth seems to tug at the bruise. His fingers fly toward his cheek on instinct, hover there in helpless static for a moment before he drops the hand back toward the bar top.

“What happened?” you ask, against your better judgement. It just slips out, the peculiar mix of worry and affection getting the better of you.

Cassian shrugs, moves to take a long swig of his drink. When he sets the glass back down, his lips are damp with the liquor. “Not important.”

You nod because that was the exact answer you expected. It’s not like you ever talk, the two of you. Not really. Not about anything that matters, at least.

“Which means you don’t want to tell me,” you say, and hate how it comes out, how it tinges your voice. Bitter, pathetic, scorned.

Realistically, you have no right to it. Not to these emotions, not to his honesty. You’re not his wife, not his girlfriend, not even his friend. You’re just… well. You can’t rightly say what you are.

Somebody he likes to play pretend with sometimes.

His gaze on you burns like a hot iron, but you don’t look at him. Keep your eyes pointedly on the rag leaving soapy trails across the bar. On your fingers, rough and calloused and older than your years.

“What time do you get off?” he asks finally, and you recognize it for what it is. A peace offering. An apology. Something in the place of all the things he should say, could say, wants to say, and never does.

And you, like the stricken, starved fool that you are, go for it. The way you always do.

“Another hour.”

If Cassian hears the hope in your voice, he does not comment. That’s a mercy, maybe. He simply nods, picks up his glass, pushes off the bar. “I’ll wait,” he says.

It’s like a riptide. You see it from far, far away, expect it, anticipate it, but when it’s there, it pulls you under with a strength you cannot fight.

Cassian is on you the moment the door clicks shut behind him, his finger tangling in your hair and his mouth slotting to yours. You let him lead, let him direct, let him crowd you up against the wall and tangle his tongue with your own.

He tastes like rain, like the sour tang of the tsiraki beneath it, like something that should be foreign but has become so familiar it scares you. You’re both dripping water onto your floors, and you find yourself entirely past the point of caring.

“Missed you,” he whispers into the kiss, his cold, cold fingers finding their way beneath your shirt, onto the naked skin of your hip. You jump at the contact, whimper, melt against him.

“Your fault,” you manage to croak out, your own hands twisting into the damp fabric of his coat. “You didn’t come to see me sooner.”

He chuckles, and his breath is blessedly warm against the goosebumps raising on your skin. Sometimes it feels like the only time the cold on this damned planet recedes is when you’re with him, like this, body to body and mouth to mouth. “Was busy,” he reminds you gently, and this time you’re not foolish enough to inquire.

You just go on your tiptoes, sling an arm around his neck to get closer, to get more insistent, to sink your teeth into his upper lip until he yelps at the same time that he smiles. In revenge, both his hands creep beneath your shirt, palms pressing flat to your back, and you screech at the feeling. Like ice cubes pressed right up against your skin.

Cassian pulls away to laugh properly, a sound so rare, so strange, you can hardly believe it exists outside the confines of your apartment. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s something he does only for you.

It’s a childish thought, but it blooms inside of you, and you let yourself indulge, just for a moment.

Your tiny, shitty, cheap apartment is mostly dark, littered with scrap metal and unwashed clothes, with dishes piling in the sink and empty bottles like pitfalls on the floor. You find little sense in even attempting to keep a place this ugly neat.

Reluctantly, you pull away from the warmth of him and stumble toward the unit that controls the light, shivering in the sudden onslaught of cold air. You flip a switch to moody lighting, finger hovering over the one that would turn on music, then decide against it.

The silence is a respite, even if, far away, you can hear the stuttering of exhaust pipes and revving engines.

When you turn back to Cassian, he’s leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes fixed on you. There’s something on his face now, almost gaunt in the yellow lights. He’s always hungry, you think, but you can never tell what for.

You stay where you are, suddenly unsure how to proceed. Let him take the next step, steer the ship, dictate the night, you think. Let him be brave instead of me.

After a tense, stretching moment, Cassian pushes off the wall and crosses over to you, pulling you with him over to the tiny alcove with your bed. He pauses in front of it, turns to get closer, his arms forming a crescent around you.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks, and ah. So this is what it will be.

