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#also when i was in the woods i heard a voice gon”he’s here
fanfiction-inc · 3 years
Note
Oh I loved your hc about the reader being like a sister to Arthur and John! Can I request a similar sisterly hc with Arthur and John about the reader being kidnapped?
Ahh! I finally finished it! I hope you enjoy!
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Things have been tense back at camp, the gang trying to figure out the next step to evade the Pinkertons.
The boys you cared about so much have been trying to help Dutch and Hosea with the Pinkertons, and now the O'Driscoll boys were starting to revolt.
Usually you would try to help where you can, but they have been getting distant the more they get involved with this petty Grays vs. Braithwaite’s debacle.
Less conversations.
Less teasing.
You were missing the boys that usually treated you like their sister.
But things changed quickly.
You had been on duty at the perimeter of the camp when the shots rang out.
Your gun drawn, firing into the night at the dim lanterns that were being held by riders on their storming horses.
The full gallop sent your heart racing, trying to move here and there to avoid being trampled while also getting the attackers dead.
Some fell, but soon you fell too.
You heard the shot before you felt it, the wound in your side spreading pain like wildfire through your body.
The faint yells from your brothers echoed among the trees, the two having joined the fight late after returning from Rhodes.
Your gaze watched them fight, watched the panic in Arthur Morgan's gaze and the frenzy to reload John Marston's gun and fire.
But it was all in vain, as black clouded your vision and you were whisked away as a prisoner of the battle.
John huffed when he couldn't keep up on foot, out of ammo and out of breath.
Arthur caught up to John, sweat slickening his brow and legs screaming at him to slow down.
"I...I lost her, Arthur." He pants out, trying to swallow a breath and continue on to try and find which way you went.
Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder, making John look back at him with a frenzied gaze.
"What are ya doing? We gotta keep goin'!"
"John stop and listen! We gon'have to regroup and figure out just where they may have taken 'er."
He tried playing the voice of reason, knowing no matter how badly he wanted to run and try to find you right away, that they needed a plan.
Running in guns blazing would get them killed.
But most of all, it would get you killed.
John jerked his arm away from Arthur's grasp, fuming at the idea of letting you go for now but knowing deep down it had to be done.
The boys regroup in camp, telling Dutch and Hosea what they saw, the conclusion of the O'Driscoll boys being the culprits after getting a good look at the bodies.
They needed information.
Your life was on the line.
They couldn't lose you.
It took nearly a day before they had any idea of a location that you may be held in, off in the woods, hidden away.
They had gone alone, stealthy in the night while the O'Driscoll’s attempted to use you to make the gang weakened.
Leave them vulnerable without the unruly daughter of the Van Der Linde gang.
A fist collided with your gut, blood being spit out onto the dirt floor of the cellar you were tied up in.
They just liked to see you bloodied, liked to see the girl who has been helping kill their men get hers.
"Had enough yet, ya Van Der Linde scum?"
"Bit me." A harsh grip was given to your side where the bullet wound went unattended the moment after you spat at your kidnapper, the bloody saliva hitting their chest.
It was getting harder and harder not to let the pain singing in your body take over, a cry leaving your lips when a thumb is jabbed into the wound and blood once again begins to seep freely from it.
"I don't like ya tone with me, little lady." The man hissed, thumb pushing deeper as tears blossomed in your gaze.
He was gonna make you black out from the pain alone.
Then gunfire sounded among the room, the man falling before you with a struggled noise and hand falling away from your wound.
Though the black spotted vision that appeared with each throb of pain, you finally felt hope for getting away from this.
Arthur ran to your side, hand coming to cup your cheek and make sure your gaze stayed focused on him. He couldn't have you blacking out, it would make it harder to leave.
"Jesus- They did a number on ya." He pats your cheek when your eye lids flutter, forcing your gaze before working to get you untied. "Can y'walk?"
"I..." You rasped, coughing on the crimson mixture that drips down from your lips. "I don't know."
