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beauty-and-passion · 4 years ago

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Time to talk about the flower shirt

You read the title. Time to talk about this.

This is the infamous flower shirt Thomas put on in his store and, since the fandom is the fandom, everyone started to speculate about those flowers.

At first, I didn’t want to do it. They’re just flowers and other people already talked about them, so what could I possibly add to the conversation?

But while I was writing about Orange, I had to talk a moment about the orange flower. It was supposed to be a small parenthesis, just a couple of words about that.

But then I looked at the other flowers and what other people told/not told about them and how some didn’t find Patton’s flower... so here I am, adding my two cents to this theme.

You needed it? Probably not. Well, I’m writing it anyway.

So let’s take a closer look at those flowers and see each one in detail:

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Roman: Red rose

Should I really explain why it’s perfect for Roman? Red roses are the universal symbol of love. Basically in all cultures red roses symbolize passion, true love, romance and desire. Also, according to this website, even the shade has a meaning! In fact, the deeper the red shade is, the stronger is the passion.

And even the number of red roses has a meaning! In this case, we have only one single red rose and that "represents love at first sight, or if it’s coming from a long-term partner, they are saying “you are still the one”.”

You know what that made me think? About Thomas telling Roman “You’re my hero”. A perfect symbol that he was “still the one” for Thomas.

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Orange: Lantana camara

This is an incredibly peculiar flower.

Lantana Camara symbolizes severity and rigour. And this alone can be analyzed in all possible ways, but there are other interesting details about this plant I think it's worth mentioning.

Lantana is toxic for livestock, such as cattle, sheep, horses, dogs and goats. According to Wikipedia, previous studies suggested it could be toxic for humans too, especially the green unripe berries. However "other studies have found evidence which suggests that its fruit poses no risk to humans".

Lantana is a freaking invasive plant. In some areas, it's so predominant, to reduce biodiversity, because its presence "can significantly slow down the regeneration of forests, by preventing the growth of new trees". Also, as if this isn't enough, this plant can also produce toxic chemicals which inhibit other plant species.

Lantana has also a great adaptability, that helped it to be so invasive: it can live in a wide range of different environmental conditions, it can survive long periods without water, heck it's even resistant to fire. It's not a plant you can underestimate. Like Orange, I assume.

But Lantana isn't just an invasive plant. Lantana has always been used for medical purposes, because it showed good antimicrobial, fungicidal and insecticidal properties and its extract helps against respiratory infections and ulcers.

Also, since it doesn't have many pests or diseases, lantana became a common ornamental plant. It even attracts butterflies!

In other words: isn't that the perfect plant to symbolize the double nature of a dark side? It can be a threat, change the environment, destroy and even kill. But it can also be a medicine, something useful, something beautiful.

Whoever Orange is, Lantana camara tells us that, whithout a doubt, he’s a dark side.

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Janus: Sunflower

Do you think Janus isn't perfect enough as he is? Do you think there's not enough husband material in the snek?

Well, you’re wrong and the sunflower is here to prove it.

Sunflower symbolizes loyalty, adoration, longevity, vitality, worship. Now add this up to the sunflower’s behaviour and how it follows the sun... and you’ll get Janus. Janus literally acts like a sunflower: Thomas is his sun and everything Janus does is for him. His whole existence is centered around Thomas.

But we already knew that, because it's the same message that shone through his playlist. Everything about Janus tells us how much he adores Thomas, from his canonical behavior in the series, to his playlist, to this flower.

Oh, do you need another proof that this is flower is perfect for Janus? Some societies use sunflowers as religious symbols. Ah, some good ol' reference to religion: it’s like being in his playlist all over again.

And, of course, sunflowers are used for a variety of reasons, like cooking oils, skin care and so on. Even the flower says self care.

This man is perfect.

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Remus: Green chrysanthemum

Here's another interesting flower.

Chrysanthemum symbolizes death and it’s the typical flower used for funerals. And I thought this was its universal meaning. It was perfect for Remus just like that.

But then I found out that Europeans use chrysanthemums for funerals and to honor the dead. This flower actually has a whole lot of meanings, some completely different from this.

In China, for example, chrysanthemums are associated with wealth, prosperity and long life. Also they're symbols of new life and reincarnations, so they're the perfect gift for old people or newborns.

While in Japan chrysanthemums are symbols of power and royalty. And that's even more fitting for Remus, because he's a Duke, so he is royalty.

But chrysanthemum also symbolizes friendship - and not just "a friendship", but a meaningful one. It's a symbol of loyalty, devotion, romantic/platonic love and, in general, positive energy. It's a flower with an incredibly strong meaning, so it can't be given too lightly.

And this makes it even more perfect for Remus. It's a flower with a huge plurality of meanings, it's both associated with life and death, it's powerful and it's royalty.

Also, you can eat it. Isn't that the perfect Remus flower?

(On a side note: please notice how chrysanthemums and sunflowers are both associated with joy, loyalty and devotion. I would have never considered "joy" a common trait between Janus and Remus while loyalty and devotion... well, they both care about Thomas and his career and they both work for him despite not being accepted, so I can see why those are common traits.)

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Patton: Nemophila

Surprise surprise, this flower wasn't easy to find. I’ve never heard of it, so I had to search among endless lists of blue flowers, hoping to find one that would perfectly match the one on the shirt.

And that’s how I found nemophila.

First of all: nemophila is also known as "Baby Blue Eyes" and it's an extremely rare color to find in nature. It’s very famous in Japan, thanks to the Hitachi Seaside Park. Open this link: it’s a literal sea of blue and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Of course, it attracts people every year.

Nemophila represents prosperity, congratulations on success and victory. Not the first things you would associate with Patton, right?

Well, while I was searching more informations about this flower, I found out this website about the essence of Baby Blue Eyes and the passage I quoted down below has the exact same words you can find on that link:

With its pronounced affinity for water, the Baby Blue Eyes flower essences addresses qualities of tender sensitivity, innocence and trust associated one’s early childhood relationship to the father, or other significant masculine figures that are in some way disturbed.

Very often the father was absent, or there was a lack of support or genuine presence. The Baby Blue Eyes type attempts over time to cover this wound of vulnerability with a false “hardening,” such as emotional distancing, mistrust, cynicism or spiritual alienation. It is a flower that can be equally helpful for men or women, although it is especially needed for many men who struggle to become strong, by disowning their pain.

So nemophilia’s essence has qualities associated with childhood, to the father figure and attempts to “repress” and hide emotions.

That’s Patton. That’s him, period. The childhood-related emotions, that are linked to Patton’s longing for “a simpler time”. The mentions of a father figure - who migh be absent or showing lack of support (like, idk, suggesting you should die so your friends live?). And the attempt to “cover the vulnerability” doesn’t remind you anything? Like the Nostalgia episodes?

This flower is Patton.

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Logan: Blue petunia

I would like to say, from the bottom of my heart, a huge "FUCK YOU" to this flower, because I spent TWO DAYS searching all the blue flowers in the world and all possible variants, asking myself why this goddamn flower looked so familiar and why it was so hard to find. Blue isn't even a common color in nature, so why couldn't I find it?

I've learned more about blue flowers in these two days than in my entire life. I've searched among flowers I never saw before, like glandora diffusa, leschenaultia and omphalodes verna. I was so desperate to consider this flower a new species, with the petals of a bellflower and the corolla of a morning glory. I even found a goddamn chinese variant of the morning glory that was somehow similar but not that much and why, WHY this was so hard to find?!

And then, after two days and a lot more desperation, I remembered: my dear friend @reptilianwithscallions told me about a post they made, regarding this shirt and the flowers. Maybe they had some idea about Logan's flower?

Well, let's all thank my saviour and this post, because otherwise I would've kept searching until the end of my days.

Long story short, Logan's flower is a fucking blue petunia.

And it's a very peculiar choice, because petunias have multiple meanings, several of which can be contradictory.

In general, petunia symbolizes anger and resentment. It reminds someone that you're still angry or disappointed by their actions and you haven’t gotten over the things that caused these feelings.

Oh my, I didn't know we were back in Logan's playlist. It's basically what he kept expressing towards Thomas with his songs: that he was angry at Thomas for his decision, that he doesn't approve that Thomas hasn't "a real job" and so on. Petunia is a flower that screams passive-aggressive, so it's perfect for Logan.

But petunia's meaning deeply changes, depending on the color of the flower. And while petunia in general symbolizes anger, a blue petunia is a symbol of peacefulness, intimacy and deep trust, shared between two or more people. It's so wholesome, because the deep trust reminds me - again - of Logan's playlist and how it ended: no matter what, he and Thomas are always best friends.

Also, petunia flowers have even a secret meaning behind. Since they’re also gifted to new neighbors or to people who have just moved into a new home, they represent a perfect welcome and a way to express affection and kindness to others.

You’re lucky to be so wholesome, you tricky flower.

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Virgil: Perennial Geranium

Geranium is a confused flower.

Some of the other flowers have conflicted meanings, but not as much as this flower. These are the most common meanings I found:

Folly or Stupidity

Gentility and kind nature

Clever minds

Ingenuity

Melancholy

Perfect gift for a bride

You can gift it to someone with whom you have planned a meeting

You can gift it to someone with whom you haven't planned a meeting, just to make them feel welcomed

True Friendship

See? It’s confused.

Aside from jokes, this variety of meanings is due to its great diffusion: since geraniums grow everywhere, every culture gave them a different meaning. And sometimes these meanings depend on the situation too.

Awww, isn't it perfect for Virgil? He can be good and bad at the same time. Anxiety can be bad for Thomas and detrimental for his life, but it can also be the alarm Thomas needs. It depends on the situation.

And, just like geraniums in general symbolize positive emotions, happiness and friendship, so Virgil is in general a good guy. All he does is for Thomas' wellbeing, not against him.

And this is confirmed by the vast use of geranium's essential oil. It's one of the most popular and it has a ton of properties: anti-viral, anti-bacterial, anti-inflammatory, anti-depressant, decongestant, relaxing and so on. Just like our Virge boy can be incredibly useful under the right circumstances. (Did someone say "Flirting with social Anxiety"?)

Also, geraniums are simple, humble flowers that usually grow outside, but then we take them and make them part of our homes. Once again, it’s Virgil: he's an outsider, he's humble, he talks bad about himself - but Thomas and the others took him and made him part of the famILY anyway.

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Thomas: Cherry blossom

I searched this flower everywhere and the only one that looks like the one on the shirt is the cherry blossom. Why did Thomas make a cherry blossom with eight petals, when they all have five? I have no idea. Is this a different flower, maybe? Maybe, but I’m done: I've looked at enough flowers and I don’t have any strength left.

As you probably already know, cherry blossoms are extremely important in Japan. They're beautiful, they're everywhere and they're meaningful.

Why? Because cherry blossoms are considered the perfect metaphor for human existence. When they blossom it's a pink ocean, a party, people go to admire them - but they’re short lived, because in two weeks, the blossoms start to fall. It's just like human life: a small, rich, glorious parenthesis in the void. Something little and precious that ends soon.

But cherry blossoms also symbolize rebirth, optimism, hopes and dreams. When they bloom, it means springtime is coming and spring has always been associated with renewal.

That’s a very good choice for character Thomas. He’s basically a cherry blossom, the whole series is: something that reminds us how beautiful life is, how multi-faceted, how important. Just like Thomas' single being encompasses seven different sides of himself, so life presents a wide range of choices, of aspects, of flavours. All beautiful, all worthy of appreciation, no matter how different they can be from you and your experience.

And this becomes even more important, in relation to the passage of time and the transience of life. Because life is short and, after that, there won't be any more time to appreciate anything.

In addition to that, I would like to point out how the theme of passage of time is something we already saw in the series. And not just one time, but several. Since the first season, we have episodes all around the concept of growing up, growing old, not being a child anymore, becoming an adult. And the last Aside keeps going in this direction. It's clear this is a big theme and its connection with the cherry blossoms proves it.

But why is the flower so different on the shirt? Because Thomas wanted to mess up with us? Probably. Almost certainly. Once again, thank you Mr. Sanders for making me question everything.

The floor is (figuratively) yours now: if you have any other information, thoughts or opinions, feel free to share them.

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palidoozy-art · 3 years ago

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The more I think about your recent post about the changes you made to Strahd, the more I wonder about those changes you made to the others mentioned (Rahadin, Van Richten, Ireena, etc). I'd absolutely love to hear what adjustments you made as you already shared some stellar ideas already. Like the Tome? -Chef kiss- Amazing.

Oh mannn I do love talking about my campaign. I changed a lot with them. Again, weirdly enough, I think Strahd wound up being the most like his original incarnation. I could talk forever about the changes I made so I'll try to be brief haha. IT STILL WON'T BE BRIEF.

Obvious CoS spoilers below

IREENA - I thought it was weird that the picture they gave her makes her look like such a badass, and then the module just kind of writes her as a damsel in distress to either get kidnapped or pulled into water or dumped somewhere. To me, she's like, the second most important character in CoS -- and the book literally gives you less direction to roleplay her than her brother. Furthermore, reading her ending actually legit made me mad.

So I said fuck all that. Ireena in my game was a 19-year old girl who grew and developed over the course of the campaign. Several of my players actually said they thought of her as "the main character," just because she experienced a lot of character growth and development, going from a sheltered meek teenager to someone who can fight and assert herself. The biggest change I made to her though was that I very specifically did not just want her to be "Tatyana with memory loss." Ireena is a unique individual who happens to be partially made out of Tatyana's soul. While she shares many similarities with Tatyana, they're separate people, and part of what Ireena has to grapple with is how to live up to that. She's in the post-campaign because of that distinction -- while Sergei offered her to join him, she declined, because she wants to experience life past her twenties. I didn't get to play it out because we were kind of rushing towards the end, but I honestly envisioned a scene where she talks to the portrait of Tatyana, apologizing to her because she knows she's being selfish remaining alive.

This also brings up a unique problem in the post campaign. If Ireena dies, she ceases to exist and may not be able to be resurrected. When her soul leaves her body, it's Tatyana's again. Ireena very much wants to live. Tatyana doesn't. A resurrection has to be made with the consent of the soul, and if Tatyana declines, Ireena's just... gone. Forever.

Related: because I wasn't sure what my players would ask, and Rahadin would absolutely know this information -- there have been 18 incarnations of Tatyana, including the original. I actually have a timeline of when they were all born and how they died. The curse manifests in that they always die or are killed before their 25th birthday. If Strahd attempts to marry them, they lose their minds and throw themselves off of the same balcony the original Tatyana jumped off of during the ceremony. Strahd can never have Tatyana. Vampyr will ensure of that.

But yeah, essentially: Ireena gained actual class levels; she wasn't just Tatyana with memory loss; she traveled with the party for 90% of the campaign and wasn't just a macguffin to be kidnapped/take to places; and I removed any of the "Sergei takes her into water/the sky and you never see her again" endings because I absolutely hated those.

VAN RICHTEN - Van Richten I tweaked a lot from his original incarnation. First, I started him off as Lawful Neutral. No, game, I know you tell me he's Lawful Good, but I'm gonna have to disagree with you that "training a racist tiger to genocide an ethnic camp" falls under the spectrum of Lawful Good. Second, I changed him from cleric to artificer (alchemist). I somehow just got the impression the dude was a godless man, and so he felt more fitting to be a man of science rather than a man of the church. Third, since I wasn't sure the other dread domains were ever going to be brought into 5e I moved him out of Darkon and into another world from the outside.

His backstory was also tied more into Strahd and the campaign in general, as well as the Dark Powers. About 30 years ago, he went into the mists with his own adventuring party (that included Escher) to try to rescue his kidnapped son, Erasmus. He found his son half-turned and begging him for death. Killing him, Van Richten hunted down the Vistani woman (Ezmerelda's mother) who sold the man, and in a rage strangled her to death. This gave him a curse. Ezmerelda witnessed it happen.

He went on a warpath against vampire spawn and vistani alike, until Strahd proposed a deal to Escher. Escher lured the group to a familiar dinner date with Strahd... only for Strahd to murder all of them, including Van Richten. Van Richten was approached by a dark power -- Vaund the Evasive, and given the option to return to life in exchange for the promise that Van Richten would eventually return to Amber Temple and free him. He took it, waking up outside of Barovia. From there he became famed vampire-hunter-book-author, until in his early 50's he decided it was time to seek vengeance and fulfill his promise. He brought in his hat of disguise, came up with an alibi, and headed into Barovia as Rictavio the Great.

He was absolutely played as a much more morally grey character at the start (the party's first encounter with him rather than Rictavio was him literally torturing a dude). He softened over the course of the campaign as he grew attached to the party, until finally reaching a point in the post-campaign where he's considered Lawful Good

Also: Ezmerelda was treated more or less as his adoptive daughter. She absolutely argued against this every single time, but he even slipped up and referred to her as his daughter on a few tense occasions.

RAHADIN - Rahadin I adjusted a lot, too. A LOOOOOOT. Strahd being comically evil makes sense -- the dude is a darklord, that kind of comes with the territory. With Rahadin, I wanted him to have more motivations to his actions, because the base game actually suggests that the dude is actually capable of caring. In the base game, you can find him at Amber Temple, trying to "petition the dark god into releasing his master from his torment." He screams in grief if he finds Strahd dead. Furthermore it felt like the game glosses over the fact that the dude was adopted as Barov's son. It doesn't bother addressing how Rahadin felt about Sergei, who would in theory be his other brother. I thought a number of things suggested in his backstory were interesting, but not expanded upon in the base game. So I took it upon myself to do so.

I changed how dusk elf society was built, which affected the three major dusk elf characters. It worked off of a pretty brutal caste system, with three kings at the top overseeing all of it. Rahadin was born in a lower caste, but actually brought into the warrior caste after a member of royalty was intrigued by his stature. Rahadin worked as a general, but grew frustrated by the inefficiencies of the caste system and its inequality. He started attempting to use his influence to petition other members of nobility into changing or loosening the strict system.

Patrina caught wind of this, and viewing it as a threat to her lifestyle + viewing it as an easy way to gain brownie points with those above her... tattled on him to the three kings, spinning what he was doing as treason. Rahadin was arrested and subsequently tortured. They attempted to execute him on a breaking wheel, breaking his bones against the spokes and leaving him in the town square as an example. He wound up escaping, crawling his way out of town until he was subsequently rescued by a group of human monks. The event pretty much broke him, morally. He went to Barov soon after and sold his people out, taking a personal hand in helping annihilate the dusk elves and conquering their land. Barov was so impressed by the man's loyalty that he adopted him as his son.

Part of this was done to make a connection as to why the hell Rahadin just absolutely fuckin' hates Patrina so much (since that definitely got played up during the campaign). When thinking of Rahadin's motivations, I tried to come at it from the angle that this man was evil... but legitimately cared deeply about Strahd, Sergei, and Tatyana. He was devestated from the events of the wedding, but saw Strahd's return as a second chance. As the lone surviving witness from the wedding, he desperately wanted to help the three of them. But his own blind loyalty to Strahd and his broken moral compass prevented him from doing so.

One of my favorite little additions was a sidequest I offered to the players (they wanted to redeem Rahadin). They were requested by him to retrieve (well, "not destroy or sell") one of his most precious belongings in his office. When they get there... it turns out it's a birthday card and a worn-out old amulet from Sergei and Tatyana that he's kept after all these years. They got Ireena to read the letter to him, to help him keep going after Strahd's death.

anyway i could ramble on about changes forever but i don't want this post to get too long haha. i have. many feelings. over this campaign. maybe at some point I'll do a separate post with some of the others.

i also kinda wanna do a comic of an event from Rahadin's backstory for my players but we'll see, I might deem it "too stupid."

#palidoozy rambles #curse of strahd #curse of strahd spoilers #cos #cos spoilers #WARNING IT LONG #I HAVE MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THESE THREE CHARACTERS

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little-mad · 3 years ago

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Downsides of Thievery Pt. 4

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

After the scolding he issued, Rael felt fairly confident that he would be hearing no more disturbances from his human prisoner. Despite Gavin Stone seeming to have gained a bit of confidence recently, Rael still remembered the way he had trembled and squirmed in his hand. Surely that fear would be easily re-instilled by Rael’s sharp warning.