Warmth floods you, sudden but welcome, and you relax against him.

“Nothing,” you lie because it isn’t the truth he wants anyway. Squint your eyes to better look at his face.

“We could leave,” he says, the words familiar, practiced, the opening notes to a song, to some ritual fight, to your constant game. His fingers are so tender on your spine it cuts something open inside of you. His face is so open, so young, it robs you of your breath. “Run away.”

“Where would we go?”

He hums, nuzzles his face into your neck like he can’t stand to have you looking at him anymore. The lilt of his accent vibrates through your skin. “Anywhere.”

“Where?” you demand again, poking him in the rib to nudge him where you want him.

“Somewhere,” he whispers, “with a sea.”

You giggle and tip your head back for better access. “Somewhere with a forest.”

“Somewhere with a river,” he counters, and his mouth slides down your jugular, down to where your pulse jumps rapidly beneath your skin.

“Somewhere…” Your breath hitches as he tugs you closer toward him, as his fingers dig deeper into your back. “Somewhere with a sunset.”

You can feel the curve of his smile burning an imprint into your neck, a matching one into your heart.

“Good one,” he compliments, voice lighter than it’s been all night.

It’s like a well-rehearsed dance, this. Something choreographed down to the most minute detail, down to each spin, down to each dip in his voice or rise in yours.

You deal in dreams - dreams of open spaces and empty streets, dreams of silences that stretch and echo, of air that smells like blooming things, like living things, dreams of any place far away from here, any place where you could be free, could be different, could be happy.

“We could do that,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the side of your neck, tugging your shirt higher up your back, exposing more skin to his touch, to the cold air, “couldn’t we?”

“We could,” you breathe back.

In the silence of the room, it sounds like We won’t.

There are a million reasons why you can’t. No money, no ship, no prospects. Most of all, though, you want to cup Cassian’s face in your hands, say, no matter where you go, you’ll take yourself with you. No matter how far you run, you will still be the same people.

It’s a pipe dream, a mirage. It will never be reality. You will die in this dirt, on this planet, without an ocean, without a forest, without a river, without a sunset. You will die in the dark. You know this.

And still… Still, you long, the same way all desperate, poor, lonely people too. Hands stretched to the sky, eyes closed, dreaming and hungering and aching for more more more. For something. Anything.

It is the gift and the burden of the poor that they know how to dream better than those that have it all.

So just for tonight, just with Cassian, you will allow yourself to dream.

“Cassian,” you say, and your voice is a fragile thing, fissures all over, “can you kiss me again? Please?”

He comes willingly, two fingers beneath your chin, angling your head up. It’s always so easy between the two of you, like pieces falling into place. Maybe that’s part of the dream, too.

For a moment, he just kisses you, slowly, his hands still on your face, yours fisting the hem of his sopping shirt. Water squeezes from the fabric, drips down between your fingertips, runs below your sleeve and up your arm in icy trails. Cassian draws away, looking down at the droplets collecting on his boots. A frown forms between his eyebrows, deep furrows that carve lines into the smooth skin of his forehead, and you can’t help it - you laugh.

“What?” he asks, his voice a little miffed.

“I don’t know,” you answer, shaking your head. “You have a funny face.”

Cassian chuckles, and the sound catches somewhere between affront and genuine amusement. “You really know how to woo a guy.”

“I don’t have to woo you,” you remind him, but you’re taking a step back and letting your jacket slide off your shoulders, try to make it at all appealing even as you know you’re fumbling it. “You’re already in my apartment.”

He watches your improvised strip-tease with a raised eyebrow. “What about romance? A man likes to be wooed every now and then,” he says.

You laugh as much at his words as at the mock insult on his face. “Just take off your clothes, Cassian.”

It could be whatever strange mood he was in earlier, it could be the tsiraki, it could be a million things you know nothing about, but for once, Cassian Andor actually obeys an order. It’s a stunning sight. And here, you’d always thought insubordination was ingrained into his DNA.