"Alright John, y'gonna have to take lead here." Arthur spoke, form helping lift you up and carry you in his arms.
He couldn't let you die in this place, not like this.
John takes the lead out of the cellar, checking the coast as the O'Driscoll boys run around, trying to find the source of the shots.
He gestured for Arthur to follow, the man keeping close to his heels with your form, struggling to stay low while also keeping a good grip on you.
"Hey! There they are!"
"Shit!" Arthur falls with you behind one of the exterior walls of the shack that was connected to the cellar, form used to protect your own and spraying bullets without looking in hopes to hit someone and get out of there.
John takes aim, shooting the man that spotted them before grabbing a hold of Arthur's shirt and giving a hard tug. "Come on!"
The boys run like sheep from a pack of wolves, the bullets flying by them as they try to get you to safety, back to the camp.
Arthur hissed with pain when a bullet grazes his arm, sparks of pain shooting up his arm from the flesh wound but body surging forward.
He somehow manages to get you up on his horse, one hand wrapped around you tightly and the other clutching the reigns with a loud "ya!"
Shots ring out in retaliation to the O'Driscoll’s trying to keep up, John having luck on his side with each shot behind them and bodies left along the less beaten paths back to the main road.
You three were home free, now you just had to get patched up.
"Have I ever told ya how much I hate them damn O'Driscoll’s?" John tried to joke with you, earning a faint, raspy chuckle and cough in turn.
Even if you couldn't see his face from the way you were sat on the horse, he held worry in his gaze.
Every fiber in his being was scared you may die out on them.
The unruly brothers being without their sister.
The camp crowds the boys, John helping get you off Arthur's horse and into a tent so your wounds can be tended to.
"Marston, I need you outside." Mrs. Grimshaw demanded in a hurried fashion, untying the ties on the canvas tent to let the flaps fall closed before beginning her work on you.
It took hours until they could see you, being forced back when your pained cries came from the cauterization of the wound.
Being told they couldn't help at the moment, that the ladies had it as they held you down and the hot iron heated by the camp fire dug into your side and stopped the bleed.
Hours and hours until it was night time and Mrs. Grimshaw finally left the tent, wiping her bloody hands clean.
"She's restin'. Y'can sit with her if ya want but I don't think she's gon'wake up any time soon." The woman informed, sending the men who looked dead to the world from the need for sleep nod and stand, entering the tent.
Arthur's heart damn near shattered at the view of your bandaged up form, his seat taken in a chair at your side while John steals one near the entrance of the tent.
Sleep be damned, he was going to watch over you.
And he did. He watched until it was daybreak and he could barely keep his eyes open, flinching from his half-asleep state when Arthur brought in some of the camp fire coffee for them.
"B-Bring me some?" Their eyes darted to your form, hearing a wheezing cough fall from your chest before seeing the faintest lines of a smile on your features.
Yes, it was pained but it made the boys drop what they were doing and come over.
"Hey," John starts, taking your hand and giving it a firm squeeze, "y'had us worried there." "I was...worried m’self." Your words come out in a slow, careful drawl as you try to move past the tenderness of your throat and body. "But hey, your gon' be okay. Mrs. Grimshaw thinks you'll make a full recovery." Arthur smiled, seating himself on the edge of the cot you lay on and watched how your body visibly relaxed. "No i-infection?" "Not that she could see. Seems you're luck didn't run out jus’ yet."
John smiled when your barely there smile grows, an attempt at a laugh causing another wheeze but the attempt was admired.
"Rest for now, yeah?" The boys smiled at your nod of a response, returning to their seats in the tent when you fell back into a light slumber.
They weren't gonna leave you any time soon, their unruly sister.
RDR2 TAG LIST:
@lise-soontobemarried  | @imtootiredforreddit | @morgans-cowbaby | @btsloversaregreat | @sokkasdarling | @the-internet-ruined-me
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the-last-kenobi · 3 years
Note
Hi, how are you? Hope all is well) Can you please write "Where have you been" with Anakin and a very very depressed and sad Obi?