Unfortunately, Rael’s prediction proved incorrect, an occurrence that was quite unusual and quite hated. “Hey, how are you speaking our language?” Rael’s jaw tightened as he heard the human’s words. When he glanced down he could see the man looking up expectantly through the bars of the cage.

The answer to the human’s question was relatively simple. Rael, along with everyone that worked in or around the palace, had been required to learn several human languages. The idea was that if a human visitor ever somehow got lost in the palace, any staff member they may stumble across would be able to assist them.

The process of studying languages was made much easier by imbibing potions that aided in quick learning, which explained how Rael had managed to become fluent in four human languages in a matter of weeks. Not that he really wanted the ability to communicate with humans. Perhaps his prisoner wouldn’t be pestering him so much if they couldn’t understand one another.

Now Rael needed to decide whether to answer Gavin Stone’s question or ignore it. Obviously, he didn’t know the human well enough to know which option would be most effective in getting him to shut up.

He sighed, deciding to go with a third option. “That is not crucial and therefore does not warrant a response,” Rael said in the most formal and rigid tone he could manage. He would behave as unapproachable and unfriendly as possible to deter any future interaction from the human.

“Come on, it’s boring just sitting in this cage,” the human complained, sounding far more like a child than the adult he was meant to be.

A mischievous thought popped into Rael’s mind. Ordinarily, he would ignore these kinds of thoughts while he was working. Rael was never one to fool around on the job. However, there were no alteons around, meaning there was no one to judge him or get him into any kind of trouble. The only witness was the human prisoner, who had no voice among alteon society.

After coming to an abrupt stop, Rael reached down towards his hips and unattached the small cage from his belt. “Hey, what are you--” The human’s words were cut off and replaced with a startled yelp as Rael swiftly pulled the cage, along with its occupant, up into the air.

Rael held the cage mere inches from his own face. The proximity was so close that he could see the miniscule details of Gavin Stone’s face, like the fact that the man had a little freckle near his jaw.

“If you would like some excitement, I could always remove you from your cage and carry you in my hands instead,” Rael offered smoothly, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Although, I can’t guarantee I’ll be particularly gentle. People always say I have a firm grip.”

The way the human’s hazel eyes went wide as he sat sprawled out in the middle of the cage brought Rael a sense of satisfaction. The little man’s recent actions had proven him to be nothing but trouble, if the fact that he stole from a diplomat wasn’t evidence enough. Rael was more than happy to set the human straight.

For the second time in a day, Gavin found himself being held directly in front of an alteon’s face. And man, did he not like it. Being so comparatively small, trapped in the gaze of such a massive person--it was unbelievably intimidating. It made him feel like he was a specimen under a microscope or something.

The fact that Gavin had iron bars separating him from his captor didn’t really make him feel any safer, especially considering the threat Rael had just made. The alteon’s words had sent an icy chill down his spine, and the smirk on the giant face hovering in front of him did not help him feel any better.

It was startling how Rael had gone from irritated, but mostly indifferent, to intentionally intimidating. Gavin had had the guy pegged for a tight laced no nonsense type, but apparently he had a roguish side to him. Were Gavin’s heart not hammering wildly from adrenaline and fear, he might have been able to appreciate the fact that the alteon had a hidden, less boring side to him.

“Uh--that’s not really what I had in mind,” Gavin awkwardly responded as he clambered up to his feet. “I kind of just wanted to talk…” he trailed off with an uncomfortable laugh. It was nigh on impossible to maintain any composure while a jumbo elf guy stared at you so intensely.

Rael lifted a single dark eyebrow. “Oh? But I’m quite certain you wouldn’t be so bored if I carried you in my hands.” A shiver ran across Gavin’s skin at the memory of being trapped in the giant’s hand. As much as he didn’t like to be stuck in the cage, he’d choose that over a fist anyday. At least the iron bars of the cage couldn’t spontaneously contract around him and squeeze his poor, fragile body--or at least, he hoped they couldn’t.

“No, that’s okay. I...I’ll stay here,” Gavin replied.

A smug look took form on Rael’s face. “Very well then. There should be no need for further interruptions then,” he stated.

With no warning, the hand holding the cage moved down towards Rael’s belt. Of course, Gavin was once again thrown to the floor. “Would it kill him to at least give me a little heads up?” he griped internally.

In a matter of moments, Gavin’s cage was reattached to his captor’s belt and they were on their way again. Gavin resumed his previous “withstand the giant leg bumping into you” position and, for the moment, he remained silent.

It wasn’t as though Gavin was planning on doing what Rael wanted. The giant man may have essentially threatened him and effectively scared the shit out of him, but that didn’t mean he was ready to fold. Now that he knew Rael had this whole other side to him, it made Gavin want to push him even more.

And while there was no doubt that Rael could easily crush him if he wanted to, Gavin had a feeling that doing so would get him in big trouble with his boss. Of course, the alteon could always make Gavin’s trip to the palace more uncomfortable, as he had threatened. However, that was something Gavin was willing to risk if it meant he could satisfy his inexplicable need to disobey orders.

Gavin granted the alteon a couple minutes of quiet, almost as if to lull him into a false sense of security. During this downtime, Gavin pondered what exactly he should say next. As he was thinking, he noticed his bladder beginning to complain. He was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that he hadn’t gone to the bathroom since the morning. Honestly it was a miracle he hadn’t wet himself from fear yet.

“Hey, Rael? How much longer till we get there?” Gavin asked. He looked upward to carefully watch for the alteon’s reaction.

Even from the awkward angle Gavin was looking from, he could tell that Rael’s nostrils flared, and his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. Unsurprisingly, he appeared to be displeased with Gavin’s outburst.

“Unfortunately, we still have around half an hour left,” Rael said through clenched teeth.

“That’s too loooong,” Gavin’s mind whined. There was no way he was going to make it that long without his bladder exploding. Plus, who even knew if there would be somewhere he could go to the bathroom at the palace. “Do they even have indoor plumbing here???”

“Uh--do you think we could maybe take a little pit stop?” Gavin asked hopefully. Honestly, he wasn’t even purposefully trying to be annoying this time. He was just genuinely in need of a bathroom break.

“‘Pit stop’?” Rael inquired. Apparently his fluency in English didn’t cover all of the little phrases.

“Allow me to rephrase,” Gavin said. “Can we stop so I can go pee in a bush?” Being so blunt about the subject felt strange when talking to the likes of Rael. The guy spoke so formally that Gavin had to wonder whether he’d wound his sensibilities with this kind of talk.

Sure enough, Rael’s eyes widened slightly at Gavin’s request. The fact that he was taken aback by something Gavin had done was more than a little satisfying. Ruffling those carefully arranged metaphorical feathers of his always counted as a win to Gavin.

After recovering from the initial surprise, Rael’s expression returned to its usual annoyed glower. “Can you not hold it?” he questioned, a tightness in his voice.

Gavin shook his head, though after remembering Rael probably wouldn’t catch the movement, he said, “Not likely.” The constant bouncing movement of his cage would make it all the more difficult to keep his bladder under control.

A long, growly sigh sounded from above. Gavin looked up to see Rael wearing a dark scowl on his face. “Fine,” the alteon relented as his walking came to an abrupt stop.

For once, Gavin was actually prepared for the massive movements of his giant captor. He clung tightly onto the iron bars as Rael unhooked the cage from his belt and carried it into the air.

A flurry of disorienting motion later and Rael was sitting on a log with Gavin’s cage resting on one of his legs. As Gavin looked up at the alteon, he couldn’t help but notice he was basically in the giant man’s lap. “Oh god, it’s like I’m his little pet,” Gavin’s brain moaned as his face began to heat up slightly.

Seemingly oblivious to Gavin’s embarrassment, Rael looked down on his captive sternly. “I will let you out of this cage and you can...do your business,” the alteon stated, a bit of awkwardness tinging his voice at the end of the sentence. He cleared his throat, as if to regain his composure, and continued. “If you make any attempt to flee, I can assure you that recapturing you will be nearly effortless.” Yeah, he’d proven that when Gavin had tried to run from him on the roof.

Pushing down the intimidation, Gavin waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” As if running away would do him any good at this point. He had nowhere to go in this dimension. And as much of a hardass as Rael was, he’d much rather take his chances with him than risk an encounter with some random alteon.

Rael narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Gavin for a moment. Then, after he was apparently satisfied, he took a hold of the cage and relocated it to the ground in front of his feet.

Gavin watched as Rael’s large fingers easily managed the latch on the cage that no human would ever be able to handle. As soon as the door was unlocked, Rael pulled away and sat back up straight.

Tentatively, Gavin approached the now open cage door. Ever since arriving in the alteon dimension, he had been enclosed in his little prison. It had almost become like a little safety bubble. A shitty, no fun safety bubble, but still a safety bubble.

A part of Gavin didn’t want to leave the cage, as crazy as that seemed. Being completely exposed to the giant world of the alteon dimension was...freaky as hell. “What if a bird grabs me? Or a stiff wind just blows me away?” Gavin’s mind was racing through potential hazards he could face. But then he felt his bladder clench as the need to relieve himself grew ever more urgent.

When nature called, you had to pick up. And so, Gavin walked forward and took his first steps onto alteon soil.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Text

Blood in the water Part 2

Pairing: merman!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, brief mention of breeding, minor depiction of violence.

Words: 3496.

Part 1

___________________

He started singing again, and you turned on Slipknot to the full volume, carefully slipping on your noise-canceling headphones you ordered not so long ago. They were really a blessing, but even with them and all the noise surrounding you Steve’s voice still rang inside your head.

He had a beautiful voice, the one people would call heavenly, but his intentions were far from angelic: the first night you heard Steve singing to you, you had almost went to the beach where he was waiting his prey, charmed by his divine voice. Forgetting about the danger, you floated like a cloud to him, only half-awake and clearly unaware of your actions. The only thing that saved you that night was a sharp rock you stepped on, cutting your foot, blood coloring the cold ground as you broke free from Steve’s charms. When you ran home, covering your ears and singing loudly to yourself to silence his voice, the merman let out an unnatural, frightening growl behind your back.

Then Steve started doing it every night, serenading you by moonlight. It could be romantic if only the merman didn’t try drowning you in the sea, determined to make you “his mate”. Worse, with each passing day the mark he left on your neck was becoming more and more painful and itchy, and sometimes you were waking up with deep scratches left by your own nails.

The villagers couldn’t do much about it, despite being deeply ashamed of their inability to tell you about the merfolk - you realized they had been under some curse as every time they tried talking to you about Steve they were simply losing their voices. Of course, it all made sense now.

They helped you taking care of the wound, but from all the words they couldn’t say you understood you wouldn’t get rid of the mark easily. Thankfully, it stopped bleeding, but the nasty scar left by Steve’s sharp teeth had still been there. Well, you could live with it, you supposed, if only you leave this forsaken place.

When you got on the first bus, you had fainted in the middle of the trip for no damn reason. You looked so bad with you eyes rolling back into your skull, your body shaking uncontrollably, the driver decided not to risk it and returned to the town immediately, leaving you in a hospital again. Strangely, you woke up with no pain whatsoever, fresh as a daisy. It was the curse the merman gifted you - you couldn’t be too far from him now, dragged back by the mark on your neck, and your only chance to stay alive was either staying with him or taking him with you.

Maybe you could get rid of the curse if you killed him, you weren’t sure. As far as you knew from locals, they didn’t manage to kill even one in the last several decades. You didn’t know whether you could, too. Even if you would get a chance to stab Steve, you hardly imagined murdering him. You just weren’t the type.

So, he kept singing in his attempt to draw you to the beach again, and you kept hiding in that little cottage you rented. Oh yes, you were also worried about the rent since the month you paid for was coming to an end, but locals just smiled at you sadly, shaking their heads. This was how merfolk was attracting new people to the town.

“But my friends and family will be searching for me.” You mumbled, covering your face with your hands. “I have a job, a life out there.”

“I’m sorry, sunny, but no one will be searching for you,” the doctor said, giving you a salve for your mark - it was easing the itchiness. “You don’t know the merfolk. They'd stop at nothing to keep their mates close.”

“But why, for God’s sake?” You growled helplessly, unable to face the man and staring at your shoes instead.

“Reproduction, sunny. Mermaids aren’t as fertile anymore, and they are facing extinction.” He shrugged.

“And how is it supposed to work? Human with a merman?”

The doctor patted your shoulder apologetically, shaking his head. ‘I can’t tell you, dear. I... I physically can’t.”

You knew what he was talking about and couldn’t be angry at him. These people couldn’t do much, forced to protect their loved ones and living in constant fear of being abducted by the vile creatures living deep in the sea. Most of the time merfolk didn’t come to the town openly, and that’s why those women were so upset you lived far away, completely defenseless. But they couldn’t open up to you, revealing merfolk’s secret, and now Steve kept you on the hook.

Groaning when the sunlight crept in through the curtains, you rubbed your eyes and slowly got up, taking the headphones away and touching your ears. God, it hurt so much, but it was the only way for you to sleep at least for a few hours while Steve kept singing outside.

Oddly, you couldn’t hear the sound of the music as if someone turned it off, and you immediately went to your laptop to check. Shit, you forgot to plug it in. Thank goodness Steve stopped singing before your laptop turned off.

Sighing, you went to the bathroom, opening the tap and splashing some water into your face to wake up. It was barely six, but the sun was shining brightly, giving you no chance to go to sleep - you had always been up with the sun regardless of your circumstances. Now it was one more of your curses, considering you barely slept.

Watching your reflection in the mirror, you chuckled sarcastically, touching your bottom eyelid - you looked like you just came back from the dead. Would Steve be willing to let you go once he realized you’re no more the sweet beautiful lady he met? What a fucking bastard.

Feeling nauseated, you rubbed your face and went to the kitchen, reheating yesterday’s coffee. You had no strength to make yourself breakfast, even the simplest one.

Next minute you were wrapping the blanket around yourself and heading out of the house with a mug in your hand, eager to watch the sunrise. You weren’t afraid of Steve since you had never even once spotted him on the beach in the daylight. Besides, you kept a little knife in a pocket of your pants in case you needed to cut yourself and become free from his charms.

You still questioned yourself what were going to do next. Even if your parents and friends would forget you because of the curse affecting them somehow, you still remembered them. You wanted your life back. You wanted to sleep at night, unafraid of being snatched away by someone hiding in the dark. You wanted to wake up, knowing you are safe, and go to work, have one more simple day, then returning back home. You didn’t ask for much.

Well, you would have to figure out how to live in this small town all by yourself, find a new source of income and pretend like no scary mythical creature lingered behind your back. Maybe you would have to ask doctor to make you deaf. It should help with the singing.

Suddenly, you saw a huge figure rising from behind a rock not very far from you. You froze on the spot, looking at Steve walking carefully on the beach. Despite wearing something reminding you of a torn human sweater, he was naked below the waistline, and you blinked, looking at his soft cock dangling in between his legs.

Legs. Steve had a pair of strong, muscled human legs.

For a second you forgot how to breathe, watching him coming closer to you, his movements a bit unsteady and slow. You became rooted to the ground where you stood, unable to turn away and run from the monster too human to your liking. Was it his magic again? Was it you who couldn’t keep running anymore?

Biting your lips painfully, you felt tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Steve was wearing your sweater, albeit badly stretched out and torn in a few places - he was so much bigger than you it was a miracle he had somehow managed to put it on. You suddenly remembered how you were searching for this sweater a week or two ago, thinking you had forgot it somewhere in the cottage. How and where did Steve find it? Was he always able to walk? If so, why didn’t he take you away?

Well, maybe that’s what he was going to do now.

Finally finding some strength, you turned back to your cottage, eager to get away as far as possible from him, but then heard Steve’s angry, raspy voice, “Stay where you are!”

And you stood, moving back to face him and unable to do anything at all but watch.

Steve looked as tired as you are: you saw the bags under his eyes, his full lips cracked, his expression exhausted as if your resistance was straining him. Wasn’t he supposed to be an invincible immortal being wandering the sea? He looked so much more human now you weren’t even sure anymore.

“You want my throat to bleed, don’t you?” He grunted in a hoarse voice, wincing when he spoke, and you realized he lost his voice after signing night after night to you. “I am doing my best for you, and you just turn on that horrible, distasteful music every night!”

You smirked - how dare was he to call Slipknot’s best songs “distasteful music”?

“This shouldn’t happen this way. You’re ruining it.” Steve continued to grumble as he kept coming closer and closer, and, oddly, you found out you weren’t as scared of him anymore as you were in that faithful night.

“Ruining what?” You asked, sipping your still warm coffee when he approached you, wet and angry.

“The courtship!” The man exclaimed, breathing heavily - it seemed walking on his human legs was talking a toll on him. “You had to come to me, you stubborn woman! And what are you making me do? Come to you instead?”

He coughed, squeezing his eyes shut and touching his neck. It had to be really painful for him to talk.

Despite how wicked he was and how badly you wanted him to have a taste of his own medicine, you almost felt pity for your merman, handing him your mug when he stopped close to you.

“What is this? Coffee?”

“With milk. Good for your throat.” You replied, acknowledging he knew of human drinks.

Gazing at you skeptically, Steve sniffed your mug and then took it in his arms, glancing at the liquid inside. “It’s hot.”

“It’s warm. You won’t burn your tongue.” You said, taking the blanket off your shoulder and wrapping it around his hips - seriously, you felt too awkward to stand near a man dressed in just a little stretched-out sweater.

“You and you fear of nudity, humans.” Steve grunted, but sipped the coffee, nonetheless, quickly getting used to it and finishing your mug. “Oh, this one isn’t bad. I tried espresso, but it was so bitter I couldn’t have the whole cup.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around your own body and looking at the merman. What was he going to do now? He didn’t look vile, probably not as angry and upset as before, but who knew what he had in mind.

“So what? Are we going to stay here in the cold or you will bring me to your house?” Steve asked snappish while you snorted at him.

“Really? I thought your plan was to drown me in the sea, not bask in the warmth of my bed.”

He grinned, pressing your mug to his impressive chest.

“Why would I drown you, silly woman? Come on, it’s cold out here in the morning. I want to stay at your place.”

He took your hand in his, and you finally moved from your spot as if Steve allowed you. Making sure the blanket was wrapped tightly around him, you went to your house, thinking of the knife in a pocket of your pants. If he was planning to attack you, you could definitely stab him through your thin sweater or cut his throat. It would require some skill, though.

Entering the little hallway, Steve looked at the ceiling and winced from the mirror hanging on the wall, looking at his reflection. Shaking his head disapprovingly, he reached out to touch his swollen bottom eyelid.

“I thought merfolk aren’t afraid of cold.” You said, entering the kitchen and emptying the coffee pot.

“Not in this pathetic human body.” Steve entered after you, rubbing his arm in your completely wet sweater.

“Then you have to take this off and-”

“What? NO!”

He jumped away from you and stayed in the corner like a kid hiding something from his mother. You rolled your eyes.

“Although this is MY sweater, I’m not going to take it from you. I just want to dry it, alright?” You ensured, coming closer. “You’re not going to get warm if you keep it on.”

“This is my sweater.” Steve grumbled, but took it off, regardless, and handed a miserable, partly discolored piece of fabric to you to let you hang it close to the heater, watching you intently - did he really think you’d ran away with your sweater?

When you turned to face him, your blanket wasn’t secured on his hips anymore, and you stared at his naked member again, your face growing terribly hot from the sight. What was that merman thinking? Was he flaunting his.. physique in front of you? You knew of some animals doing that to attract their mates.

“For goodness sake, cover yourself.” You huffed, taking a pack of milk from the fridge. “You don’t want this thing to freeze in the open, do you?”

“Wait, it can freeze if I don’t cover it?” His eyes shot open. “You mean I won’t be able to have children anymore?”

“Yes, this is exactly what I mean.” Oh damn, it was terribly hard not to laugh as you watched Steve looking at you in horror and hurriedly wrapping the blanket around himself as much as he could. It was hilarious.

Putting two cups of milk into the microwave, you hit the button and pulled out some butter from the fridge to put into the cup once milk would be ready. You certainly didn’t need this hissing little mermaid who lost his voice because he sang too many serenades to you.

“So, what about the courtship?” You asked, stirring melted butter in Steve’s cup as he waited for you, sitting on a chair near the table. “How do you even imagine making babies with me?”