This part is perfunctory, routine, undressing a step away from each other, making quick work of the indignity of boots and socks. You get to work on the buttons of your shirt while Cassian gets rid of his jacket. They both hit the ground heavily, soaked with rainwater. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye while you toe off your shoes, watch him shimmy out of his shirt furtively, all the tanned skin and the scar by his collarbone and the last remnants of raindrops glistening like mercury in his hair, like you haven’t seen it before, like you’re not allowed to look.

When you’re down to just your panties, standing in the middle of your apartment with your naked toes curling against the cold of the floors, you pause. The rain drums against the tin roof without rhythm, the wind howls like an animal. You shiver in an invisible draft. Something inside of you aches with a longing you can’t explain.

“Hey.” Cassian’s voice is soft, his hands so warm when they slide across the exposed skin of your shoulders that you think he must have rubbed them together to warm them up. He steps up behind you, his chest to your back, and his words vibrate right by your ear. “You okay?”

You twist around in his arms, knees knocking against his, toes overlapping with his, one palm braced below his clavicle, the other hand reaching up. He flinches when your fingertips trace over the blossom of the bruise, but you ignore it, ghost them feather-soft over his cheekbone and into the hair at his temples.

“What happened?”

Cassian sighs, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. You think he’ll pull your hand away, but instead, he just stays like that, his grip loose around your arm, his eyes dropping closed when you rake your fingernails across his scalp in the lightest of touches.

“It’s better maybe if you don’t know,” he says, and there is so much in that it almost bowls you over. Panic flares low in your belly, hot and insistent, and then fizzles out as quickly as it came.

This is a dream, you remind yourself, but it feels hollow, empty, obsolete. Nothing matters.

“Can we really do it?” you ask, and his eyes open, big and brown and clear, and your heart stutters, your stomach plummets, your breath quickens. “Can we just… leave? I want to leave.”

And Cassian indulges you. Wraps his arms around you, pulls you to him so both your elbows bend at odd angles between your chests, leans down and kisses you firmly and decidedly like he’s shaking someone’s hand to seal a deal. “Yeah,” he whispers against your mouth. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

The thing about Cassian is that he can take you apart with perfect precision. He’s so much more observant than he lets on, seems to take note of everything going on around him, of every person, every droid, every alien. Knows how people react to him, knows how to avoid whoever he owes money to, how to avoid unpleasant conversations.

In your bedroom on a rainy night, he’s no different. He’s catalogued all your weaknesses, committed them to memory, and now he uses them against you. Kisses you until you’re so weak in the knees that his arms around you are the only thing keeping you upright, until your brain has descended into the folds of a pleasant, thick fog, until your lips are swollen and tender and you’re wet and aching between the legs, straining for any kind of friction. And then he runs his fingers down your spine, all the way from the hairs on the back of your neck down to the last knob and says, voice husky with something you’re too scared to give a name to, “Get on the bed.”

You’d do as he says, but he guides you anyway, watches as you slump back into the sheets, blink as the cold fabric whispers against your exposed skin, reach up for him. He smiles, the expression almost tender, takes your outstretched hands and threads his fingers into the spaces between your own, crawls after you onto the mattress. For a moment, he pauses to part your thighs with his knee, then he leans down and kisses you again the way you want, lets his tongue dip between your lips, his fingers trail between your breasts.

“Missed you,” he says once more, and you feel like you’re on fire, like something buzzes beneath your skin.

“Missed you too,” you confess, triumph in the pleased hum it gets you.

Cassian slides his mouth down your throat in a long, hot, wet drag, his beard rasping against the skin and you’d forgotten - the tender skin between your thighs, the feeling of his stubble leaving burns on every inch of your skin, the taste and the smell of him, and his weight on top of you, inside of you, his eyes warm and trusting in a way they never are anywhere but here, here with you, when he takes you apart, and you put him back together, when you dream together. It’s been so long.

When his fingers dip between your legs, pat at the soaked cotton of your panties, your eyes squeeze shut, and he groans.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles, his lips moving against your collarbone, his fingers over the fabric, parting your folds, brushing your clit and then moving on before anything real has the chance to build. “Is that for me?”