Of course!
From this various prompts list.
I admit I wasn’t sure exactly which angle you were hoping for, but this is the one my brain liked, so here we are.
_
Anakin’s hand shook slightly as he ran the cloth over the glass mug, turning it in his hands. Water beaded up in the wake of his first attempt, so he went back again a little slower, making sure he left no smudges behind. Then he carefully placed it in the cabinet where it belonged, each shelf lined with different mugs, most of them glass, a few of them seemingly random — porcelain, wood, something that looked like clay, a deep red crystalline substance.
Anakin knew that the ones that weren’t glass had all, once, belonged to Qui-Gon.
They were used rarely. Carefully. Cherished like treasures.
The rest, the glass, those were Obi-Wan’s.
He liked the perfection of glass, its transparency, the way he could watch the teas he brewed and steeped changing, colors swirling and fading beneath his fingers.
Anakin found them difficult to maintain and hard to clean.
His hand shook again, and he quickly put down the towel and set aside the next mug, turning away from the still untidy kitchen.
His gloved metal hand raked through his hair.
It was late.
It was very late.
He walked to the window and brushed aside the curtain with one hand, confronted first with his own ghostly reflection, and then focusing on the view outside. It was pouring down rain. A rare enough occurrence here on Coruscant, and tonight, of all nights, when Obi-Wan could be out there.
He could be anywhere.
Anakin didn’t know.
Obi-Wan had been missing for twenty-nine hours.
He had walked out of their shared quarters while Anakin was visiting Padmé, sometime in the early evening yesterday, leaving his cloak behind, leaving his lightsaber behind.
And then he was gone.
Anakin had searched all the usual places. He’d reached out to Dex, and alerted Mace Windu and Healer Che, and sent Ahsoka to check with the crèche and Initiates dorm in case he was there playing with and teaching the little ones. He’d contacted Bail and Padmé, and gained permission after the twelve hour mark to examine the security holos.
There was nothing.
It was as if Obi-Wan Kenobi had stepped over the threshold of their door and just fallen out of existence.
Anakin watched rain lash against the window, scattering his pale reflection into twisted fragments, and tried to remind himself that he had already been searching for twenty-five hours straight. That he hadn’t slept or eaten. That Master Koon had forbidden him from going out into the storm to search, when they already had rested and armored troopers doing a steady sweep of the Temple perimeter, even when they didn’t know if Obi-Wan had actually left the grounds.
The Temple was massive.
He could be hiding in an unused wing, or in the depths of the dustiest levels, or in the back of the Archives, or the towers.
No, not the Archives. Master Nu had already searched there and that woman would never miss so much as a hair out of place in her domain, much less a High Councilor.
Anakin had heard Master Mundi making noises about a possible trap or an abduction.
And while that was bad — nightmarish — to contemplate, Anakin had his own fears, and they felt much more realistic, much too close for comfort.
Anakin flung himself down on the sofa with his head in his hands and tried not to admit that he was frightened.
He had seen Obi-Wan like this before. Back when they were a new partnership and Qui-Gon was dead but there was still so much of him living in the Temple, like the mugs, one still the on the countertop with a faint imprint of his lips staining the rim, or his spare cloaks and boots, and the trinkets and potted plants that filled every available space. And Obi-Wan had...
Well. Whenever he thought Anakin wasn’t paying attention, he was so quiet. He barely slept for days and then slept too much. He hardly ate and then ate random things at random times. He hardly smiled.
He wandered off.
Alone.
The worst time had been when Anakin was six months in to his apprenticeship. He had woken up with a terribly bad feeling to find his Master missing from his bed, and with the unerring instinct of a worried child, he had shot off in search of Master Yoda, who had quietly raised the alarm amongst the older Masters. It was Master Windu who had found Obi-Wan, quiet and shrunken and apathetic, concealed in one of the many gardens, letting the life of the garden conceal his dimming force signature from view.