“You don’t know?” He looked at you innocently. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m a pro at that. I’m sure you will enjoy the process.”

“For God’s sake, Steve.” You groaned, placing a cup in front of him and taking yours. “Don’t play stupid here. I can’t live underwater. I can’t even fucking swim!”

“I’m not asking you to.” He shrugged and took his milk, ensuring it wasn’t burning hot before making a sip. “Though you won’t die underwater now. Believe it or not, you can actually breathe there because of my mark.”

You touched the scar, rubbing it with your fingers furiously and narrowing your eyes at the merman who, apparently, seemed very happy to see his mark on your skin. Once he reminded you of this thing, you were ready to snap at him.

“Do you even know how much this thing hurt?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“This is because you refused to come to me,” he cocked his head to the side, watching you growing angry. “I only need to kiss it to make you feel better. Don’t look at me like that! It’s true, let me show you.”

You stepped backwards immediately as he advanced upon you, caging you with his large body, pressing you to the kitchen counter, his skin cold. Pushing your hands against Steve, you tried to keep him away, but he was so much stronger than you that you almost ended up with your face buried in his chest.

“What the-”

He quickly lowered his head down and sniffed you, bringing his face to your neck. The next moment Steve was touching your scar with his lips, and you whimpered involuntarily, expecting it to hurt like hell. But it didn’t. He simply brushed his dry, chapped lips against your mark, and you felt nothing especially painful.

You were growing tired of all this magical things you didn’t understand.

“See? There’s nothing scary.” He smiled brightly, and you saw he had human teeth now, too.

“Yeah, yeah, now please go sit over there,” you grunted, but he didn’t move, laughing at you and ruffling your hair with his large hand. “What are you doing? Go away!”

“Don’t be so cold. You are going to share your life with me, silly woman, so don’t fuss over such little thing.”

You decided it was time for more effective measures and reached out to your pocket to grab the knife, but Steve grabbed your arm before you could do it, sending you a serious look.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’m not here to hurt you, I promise.”

“Really? I have some doubts.” You slapped his hand away, but didn’t try to take the knife again. “Because you have just ruined my life with that bite. How the hell this is going to work, anyway? How do you expect me to live with you? You’re a damn mermaid!”

“I’m a merman,” he said, looking resentful, and returned to his seat, sipping his hot milk with butter - apparently, it was working, and his voice sounded less raspy now.

You exhaled loudly, enjoying the distance and rubbing your mark that wasn’t as itchy as before, but you scratched it, anyway.

“Listen, I’m not saying I’m totally harmless, but I’m not dangerous for you.” He said as he finished his cup. “You can remain living here, on the ground, I won’t pull you into the water... often.”

“Do you understand I can’t just go and be intimate with you, someone I see for the second time in my life?”

“I’d be surprised if you did. Look, I’m not asking for it either. The courtship doesn’t last for a month. You’ll get used to me, I know.”

His dazzling smile was making you feel nauseated, and you grabbed you cup, having a bit of warm milk, too. Steve was being impossible, but you were thankful he wasn’t forcing himself on you now. Maybe there was a chance to trick him into removing this hex, and you would have to figure it out.

“If you want to know whether we can have children together, I can tell you we definitely can. It doesn’t really matter whether I take my true or human form while making love to you, so it’s up to you how you wanna do it.” Steve grinned, and you clenched your teeth, unable to believe he was talking about it so openly, caring little for your consent. There was something barbaric in this charmingly handsome half-naked man sitting in your kitchen.

Suddenly, you felt like the nausea got much stronger, and merman’s smile wasn’t at fault. What was happening? The world was spinning, and you let go of your almost emptied cup, slipping to the floor. Shit, shit, shit. It wasn’t good.

Oh God. It was him, wasn't it? He had done something to you. He smiled and talked and laughed to make you relax, think of your situation like a simple comedy when, in fact, you were still in grave danger. Were you so stupid to believe him or was it his charms again? You hoped for the latter, curshing yourself for being too carefree and letting him into your house.

“Sorry, sweetheart, it seems I put too much medicine in your milk.” He clicked his tongue as you looked at him in horror, barely able to move now. “I thought we had more time to talk. But, well, we can always do it later.”

Steve was near you the next second, carefully lifting you up in the air in his hands, watching you with a bit of concern on his face.

He proceeded to walk in the direction of the door, but before he snatched your torn sweater and put it on his shoulder, carrying you outside of the cottage that had become your little fortress over these few weeks. However, it could keep the monster off your back, and now all you could do was watching the green door becoming further and further from you with each Steve’s step to the shore.

Your body was completely frozen when his feet reached the water, and the merman left a kiss on your cheek, stroking it tenderly despite that wicked smile on his face.

“I told you, you can’t break the tradition. It is time for you to come to me now."

THE END

___________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @sourpatchspinster

#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #captain america #yandere #requests #mcu #mcu fanfiction

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slythergirlimagines · 4 years ago

Text

I Suppose That Would Be Alright- Draco x Reader

Request: Hello!! May I request prompt 4 with Draco Malfoy where the reader saw Draco cheating on her and they broke up? & He tries everything he could to get her back but she doesn’t give in easily. This could be a little angsty. xD

Summary: Reader catches Draco cheating and breaks up with him. He desperately wants her back. Angsty with a little fluff at the end! (gif not mine!) masterlist

Words: 3,681 Requested: Yes

******PLEASE GO TO THIS POST AFTER YOU READ THIS STORY, I REALLY WANT YOUR FEEDBACK ON A CONCEPT I HAVE*********

For reference, L/n refers to “your last name”

I Suppose That Would Be Alright

Draco meant everything to you. You had been dating for almost two years now, and you were happier than you had ever been.

There was a different side to Draco that you got to see. To the world he may be tough and snarky, but to you he was sweet and caring. He was also overly indulgent, and you knew he would do literally anything for you. He always told you how much you meant to him, and you had always believed him. Until this very second.

Draco stands in front of you in the corridor, being snogged within an inch of his life by Pansy Parkinson. You stand there, frozen in shock as time grinds to a halt. The other students in the hallway dart their eyes between you and Draco, and start whispering. You whirl around as quickly as you can, unable to take anymore of their pitying looks or Draco’s snogging session.

As you run, you hear Draco calling your name, but continue to push through the throng of students. You tell yourself that you just have to get away. As you run, memories swirl through your mind.

The words swim in front of your eyes, blurring into nonsense. How were you ever going to succeed in potions, when absolutely nothing made sense? Tears gather on your lashes, further obscuring what little you could make out. With a sigh, you let your head slam onto the heavy potions book.

“L/N? What are you on about?” A snide voice rings out in the quiet of the library.

You whip your head up, and blink back the moisture in your eyes. In front of you stands a scowling Draco Malfoy. His silver eyes penetrate yours, and it makes you uncomfortable. You know what he’s like, and he so obviously is going to use this against you somehow.

“Shove off Malfoy.” You mutter angrily, swiping at your eyes with vigor.

Draco eyes you for a second, then takes the seat opposite of you. He reaches out a pale hand and slides the book out from under you, turning it to examine its contents.

“Potions, huh?” He says. He looks back at you, and some how his face is a little softer than before.

“I’m pretty good at potions, if I do say so myself.” He brags. “I bet I could whip you into shape L/N.”

“Why would you help me?” You question. His actions go against everything you’ve ever heard about him, and everything you’ve ever seen him do.

Draco shrugs, and juts his pointy chin.

“Beats having to help Crabbe and Goyle. At least you can read.” He says.

You catch yourself laughing, and it surprises you. Draco Malfoy is funny?

“Y/N.” You say, extending your hand across the table. Draco considers it for a moment, and then takes your hand in his cool one.

“Draco.”

The tears stream down your face, as the memories keep hitting you full force.

“Y/n?” Draco asks, sprawled out in the grass. “Would you call us friends?”

You look up from the book you’re reading and mark the page. You’ve been Draco’s friend for several years now, and you know his moods like the back of your hand. If you don’t give him your undivided attention he’ll pout for the next week.

“I certainly hope so. I don’t spend this much time with just anyone you know.” You say gently.

You always try to be gentle around Draco. He’s been horribly belittled and mistreated by his father, and though he will never willingly admit it, he craves the support he didn’t have growing up. You never want to treat him the way his father does.

Draco sighs, and then locks his eyes on yours. He scoots his head into your lap, and then sets his gaze on the tepid lake. It’s a cozy afternoon, and the soft light makes Draco’s blonde hair look even lighter.

“But friends can take each other to dances and things right?” He says. His voice is uncharacteristically timid, and it makes you smile. Draco is always softer around you than he is with others, but he is still usually cocky and confident. Now he is nervous, and it makes your stomach flutter.

“What do you mean?” You ask, smirking. Of course you understand what he’s getting at, but you’ll take any opportunity to mess with him.

He looks up at you then, grey eyes narrowing when he catches the expression on your face. Draco sits himself up and turns to face you. He’s much closer than you anticipated, and you feel a blush rising to your cheeks.

“You’re messing with me.” He says, voice low.

“Maybe.” You agree. You aren’t quite successful at keeping the breathiness out of your voice.

“Go to the ball with me?” He asks. You pretend to think about it for a minute.

“I suppose that would be alright.” You grin. “Poor Goyle, though. I think he already had his dress picked out.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but smiles back at you anyways. You can’t keep the blush off of your face the rest of the day.

The most important memory hits you last.

“That was so much fun, Draco.” You say as he walks you through the abandoned corridors to your dormitory. If you listen closely enough, you can still hear the faint sounds of the music. The night has a dreamy haze to it, and you practically feel like you’re floating.

“It was, wasn’t it? Doesn’t help that you had the greatest date.” He adds.

You laugh, happy and carefree.

“Y/n.” Draco says, catching your hand and stopping you.

“Yes, Draco?” You ask, blinking at him. The moonlight filters in through the hallway, and Draco’s hair and eyes are gleaming. He’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I don’t want to be friends anymore.” He says.

Your face falls as you take in his words, and then he’s kissing you in the moonlight.

“I love you.” He says when he pulls away. It’s all too easy for you to stand on your tip toes, and press another hungry kiss to his mouth.

“I love you too.”

How could he do this to you? You loved him, and until now you had never doubted that he’d loved you just as much. You had been so blind.

Draco catches you before you can get away from him.

“Y/n, wait!” He says, griping your elbow to pull you back to him.

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, venom dripping from every word.

“It’s not what you think!” He starts.

“Not what I think? What I think is that you and Parkinson were just having a nice song. Don’t let me interrupt!” You snarl. You itch to whip out your wand and curse him.

“Y/n...” he says, giving you the wounded puppy eyes. They usually work, but not this time.

“I’m done!” You snap. “There are a lot of people in your life that let you toy with them, Draco. They let you move them around like chess pieces, but guess what? I’m not one of those people.”

“I know you aren’t!” Draco defends.

“I won’t let you treat me like one any longer. I loved you!” You say, tears streaming freely down your face. “I loved you for years and you were just using me.”

“No I wasn’t! That’s not true.” Draco pleads. “Y/n, I’m telling you nothing happened!”

“If that’s nothing then I’d hate to see your definition of something!” You wrench your arm out of his grasp and move away.

“Y/n, please...”

“I’m done, Draco. I’m done.” You say, and walk away. Even though you want to, you don’t turn around once. You know your worth, and you deserve more than to be treated like rubbish.

The next few days are incredibly hard. The entire school learns about your breakup, and there’s a flood of sympathetic faces wherever you go. People whisper when you walk into a room, and grow quiet when you come near. It’s humiliating and annoying, and all you want is some damn privacy to mourn.

It doesn’t help that Draco refuses to take the hint and leave you alone. He’s already tried to approach you a few times, and it’s getting harder and harder to avoid him.

Today you all share a class, ironically potions, and you usually share a table. You know that it will be impossible to get any learning done with him next to you. Maybe you could find someone to switch with you. Draco was still astoundingly good at potions, and there had to be someone who would want to reap the benefits of being his partner.

Finding that someone, however, was proving to be impossible. You weren’t really that close with anyone in your class, and after the second no, you were starting to get the feeling that everyone wanted to see the drama play out. You decide that if you had to sit next to Draco, then the best thing to do would be to get there last and leave first.

You walk into potions with your head held high, seconds before class begins. Professor Snape narrows his dark eyes as you walk in, but doesn’t say anything to you about it. Draco is in his usual seat, sitting stiff as a board.

He is paler than usual, you note as you take your seat. Dark purple rings his eyes, and betrays his lack of sleep. Your heart stutters being this close to him, but you are strong and you will ignore all of this.

Snape begins his lecture, and you hang onto every word. You’ve never been so focused on a lecture in your life. You’re busy noting every word that Snape says, when a note pops up on your parchment.

“I really need to talk to you.” It reads. It’s in Draco’s neat and proper handwriting, and you have the violent urge to destroy the loops with your quill.

You lock your jaw, and then continue taking notes as if you’ve never seen Draco’s message.

“Y/n, please. I’d just like to explain.” Another note says.

Again you ignore it, and you can feel the tension in Draco increase as he scribbles another hasty note.

“Y/n, please..” the words start.

“Enough!” You snap at Draco, loud enough to draw the attention of the rest of the class.

“L/n, I didn’t know that you were so educated about Acromantula Venom that you didn’t need my lecture.” Snape says in his slow drawl. “Please enlighten the rest of the class with your expansive knowledge.”

“I-I’m sorry professor, it won’t happen again.” You say. Snape looks more sour than ever as he turns his attention back to the lecture.

You feel the familiar pressure of tears behind your eyes. This time, they are angry tears. Draco couldn’t settle for humiliating you in front of everyone in the corridor, he had to also humiliate you in class too.

The second Snape dismisses you, you are running from the class. You give Draco no time to catch up with you, as you hastily make your way back to your dormitory. Maybe you’ll just have to hide out here forever.

Draco tries again during dinner. You knew you should have just had one of your housemates bring you a plate, but you hate feeling like a coward. You’re not going to starve to death because Draco couldn’t keep his tongue in his mouth. You refuse to let him have that much power over you.

You’re in the middle of forced conversation with your housemates when Draco makes his way over and sits down. Instantly, you feel a multitude of prying eyes on you, and you again have the urge to run.

“Y/n.” Draco says firmly. “I need to talk to you.”

“Leave me alone, Malfoy.” You say coldly. Draco flinches at your use of his last name. You’ve never called him Malfoy, not since the day you became friends.

“Y/n, nothing happened with Pansy. I love you!” He says as quietly as he can. It irks you that he’s being so quiet about it. If he really loved you, why was he acting like it was such a shameful secret.

“Right.” You say. “I’ll believe that when I see it Draco.”

You didn’t mean it as a challenge. Draco’s actions had already proven to you what he felt. However, his face brightens at your words and warmth blooms in your chest. You quickly stamp it out, and ignore the feelings. You’ll get over that soon enough.

“I’ll prove it to you! I swear I will.” He says, and then he swings his legs over the bench and walks out of the Great Hall. You have the sinking feeling that disaster is looming.

Draco’s first attempt to win you back involves flowers. Somehow, he manages to jinx a vase in your room to procure a new flower for you every morning. Of course, they are your favorite kind of flower, and the vase magically expands to include them all.

The flowers anger you because they are a sweet gesture and an impressive bit of magic. Why couldn’t his attempts be weak and pathetic so you didn’t consider taking him back? Draco was too good at wooing and schmoozing. You have to remind yourself multiple times a day that you caught him kissing Pansy.

To his credit, Draco leaves you alone for a while. He doesn’t try to contact you or force you to talk to him. That doesn’t mean you can’t feel his eyes on you all the time, and that potions isn’t the most intense class you have. But at least it’s something.

You have five flowers when Draco makes another attempt. Your favorite candy from Honeydukes now appears underneath the flowers. You carefully unwrap the package, and put the delicacy in your mouth. It’s delicious, as always, but it makes you sad too. You miss Draco more than anything, but your trust has been broken. Some chocolate and flowers won’t fix that by themselves.

You miss him, and you really should stop hiding from him and just talk. He was trying, and that’s at least enough reason to let him speak. You didn’t have to forgive him.

You go down to the Great Hall with determination. You’re going to get this resolved today, regardless of the outcome.

You walk into the hall, eyes searching for blonde hair and silver eyes. You find Draco at his normal table, and then your heart sinks. Next to him sits Pansy, who is staring at him with obvious heart eyes. Your anger reaches its boiling point as you stomp over.

“Draco.” You say, tone stormy. “We need to talk.”

Draco looks eager as he jumps from the table and follows you outside.

“What are you doing?” You hiss. “You can’t send me flowers and candy every morning and then still be hanging around Pansy whenever I see you! It doesn’t work that way.”

“Oh I’m sorry.” He says, voice haughty. He sounds like the Draco everyone else knows. “I’m just a little confused because I try everything to reach out to you, and you ignore me and all my effort and then get mad when someone else acts interested in me!”

“I’m not allowed to be mad that you’re with the person you cheated on me with?!” You snap.

Draco’s grey eyes narrow dangerously, and his body shakes with anger.

“You never listen to what I say.” He snaps.

“You know what? I was coming down here this morning to talk to you. I was hoping we could talk about everything, get it resolved, but I can see that I have my answer!” You cross your arms, and lock your jaw. You desperately try to stop your tears, but they spill over your lashes anyways. You collect yourself for a minute.

“If you’re going to be with Pansy, Draco, just let me move on.” You say quietly, voice watery.

Draco doesn’t say anything to you as you leave. As soon as you make it to your dorm, you smash the vase of flowers to pieces.

Weeks go by, and you are more miserable then you have ever been. You spend all your free time in the library, avoiding crowds and Draco. You don’t want to see him any more than you can help. Every time you have to sit next to him in potions it hurts. You don’t even go to Quidditch matches anymore to avoid seeing him. If he’s with Pansy then you’d rather not know.

One particularly rainy afternoon finds you in the library, potions book on your lap. You aren’t doing much studying, instead your eyes trace raindrops as they roll down the window. Your melancholy is broken by someone stomping up to you.

“I’m not with Draco.” A nasally voice says. Pansy stands in front of you, one hand on her hip.

“Ok.” Is all you say. You don’t want to so much as look at Pansy. All you see is Draco’s lips on hers when you do.

“Ok, so stop moping and just make up!” She says annoyingly. Even this doesn’t spark your anger like it should. You just feel numb and empty.

You don’t give her a response. Instead, you shift your potions book from your lap, and tuck your knees under your chin. Once settled, you turn your attention back to the rainy window, and ignore Pansy.

“Fine.” She says, storming off. “Keep being miserable.”

It’s only when she’s gone that you let yourself become a reflection of the window.

Draco tries again for a final time when he catches you in the library. Today, you are actually trying to study. Ever since you and Draco broke up, you had lost not only a boyfriend but your potions tutor. Now you were desperately trying to teach yourself, and it just wasn’t working out.

Draco finds you in much the same position that you were when you first became friends. You’re all but banging your head against the table when he speaks.

“Y/n.” You look up and find he looks as miserable as you do.

“Draco.” You say. Your heart still thunders when he’s near. You hate that he still has any effect on you.

“Listen. Just let me say this once and I’ll never bother you again.” He says, his grey eyes imploring you to hear him out.

You sit silently, waiting for him to proceed.

“I never kissed Pansy. She kissed me. I admit, I let it go on for too long. I should’ve pushed her off the moment she touched me, but I was so shocked and I froze. Then when I finally realized I pushed her away and you were already leaving. I never had feelings for her, nor did I ever want to cheat on you. You’re the only one I want.” He says.

“I know I hurt you, and that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I would never hurt you like that. I love you and it’s killing me to be apart from you like this, to think that you hate me. You’re the best part of my life, y/n, the only good part.” Draco takes a deep breath and continues.

“After this, if you still don’t want to be with me, then I’ll back off. I just wanted you to know the truth. I love you, and it’s only ever been you for me, never anyone else.”

You are in shock as he finishes his speech. Draco watches you process his confession with patience, and it takes you a few minutes to really understand what he’s saying.

You feel stupid when tears well up in your eyes again. You’re so sick of crying and feeling pathetic.

“It really didn’t mean anything?” You find yourself asking. “She kissed you?”