He presses the pad of his thumb to your opening, the panties clinging to your wetness, and you gasp, bite your lip, arch your back. Drop to the mattress like a sack of potatoes when he withdraws the pressure, swallow heavily, squeeze your eyes shut so tight galaxies wheel past. “Yeah,” you whisper as heat rises into your cheeks, spreads through your limbs, into your fingers, your toes, the tips of your ears until there’s no place for the cold to hide. “It’s always for you.”

It’s like this. Cassian is so sure he has nothing, and you don’t know how to tell him that he’s wrong. That he has you, that he’s always had you, that really, at the end of it all, you’re his, completely, entirely, irrevocably.

Very softly, he says your name, leans up to kiss you again. You’re distracted enough by his mouth that you don’t notice his hands going to the backs of your thighs until it’s too late.

You shriek as he flips you over, and then you giggle, your legs spreading over his hips, knees digging into the mattress as he grins up at you, his head dropping back into the pillows. He looks pretty like this, with his hair spreading around him, his pupils dilated, his lips pink and swollen with your kisses. You can still see the faint, white imprint of your teeth just above his upper lip, and something in you clenches.

“You look good like this,” he says, as if he’s echoing thoughts he has no business knowing, raising one arm lazily to drag his thumb over your mouth and down your chin, to cup the back of your neck firmly. “On top of me.”

The imprint of him is hard against your thigh, and you test your purchase, rock your hips forward to watch his head tip back, his eyes close, his chest inflate.

“I don’t think you’re real,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, then almost bite your tongue.

Cassian cracks one eye open, something smug settling on his face along with his grin. Like a mirror of your own actions, he kicks his hips up once, the head of his cock catching against your clit, your fingers spasming against his chest, shockwaves running through you, and he says, “I don’t know, but this feels pretty real to me.”

That’s just the thing. While you’re in the dream, you never question it. It isn’t until you wake, blink the fog of sleep from your eyes, that reality crashes back.

Sadness goes through you like a flash of lightning. Even as it happens, you always know the end, and it tugs at you, aches in you like an old wound.

“Hey.” His fingers squeeze around the back of your neck, demanding your attention. When you glance down at him, all the guards are down. He’s looking at you like you’re something precious, something valuable, something other than everything you are, and you have to bite back the bitter taste of tears. “Stay with me, okay?”

You nod, let him tug you down, your breasts pressing to his chest. His mouth opens beneath yours, and it’s a wet kiss, a filthy kiss, but it’s tender too in some horrible, awful way that sinks into your heart like a knife, like a dagger, like a lightsaber, sears right through you.

When you pull back, you leave a trail of kisses down his neck, his chest, his stomach, try to ground yourself, try to get rid of the dizzy feeling spinning your head in circles, the ringing in your ears.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, patting at your ass like he wants to get his hand on it at least once before you’ve scooted out of his reach.

“Missed you,” you say again, like that explains all of it, and then you’re sliding even lower, your legs rasping against the sheets. You press your nose into the patch of dark hair leading down his abdomen, eyes slipping closed as you smell him, as you try to fix the scent in your mind, try to keep it there, something to stave off the longing when he disappears from your life again, when he doesn’t come for days or weeks or months. Something to fill the nights when the cold and the damp settle in your bones and nothing can drive them away.

Cassian’s fingers slide into your hair. “Yeah? You want to show me how much?”

You nod, heart hammering against the confines of your ribcage. And then you take a deep breath and move until you can mouth at the head of his cock, taste the salt of his pre-cum. Cassian hisses, and a muscle in his abdomen jumps. You kitten lick around the shape of him, feel him harden against your tongue. Press dry kisses to his cock and then let spit drip from between your lips, dribble all over his length.

“Is it okay?” you ask against his skin, wondering if you sound as unsure as you feel. He always makes you feel things you’ve never experienced before, takes you higher, faster, better, and you can’t help it, can’t help but want to make him feel the same. Can’t help but want to try and give him something that will make him come back.

He curses, his fingers twitch against your scalp, his breath stutters. “Yeah,” he chokes out. “Yeah, it… Feels incredible. Shit.”

You smile, your own core clenching in answer, and you think you might have to throw these panties out tomorrow. What with the amount of slick pooling between your legs.