Anakin had clung to him like he was about to disappear, and Obi-Wan hadn’t seemed to really process that he was there...
Eventually he had pulled out of it. Anakin didn’t know how.
But this...
Anakin had been worried since Geonosis that he would lose his Master to death on the battlefield. Then there had been Ventress and Jabiim and Grievous and Dooku and Maul — Maul — and suddenly it felt like Obi-Wan was never safe. The war and his enemies chased him everywhere.
But Obi-Wan had lost friends and peers and younglings he had once taught or cradled in his arms when they were so very small, and his Master’s murderer had come back like a resurrected demon to plague him, to threaten his life and sanity and everyone he loved — and Satine had already paid with her life.
Others might.
And when Anakin had come racing back home from 500 Republica when he’d heard the news, it was already too late, and Obi-Wan had gone off all alone stars knew where.
That was enough.
Anakin leapt to his feet, his body trembling with fear and nausea, determined to ignore orders.
Damn their kindness and responsibility, damn the fact that he’d probably only get soaked and miserable, he was going out searching again.
Anakin strode towards the door on shaking legs.
It swung open before he neared it, and there was Obi-Wan.
Anakin gaped at him.
Obi-Wan stared blankly back. “...Anakin?”
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin breathed, staring at him, taking him in. He was without his cloak and lightsaber, as he had known he would be, and was soaking wet — completely sopping, as if he had swum in a lake rather than wandered about in a rainstorm.
“Obi-Wan,” he said again, his voice strained. “Where have you been?”
His Master continued to look blank. “I went out.”
“You went out? You’ve been gone for well over a day!” Anakin cried out. “Where have you been?”
Obi-Wan shrank away from the shouting. His blue eyes flickered around the room as if looking for an answer, or perhaps an escape, and still his expression was utterly detached. “I... I don’t know, really. Here and there.”
A pause.
“Was I really gone for so long?” he asked. He sounded distantly, disinterestedly bewildered, and Anakin broke.
“Yes!” he shouted, his face screwed up in anger, in an attempt to hold back childish tears. “Yes you have! You disappeared! There are people looking for you, and the Council was worried you’d been taken, and I was so— I was — so — I— you can’t do that to me, Obi-Wan, please, I was losing my mind!”
Obi-Wan’s blank expression finally shifted.
A look of confusion and worry built behind the vague blue eyes, and Anakin launched himself at his friend like he had all those years ago, locking his limbs around him in a fierce hug.
For a long moment it was like hugging a statue. A very cold, very wet statue that shivered ever so slightly.
But Anakin held on, determined to keep Obi-Wan right here, to keep him safe and warm, to make him understand that he was needed, that he could also rest, that it would all be okay if he just stayed. Stayed like he had before. His tunics began to absorb some of the icy moisture coming off his Master but he kept holding on, his face buried in Obi-Wan’s shoulder.
And slowly, Obi-Wan came to life.
His hands inched upwards to rest against his Padawan’s back, and he tilted his head so that he was leaning against Anakin’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice muffled. “I had no idea you’d be so concerned.”
“I wasn’t concerned, you absolute idiot, I was scared,” Anakin hissed, the confession both bitter and relieving on his lips. “How would you feel if I vanished with no word? For thirty hours?”
A long silence.
“Well,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully, “I would be impressed with Padmé for not getting bored of you long before that.”
There was a dead silence.
Then a spluttered, incredulous laugh, and it took Anakin a moment to realize it was he who was laughing. His shoulders shook with it, with shock at the revelation of what Obi-Wan knew, that he wasn’t angry about it, that he was cracking stupid, mean, dumb jokes about it when Anakin was trying to be mad at him.
Obi-Wan chuckled quietly, and Anakin laughed harder, delighted that his friend was smiling, if only a little.
“You’re not off the hook you know,” he mumbled, guiding Obi-Wan to his rooms, planning on forcing him to take a hot shower and drink warm tea and maybe pull out one of Qui-Gon’s old cloaks, because that always helped.