“Yes!” He exclaims. “It was 100% one-sided on her part.”

You sniff, thinking about it for a minute.

“Ok.” You finally say. “I believe you.”

Draco eases his tense posture and death grip on the chair he’s leaning on. He looks at you warily, trying to decipher where he stands with you now.

You look down at the table and your useless potions book. How funny that your relationship would come full circle. You know how you feel about him, how you‘be always felt. Even when you were broken up you still loved him.

“I’m sorry.” You say. “You tried to tell me and I didn’t listen.”

“Its not your fault!” Draco assures you. “It was me, I was being a right git.”

You shake your head, but for the first time in weeks you smile. When you look back up, Draco is smiling too.

“So, could I have a second chance?” He pleads.

You pretend to think about it for a minute.

“I suppose that would be alright.” You grin. Draco gives you a glowing look and matches your grin.

“On one condition.” You tell him, suddenly serious.

“Anything.” He tells you with sincerity. He walks over to your side of the table, and crouches down in front of you.

“I really need help with Potions.” Draco laughs and pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

It’s needy and passionate, and you let your mouth express to him everything you can’t yet put into words.

When he pulls away, Draco lets his forehead rest against yours. You relish this closeness with him in a way you never have before.

“I suppose that would be alright.” He whispers with a smirk.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed:) I am currently working on part 2 of “Don’t Call Me Princess” and that will hopefully be up in the next few days! Please don’t hesitate to request something, I write for several fandoms. I’m lowkey desperate for someone to request something Marvel.

#slythergirlimagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco x you #draco x y/n #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #Draco Malfoy

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bibliocratic · 4 years ago

Note

I come bearing a sort-of fic idea! (Only if you feel inspired to use it, of course 😊) Back in ep 101, Martin figures out that/where the Stranger has taken Jon, and goes all BAMF to save him, using either Web powers or his developing Backup Archivist powers to do it. (Dealer's choice) Some of that sweet sweet emotional h/c...

Dearest anon, this fic has been so long in the writing, and it’s only distantly related to what you asked for. Hope you like it regardless. :)

Set in an S3 AU, implied JonMartin. Tim-centric.

Content warnings for strongly implied graphic violence, canonical S3 captivity and imprisonment, hospitals and hospitalisation. Rated T for language and implied violence

Jon’s skittering, sprawl-legged slam against the archive door startles Tim from the shadowed walkways of his reveries.

The tilted legs of his chair thump back in a slap to the floor. Almost physically wrenched into the now, there’s a snapback to Tim’s spine, a vice-clench knot tightening in his jaw. His mood cranking up from frosty to furious.

“The fuck?” he barks at the intrusion. His snarling primed with teeth, his temper clawed to rend. He’s up and standing, whereas Jon’s practically handing off the door handle, the impact of his arrival almost knocking his legs out like ten pins from under him. An ugly, airless heaving of his chest. His eyes bloodshot, wild. In the weeks since Tim saw him, his hair has grown out unwashed and limp. His skin shimmering wrong in the light in a way that’s oddly greasy.

He’s a shattering mannequin of a man tending to ruin but Tim’s long pared down his own capacity for compassion. He loads up his questions in their chambers, and he knows where to place emphasis, where to press at the bruising, the soft-tissue targets; where the hell have you been, oh wait, don’t fucking bother, why would you even tell us anything anyway huh, because you don’t even trust us. So why the bloody hell should we care where you go galivanting off to for weeks without a word, fine by us, just fucking peachy.

“Martin,” Jon rasps out finally. His words floundering beached in his mouth, and Tim has never seen this particular mania, this bruise-sick shade of pathetic desperation. “T-tim, please, help, please, god, i-i-it’s Martin.”

Jon’s spasming, quivering hands are staining brown with blood.

“He wouldn’t have just left! Not – not like – like this!”

“You mean without saying anything. Not sharing with the class. I dunno, Martin, sounds exactly like something he’d have done. Classic Jon.”

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong!”

“Ha – everything’s wrong. Narrow it down.”

“You know what I mean! Something’s… He should be here, is all I’m saying, and Elias, well he’s useless but he – he knows something, I’m sure of it. We have to do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Find him!”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Huh, what about that? Maybe he’s finally managed to fuck off and leave here, legged it and left the rest of us to rot.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“We should – ”

“No. No, listen, Martin. This isn’t a team sport. Jon made his choice to go this alone. If he’s gone off somewhere, then that’s on him. There’s no ‘we’.”

“There used to be.”

Martin didn’t come in for work, and Tim assumed he’d left. Just like Jon.

He’d stewed in that betrayal, pacing lupine and furious, bricking up the walls of himself with his self-righteous anger. Because he’d been right, hadn’t he, he’d been vindicated in his bitterness, because of course Martin had left scurrying after Jon, of course there was never any loyalty to Tim despite his pretensions to their friendship. Of course, Martin hadn’t fucking stayed, and Tim was glad he was gone, free of his nagging and needling and whining.

Tim was acquitted in all his furies, every one of his poisonous doubts. The rose-thorns of his betrayals tore deeper, and he let the wounds fester.

Elias arrives in the aftermath.

Jon collapsed not too long ago. Shock and dehydration and whatever the hell happened to him threaded through him like blood poisoning. He’d babbled to the ambulance crews, his tongue a senseless oracle of clowns and skin and blood. They’d given him a shock blanket, the foil treating the light around them erratically, but he kept shaking it off and trying to stand, dressed in grubby boxers, an overlong coat, the fabric worn to grey at the pockets and stretched to billowing at the chest, clearly belonging to Martin.

It was hard for Tim to hate him like that, even as he’d barked at Jon to stay down. Jon’s face a theatre mask of ghoulish blood, begging the paramedics to help Martin, manic and spiralling.

The old bastard had had a heart after all.

There’s a bank of chairs outside the part of the ward where they’re keeping Jon. He’s pin-cushioned with IV’s, a set of machines monitoring his vitals. He wakes fitfully, and every waking is a pitiful confusion before he sinks back under.

Martin’s still in surgery.

Elias, deigning to leave his ivory tower, his face formed in an impeccable replica of concern. He wants to speak to Jon. To have, as he put it, ‘a private word’. He talks a precisely ordered stream of bullshit in his infuriatingly reasonable tone, about all this being such a terrible tragedy, such a blow to their little family, if only they’d known. Poor Martin, of course, what a horrible ordeal, we’ll naturally help him with recovery, cover any time off, no expense considered.

Tim watches his mouth move, and knows in his gut that Elias could have stopped all this.

That he chose not to.

Elias doesn’t get within a hundred feet of Jon. Tim makes sure of it.

Jon does not speak for days. Delirious and distraught. Martin’s condition worsens, then stabilises, then lingers at critical. There are several more operations, and Tim does not know what they are doing, only that they are reforming a heap of blood and bone back into a person.

Tim wants to know what happened. Where Jon went, where Martin found him, who he needs to hate.

Tim learns to temper his frustration, the desire for knowing that curls at the bottom of his stomach. It is not a natural wanting, and it’s a spiteful, gleeful action, to deny that rot within him.

“Tim?”

“Stay still, boss,” Tim says. “You’ll pull everything out.”

Jon doesn’t say anything more for a long while. Tim shifts uneasy on the chair provided, thinking, hoping that Jon might have sunk back into sleep, when:

“Martin? Is he…?”

Jon turns his head to look at him. His eyes wide, beseeching, wet with fear. Wanting Tim to make this all ok.

Jon’s eyes in this light are a lot like Danny’s. Tim sucks back a hard breath, and doesn’t meet his gaze, and he knows that only distresses Jon further, who will take the avoidance as a death knell, as a punishment he is expecting to have earned.

“He’s alive, boss,” Tim says eventually. The words hard won. “He’s… he’ll be alright.”

That could be a lie. He doesn’t know much these days.

“Th-there was a room,” Jon stammers one day. He’s sat up, pillows stuffed behind his back. Tim’s bought him an apple juice carton like you buy for children, and he hasn’t touched it, even to push the plastic straw through the top.

His fingers at his lap twist, twist, twist.

“It must have been a … a factory floor, or something. One of those old textile mills or something, up near Manchester. It used to have those big machines for spinning cotton, there were big, discoloured spaces on the boards where they would have sat. There were columns, load-bearing, every fifty feet or so, and t-the chair that they �� they had me tied to was anchored against one of those s-so it didn’t – so I couldn’t move it, or knock it over. I-I don’t know how long I was… I.” Jon stops, out of breath. “I don’t even know the date.”

Tim tells him. Jon blinks, and murmurs ‘oh’ like it’s not what he was expecting. His hands are shaking. Tim should reach out, shouldn’t he, it should not be this difficult to provide comfort.

His hands have forgotten how easily reassurance used to come to him.

“Th-they didn’t, they didn’t hurt me. Not, well, not exactly, I-I-I mean, it wasn’t – they wanted me unharmed.” Jon’s voice has crept small and crouched, words tuck under his tongue. “They were waiting. For the right time. They were going to t-take my, um, my skin. For their – for the ritual.”

“Christ.” Tim hisses out, because that is fucked, this whole thing is fucked. How the hell is this the way their lives have turned.

Only Jon’s fingers, his restless hands make noise for the next minute.

“I don’t know how Martin found me,” Jon says.

Tim has a creeping suspicion. It’s the same thing that helps Tim spits out exactly the right seeds to allow hurt to take root. What told Martin that there was something wrong. He could call it intuition, but that’s not how their world works.

Gifts, of a sort. For their faithful service at the temple of their all-seeing god.

“He tried to get me out. Snuck in somehow, cut the ropes with this – huh, this battered old kitchen knife. But I couldn’t… they’d had me tied to the chair for so long that standing up was… I couldn’t walk, and it’s my fault, he was half-carrying me but – I slowed him down, a-and then Nikola came back. And I couldn’t do, I couldn’t do anything, there’s never anything I can do, and they pulled me away and I. I tried, Tim, I-I tried, and I wasn’t… please, Tim, you’ve got to believe I tried to stop them.”

Jon’s fingers are moving to fist in his hair, yanking, tugging, his spine moving to fold himself over.

“Stop,” Tim says sharply. Trying to loosen Jon’s clenched hold.

“I tried, I tried – everything, I offered them anything they wanted, and they just kept – I-I-I tried, Tim.”

“I know,” Tim replies. Quieter. Softer. Separating Jon’s hands from his hair, pressing them back down to his lap, his burnt one held over the other pocked with worm scars. Tim doesn’t move his own away from the fragile tower they’ve made. “I – I know, Jon.”

“Martin – there was more of them. It was easy for them, to hurt him until he stopped struggling. They didn’t tie him up, they knew they didn’t need to. A-and Nikola, she was… she s-s-smiled as they pushed him over onto his back. She – she kept smiling. And she said they didn’t need the two of us. That they could have a bit of fun, a bit of – ” Jon’s voice chokes horrified. “A bit of practise. And wouldn’t I like that. To watch. To give the Eye something to look at.”

Jon crumples into tears then. In on himself like a disintegrating star. Tim feels cold and distant for a moment as he watches this shipwreck as though through the porthole of another boat. Listening to Jon’s hitching sobbing from elsewhere.

The rage is burning off him to reveal something plain and hideous in its humanity, and Tim hates it.

Jon falls apart, and Tim stays.

“You know your Archivist killed them all? He’s got a bit of a temper on him after all. Must be all that repression.”

The newest form of the Distortion still smiles like a headache. Her fingers curve corkscrewing. Tim, who is trying to get a Snickers from the vending machine two wards along from Jon, whips his head around to glower at the unwelcome visitor.

“What do you want?”

The Distortion, who has previously called themselves Michael, and is now still Michael but not entirely, whose face has refracted into a different form – there’s been a sort of change in management, if you like, except, well, that’s not really it at all, but do feel free to call me Helen.

“I was hoping for a teeny bit of gratitude. I was the gallant rescue, after that assistant of yours blundered in and made such a pig’s ear of it.”

Tim snarls. The Distortion’s expression wavers displeased.

“Ooh, touchy, alright. Calm down, firecracker. I bought them both back breathing for you. Your Archivist would be still strapped to a chair in Stockport if it wasn’t for me, to say nothing of that woebegone assistant. Blood all over my carpets.”

Tim ignores her. The glint in her eyes suggests she’s disappointed not to have riled him up.

“What now then?”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about the Circus for a while! Dear Jonathan’s seen to that quite splendidly. Knew he had it in him. Although, I suspect, even he didn’t know he could. The Circus was always good at pushing too far.”

“And you. What about you?”

The Distortion’s smile reflects a hundred alternatives.

“Oh, I’m just waiting to see what happens next.”

Tim’s thoughts have been straying to Danny a lot. Naturally, all things considered, his trauma’s head reared high and made horrifically manifest.

Jon is not like Danny was, too stiff and self-conscious in his own bones. But Danny’s skin had been lit up with that same live-wire intensity that last night, smeared in shadows and exhaustion and tears that shone foreign on his cheeks. Tim had not recognised the crying, silent, shaking stranger in his room, just as he barely recognises Jon.

Watching him finally fall apart holds no victory for any of them.

Martin is not like Danny was. Taller, for one, wound-up over tight in his own clockwork of fears. He’d be about Danny’s age though. Maybe.

Danny went back to the Covent Garden Theatre, alone, and the being that had then gone by the name of Joseph Grimaldi had torn off his skin as easily as wrapping paper.

Martin went alone. He didn’t ask Tim for help, because he knew Tim would have said no, and there’s an ashy shame coating his tongue, knowing it would have been true.

It’s powerlessness that’s snarled him up in barbed wire, toothless and immobile. Tim’s felt powerless for a long time. That is not going to stop.

But his anger hasn’t protected him. Hasn’t protected Jon. Certainly hasn’t protected Martin.

Jon is not in bed when Tim goes back during visiting hours. The nurse directs him to another ward, indicating in few words that this jaunt was neither encouraged nor advised, but the patient was not one to be dissuaded.

Sounds like Jon.

The man himself has dressed erratically in the spares Tim bought. A t-shirt that is divorced from his own style, the colouring drawing him over-sallow, the jeans too short and trailing above his ankle. He’s squashed himself into a chair, his back folded like a shepherd’s crook, his scatter-shot energy spent into exhaustion. His hand in Martin’s wrapped one.

Martin’s awake. The ministrations of the Circus left his face mostly alone, clear enough for tubing to be threaded into his nostrils and down his throat but the bandaging is extensive. Tim would have thought he’d be away with the fairies on morphine by now, and rightly so, but his jaw sets imperious when he sees Tim. He doesn’t let go of Jon’s hand.

“You doing alright there, Marto?” Tim asks. There is another chair nearby that’s been left by a visitor long gone, and he drags it over. Tim chooses to keep his voice low, chooses to squash the anger that sparks up in him at the violence done to Martin’s body.

“What does it look like?” Martin replies. Not snapping, no wisp of anger there, but there’s a pained whipcord strain to his response, a forced pace to his breathing.

“I thought they’d have you on the good stuff,” Tim says after a moment.

Martin gestures with imprecise movements at a remote off to his right, a grey blocky shape with buttons, hooked up to some sort of patient-controlled analgesia machine.

“You not taken any?”

Martin, as best as he can, shakes his head.

“Why?”

“I just don’t want to, alright?”

Tim doesn’t push. The silence between the two of them is protracted, uncomfortable, but Tim can stand to learn some patience.

Martin’s eyes are watery, clearly trying to push through the pain. Jon sleeps on.

“He won’t tell me,” Martin says. “But it’s bad. I know it’s bad. Right?”

“Yes.”

Martin deserves his honesty. Tim doesn’t know how long Martin suffered on that factory floor until Jon ripped the Circus’ sawdust out with his fury. Long enough for the bandages to coat his arms and legs and back like lacquer, changed multiple times a day to make sure the skin grafts take, and the stitching holds.

Tim should have been there. Like he should have been there for Danny.

“God, Martin,” he says, and he’s surprised to find his throat has clenched tight. “It’s… I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? I went and got myself…” Martin trails off, swallows with difficulty. “I did this, it was all, all me. Fat lot of good it did.”

“You don’t know that…” Tim starts, but Martin looks at him and he seethes without raising his voice.

“What good’s come out of this then? Go on, Tim, tell me. I’m a – I’m a mess, and what the fuck do I have to show for it. What the fuck have any of us gained from this? I just fucked up, and it – I thought I was going to die. And worse, I thought they mightn’t let me, that they might take what they left as scraps a-a-and – ” Martin’s jaw clacks shut as he pushes down his distress.

“You saved Jon.”

“I didn’t though. The bloody – the bloody door monster showed up and did that simply fine without my help!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what you changed. God, Martin, this whole, this entire thing is all so, it’s fucked, right, it’s…” Tim’s voice wobbles, cracks. “But you tried to do something. You tried to help. And I’m – I’m so sorry you did it alone.”

Martin doesn’t leap to forgiveness. But he nods and Tim puts his hand on the wrappings up his arm and he doesn’t move away.

“What now?” he asks after a moment.

“I don’t know.”

Martin closes his eyes.

“I’m tired,” he confesses. “I’m just so tired of all… all this.”

“We’ll think of something,” Tim says. Finding that he means it. It’s not a promise, but it’s as good as he’s able to offer these days. “You should take some of that morphine. It’ll… it’ll help.”

“It makes me feel out of it. Like, sluggish. And everything’s far away.”

“That means it’s working, Marto,” Tim says, trying for light-hearted, but Martin’s shaking his head, and the shivering is back in his hands. A wide and trembling glaze to his expression.

“If they come back…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I’ll stay,” Tim says. Pats Martin’s arm in a way he hopes conveys reassurance.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Martin nods. Tim helps him grasp the grey remote, push down the button. It’s not long before Martin’s drifted off.

Tim sits there for a long while, thinking about the future.

#tma #tim stoker #fic #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #cw violence #cw implied torture #cw hospitals #hurt/comfort #the magnus archives

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ladykatakuri · 3 years ago

Text

Our Dance

Tech x F Reader

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 2175

Lyrics used from the song All about us performed by He is We

Summary:“I believe you might have to come to her aid soon. The senator currently trying to keep her attention on him is well known for his more….illustrious desires when it comes to women.” The concern in her eyes immediately urges him to spring to action and before she can even finish her full sentence he is off to the rescue.

Here it is, the Tech fic i was working on. Somehow i had several songs that inspired story idea`s and ofcourse it is with the guys from the Batch and yes i also have something in mind for Omega. Hope you like it and comments / tips are always more then welcome here <3

It was one of those evenings, once more. A senator had decided that it was time for an early celebration of, well something important on his home world and of course that meant guests, a lot of food and drinks, caterers and guards. Normally not a big problem, any time that you were invited to a party by a good friend you would happily accept and you did, but this evening turned out to be a huge annoyance to you and a strain on your self restraint.

During your time serving food and having nice conversations with people from all layers of society you came to be very fond of the clones you met. The Coruscant Guard became steady customers of the shop where you served caf and breakfast most times and all the others were a steady stream of visitors at 79`s, the bar where you would have evening and night shifts, waiting on tables and just having a good time with your new found friends. But this party? You would be happy to leave and if you could leave after giving some of the politicians there a piece of your mind then all the better!

It began with the senator of Scipio and delegate of the Banking Clan, Rush Clovis, mentioning to another senator he did not see why there should be any consideration for the clones. Their conversation was caught by you as you walked by on your way back to your friend who had invited you in the first place, Padme Amidala, but it was more than enough for you to already hate the man. Unfortunately it was not an uncommon feeling among people with a seat in the senate to think of the clones as nothing more but meat for the grinder. They were created on Kamino to fight in the war effort, and when they died? Well there were more where they came from.

With a slight tremble you move forward, handing out the drink to a friend you found among the guests and had a nice conversation with. In the meantime you knew that several clones were there by special invitation. The senator that was hosting this party wanted to display his power and thought it would be fun to have some of those clones around to have fun with. In this case that fun meant that the guests who wanted to, could either talk to the clones or even dance with them. They were no more than props on display for most of the people there and you hated every second of it. Especially when you realised one of your favorite groups of men were also there. You were about ready to leave the party and grab some sleep when you saw that special group of men, especially one very special, tall, goggled man who had been haunting your daydreams from time to time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Tech heard that they were ordered to attend a party he was seriously confused. “They do realise we are considered to be defective clones? Not many senators or other high placed figures would want us around them on purpose.” Rubbing his head he looks at his sargeant and leader, Hunter.