When you slide half of him into your mouth without warning, lather your tongue across him, Cassian makes a choked sound somewhere at the back of his throat. “Fuck,” he whispers. From between lowered lashes, you blink up at him, only to find him looking at you already. The look on his face makes your belly flip-flop, your fingernails sinking into his thighs. If you didn’t know any better, you’d call it reverent, and it echoes through you like his voice through the darkness.

So you take him deeper, spurred on by his reaction, take him far enough into your mouth that you can feel the phantom trace of his head against the back of your throat. He’s so heavy on your tongue, his fingers so tightly fisted into your hair that the sting of it travels right to your clit. Tears pool in your eyes.

“That’s it,” he encourages as you hollow your cheeks, suck at him with insistence, with a mission, move your palm over what you can’t fit into your mouth, and he moans, a sound loud enough to cut the silence, his free hand fisting into the pillow by his head. His thighs tremble with the effort of keeping his hips from moving. And still, you can’t look away from him, even as the shroud of the tears blurs your vision to a point you barely see more than his silhouette, even as you choke and splutter, even as your jaw aches and your wrist cramps, even as coherent thought slips from your grasp. “Just like that, you’re doing so good, so….”

You whimper around him, buck your hips against the mattress in search of friction, of relief, of something, and then suddenly Cassian is moving, is pulling you up and into his arms, hooking one finger beneath the waistband of your panties to tug them down your legs, to toss them somewhere. As you clamber into his lap, frantic, burning, trembling and disoriented at the pace of it all, thinking if he’s not inside of me now, I’ll die, I will, I’ll die, and he licks into your mouth like he’s trying to lick the taste of himself out of you.

Cassian says something to you, something that might be more praise, something that might be something dirty, but you can’t hear him over the rush of your blood in your ears. His hand finds the back of your neck again, angles your head the way he wants you.

It goes without preamble from then. He slides inside of you without resistance, splits you open, spears inside of you until your eyes roll back, your head drops into the crook of his neck, until you think you’ll die with it.

“Shit,” Cassian whispers into your skin when he bottoms out, gives you a moment to adjust, his body trembling with the strain of it. “Feel so good, love.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, pull yourself against him until there’s not a breath of space between you, no place where you’re not touching, nip at his earlobe just to watch the shiver race down his back, and then you lift yourself off his cock and drop back down, relish the slide, the stretch, the fingers spasming against your spine. It works like that for a moment, you setting a pace, him letting you. Desperate mouths on skin damp with sweat now instead of rain, fingers grasping for bodies, the sound of skin on skin and your muffled whimpers, his moans.

Then Cassian paws at your back, one palm spreading wide on your ass, his legs splaying below you as he gets his feet flat to the mattress. It slides his cock deeper into your pussy, and you sob at the feeling, mouth opening around something you never say. His name, maybe. A prayer, maybe. You can’t remember the difference.

He holds himself like that just for a second, a torturous, endless moment that drags on and on and on, that leaves you alone on a precipice, waiting, fearing, anticipating, and then he pistons his hips upward, and you swear you see stars. Crumble against him, fall apart, fall to pieces, and let him gather you in his arms, let him hold you together. He fucks you slow but hard, insistent, determined like he’s trying to leave the imprint of himself inside of you long after he’s gone.

You moan his name, sink your fingernails into the skin of his shoulder as his thrusts rattle you, as the frame of your miserable bed creaks and groans. It’s like you’re clay in his hands, malleable, moving wherever he wants you, molding yourself into whatever shape he wants.

I’ll do anything he wants, you think so suddenly, so violently, that it leaves the taste of fear behind on your tongue.

Cassian uses the hand around your neck to tug you away from where you’re still hiding your face, to pull your mouth back to his. It’s the hot slide of tongue on tongue, the nip of teeth, the panting of breath meeting. He tastes like your sweat, you taste like his precum, your limbs tangle, and your hair sticks to his temples, and his fingers catch against your thigh, and it’s impossible to tell where you end and he begins. You wish it could stay like this forever, the two of you as close as two people can go, melded, united. You wish you never had to wake.