“Neither are you,” Obi-Wan mumbled back, and squeezed his hand every so briefly.
~
When Plo Koon dropped by to check on Anakin, very early the next morning, he found him sleeping soundly on a chair, snoring quietly, his feet propped on the arm of the sofa, where Obi-Wan was fast asleep with an old cloak that was far too large for him draped over his body.
It was easy to forgive them to forgetting to inform the Guard to call off the search.
Mace could pretend to yell at them during their next Council meeting, during which, he was sure, the two friends would stand side by side, mischief in their eyes.
~
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nevertheless-moving · 3 years
Text
Pop Star Wars AU: Waking
Drabble set in this au which I wrote way back a few weeks ago.
Back then, I had only recently decided to look up my tumblr password for a third attempt at being an appreciative fandom community member instead of just trying to think really hard at internet strangers, and maybe shout into the void a little. (But there’s like, several people here now??? How did you even find me on the internet? )
Anyway I have since learned how to spell Anakin’s name and insert links. Also that if you resize your window while typing directly into tumblr everything disappears.
Self Indulgent Crack Pop Star Wars Time Travel Fixit (star wars au no 3):
After several years of exile in the Jundland Wastes, Ben Kenobi had not quite finished mentally unpacking the decades of mistakes, grief, and failure that had led him to the desert. It was the work of a lifetime, and some days were harder than others. But after several forays in and out of alcoholism, spice addiction, and every other form of geographically-accessible self-destruction, he could at least say that some days were easier. 
The process was no doubt made more difficult by the abject solitude. Unlike the chaotic years that constituted the fall of the Republic, he had all too much time to think, and no one around to share his thoughts with. He closed his eyes in the dark of his hut, thoughts drifting between past and future. 
The past was as ugly and lovely as ever. The larger future didn’t look much better, but he could find some joy in the thought of tomorrow and fresh bantha milk when the herd roamed near. Owen was always much less begrudging of his presence when he came with an offering, and Beru would likely invite him to stay for noon meal where he would share in fresh cheese as Luke rambled about his plans to fix-up a junked speeder bike.
The thought of Luke’s happiness at the treat allowed him enough peace of mind to meditate more deeply.
He carefully broke off a piece of unfair-bitterness from his larger loving-grief. The bitterness he released into the force. The grief he turned over and soothed until its edges dissolved. He accepted it, now smoother if not smaller, laying it to rest alongside his hard-earned wisdom and unfinished poetry.
Tired, but fractionally lighter, Ben Kenobi drifted to sleep.
He opened his eyes to the first rays of daylight peeking in his temple chambers.
The room was intimately familiar. For a few years they were Ashoka’s, on the rare occasion she found herself temple-side and in want of privacy but not complete solitude. For a solid decade before her, the chambers were Anakin’s, though he was quick enough to accept the common room couch when Ashoka entered their life. And before that...they were his. That was his model rocket on the shelf, and his astronomical mobile hanging from the ceiling, and his robes scattered on the floor, though they hadn’t been arranged as such in this room since his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. He sat up. 
Glad he had put energy into meditation last night, he used the lingering clarity of mind to try and work through possible explanations. 
Vivid Dream? No a quick pinch to his inner elbow debunked that, as well as the fact that the morning taste in his mouth was more the minty tang of denti-cleaner, rather than the saltiness of dried meat which he had grown accustomed to.
Hallucinogenic mushroom flashback? Possible, though it still wouldn’t explain the detail of physical sensations he felt, running his hand from the temple-spun linens on his bed to the warm-carved wood of his bedside table. He stood and did a perfect forward flip in place. Shockingly his knees didn’t ache at impact, but a drug induced hallucination of this intensity would have some sort of impact on his equilibrium, and he felt perfectly balanced, at least physically.