With a deep sigh, Hunter looked at his brother. “Yes Tech, they know. I believe that is exactly why they want us to attend this thing. I suppose there is some ulterior motive to it, but we have to follow this order in any case. So, suit up and be on your best behavior.” The last sentence has the sarge glance at the two most troublesome of his brothers, Wrecker and Crosshair. They were the least likely to really behave, but that was a concern for later.

Tech felt uncomfortable in his black suit, but orders were orders in this case and at least Senator Amidala had been kind enough to start a conversation with him and Echo. Both were surprised at her kindness and how she was genuinely interested in their feelings about the war. Echo had stopped him from rambling about the war too much by pointing out the one person he knew would draw more attention than anyone else in the room.

Take my hand, I'll teach you to dance

I'll spin you around, won't let you fall down

Would you let me lead? You can step on my feet

Give it a try, it'll be alright

For a moment it seemed as if there was only one person in the entire room, and that person was you. Tech looked in the direction Echo pointed at and there you were, walking around greeting and conversing with some of the guests in the room and looking picture perfect while doing so. A string of hair escaped your ponytail and the annoyed glance aimed at one of the senators only made you seem more beautiful. Looking at the senator that seemed to have annoyed you so much, he immediately understood why you seemed ready to hit the man with your fist. Senator Clovis was known to be ruthless when it came to clones and clone rights. When asked, he would always say the exact same thing, “Clones are mere tools in the warmachine. A cog perhaps. They are easily replaced and so, we have no need to mourn the loss of any of them. I see no reason why we would even have to spend any credits on the recovery of the wounded.”

A small grin formed on his lips as he watched you stalk away from the man and move to stand somewhere calm and quiet. Senator Amidala, still in conversation with Echo noticed the slight change in attitude as his eyes followed you around the room. “If you pardon my intrusion, Tech is it?” Her hand taps his arm as she turns to speak to him.

Tech looks at the senator as he answers. “It is indeed, senator. How may I help you?”

Amidala looks at the man currently shifting attention between her and the woman he keeps an eye on as she moves around the room. “I believe you might have to come to her aid soon. The senator currently trying to keep her attention on him is well known for his more….illustrious desires when it comes to women.” The concern in her eyes immediately urges him to spring to action and before she can even finish her full sentence he is off to the rescue.

You know that the man currently speaking to you as if you are just another nobody, who is lucky enough to have been invited to work the celebration taking place is also the same man who not only is a senator, but also well known for demanding personal time with all female personnel and even demanded coruscant guards to remove some women he has used when they became too much of a bother to him afterwards. This time he seems to have set his eyes on you and you are just not having it. “Senator, I must return to my friend now. I apologize for cutting this wonderful conversation short, but if I do not at least spend some time with Senator Amidala this evening, I would be a poor and ungrateful friend.” Though you smile it is obvious even to the senator you only mean the polite refusal to continue the conversation, as much as you refused to dance with him.

“I know you're nothing important in the senate, just a person that Amidala befriended from the lower regions of this planet. You will dance with me, because any offer such as this from the likes of me is an honor and then we will continue our conversation in private.” Just when he reaches for your hand to drag you back, your hand is taken by another man.

As fast as he managed to take your hand before the senator, Tech took the drink from your hand and gave it to another waiter nearby. His arm is already snaked around your waist as he turns you around and walks you to the middle of the room. “I believe you agreed to give me the first dance once you finished your round in the room Y/N. I noticed you were on your way back , so I suggest we make the best of it.

Surprise and gratitude quickly appear and leave your eyes as you smile at the man guiding you away. “Thank you Tech. I almost lost track of time.” The blush on your cheeks as you feel him turn you around to face him brightens when you take him in once more. He looks absolutely dashing in his black suit and light blue dress shirt.

The room's hush hush and now's our moment

Take it in, feel it all and hold it

Eyes on you, eyes on me

We're doing this right

The orchestra plays a slow song as Tech gently moves the two of you around the room. Despite his tall figure and the appearance of a soldier most times, he is absolutely graceful as he leads you in your dance. His hand, warm on the small of your back presses you closer to him while he softly squeezes the hand he holds. Leaning in closer to you his lips almost brush your ears as he whispers. “It seems you needed a rescue. Though from the look you gave that senator, it is highly probable I actually rescued him.” His low chuckle sends a shiver down your spine as he straightens out and swirls you around. “I shall thank Senator Amidala for warning me in time.”

Amidala, your friend. A senator who usually makes her way through all the layers of society and who does her best to help all people. She even spoke to you about clone rights and how to see to it that they would be treated more decently, after she found out that you were one of the people who were strong advocates for clone rights. Soon after that, the two of you struck up a friendship based on mutual respect. She invited you to this evening because of your shared passion for the rights of clones and your contact with many of these men. She felt it might make them feel at ease, seeing a friendly face in the crowd.

Grinning you look up into the brown, bespectacled eyes of your hero of the evening. “I will thank her for sending me a hero.”

The music stops and you are ready to step away from Tech so that he can walk back to his brothers. Tech however is not moving an inch and he is not letting go of your hand. Pulling you back in at the same moment another song is started, Tech gently guides you in another dance.

“You know, people will stare at us. They might even start to talk about us.” A gentle blush on your cheeks, you whisper to him.

'Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love

Spotlight's shining

It's all about us

It's oh, oh, all

About uh, uh, us

And every heart in the room will melt

This is a feeling you never felt dry

It's oh, oh, all about us

Tech has always been kind to you from the moment you met. His brothers, all with their own sense of humor and fun way of flirting quickly became good friends of yours. Tech as well, though you also developed a crush on him rather fast. His fast knowledge of pretty much everything and witty remarks only served to make you fall harder for the man. And now here you were in his arms, dancing to beautiful music, still a little insecure on whether or not you should let him know how you feel.

Without paying any attention to the room, Tech moves the two of you a bit more to the edges of the room. No longer swirling around with all the other couples on the floor, the two of you softly sway on the sidelines. Still in a warm embrace of his arm around you and his hand softly holding yours, he looks down at you and smiles. “People always find reasons to talk about others. It is in their nature to try and find common ground so as to divert attention from themselves at such events.”

You sigh softly and move the hand that was resting on his shoulder all this time to his face. Carefully brushing his cheek. “You could just tell me to let them watch you know?”

A chuckle escapes him as he leans in to you and his lips brush yours. “It's all about us anyway.

When he moves back, he pulls you in closer against him, your head against his chest, his arms around you as you keep swaying to the music. Nobody else in the room exists at that moment, but the two of you.

“All about us.” you whisper, a promise for the rest of the evening and all the days still to come.

@loth-wolffe @catbustours @reluctant-mandalore @nahoney22 @hellothere-generalangsty @allamarisss

#tech x you #tech x reader #The Bad Batch #Tech is a lovable sweetheart #He is We lyrics used for the fic #Our Dance

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Seventeen ~ Split

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1482

Warnings: None

A/n Hello hello! I know it’s not one of my normal update days, but this one is short, so enjoy this angsty bonus chapter!

Cosima

Weeks pass in routine. In the mornings I research with Alex or study Sindarin alone, sometimes venturing into the garden or library to occupy my time. The lunch hours are typically spent in the company of friends, and Lavandil and I have been passing many of our afternoons together in her shop. As the summer continues, business only grows, and I can see why she asked for the help. Her art is quite popular! She tried to teach me how to weave and, unsurprisingly, I’m terrible. So I mainly help clean and work with the customers.

Three nights a week, Alex, Baranor and I meet in the library and continue our lessons. On that, I actually am making progress. It’s allowed me to converse with Lavandil’s customers in their own language. It’s also helped me feel much more self-sufficient here. No longer must I have to rely on Lavandil or Rumil to translate when we go out. Ellyn I speak with still have to slow their words and repeat things several times, and sometimes I must ask for clarification, but the progress really is liberating.

Two days a week, right after breakfast, Alex and I meet Elrond in his study.

Lord Elrond insists on using the power in his fæ to attempt to aid us in recovering our memories. I hate to admit it, but his efforts are wasted and, on my part, not really wanted. Besides the memory of Mara and Nonna, I don’t remember anything, and at this point, I’m not sure I want to. I’m already too attached to the people here, and I’ve seen where that’s gotten me. I don’t want to remember people from home — love them, miss them, and then realize I can never return to them.

I don’t make much progress, anyway. Most days, Alex and I have nothing but headaches and exhaustion to show for our work. Every now and then, one of us will remember something small — a passing event or an aquauntaince from childhood — but nothing of real interest. Elrond agrees that the headaches and exhaustion are signs that we are not yet healed from whatever ordeal resulted in us arriving in Arda. He’s been keeping an eye on our fæs — apparently they are somehow injured — and says that the original wounds are all but healed.

Alex’s progress is less encouraging. His old wounds are healing, but nearly every time Elrond or Baranor checks, there’s a new injury. They don’t know what’s causing it, but privately, I have a theory. While Alex says he’s accepted this world, knowing him, there’s a part that’s still hanging on to our homeworld. Maybe that’s causing too much stress to allow him to heal. Because I’m healing, and I’ve fully accepted this world for what it is — impossible, different, but real.

And then at night time, training continues with Haldir.

I am careful to keep distance between us except when absolutely necessary. By the way he does the same, he’s recognized the urgent precariousness of our situation. As much as I want to confess the feelings I keep so tightly bottled up inside, to fall into his arms and ask him to love me forever, I cannot.

Because my forever is abysmally different than his.

So I keep my distance.

My effort to avoid excessive contact or time with him is helped by the fact that, not long after our first training session, he became incredibly busy. Though relations between him and Glorfindel are still tense, the two work tirelessly to train the newer guard. Often, by the time I make my way down to breakfast, Haldir is long gone, off to lead drills.

The distance between us hasn’t helped my internal predicament.

Too often, I catch myself following the line of his jaw, remembering the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, wanting to return to that excitement of just the two of us under the stars.

I don’t act on these thoughts, nor communicate them to anyone, though Lavandil certainly tries to break that resolve. She’s adamant that, even with my lifespan to consider, it is better to spend the time we have together in happiness rather than holding ourselves back from something that could be great.

I forcefully disagree.

I’d rather cause myself a little pain now than put Haldir in a position where he could be broken later.

Surprisingly, Rumil, once my tormentor, has become my closest ally. Any time someone attempts to bring up the subject of me and Haldir, Rumil promptly shuts it down, usually changing the subject to something outlandish enough to properly distract everyone. He kindly occupies my newfound free time and we go riding together at least once a week. Since Rumil has Roch, Haldir allows me to take Faervel out, and, where the horse used to be indifferent towards me at best, he now whinnies in greeting the second I set foot in the stables.

My life in Imladris is nice. It’s peaceful. It’s filled with wonderful friends and so much to discover. And I’m happy, there’s no doubt about that…even if something is missing. I caught my feelings early and took preventative action by distancing myself from Haldir, which is good…but it’s…unfulfilling, in a way, to stay far from him. I miss eating meals together and talking about our days before training sessions. I miss constantly having him around. I miss him teasing me and moments where it’s just us.

I miss him.

But I won’t lose my resolve.

If my sadness can save Haldir pain, then I will bear it.

{***}

Haldir

Summer in Imladris passes quickly. My days revolve around training the newer guard, and they show promising progress. Lothlórien’s borders are much more extensive than that of Imladris’, and I am confident adopting some of the techniques I use with my wardens at home to fit Elrond’s guard will help them be more prepared when the orcs attack again. My brothers have been indispensable, kindly offering their help and allowing me to use them as examples for the other soldiers. Orophin, of course, plans his schedule around Lavandil’s, but I have him with us about three days a week. Rumil joins nearly every day, only disappearing on Saturday mornings to take the horses out with Cosima.

Cosima.

My mind has been consumed by her for weeks.

If I am being honest, it’s been consumed with her long before then, probably up to the moment she arrived in this world. I now understand that my desire to keep her near me after the attack, and every moment after, was not only a preventative measure to make her feel better — it was my need to keep her close. To keep her safe. To have that reassurance that she is alright, and, if we were to be attacked again, I could defend her myself.

I really do owe Rumil an apology.

Turns out my brother knows me better than I know myself.

But despite the startling realization that I want to be with a human woman—not just any human woman, Cosima—the days continue.

Not of small concern is Cosima’s health which, mercifully, is improving. Her sessions with Elrond to attempt to regain her memories must be helping — though her memories have not returned, the scars on her fæ are nearly completely healed.

Aside from my monitoring of her health through Elrond and Baranor, my busy schedule prevents me from seeking her out. We continue to train together three times a week — she is making vast improvements — but our interactions are hesitant, a little awkward. I worry I overstepped my bounds that first night, or perhaps, even before that — maybe the night under the stars — for she certainly keeps her distance now. No longer do we eat together or talk in our free time. It’s a strange feeling, but it causes me stress not to see her during the day. Even a quick interaction would be enough, just to catch a glimpse of her smile or hear the approval of her laugh, but those are few and far between.

But, as much as it pains me, it is for the best.

I hate to think of it this way, but Cosima’s life is short and her future uncertain. Were she an elleth, there would be no issue — I could tell her of my feelings and she could return them and we could spend the rest of our never-ending lives together.

But Cosima is human. Even if she does choose to stay in Arda forever, her forever and mine are vastly different. If I give in, do as I so desperately want to and build a life with her…

She does not know it, but she has the power to break me.

And, while I still hold a sliver of the ability to keep that from happening, I must seize on it.

A/n Thanks for reading, and happy weekend! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! See you Monday with a new chapter :)

|next chapter|

|masterlist|

|recently posted|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff @sleepyamygdala

#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction

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madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 4 years ago

Text

My Benrey Backstory

Okay, so I thought I might as well lay it all out. Be careful about reading this, because it will contain some DARK DARK shit. Just for that I’ll put a chance for you to opt out without seeing it.

Still reading? Okay :D

It started when Benrey was what could be considered an infant on Xen. He didn’t look nearly as humanoid as he does when he grew older, and his hair was much more like thick black fur. He looked kind of like a mutated rodent/bug, with several hundred eyes across his fur. He had lived a rather.. adequet existence. He was still alive, purely due to instinct, but had no parents like a normal kid does. He had to learn things by himself. Is it friendly looking? No? Run. While it was similar to a animals way of thinking of things, it was far closer to how a human child would decide things.

Needless to say it wasn’t hard for the scientists to catch him, considering his way of processing threats. Humans aren’t nearly as threatening looking as the creatures on Xen. Maybe he would’ve been lucky if he wasn’t so trusting..

The first about five years of his life were spent mostly in complete isolation. They had started to catch on to his abilities, and had still not completely figured out how to stop him from doing things such as escaping by no-clipping. They still hadn’t figured out the extent of his regen either, so thankfully he wasn’t harmed AS much as he would be later on. He was still experimented on, though. During this time he met Bubby and Tommy for the first time. Tommy was ten years old, and was excited to see another young child. The more Benrey was around Tommy and the other scientists, the more he changed his appearance to be more humanoid.

Would it not be for Tommy, he probably would’ve gotten taught not to use his sweet voice due to the way the scientists treated it. Tommy trusted Benrey, so much so that he wasn’t scared when Benrey used the sweet voice on him and he quickly realized that it was harmless and convinced the scientists to be lieniant and to let him use his sweet voice without being punished. Tommy really made things better for him, as much as he could. He’d talk to him, give him gifts, and try to make him feel as comfortable as possible. But he was still a ten year old, so he could only do so much...

During the first few years, Benrey tried to initiate hugs a lot or hold the scientists hands like any normal kid but they always jolted back like they got electrocuted. The only time they would touch him was for experiments, and not without gloves and or medical suits on. Tommy gave him all the hugs he could, but he only visited for a few hours a couple of days a week. Eventually Benrey stopped trying, and it led to him being severly touch starved as an adult.

He learned how to talk from the multiplayer video games Tommy gave him, and that was also how he learned to read. The scientists had no intention of teaching him anything, since he wasn’t human they didn’t deem it necessary. As he grew older, the testing got more severe. They would drug his food to analyze the effects it had on him every week, sometimes multiple times a week. This happened so often that after several months he stopped eating at all, and wouldn’t explain why. Even to Tommy.

During this he had been breaking out to see Gordon and play around, but he was eventually caught and they restricted his powers so he couldn’t leave. After this, also came the pain treatments.

They did everything you can think of pain wise: holding him under water until he almost blacked out, locking him in hot and cold environments until he passed out, shot him, and cut off his arms; they even performed vivisections on him without anesthesia. He screamed his lungs out for the first few times, until they figured out a chemical that would prevent him from speaking during the surgery. That way, he couldn’t make noise- but he could still feel everything that was happening. They had to put a muzzle on him or else the sweetvoice would get in the way. He sobbed almost constantly the entire procedure, and for hours afterwards. They never took care of the wounds they inflicted, so his clothes were always covered in blood. His room was covered in dry blood stains, and whenever he came back from the surgeries he’d throw himself onto his bed and sob until he fell unconscious. Otherwise, he never slept. When he used to sleep, they would drug and hurt him or move him somewhere different and he’d wake up strapped to a table with a muzzle on.

This happened for years. By then he was a teenager and had adapted to his cruel treatment. He went emotionally numb and after years of being called a monster, he started to believe it and accept it as the truth. His regen was incredibly sharp due to the constant injuries he had, but that came to an end when G-Man offered him his freedom for the agreement that he would do as he says or else be returned to his life of being a test subject.

Things got better, for a while. And then the Resonance Cascade happened. When he first saw Gordon he recognized him, even if he had transitioned by then and was now a guy, which is why he annoyed him. But he hadn’t yet had any plans until after the explosion. Much like with Gordon, G-Man had periodic meetings with Benrey instructing him what to do. He layed out his plan to Benrey: he needed to play the bad guy, lead Gordon through black mesa so he could finish the “game”, be the “final boss” in Xen and die. Of course this wasn’t G-Mans only goal: he was setting Benrey up to be assumed dead so that after Xen he could be recaptured and put back into testing without Tommy interfering.

Benrey came up with the military thing on his own. He thought it would come off as villian-y enough to be excused by G-Man, but honestly he was worried about Gordon and thought that if he was taken by the military he would be away from black mesa and he wouldn’t have to hurt him as the big boss. This, obviously, went horribly wrong. He got slightly defensive about the arm thing, though. He didn’t think it was THAT big of a deal, because he thought Gordon could regrow his limbs like he could. Tommy had to explain him that no, he couldn’t, and that arm was gone forever and Benrey felt AWFUL afterwards. As time went on he just kept doing more and more messed up shit until Gordon hated him by the end. It stung, but he knew it was better for them to hate him so they could kill him easier.

But.. they didn’t. Somehow, through his nonsensical ramblings Gordon got some string of coherence. He knew there was so much more to Benrey, there had to be, and it didn’t help that Benrey wouldn’t shoot at them and seemed to recall such fond memories with him. Gordon connected the dots as to who Benrey was, and the fact that he used to know him, and by that point Benrey was one shot away from a game over. The battle had died down drastically, and he assumed he was going to be dead. It was the only reason he was willing to tell the truth: he thought it didn’t matter, as he was going to die anyways.

When the cave started falling apart Gordon Niceman couldn’t stand to leave him to be crushed on an alien planet. SURE, he was a dick who got his arm cut off and insulted him regularly but he still was his sort of friend! Plus Tommy would be sad.

(because he was in denial: benrey definitely fucked up, dude. His actions were shitty, even if considering his situation they were understandable. Just- wanna clarify, he definitely not escaping blame here. He definitely was a shit head, because of the whole “doesn’t give a shit, I’m a petty asshole” thing.)

When Gordon eventually got this information out of him, once they were living together and all that, a lot of what Benrey did made much more sense. It was heartbreaking to hear that he had such a fucked up childhood. He definitely tried to be more understanding with Benrey, and explain why he was mad knowing Benrey never had any logical discipline. Probably why he’s so childish.

Oh, and it also made Gordon much more physically affectionate. If those bastards thought he was too dangerous to touch, it was their loss. Benrey is a great cuddler.