He bends you further back, his hips snapping into you, his cock grazing some spot inside of you that makes you think you might slide off the face of the earth, until your back is arched enough that he can get his mouth on your nipple, and you cry out. You take whole fistfuls of hair as he sucks at you, silky strands that run through your fingers, as his teeth graze over the underside of your breast, as his fingers knead where they’re still on your ass.

“Cassian,” you gasp, as it keeps mounting, keeps spiraling, as it gets better and better and yet doesn’t go where you need it, doesn’t go all the way, isn’t enough. “Cass, I… I need….”

He hums. “I know, love. I got you.”

And then the finger of his free hand finds your clit, rubs in a way that lets you know he’s not playing around, that he wants you to cum, that he’s close himself. It’s dizzying, blinding, deafening, it rages through you like a blaze. It should be impossible for one body to hold this much pleasure, all your sinews singing with it, all your muscles locked in anticipation.

“I’m… I think, I… Cass…” You’re beyond words, somewhere where nothing matters but for the cord to snap, for the pinnacle of this pleasure, for the bubble to burst. Now, you only need him.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, hips pumping fast, cock twitching inside of you, fingers slick and unyielding on your clit, “let go. Let go for me now.”

You always do what Cassian says. Because you’re his. Because you have been since the very first time he walked into that bar and will be long after he walks out for the last.

You cum with his name on your lips, with your legs tightening around him, with your fingers in his hair and him deep inside you. It’s hot, a shockwave of heat that runs from your toes to the top of your head, that burns all thought in its wake, that curls your toes and arches your back and squeezes your eyes shut. That bowls you over.

For a moment, you can’t even remember what cold felt like.

Cassian groans, his cock jumping as your walls flutter around him, try to draw him further down, and he maneuvers both of you around until he can lower you onto the mattress, pull out and jerk his cock once, twice, three times, strong strokes from root to tip, and then he’s cumming across your stomach. Thick, warm ropes of cum hit your skin, and you moan, the exhaustion so overpowering you can’t even lift your head. Feel like you’re drifting somewhere out at sea, your head tipped up to the stars, your arms spread in all directions, where nothing can hurt you and dreams never end.

He lands on the mattress next to you with a groan, one arm immediately wrapping over your chest. Like now that he’s started touching you, he can’t bring himself to stop.

“I know we talk about going away,” he says, and his voice is so low you need to hold your breath to hear him. “But this isn’t so bad either. Your bed.”

Without opening your eyes, you smile, even as fear curls low in your stomach, fear that comes suddenly, without warning, because there’s something in his voice you can’t name, something you can’t understand, something that tells you remember you’re dreaming, it’s just a dream, it’s not real.

But you’re not ready to wake up. Not yet. So you tip your head back, demanding a kiss, and Cassian gives it to you. Kisses you softly and carefully, and still, it’s enough to have you clenching where you’re wet and still pulsing with the afterglow of your orgasm. It feels an awful lot like a goodbye.

When he draws back, finally, he brushes his thumb across your cheekbone, cards strands of hair from your face, watches your lashes flutter as you fight to keep them open, that horrible, awful, ugly fear choking you.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers.

You know this is a fight you couldn’t possibly win. Already the hands of sleep hang heavy onto your ankles, like weights dragging you steadily toward the bottom of an ocean.

“You’ll stay until I’m asleep?” you ask, and hate how helpless you sound, at his mercy entirely.

But Cassian just smiles, nods, leans down to press a chaste, quick to your mouth, then casts around for something to clean you up with. “Yeah. I promise.”

In the morning, when you wake in the gray dawn to the sounds of hammer hitting metal, he’s gone, his side of the bed cold. You turn onto your back, blink up at the ceiling, at the hanging cables like the roots of some giant tree, at the water stains and the missing slats, and the grief carves holes inside of you.

That’s the thing about dreams. They end. Outside, the rain begins anew, falling plink plink plink against the tin of your roof.

#Cassian Andor x reader #Cassian Andor #andor smut #star wars smut #Smut #fanfic #Cassian Andor x you #andor imagine #tagging stuff is such and indignity it humbles me every time #mine #writing #f:poay

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