#hlvrai #hlvrai bubby #bubby #tommy coolatta #g man hlvrai #hlvrai gman #gordon freeman #frenrey #benrey #benry #hlvrai benrey #resonance cascade #tw torture #tw pain #tw blood #tw like a lot of bad shit #vivisection #hlvrai headcanon #gordon is gay and won't admit it

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shini--chan · 4 years ago

Note

1p allies and axis react to that the reader gave birth to they're child. When they ask here she wants the hold the baby? , her answer is like "I don't want hold that thing!"

Alright. So, before I start off I need to give a fair warning that as to why it would even come to that point … let’s just say that it is pretty dark. Warning for implied non-con, manipulation & coercion. You’re reading this at your own risk.

Yandere Allies

America

“What do you mean you don’t want it?”, Alfred would ask, completely dumbfounded by your vindictive reaction to your very own child. Lovingly, he stared down at the bundle in his arms. The reddened face covered with wax was just too adorable to be true.

“We’re finally going to be a family; it is the most wonderful thing I can think off. And you have to react like this.”

The malice in those sky-blue eyes was clear as he took in your exhausted state.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? This is your child as well as mine and you have to go on and reject the best thing that has ever happened to you? Your lack of compassion is shocking. So, either put your big girl panties on and act like an adult or we’re going to have a serious talk!”

Let’s just say that Alfred wouldn’t take it well at all that you have such an aversion to your very own child. He would see it as grounds as to have a serious talk with you. If you’re lucky, it would be something akin to a psychotherapy section that he would do with you, only with a lot of condensation. Then, if he is in a very bad mood, it would be far more macabre.

Of course, the things he would do to you would be wrong, except in his mind where everyone of his actions would be justified. Through rejecting your child, you would have tarnished his image of you. Alfred would have thought that you had gotten used to idea of spending the rest of your days by his side. Those vile words of yours would have served to confirm the latter. And villainize you in his eyes.

You would have a lot of apologizing to do. Just keep in mind that if he would sense anything fake in your buttering up to him, the trust he would have established would crumble to ashes. And he is good at disconcerting true from false. However, if you’d hide any lies you’d have behind extreme emotions, then you could succeed.

Canada

“But, she/he is your child”, Matthew would protest. The way you’d firmly shake your head would make his heart drop to your gut.

“A child I never wanted”, you would whisper, sweat glistening on your brow and making it seem as through you were submerged in a fever dream. “Only you wanted a child, I didn’t. How can you be so blind to not see that?”, you would murmur, too lost to evade the hole you were digging yourself into.

Your captor’s lips would thin as he was reminded about the darker aspects of your relationship.

Talk about popping a balloon with a needle, there goes all that happiness and excitement, blown away by a few cruel realisations. Of course, due to your relationship not being of an overly violent nature the fall-out wouldn’t be harsh in the direct, tangible sense. Needless to say, Canada would be pissed that you just had to go on and ruin the whole show and his dreams of a saccharine future.

He’ll skilfully dismissed that you would have been coerced into bearing a child (if not by the worst way you can get pregnant) and tell everybody that would even catch wind that there was something sinister buried deep, that you were just hysterical because of all the residue hormones from the delivery and the exhaustion. That is, if he has too.

China

A fine, pencil thin eyebrow would rise as he condescendingly regarded your disarrayed constitution. Calmly, he would turn to the midwife he had order and take the new-born expertly out of their arms while stating:

“We thank you sincerely for your services. Please, leave now that I may calm my wife down.”

They would nod and quickly scurry out of the room.

Snake-yellow eyes would stare fondly at the infant weakly kicking at the blankets and thin lips stretched to an endearing smile as a tiny, waxy hand was extended up to his face. Gently, he would shift his arms so one hand was free. The baby would snatch the outstretched index finger as soon as they would have the chance, clumsily stuffing it in their mouth and sucking.

Yao wouldn’t even glance your way as he would seat himself on the edge of the mattress, however, his scolding words said with such calmness would add a crude shadow to the picturesque image:

“All your tantrums are growing increasing petty. You should restrain your emotions before you go completely out of control.”

You wanted to gap at him, at his patronizing words. But more than anything else, you wanted to cry for help. Not that any would come. You were stationed in the guest room of his estate and the midwife that had been summoned was the only other person anywhere near you.

She wouldn’t aid you, not that she could. Your “lover” had a way with words – his violence wasn’t physical; it was an intangible knife that made wounds that would never heal.

Instead, you would stammer shakily: “But you said we would give it up for adoption.”

“I said I would consider it. There is a big difference there. Besides, you shouldn’t torture yourself by denying your own nature.”

At those words you would find yourself trembling. Rage would simmer like a pool of magma in your stomach and combined with exhaustion it would make you shake – a brittle leaf in the autumn wind. Your voice would crack as you seethed: “Do you have to start with this sexist nonsense out me being a woman…”

A glare would be enough to silence you.

“It is not because you’re a woman. It is because you’re a human and humans care for their kin.”

To China, it would be barbaric for you to so callously reject your very own child, the fruit of your womb, a testament of the love you two have for each other. To him, family is infinitely precious and for you to smash that vision there would be severe consequences. Whether you would like it or not, you’re going to keep the child and you’re going to love him/her. Although, you might do all that out of your own “volition”, as in China would manipulate you to extent that you’d think those thought would be yours.

England

“Shut up!”, would be his immediate response and the waspishness of his tone would be enough to make the nurse raise their eyebrows in suspicion. However, the rage upon porcelain feature and the harshly snapped instructions of “Leave” and “Not you bloody dare tell anybody about this” would be enough to make your only gate way to freedom vanish.

Money would also help seal the deal.

The baby would be in the cradle at the foot of your bed, luckily, because the expression of malevolent fury on his face told you that he would’ve broken anything in his hands in fit of rage. It was the expression of hot passion and chilled anger that one would normally attribute to a general.

Still you summoned your courage to make your case: “I never wanted this, not any of this so not give me that look. You knew I never wanted a baby, you knew that didn’t want to…“, you would yell and choke on those last words because of the memories they’d evoke.

And that window of opportunity would be what Arthur would use to crush your case to dust:

“It is funny, really, because half of the time you don’t know what you want from life”, he would say, voice dangerous soft as he approached you, the fairy fire in his green irises making your skin itch as if there was something contagious directly underneath the first few layers.

“But that doesn’t matter anyhow because your feelings are irrelevant.”

You would open your mouth to protest but only a croak your come out.

“No matter what you say, your emotions are not accurate assessments of reality. What is reality is that you don’t know what is best for you. I do, better than anybody else and that is why you need me. Face it, you’re nothing without me.

“So, except your new role of mother. I promise, you’ll grow to love it.”

As the man himself just now stated, your wants and desires are meaningless to him in the grand scheme of things, or at least, he’ll convince you of that. If you would believe that yourself, then thing would be much easier for him. Arthur would see it as another chance to degrade your identity while putting his on a pedestal.

However, if you wouldn’t fall soon for his manipulations, then he would let you feel his anger in controlled bursts. The spite would surface over your time of recovery and he would purposefully leave you alone with the child so that you would be forced to take care of them.

France

“You will”, he’d state firmly.

Your jaw would hit the floor. Him not getting sentimental would shock you.

“It pains me to see you like this, to see you so cruel, so take those words back. What happened to my (y/n)? What happened that her morals decayed to this point? Where is her heart? Where is her compassion?”, he would sorrowfully lament, like a heart broken poet.

His touching little serenade would be enough to make the fussing baby fall silent, not to mention you.

Guilt would rise up in your gut, toxic and hot. Just what had come out of your mouth?

This would be one of the matters where he’d leave no room for his delusions, where he would even go as far as to revive all the memories of your countless grievances for the sole purpose of teaching you a lesson. It would be needed, and he would be lucid enough to recognize you as a potential threat to your own offspring.

To say the least, he would be weary of you during the next few years, least you try to get rid of the child somehow, be it through cold blooded murder or by giving them away for adoption. With the outburst you would have displayed, nothing would be off the plate in his eyes.

Russia

Violet-blue eyes would be harsh as the high north when they met yours, the warning glare enough to silence you and make something shrivel up in you. Defeated, you would press yourself back into the mattress hoping the accursed thing would swallow you whole because that would be better than all the damnation that the hardset features of your captor promised.

Therefore, it would be all the more petrifying when Russia would elect to ignore in order to turn his attention to the squirming infant in his arms, cooing lovingly and smiling.

Ivan wouldn’t take any nonsense on your part and if you hadn’t learned it at that point then you would be in double trouble. It might even descend into slaps. Although that would be a last resort, if he would feel his control slipping and resort to drastic measures in order to regain it.

He wouldn’t lose a word over your unforgivable behaviour, not the next day, not the next week, not the next year. If you would bring the topic up, then he would be quick to shut it down. However, just because he would verbalise the problem doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be any consequences for it. It would take for in the nuances of your life together – him not help you with the post-delivery recovery, often having a patronizing and degrading undertone in his voice when speaking with you, generally acting more spiteful towards you…

Those would just be a few examples. And he wouldn’t take written or spoken apologises either. Ivan wouldn’t care for lip-service, you would have to prove yourself to be a worthy and loving mother in order to get in his good books again.

#yandere allies #yandere hetalia #yandere America #yandere england #yandere china #yandere Russia #yandere canada #yandere france #yandere hetalia x reader #x reader

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dindooku · 4 years ago

Text

chapter 6

faith

rating: E (swearing, violence) angst and SMUT!!! pls b mindful but enjoy the show, things will b heating up from here; dindooku xoxo

Without realising, you let the force guide you through the hallways of the ship. An unfamiliar resonance vibrated in the air and you couldn’t stop yourself from following it. After a minute of trying to collect you emotions, the tap eventually burst and you silently stifled cries into your right arm sleeve as you paced the silent balls of the starship.

After what felt like only moments, but was actually a good half hour, you found yourself stood outside of an unfamiliar door. The resonance from before that you had been unconsciously following was now deafening and you didn’t realise you were knocking on the door until it slid open, revealing a familiar face.

“Amy, why are you—”Anakin rasps, the initial grievance at being woken at this hour all but forgotten when he sees the state you’re in.

“Who hurt you.” he grits out, baring a few sharp teeth at his sudden anger.

You don’t reply however, in fact, you don’t even know why you’re here. But the moment Anakin pulls you in and wraps you in your arms you know you’d somehow done the right thing; letting all of your emotions physically spill out into his chest as the sobs wrecked your chest. “Amy tell me who hurt you,” He demanded, stroking the top of your head with one hand while the other was wrapped around your shoulders. You noticed his complacency in his actions and how Anakin seemed considerably more comfortable with, well...comforting. He’d done this before, and a small curiosity peaked, you knew you’d question him later - but now wasn’t the time.

“I—I can’t t…tell yo…you,” You managed between strangled breaths. And that was the bitter reality of your situation. There was no one you could turn to.The one person you’d come to trust had all but stabbed your feelings and thrown you out into the dark. You weren’t close to Anakin, but with the way he was being so protective; how he was actually un-shy to show his concern - understanding that emotion was not a poisonous trait but actually a bittersweet gift you had to learn to master was endearing.

“Why?” He questioned, pulling you away from his chest and searching your eyes for an answer. The familiar twinge of something knocking at your consciousness took your attention, but not for long as Anakin only confirmed your suspicions. “Oh, Obi-Wan,”

Anakin had read your mind.

The blatant invasion of privacy had initially angered you, but you supposed it was easier and less painful that he read your mind and understood what had happened instead of prying for answers you weren’t sure you could give.

“Please, don’t, he…he made a mistake, it’s my fault” you blurt out. You were angry, beyond pissed off, but you really did not want the drama. Obi-Wan didn’t care for you the way you did for him and starting an argument wasn’t going to change that.

“Yes. Indeed, he has made a mistake. Stay put” Anakin commanded as he tried to let you go, but you wouldn’t have it.

“Please, please don’t go, I don’t want to be by myself, I have no where to go, no one. Please, can I just kip on your couch or something? I want to pretend this never happened. Please, Anakin.” You practically begged, fresh tears falling down your cheeks.

Anakin hesitated for a second but saw how wound up you were so decided he’d stay. He didn’t say anything and instead opted to pull you into another hug, silently shhh’ing you as you both slowly lolled back and forth to a silent beat. Anakin decided he would tell Padme about this, she’d understand - maybe somehow she’d know the words you needed to hear and offer better advice than he could give. That would allow him to deal with Obi-Wan at least. But that was for another time - he could feel how tired you were and you needed to sleep this off. He slowly pulled you out of your embrace and led you to the sofa, quickly grabbing a throw blanket and a couple cushions to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be. It wasn’t long until you were out like a light, the drain from your whirlwind of emotions had sunk you into a heavy sleep.

______

Anakin stayed true to his word and stayed with you until the next day.

He left early in the morning to go to the mess hall and collect a packed breakfast, lunch and dinner for you. He highly doubted you’d want to be up and around the ship today after last night, the chance of running into Obi-Wan wasn’t one you wanted to take.

When you awoke in the morning you instantly went about trying to apologise for your state of person and the way you spoke to him, but Anakin brushed it off saying he would be stressed himself considering what you’d been through - he even praised you for managing to keep a cool lid until then. You both chuckled at this and soon things were comfortable, or as comfortable as they could be at least.

He could see the concern rolling off you but couldn’t stay with you all day, he had Jedi business to attend to, as well as a severe talking with Obi-Wan at the top of his list. So instead, he hatched the plan for you and his Padawan to meet.

_____

Anakin had left an hour or so ago now. He’d given you your own data pad to browse through, using a form of what you could only describe as their own type of internet. You had access to everything on this, and you soon educated yourself on the underpinnings of Coruscant, the Jedi and recent political galactic history. If you were to serve in the Army here, you’d need to know what you were fighting for. You did search for Earth, but as expected - there was nothing. Disheartened, you delved into the sweet fruit Anakin had brought back to you, glancing at your watch in the process. Time had flown by as it was now approaching 2.34PM, or it was at least by your personal body clock.

Over the course of the day you’d begun to listen to yourself more. You’d managed to hone in on this other presence within you, and within no time you found yourself able to use this new 6th sense to your advantage. You could sense when people would walk past the door before they actually did, and you were able to listen in on conversations which would normally be too far away to understand - yet you were able to hear them as clear as day. After a little research you found this to be the same Force that Obi-Wan had spoken about. Your curiosity got the better of you and you decided to see if you could use this sense in a physical form.

You placed the data pad down on the sofa as you sat cross legged into a relaxed but controlled meditative pose - one you were comfortable in and allowed you to focus. Your eyes fell upon the fresh fruit you had taken a bite out of. You thought back to the time with Obi-Wan at Dex’s and how he made the speeder move in the air - wanting to imitate the same movements on this piece of fruit before you. You centred yourself and controlled your breathing, and the process came naturally to you. You felt a familiar rush through your body, but this time it was controlled.

This power wasn’t fuelled by rage or anger or hurt, but it was calm, controlled and collected.

The fruit rose.

You didn’t hide the quiet squeal of delight that tingled your throat.

You were doing this.

Suddenly something brought you out of your concentration - a presence. You slowly dropped the fruit back to the coffee table. This presence was stronger than the others, and soon it stood still outside your door. You knew they wanted to come in and were about to knock, so you invited them in before they had to chance.

“Come in,” you say, picking up the data pad to act as if nothing had happened.

The door slid open and a familiar face walked in. It was the same creature that had spoken to Kenobi when you were in the Dojo’s back on Coruscant.

“Hey,” They greet you sweetly, placing weight on one side of their hip and resting a hand there. They were a creature you’d never seen before. They had orange skin and odd blue and white tendrils that flowed elegantly from their head. They seemed to have a female frame similar to yours, although you didn’t like to assume. You were hesitant to acknowledge them at first, but after reaching out through the Force you knew she was good. Her aura was calm, and the lights that surrounded her were bright and pure. “I’m Anakin’s Padawan, and you’re Amy, right?” Ashoka finished.

“Yes, Amy, Amy Croft,” you introduce yourself, placing the data pad down on the sofa and moving to stand. You’re interrupted in your movements by Ashoka making her way over to the sofa and sitting down next you you, crossing her legs like yours were and reaching out a hand. You sit back down onto the sofa and copy her, falling into your previous position but turned, your knees parallel to one another.

“Ashoka Tano,” she replied as the two of you shook hands.

“Is this a custom on Earth?” Ashoka asks, smiling innocently as you both moved your arms away and you picked up the fruit from the coffee table.

“What, shaking hands?” You ask back, taking another bite from the fruit you had no idea the name of.

“Yes,” Ashoka says, punctually. She didn’t seem condescending or rude like most would, just curious. And you supposed you were both in the same boat - curious.

“Yeah, it’s a formal greeting,” You say casually between bites. You feel at ease around her and she slumps back into the arm of the sofa. Ashoka looks down for a moment and fiddles with her hands before turning her attention back to you.

“Have you figured out how to use the Force yet?” She asks plainly. You’re dumbfounded at her brashness, but you like it. You wanted people to talk to you, not around you in fear that you’re fragile. You were still angry that Obi-Wan had hidden this from you. After researching the Force you now understood the conversation you’d listened in on in the hallways of the Jedi temple. Yes, Anakin had said he didn’t trust you, and you told yourself you would talk to him about that - but you supposed after the way he’d treated you and forgiven you so easily, you figured you’d just let it slide. However Obi-Wan would not get off as lightly, he was yet to prove himself - and by his absence throughout the day; not even bothering the check up on you, you knew your suspicions were true.

You bring yourself back to the moment with a little chuckle under your breath before you reply. You could answer with words and be honest, but you thought you’d let your next actions speak for themselves.

You finish the fruit with one final bite and instead of getting up to place it in the bin, you use the Force to fling it through the room instead. Much to Ashoka’s awe, she couldn’t deny the question that was how you’d managed to master your control of the Force so quickly. Usually it took years to be able to manipulate objects with the control you had just shown. Anakin had given her a brief run down before she came to see you, and she was sure he didn’t mention anything about you actually being able to use the Force, just that you had this odd presence and strong but unconscious connection. He was obviously wrong, they all seemed to be wrong. Although that didn’t surprise her, she knew the council could be twisted in their ways and she figured it was their own fault for being so blind to your capabilities. She would do what she did best and just observe and report back to Anakin and Obi-Wan.

You laugh at Ashoka’s shocked face and that breaks the ice, and you both spend the rest of the day sharing stories and Ashoka teaching you tid-bits about the Jedi Order, the Republic and the Separatists. Ashoka went on to explain they’d previously battled on Yerbanna, and the scene she described seemed to be intense. Nonetheless, separatist forces had found ground on the planet again so the Jedi were sent to restore the peace one again.

Hours had droned by and soon you were accompanied by Anakin again. He said he’d managed to find you a room of your own. You said goodbye to Ashoka and followed Anakin to your quarters. You were thankful they weren’t near Obi-Wan’s, and Anakin had managed to get you some that where quiet, secluded and out of the way. You didn’t need to tell him you needed your own space and time alone, and before he left for the evening he said he’d borrowed a droid to accompany you and retrieve your meals each day so you wouldn’t have to face anyone if you didn’t want to. He insisted that you could keep the droid with you at all times. He figured you needed the company and K9 would be the perfect fit for you. He had personally programmed it and explained how you can change certain parameters with the data pad he’d given you. It all seemed simple enough and you were excited to meet your droid the next day. Soon after Anakin had left, you hunkered down and got some well deserved sleep.

______

A few days had passed now and you knew you’d be approaching Yerbanna soon. You’d made good progress with your Force abilities, and much to K9’s dismay you’d managed to hold him in the air without faltering whilst you made yourself busy with a morning fitness routine you’d conjured. As each day passed you found it easier and easier to manipulate the Force around you. However, you kept your abilities to yourself, not wanting Anakin or anyone really to stop your learning or tell you what you were doing was wrong.

Whilst browsing the data pad you came across lightsaber forms and the various techniques. You scrolled through each of their meanings and found yourself most drawn to the centric of Soresu. You considered yourself a resilient person - the tests of time you had travelled through during your time on Earth and within this new life of yours certainly stood to prove that. You accessed the online Jedi archives (Anakin had given you his private password so you could do as much research as you wanted), and you soon found yourself browsing scholar articles explaining moves and forms. You drew out a plan and started from the beginning. There were some things you knew you wouldn’t be able to do, and some acrobatics seemed plain impossible - so you stuck to what you could do. Over the week you spent secluded in your cabin, away from everyone else; the troubles and terrifying new universe you found yourself in - you found comfort in the new presence within you…and of course, K9.

_____

By the fifth day you found yourself at peace with your relationship with Obi-Wan. You had come to respect his decision, despite his cruel ways of dealing with it. You had to forgive and let go so you yourself could move on. You recounted the words you had used to soothe Obi-Wan before:

Let go of the feelings that plague you so that new ones can heal you.

After researching Jedi meditation you managed to eventually crack the ice and release your feelings of hurt into the Force, and found that afterwards, your ability to focus and tune yourself into your environment came a lot quicker.

Now you understood why Obi-Wan was conflicted.

Now you could see both sides of the coin.

You didn’t resent him anymore, you sought peace.

You hoped that he had too.

_____

You had counted seven days in total. Your arrival at Yerbanna was imminent.

You were at peace with Obi-Wan now, and your situation at whole really. You’d had time to reflect and plan your next steps. You wanted to explore, to learn about the new galaxy you found yourself in. The limitless possibilities, the new gift you had found yourself able to control.

You could still feel Obi-Wan's presence, but now only occasionally. You had learnt to build barriers and control your emotions, and most importantly you’d learnt how to not be so loud.

____

You told Anakin to come in before he knocked (like you did every morning), greeting him with a smile and waving from under the blanket you cuddled up under every morning - cup of tea in one hand and data pad in the other.

“We’re here, we’ve got to be on the bridge in 15, I’ll walk you down if you like?” Anakin offered, and you obliged without arguing. You didn’t need him to tell you where it was; even though you hadn’t left your room. Over the week you had taken a moment to study the ships internals incase of an emergency…and you were just curious, too. You disappeared to your bedroom and put on your freshly washed army uniform.

You sported a black ribbed, racer-back tank top underneath a light green full sleeved tunic top. It was tight fitting but breathable, as well as extremely flexible. For trousers, you put on your light brown, loose fitting combat pants. They had numerous pockets for instruments and equipment - housing a compass, penknife and other useful tid-bits. Next you laced up your leather boots. You then loaded up each thigh holster with both of your G19’s, fastening a combat knife into the secondary holster next to your gun on your right thigh.

Earlier in the week, Anakin had asked politely if you wouldn’t mind him converting your guns. He made sure to say that he appreciated that they were yours, but he also made it clear that straight metal would not be sufficient against battle droids. So, reluctantly, you handed them over. He had brought them back the next day, and you wouldn’t have guessed anything was different. Anakin had done his best to keep the initial integrity of the guns, so now instead of shooting bullets, they shot plasma. You were overjoyed to say the least - pleased that he hadn’t completely wrecked your possessions. You thanked him by sharing a precious piece of dried Mango you’d been saving for a special occasion. Anakin loved it.

You quickly pulled on your tactical gloves before you finally got round to putting your bulletproof vest on, then slinging your M14EBR over your shoulder. You filled each of the chest pockets with equipment you’d need for your mission as well as the annotated schematics of the compound you’d printed earlier in the week. You fastened your hair into a ponytail, not bothering to clip back the loose strands of fringe that framed your face.

This was it.

Time to prove yourself.

You strolled back out of your room, fully armed and in your battle mindset.

“Lets fuck some shit up” you smirk to Anakin whilst absentmindedly twirling the karambit combat knife in your hand as you strolled out your room.

______

Each battalion debriefs in the bridge before your squad of six deploy. You didn’t chance a look at Obi-Wan, not wanting him to break your concentration. You had to focus on the mission - this was paramount.

You loaded up into the ship you’d be taking to the surface. You were nervous to be flying but you supposed it wasn’t anything you’d not done before - jumping out of planes was almost a normal entry for you back on Earth. You’d suggested to Anakin earlier in the week that your team used wing suits to infiltrate without detection. He’d agreed with you but unfortunately Obi-Wan had objected, saying the risk of being detected by the canons without defences was too much. You had to accept his refusal, meditating on it in the evening to centre yourself and release your frustrations.

If he was going to be cruel and wind you up, you would be the bigger person and just let it be.

The landing went without hitch, and your group was soon tracking through the dark of night on a planet you’d never been to before. The intel had provided a secluded area on the planets surface, away form the city. Apparently separatists where using the remote location to build a droid army without detection, and Republic scanners had picked up significant heat traces and increased traffic to the previously considered uninhabitable area of Yerbanna. Scouts had only confirmed their suspicions, which brought everything back to you - the newcomer from Earth who was infiltrating a Separatists base through underground vents.

You led the team through the manhole you’d highlighted previously on the schematics you’d printed out, and after the predicted half hour of scurrying left and right you found yourself at your destination.

“Right, we are directly underneath the compounds server room. If I am correct, the main current should come from this direction,” you point to the right of you, just past the shoulders of the six men you were leading, “but before we blow the charges I need to plant the bug.” You finished as you fished into the front pocket and brought out a file stick.

You had asked Anakin for a universal server port and electronic soldering kit earlier in the week after going over the intel and schematics. He asked why and you just told him you wanted to tinker with K9. What he didn’t know was that you’d managed to reform your USB stick, which just so happened to contain a kill code that you could download data from servers with whilst simultaneously planting a virus which would infect any other networks they were connected to - and if your suspicions were correct, this server room was interlinked with all of the separatist technology within this planet and any nearby. This meant that all the computer processing systems would be rendered useless once you pressed the button - boom.

No power. No fighting.

Or at least that’s what you hoped.

You hadn’t briefed Anakin and Obi-Wan about this - hoping to use the element of surprise to your advantage. If your plan was successful, they’d be left twiddling their thumbs, and if not, then - well, you’d have someone to watch your back.

You glanced at your watch. Right on time.

“Right boys, let’s get this show on the road” you said as you twirled a finger in a circle next to your head before opening the upper hatch.

You slowly peered your head into the room, using the Force to feel for any lifeforms or autonomous presence. The room was empty, only filled by the typical hum of servers. You pull yourself up and waved for the others to follow, signalling for them to take up their defensive positions and plant the charges in the room before you made your way over to the PC. You asked one of the soldiers to accompany you so they could translate any language you might not understand. You’d asked K9 to download a file that would translate your English into Galactic basic and vice-versa so that you could read the code that would show up on the controller you would use to manipulate and control the USB with. You made your way over with the soldier and pointed to the main computer.

“Where’s the info port for this thing?” You asked them. They pointed to the side of the PC and you placed your USB into the slot. You pulled out your controller so that you could start the process of hacking and infesting the framework.

“What is that?” The soldier asked, taking their helmet off so they could get a decent look.

“What’s your name, soldier?” You deflect, not taking your eyes off your controller screen. You were typing through the settings and trying to decipher the code so you could find a decent hidden spot to embed the virus.

“F06633” They replied.

You thought for a second, trying to conjure up a nickname.

“Well, F06633, I’m gonna call you Foxy, is that ok with you?”

“Yes sir”

“Please, call me Amy, foxy” you both grinned. You lowered your voice as you answered his earlier question, “This isn’t something I discussed with General Kenobi or Skywalker. So keep it close to yourself. I’m uploading a virus into the frameware which will disable all forms of communication as well as function of Separatist technology on Yerbanna,” you say, pausing for a moment as you find the embed site you had been looking for. This break in the code was perfect and would be hidden well.

“Was this your idea?” Foxy asks, peering around at his brothers to make sure all was well.

“Yes Fox, and not only am I going to disable all of their servers, but I’m also going to steal all of their data too,” you grin, teeth glinting in the low light of the room.

“Genius,” foxy chuckled deeply. You knew you’d made a friend here.

A minute had gone by and you had nearly finished the download. The upload was almost instant, however there was so much useful data, it was taking longer than you’d anticipated download it all onto your portable SSD.

83% …84%….85%…

“Sir, droids approaching” a soldier from the door whispered.

89%…90%…91%…

“Just a few more seconds, okay?” You whisper back, one hand hovering over the enter key and the other ready to grab the USB.

“Sir, they’re right outside” another informs you, trying their best to keep their voices down.

“93%…94%…95%…”

The reflection of the LED light for the doorways panel flicks from red to green. You can’t afford to lose this. You don’t even think before you swing an arm out behind you, halting the door in its tracks, using the Force to stop it from opening.

Foxy looks at you shocked, ‘You didn’t look like a Jedi’ he thought.

“I am no Jedi, foxy” you whisper, having heard his loud thoughts break through your concentration.

99%…100% - download complete

Your controller flashes green. You focus your mind and hold the door in place, sweat trickling down your forehead against the strain. You hit the enter key and upload the virus as you remove your USB stick. Instantly the server room falls into darkness and the strain against the door falls. So do the two droids outside the door; you’d crushed them in your panic.

You let out a pained breath, clutching at your heart as you turn to face Foxy. The both of you laugh in disbelief that it’d actually worked.

“Thank fuck for that,” you chuckle, placing a hand on his shoulder, closing your eyes and dropping your head in relief.

Your celebrations are short lived though as the sound of more droids can be heard scurrying down the hallway.

“Of course I jinxed it” you mutter under your breathe.

“What do you mean, Jinxed it?” Foxy muttered, slightly agitated at how you were just sat there and not moving - you needed to get out of here, and quick.

“I can only guess that some of the droids run on their own system, not relying on the server for code. Some will be taken out, like defences and canon’s, but the droids will remain. We have to follow the original plan - signal to the 212th and 501st to begin their assault.” You say to Foxy as you stand up and address the other soldiers in the room. You point to each soldier, asking for their names. Foxy interrupts his Com with Anakin and Obi-Wan.

“Wha—Amy now isn’t the time for thi—,”

“Foxy, just tell Obi-Wan and Anakin to be ready,” You assert. He doesn’t address you but still does as instructed. They all spoke quickly but in turn.

“E9468”

“V3538”

“O2639”

“D9390”

“T8363”

You thought for a moment but then had an idea, knowing exactly what you were to call them. You pointed to each soldier as you said their name.

“Echo, Victor, Oscar, Delta, Tango,” you said before turning to face Foxy, “and Foxy,” You smiled, turning back to face your new squad. You clapped your hands and rubbed them together briefly before pulling your modified G19’s into each hand. You strode towards the door and used the Force to push it open, sliding it across the hinges, “Let’s show them how it's done, eh boys?” You grin before stepping into the hallway and letting hellfire rain upon those who stood in your way.

“You heard her, let’s go!” Foxy shouted as they all filtered out of the room.

_____

Your body was on autopilot. If you closed your eyes you could remember a few missions similar to this. It almost felt like you were reliving past experiences - however this one was richer. You had the Force guiding you this time. You didn’t even need to look at the schematics, instead just following the feeling you’d come to trust, letting it guide you through the hallways. Every now and then you would have to duck and cover, but only momentarily. With each passing second, your use of the Force grew stronger and stronger. You were drawing in the energy around you and punishing those that stood in your way.

It was addicting.

You had gotten excited and crushed a few droids when your squad were particularly overloaded.

Now you were all pinned. You knew you could wait for Anakin or Kenobi’s squads to reach you, but you wanted this. You knew you could do this by yourself if you really wanted to, so you gave in. You pulled at the Force around you and let it vibrate through your consciousness, blending with your emotions and exerting its physical power over those you wished it to. You stepped out from the cover of the corner and threw your right hand out, halting the group of around 12 droids in their tracks, the red flurries of blaster bolts halted in the air.

You stared them down, grinning at the power you now held. With a flick of your wrist the bolts shot backwards, instantly downing the small squadron of metal in front of you. It felt glorious.

You turned back and waved for your group to follow, and before long you found yourself in the large warehouse that the 212th and 501st were currently working to siege.

Upon entering you were immediately shot at. You ducked and took evasive action, rolling behind the cover of a downed ship to the right of you. You signalled for your team to disperse and help with the other battalions.

“FOXY! Go help Skywalker and Kenobi, now! I have this!” You shout.

“Yes sir!” Foxy would’ve normally argued - he’d seen the amount of droids in front of you, but with the way you’d performed he had no doubt you would hold your own. Foxy waved the the group and they ran in the opposite direction to the aid of the other two groups.

You tucked down behind the cover, taking a second to breathe and concentrate. You briefly closed your eyes, feeling in the Force.

24 droids.

Easy.

You took another deep breath before you pulled from the Force like you had before. Jumping up, you ran towards the group of droids. They instantly opened fire but you blocked their attacks by pulling a large shard of metal in front of your body as a makeshift shield. You advanced again, pulling out one of your G19’s and downing a few of the droids.

23, 22, 21, 20…

You ducked to the right again, this time hiding behind the landing gear of a ship. You had to pull off something pretty spectacular here.

You pulled everything you could from the Force. And just like out of a movie, time seemed to slow as you moved from the cover of the ship, blaster bolts flying past you. You could predict each one though, you knew every move before it would happen. Breathing in, you forced your right arm out, palm open and fingers spread in front of the droids. And like before, you felt the addicting vibration of the power surging through you - you had them all in the palm of your hand. A tickling crackle of lightening danced between your fingers. And like that, you snapped. Violent tendrils of Force lightening lurched from your fingertips towards the droids, frying their processing systems, but you weren’t done yet. Your left hand rose too, but instead of using the violent electric pulse that coursed your veins, you tapped into the overbearing thrum that reverberated around your soul and clutched each of the droids forms within your grasp.You clenched your left fist tightly, crushing them.

The blaster bolts stopped and you stood admiring your handiwork.

“I could get used to this,” you mumble. Your appreciation is cut short by an unfamiliar voice.

“I haven’t seen you before, Jedi” comes a mechanical voice. You turn around to face the creature before you. It was tall and at least two metres high. It’s body consisted of metal, and they were hunched over at an uncomfortable angle, their cape falling over one of their shoulders. They had long, spindly arms and a mismatched torso of scrap metal. But when you met their eyes, you froze.

Molten gold stared back at you.

“And I can’t say I’ve met you?” You reply back, trying to win this battle of wits you’re now engaged in. You don’t get a chance to question them however, as Kenobi decides to join the fun.

“Grievous” He booms. You hadn’t noticed him approach behind you from the other side of the hanger. Everyone was creeping up on you now - you needed to focus again.

“Kenobi” Grievous coughs out, saying Kenobi’s name with extra gravel.

“Oh so you two know each other?” You turn sideways so you could see both of them, pointing a thumb on each hand toward their faces, “Is this something I need to leave you two alone with or…” You joke, finding the awkward triangle you are now in quite comedic. Neither of them say anything and instead just glare at you, so you decide to carry on with your little game for as long as you could, “Oh…I see… awkward breakup — they can be hard. Hey, don’t take it to heart Grievous, Kenobi always plays with his food,” you pathetically sympathise with Grievous, lacing your scripture with the deepest sarcasm you can fathom. Obi-Wan cuts you a knowing smirk but you don’t catch it, your sole focus on Grievous.

“Enough games Jedi, she’ll make a fine addition to my collection, Kenobi” Grievous confers between his guttural coughs. You give him a dirty look before turning to Kenobi, giving him a look and saying to him across the Force ‘can you believe this guy?’

Obi-Wan tenses for a second, realising that the voice in his head was you, and that you were now grinning over your shoulder with a look in your eye that only spelled trouble.

‘Don't’ Obi-Wan replied

‘Why not?’ You send back through the Force

‘He’s more powerful than you realise’ He warns.

‘Darling please, leave it to the professionals’ you grin back.

Before Obi-Wan can protest, you’re throwing your hand out and swiping it to the right, sending Grievous flying. Obi-Wan is in shock, he can’t move. He just stands and watches as you all but fling Grievous across the warehouse like a rag doll.

You race after Grievous, not bothering to wait for Kenobi to catch up. Sure, you could rely on your Force powers to pull your through this, and you expected a fight.

However you didn’t expect the jankey looking terminator to just ditch you and flee onto a ship. “Coward” you screamed as Greivous flew away, and you growled at yourself for being so complacent in your tactics. But you knew you could deal with him another time, you’d gotten what you came here for, and you hoped that Obi-Wan and Anakin would like the little surprise you had in store.

Soon the battle was won and you could finally breathe. You rejoined your group and asked them how they were, a few injuries here and there but they are all minor. You all loaded up onto the ship for a debrief on the main vessel.

_____

You’d signalled for K9 to meet you in the war room via the wrist communicator Anakin had given you as you followed behind Rex and Cody. The walk was short and you soon found yourself stood at stood in the centre of the room, leaning against the table as the holo-projection blurred to life. It showed all of the statistics of the mission, such as casualties, area covered and time taken by each squad to complete each objective. Once everyone had filled the room, the discussion began.

After 20 minutes or so, K9 made his way into the room. You stepped away from the table to greet him, giving him a pat on the head as you knelt down, petting him like you would a dog back on Earth. You remove the USB stick from your chest pocket and plug it into his mainframe, typing a few things into the keypad so that he could display the downloaded intel. You’d not had a chance to look at it yet, but when you did, your jaw dropped open in disbelief.

“Hey, Amy, why did it take you so long to get in, we were in the dark for a good couple minutes longer than we anticipated, what happened in there?” Anakin asked from the table, not noticing you had moved away to work on K9. They all turned to look at you, Obi-Wan included.

You were still working your way through your discovery and didn’t have time to look up, so you addressed him whilst crouching next to K9, “I was doing something,” you reply, not having enough mental space to give a proper answer.

“What do you mean, something,” Obi-Wan said, he was curious to say the least.

“Well, General Kenobi, if the Jedi weren’t so strict in their ways I can bet you’d want to kiss me,” you chuckle, removing the USB chip from K9 and running over to the table, instantly plugging the USB in. Anakin scoffs and Obi-Wan all but gasps, Rex and Cody following suit on their shock. But their shock soon turned from you to the holo-projector, which now showcased all of the droid construction warehouses that the Separatists owned, as well as other locations of interest. Everyones eyes were fixed on the intel in front of you, everyones except Obi-Wan’s. You took this brief moment of privacy to look at him, to really look at him.

You’d avoided him for the last week, and you had to admit he looked rough. It was like he’d aged ten years, the stress physically boring into his skin in the form of lines, and his eyes had lost their deep cerulean colour you had come so quickly to love. It saddened you, to know that you’d had this effect on him. You wished you hadn’t hurt him in this way, but you had be selfish and do what you needed to do, for your own sake. Things had moved too fast and you weren’t stable. It wouldn’t be fair to expect Obi-Wan to be able to deal with you, and it was unfair of him to expect you to be ok straight away. But now you’d had time to reflect, time to forgive him and let those feelings go. And that look was all it took to calm him. The soft smile you had gifted him even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. He took it as a blessing, a wholehearted one; it wasn’t pitiful, it was just as warm and whole as he’d remembered it to be.

‘Im sorry’ Obi-Wan sent though the force.

‘I know’ you replied, softly.

“This really is remarkable, Amy, how did you get this?” Anakin asks, bringing his intense gaze onto you. You turned away from Obi-Wan, smiling back at Anakin.

“Well, you know that upload hardware and soldering kit I asked for earlier this week?” You said, smirking inwardly at your secret plan.

“Yes, I thought that was for K9?” He replied, stepping back and pulling the traditional Skywalker pose, leaning on one hip and crossing his arms.

“It was, partly,” you chuckled, “I hardwired the connector port to my USB so that it can connect to your data ports, then used K9 to translate my keyboard into galactic basic, vice versa. This allowed me to type code, and read your code too. I used the kill switch virus I’d designed back on Earth and embedded it into their servers, whilst simultaneously downloading all of their data onto the hard-drive. Thats why when you landed, the electric went out and you had no canon fire, and no shields.” You admitted, turning to K9 who was now at your side and giving him a slight pat on the head. No one said anything for a hot minute, and you began to think you’d done something wrong. You began to curl in on yourself, but Obi-Wan noticed your switch and said what everyone was thinking.

“That was truly marvellous, my dear. Well done,” He praised, his attention now back on the precious intel you’d managed to procure.

“Like I said, leave it to the professionals,” you mumble, shrugging your shoulders. It was no biggie, you’d done the same thing hundreds of times. You turned to the rest of the room, “I think I’m going to go clean up, if that’s ok with you all?” You asked, turning sideways to gesture you leaving.

Everyone nodded except for Obi-Wan. You turned to him, expecting an answer. You both locked eyes and exchanged silent words.

‘I want to talk to you’ Obi-Wan said.

‘I know. Come to mine after ok?’ You reply.

Obi-Wan nods in agreement, so you take your leave, K9 close at your heels.

______

You showered for longer than necessary, but the effects of the day were finally setting in. You’d used the Force more than you ever had today, and you supposed you had over-exerted yourself because every muscle screamed with a deep ache that couldn’t be fixed by stretching or painkillers. This was something you’d have to sleep off - you’d have to refrain from using the Force so heavily for a while. You supposed you had a weeks travel back, and having the comfort of your room should allow you the detox you needed.

You stepped out of the shower, wrapping your body in one towel, your hair in another. You padded out and into your bedroom, changing into one of the large oversized tunics Obi-Wan had packed for you and some pants, then slipping on the cloak he’d packed, wrapping it around you like a wearable blanket. You could feel Obi-Wan’s restless presence heading to your quarters, so you stuck the kettle on and set out two mugs of tea, each with a teabag from your special tin - you’d not touched them in the hopes that you could maybe share the last two with Obi-Wan. You set out a few biscuits each and a sachet of milk, calling out to Obi-Wan to come in, just in time - like you’d predicted.

The door slid open and he walked in. He was puzzled for a moment, you weren’t in the front room. He then heard the familiar sound of water being poured and made his way over to the kitchen.

‘Sit’ you say through the Force to Obi-Wan

He complies, taking one of the filled mugs into his hand. He looks down at it to see what tea you’ve used and is pleasantly surprised to see one of your teabags in there, then his gaze flicks over the milk and biscuits set out…for him. He can’t help the toothy grin that pulls at his face.

‘Thank you’ Obi-Wan praises through the Force.

‘No problem, I saved them for you’ you admit.

“That’s very kind of you,” he says out loud as he removes the Teabag and places it on the napkin you’ve placed on the table before opening the milk sachet and pouring it into the cup, swirling the liquid using the Force instead of a spoon. You do the same before removing the Teabags from the table and placing them in the bin. You come back to an ecstatic Obi-Wan who is trying his best to hide his giddy pleasure of dunking biscuits into tea. Your heart warms at the sight of his childish excitement - an act so common on Earth yet new to this fully grown adult man. You begin running through things to say in your head but you don’t want to ruin this moment. You wished you could picture it somehow; have a permanent physical reminder that this did happen and that you could be happy. That this moment wouldn’t yet again be soured by the painful conversation you are yet to have. Sensing your thoughts, Obi-Wan makes the first move.

“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan starts. He swirls the cup of tea in front of him nervously, hoping that you wouldn’t chastise him too hard. He had already had it in the ear from Anakin, he didn’t want to hear it from you too.

“I know” you reply, soft and velvety. You take a sip of your tea, trying to calm your nerves. You’d been preparing for this moment all week and yet all you could manage was I know. He was going to need more than that.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Obi-Wan said, placing the mug to his lips and taking a long gulp. You could see the slight tremor in his hands.

“I know” you repeated. You’d known he didn’t mean to hurt you, he was only doing what he thought was right, what the Jedi order wanted him to do. You couldn’t blame him for following the code he had lived his life by.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought that if I denied my feelings and cut you off they would go away, but they haven’t, they’ve only gotten worse.” Obi-Wan admits.

“I know” you say again, taking another sip of tea. You just needed to hear what he had to say, he already knew your feelings - it was his turn to spill.

“Can you stop saying I know! I know you know, you know far much more than when I last saw you…which was too long ago. I…I apologise for—,” Obi-Wan starts, but you quickly interrupt him, not wanting him to run off with his words and make excuses.

"For not coming to see me? It’s ok, I understand.” You say. And you did, he was hurt and just like you, he needed the space to figure things out. You had both been through a world of emotions since your arrival. Space, ironically, was what you needed.

“You—you’re not angry?” Obi-Wan is astounded.

“No, Obi-Wan. I understand why you pushed me away, and really, I’m thankful that you did.” You admit.

“Thankful?” Obi-Wan says dumbfounded. He places the empty mug down on the counter in disbelief, this was completely and utterly not how he expected this conversation to go.

“Yes, it allowed me space to sort through my head and come to terms with what had happened. How I ended up here and what I should do, it also allowed me time to accept that you didn’t feel the same way I felt about you, and that is ok.” You encourage, not holding back and being as honest as you could be. You didn’t want to lie anymore, to hide and pray that he didn’t know how you felt. You’d made it rather clear how you felt, and he’d made it clear he didn’t feel the same, and that’s ok.

Silence engulfed the room. You didn’t need or even want to say anything - totally at peace with what had happened. If you from a year ago could see you now, they’d ask where they had taken the real you, because you know for a fact you have never been so level headed, never been so balanced before. Your time alone with the Force has moulded you into a new, improved version of yourself; a version of you that you are comfortable in, a version of you you have always wanted to be.

“Do you still have those feelings for me?” Obi-Wan practically whispers, cutting through the silence. You didn’t really know how to answer that question. You did have feelings for him, yes, but you also knew that he didn’t return his, or at least that’s what you had initially thought. It comes to you as to exactly why Obi-Wan is now in your quarters, asking you this question. Maybe he has changed his mind, maybe he does—

“Do you?” You return his question with one of your own. If he felt the same way you did, or still do, he needs to be honest and tell you.

Obi-Wan ducks his head, staring into nothing other than the stark white countertop you were both sat at in the kitchen. Silence fills the room again and despite your best efforts you’re becoming a little restless now, the anticipation at what he is to say is eating you from the inside. But you have to give him this, to give him this space. It would be cruel to force or rush him when he is being more open to you than he ever has.

“I made a mistake,” Obi-Wan murmurs. You chuckle at his admission, you’re not surprised by his answer. The sick part of you told you he didn’t feel the same way, and his repeated admission in the fact that having feelings for you was wrong stung. But you hid it well this time, trying to cover your hurt with sarcasm.

“You already told me that,” you look up to him, rolling your eyes as you say it.

“No, no — I mean I made a mistake by pushing you away,” Obi-Wan says seriously. He meets your eyes for a moment and then looks back at whatever he was intently staring at before.

“What do you mean?” You blurt out in response. Your heart is now lodged in your throat, you can feel each beat of anxiety ripple through your couscousness. This conversation is a fucking rollercoaster and you just wished he’d get to the point now.

“I should’ve listened to what the Force was telling me. Before, I followed the code to a T, and I thought I was doing the right thing by obeying the Jedi and refusing that these feelings were meant to be felt, but now, being away from you, feeling so disconnected…I’ve never felt so empty in my life. When you left, I felt like a part of me left with you.” Obi-Wan admits. He grips the cup harshly, and you catch the painful twist his face has pulled at his feelings now being open to the air. He closes his eyes in an attempt to dissociate himself from the reality he finds himself in. You can’t have this, no, he was hurt, and you needed to fix it.

To fix him.

“Oh Obi” you whisper and immediately get up off of your seat. You dart around the corner of the table, coming to a stop and turning him so that you can stand in-between his thighs. His head is dipped, his shoulders tense. You slowly run both hands up his thighs, your presence strong enough to distract him from his thoughts but light enough to soothe; up his torso until your palms are resting on either side of his face. You slowly pull his head up until his deep, cerulean blues meet your own. All you see is a lost, defeated man at battle with his own emotions. How had the Force, the anonymous being he had devoted his life to, his entire being revolving around its will; how had it punished him in such a way? Forced this precious soul to fight battles he could never win, to see atrocities no man should ever have to witness? It was cruel, how he had to face these things, these terrible, terrible things, and yet he was still forced to face them alone. The comfort that is so essential for healing, all but banned and twisted into a farce that all things good for you, things you can take comfort in and distract yourself from, all but lead to this Dark Side the Jedi Code so vehemently represses. And you wonder if this repression of basic function is what causes this split of morality that is so silently feared among Jedi.

Things can only balance if there are two sides to the coin.

There is no fortune without poverty.

There is no anger without peace.

There is no dark without light.

You cannot have one without the other, and it hurt you when you realised that the Jedi, the peacekeepers of the galaxy, the mighty beings that were to represent all that is good, were expected to fight others battle’s without feeling. To be a vessel not only to the Force, but to their own emotions.

To be at peace is to feel. And to feel is to be at peace.

You watch him, still, trying to tell him without words that feeling something of substance is not a crime, and that it will not disrupt the facade of equilibrium he has been convinced is real.

You decided the only way for him to see, is for him to feel.

You let down your barriers, and the floodgates are open. Obi-Wan gasps at the realisation that not only had you been hiding from him so well, but also at the intense emotion, passion and admiration he felt cascading from your signature. It was blinding, yet it wasn’t foreign. He felt these things too, and he caved at the realisation that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to fight this battle by himself, not anymore.

And at this realisation, you caught it. The momentary glint - the spark of midnight blue shooting across his iris’s that signified his understanding, his hope that things didn’t have to be this way. You gaze over his face as the lines of stress slowly ebb away and the serenity you had so closely cherished returns to his blessed features. You grinned, eyes glinting at the new, mortal man that sat before you.

Now you understood the fairytales and mythology of civilisations before you. They spoke of moments like this. Moments where something so foreign and untouchable, so incredibly powerful and methodical still had their flaws, their Achilles heel.

Obi-Wan’s was you, and you, his.

But in each-others weaknesses, you basked in the strength it gifted you. You had no weakness with him, and him with you. You supported one another like day and night, blinding opposites but useless without one another. You needed him to cool your thoughts and your violent emotions, and he needed you to fuel the flame that the tests of war and tragedy tried so hard to extinguish.

Things moved like clockwork now. You met halfway, sealing your admiration with your lips. The sensation was wild, but soothing - like stepping into an open field of grass; lost, yet comfortable, at peace. Your grip on him slowly evolves into something more desperate, wanting him to stay and never leave, to become stuck in this moment. Your hands work their way into his hair and tussle with the longer strands, anchoring yourself to him. This triggers something in Obi-Wan, and the instant you tug at him, he turns feral.

His unbridled passion cannot be held back anymore.

He pushes his hands underneath your thighs, gripping them tightly as he lifts you up to straddle him as he stands up. You squeal at the sudden movement but Obi-Wan kisses you harder, devouring you and distracting you from what was going on around you. He caries you to your bedroom, hands boring into the underside of your thighs in desperation.

He throws you onto the bed and you all but laugh at the sudden switch. The polite mannered Master was no more, this was a different being entirely. But he doesn’t join you like you’d expect, and you watch on confused as his searing gaze scours your body. The long tunic you had put on after showering has ridden up, and now your black laced panties are his to admire.

Obi-Wan paused at the head of the bed, admiring the form before him. This, this what what he wanted. What he needed; you.

You quickly remove the cloak you’d been using as a makeshift blanket, tossing it on the floor. This brings Obi-Wan out of his trance and he practically throws himself at you, eliciting a sweet giggle from your lips. You lock lips again and you feel the energy roaring through you now, the anticipation crackling like lighting at your fingertips.

He slides his calloused, war torn hands underneath the tunic, snaking them closer and closer to your breasts, causing you to arch into his touch in response. You groan, eyes closing in newfound pleasure when his right hand playfully tweaks with your right breast, whilst his other hand smoothes back down your tunic and begins to tug at the hem. You get the silent hint and briefly sit up, giving him space to practically rip the oversized garment off of you in one sweep. You both clash back together with further force, and you deepen your arousal by sliding you tongue over his bottom lip before taking a playful nip.

Obi-Wan’s hands grow restless but you battle for control, using his distracted state to remove his clothing. You both scramble with one another in a blur of lust and before you have time to really acknowledge the situation you find yourself in you're both naked, your hot bodies entwined with one another, moving in unison.

Obi-Wan groans into your neck once more as his erection presses into the inside of your thigh, a growing reminder of his incessant need for you. You twist your head up and push his shoulders, bringing his gaze to you.

“Are you sure, Obi?” You ask through the Force.

“More than anything, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan replies.

You smile at the new pet name and continue kissing as you both grind up against one another, taking your time to explore one another’s body. You take phantom touches to his cock, trying to hide your anxiety at how this was physically going to work. You meant it before when you said the gods had been shining the day he was born. It had been a very, very long time since you had done anything, and considering the Jedi code, you knew that Obi-Wan hadn’t much, if any experience too. You blush at the through that this was his first time, but you're rudely interrupted.

“The Jedi forbid attachments, that doesn’t mean we have to be celibate” Obi-Wan communicated through your bond. You instantly blush at his admission but Obi-Wan chuckles, taking the moment to still and admire your wanton state. Before you can apologise, Obi-Wan is slowly crawling down your body towards your cunt, and once at his intended destination, his hot breathe tickles you. You squirm at his teasing but continue to play into this little game he intends on playing.

“You were reckless today” Obi-Wan teases through the Force.

“You’re a fine one to talk, Master Kenobi” You smirk back.

He growls at your use of formality, that familiar heat you recognise now to be lust burning in his eye. He runs his hands up the inside of your thighs, gripping tightly, taking small bites every few inches. With each bite closer to your now soaked cunt, he bites harder, kissing the sure to bruise teeth marks after each one. This causes a wild moan to bubble in your chest at his incessant teasing.

“Stop teasing” you plead through the bond.

“Pardon?” Obi-Wan replies, mirth all but covering his face.

“Stop teasing, please” you beg.

“Please, who?” Obi-Wan growls into the inside of your thigh, just next the the juncture that joins to your pussy.

You look at him angrily for a second, he is hovering just over your cunt, his gaze locked onto yours and the most gut wrenched mischievous smile tugging at his eyes.

“Please, Master” you finally plead, desperation taking over your patience. You need him to touch you, you can’t hold out anymore. Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything but rewards you by placing a soft kiss on your folds before licking a stripe a lot your cunt, then immediately sucking on your clit, one hand moving up your body to flatten you to the bed as you arch your back out of pleasure, whilst the other begins teasing at your soaking entrance.

You groan loudly in response, your pleasure practically dripping from the lustful song he is ripping from your lips… but he stops, shaking his head slowly.

“Hush now, Darling, don’t want to wake the neighbours” Obi-Wan reprimands through the bond.

You growl at him, staring deadly daggers into those too-pretty-for-their-own-good cerulean blues, but he only smiles and continues his previous movements, teasing with his tongue and fingers in a devilishly sadistic way. He knows he is winding you up and testing your patience, and you should’ve guessed Obi-Wan, of all people, would find a way to teach you a lesson in the patience of a Jedi during a moment like this - ‘he really knew how to pick his moments’ you internally hissed to yourself. His grin grows wider but doesn’t let on that he heard you as he slowly edges two fingers in, instantly finding the magic spot within that you find so very hard to find. Fuck you haven’t felt this good in, well…ever - and the fucker had barely even started. How did he have this effect on you? He knew your body better than you, pressing all the right buttons like he’d memorised their gratifying reactions - but you daren’t complain, oh no; you were going to revel in this moment for as long as you could.

He slowly builds you to the edge, and you have to throw your arm over your mouth to stifle the screams, biting bruises into your own flesh in an effort to prolong the inevitable peak he’s holding you at. You would normally flip out at someone who denied you like this, but you were a masochist for no other than Obi-Wan. You’d do anything for this man right now, and somehow - he knew it, and in a very un-Jedi like way, he was taking full on advantage of your submission to him. But he takes pity, not on you but himself - he can’t hold back the need to give you pleasure, to give you what he so truly wants you to feel, to feel because of him, for him. So he makes you cum, hard.

You are euphoric.

This was more intense than anything you could describe. Your body screamed with a painful pleasure that all but ripped through you, searing but instantly soothing your being with electrifying pulses of luxury. You send your pleasure through the bond you share in the Force and Obi-Wan growls, removing himself from you as his last thread of restraint is all but scorched by your own thrill. He crawls over you and rests above you, just admiring your state for himself. He did this to you. Obi-Wan - he had somehow managed to tame the violent beast that had practically landed before him.

He can’t wait any longer. Seeing you’re still in your euphoric state, he checks in with you, just to make sure that you’re okay.

“Can I” he asks through the Force.

You nod impatiently at him. Yes you were practically high as a kite right now but you were all but screaming for him to fuck you. Obi-Wan gets the hint and slowly edges in, beginning a slow and tantalising pace. He wanted to enjoy this feeling, enjoy being with you. You open up to the Force, reaching across the tether you’ve both rebuilt in your intimacy. You don’t expect him to freeze. He instantly throws his shields up and tenses, his breathing against your neck erratic, panicked.

“Trust me Obi, please” you comfort him through the Force.

“I—I…” He stammers, the physical pleasure he was feeling right now blurring the words he wanted to say.

“Its ok, let me in, I won’t hurt you” you whisper to him, trying your best to comfort him, to show him you mean no harm - you only want to share your pleasure with his, and for him to share his passion with you.

“I don’t want to hurt you” He admits, closing his eyes in an effort to quell the fear that was bubbling in his chest. He hadn’t ever opened up his mind to anyone else. He knew he could control what we wanted you to see, but the risk of you seeing the things he has seen, the fear that you would see what he has gone through and turn to despise him, to hate him, it was a risk he didn’t know if he was prepared to take. Not now, not after he had finally gotten you, not now he was so close to being yours, and you his.

"You could never hurt me Obi, even if you tried. I’ll always be here, for you.” You reassure. You spoke nothing but the truth. You wouldn’t leave him. The last week had been agony - yes you had found peace but that was only a paperweight, a folded page on a chapter you would have to revisit because the pull of the heartache would be too much to leave bare, without conclusion. And Obi-Wan sees this, your complete trust, your honesty and compassion. Your faith, in him.

He lets down his barriers and the lights between you instantly bind. The light was powerful and despite it not being physical you still closed your eyes and squinted away as if it were; the red and blue hues of each of your auras swirling and mixing, testing one another’s presence in their own.

You both indulge in the feeling, and Obi-Wan continues moving into you. You had tried to prepare yourself for how much of a stretch it was going to be, but you had severely underestimated how full he was going to make you feel. With every push of his hips he hit the blinding spot inside you, gradually building the pace until you’re both on the precipice of euphoria. You can feel him resisting, trying to savour the moment as if it will be the last.

“Let go, Obi-Wan” you reassure though the Force.

“Let go with me” He returns, moaning a feral cry when you answer his question with a wild bite to his neck.

You both let go and orgasms rock the both of you. It is purely incredible, a feeling you’ve never felt before. Obi-Wan grunts and you practically scream, not able to hold back the physical intensity of your lustful frenzy. You absentmindedly reach out into the Force to feel his pleasure, but the sight before you catches your breath, holding it tight in your lungs. All you can see is the familiar dream that has plagued you this last week. Dancing in the distance are the beautiful shades of a sunset on a distant shore, your searing red and Obi-Wan's familiar ocean blue meeting in the middle, caressing one another until eventually the sky and sea are a jaded shade of purple, like a sunset on a distant planet of times before. The colours combined from above and below - finally admitting peace with one another as day turns into night, becoming one, forever intertwined.

As you come back to the land of the living you realise you’re both slumped in a heap on the bed, soaked in sweat.

You laugh, and instantly Obi-Wan worries that he’s done something wrong. He turns his head so that it is resting anxiously on your bare chest, his eyes searching yours for his mistake. This causes you to laugh even more.

“What’s so funny?” He mumbles, his anxiety soon turning to frustration at your teasing of him.

“Nothing,” you manage in between giggles, but the stern look he tries to give you only sets you off and Obi-Wan looks more disgruntled at the secret joke you’re hiding from him. You shake your head in a playful way and stroke his hair to reassure him before slowly getting up off the bed.

“Im going to need another shower now,” You snicker to him as you walk towards the fresher. You don’t hear him move so you stop in the doorway, turning your head over your shoulder as you address him, “Care to join?”

“Always, sweetheart.” Obi-Wan replies through the Force as he scrambles like a kid on Christmas after you into the fresher. You didn’t need to ask twice.

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