Force vision seemed most likely. Sinking into cross-legged meditation, he gradually lowered his mental shields. There was no whisper of Vader or Palpatine anywhere near Hutt space at this time, so the risk of reaching out was both manageable and necessary. Rather than the pure energy he personally associated with intense visions, he felt gradients of light, echoing ripples of emotions, and the unique solidity of force-imbued stone walls.
Heart beginning to race as reality set in, Ben concluded that he was, indeed, in the Jedi temple on Courascant. Even if he had suffered a complete psychotic break, his force sense couldn’t lie with such crystal clear detail. Confused unreality mixed with images of the past and future, sure. But this was the temple. It just was. 
He couldn’t make sense of it. Even if he had somehow been found, drugged, and transported to the heart of the empire, the rooms as he sensed them didn’t exist anymore. The contents were lost or burnt, the stone walls destroyed and rebuilt into a wing of the Imperial Palace.
Obi-Wan sank deeper into the force and reached out further, searching for he answers. In general, the force felt light, the shroud of the darkside was a hazy irritation in the distance, not a smothering blanket. The manifold wounds in the force formed by senseless war and destruction were absent. Also gone were the tang of grief and loss that he had begun to associate with the temple’s signature even before- even before the purge.
The temple was also full to the brim with tens of thousands of lights in the living force. He reached out to them incredulously, nudging many just to feel a living, sentient response. The last time he remembered feeling so many Jedi all in the temple at the same time was...well, when he still lived in this room. The nearest living force sensitive presence was achingly familiar, though notably and unquestioningly living. He could feel the presence moving nearer and retreated, pulling himself fully back into his body.
The only explanation that fit was that he had suddenly, miraculously, inexplicably traveled back in time. 
He half ran to his closet, opening the door with a yank to reveal a full length mirror. A once-familiar, 25-year old padawan stared back with visible shock. Of course his knees didn’t hurt, this body hadn’t yet been broken and abused by knighthood, war, and Tatooine. His hands examined the smooth chin, the unwrinkled forehead, and even the terrible, terrible haircut.
Obi-wan startled at a knock at his door, freezing in place. 
“Padawan?” Came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice softly, “I don’t intend to pull you out of meditation prematurely, but is there a particular reason you were sprawling over the temple this morning? You startled me somewhat. To be perfectly honest, I think you might have alarmed a few people around the temple, I’ve already received messages from council telling me to reign in my padawan before he hurts himself.” 
Qui-Gon sounded more amused than reprimanding, and he paused, clearly waiting for an answer. 
Obi-Wan’s jaw locked up. What could he say? How could he even to begin to explain what had happened? He sank to floor, head pressed to the ground and tears silent streaming down his face. All he could do was offer to the force were words, the feelings could come later Thank you. Thank youThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU. 
For whatever reason, the force had granted him a second chance. Regardless if it was intended as punishment, gift, or inexplicable chance, he would build a better future than the one he left behind. 
“Padawan?” Qui-Gon knocked again, sounding concerned, “Are you alright? If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there.”
And all at once he had flipped back to not enough time to think and too many people needing his attention.
Obi-Wan managed to open his mouth to call out some meaningless assurance, intent on gaining more time to process the fantastical situation. Much to his surprise, what came out was a strangled, keening sob. Qui-Gon burst through the door. 
Obi-Wan realized, with a little embarrassment, that he was curled up practically into a ball on the floor, tears streaming in a shocking waste of water. It was probably not the most dignified, nor the most reassuring position for Qui-Gon to walk in on. 
Qui-Gon rushed to his side, pulling him up by the shoulders to frantically look him over. “What happened?” he demanded, “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong while you were meditating and you were trying to reach out for help?”
Obi-Wan smiled at the barrage of questions. He had almost forgotten that on the rare occasions when Qui-Gon’s perfect Jedi serenity broke, he became somewhat counterproductively intense. 
“I’m alright, Master,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a croaking, “MNNrlerR.” 
This predictably, only increased Qui-Gon’s concern.
To Obi-Wan’s deep consternation, he was dragged by Qui-Gon to the healer’s wing. He remained quiet during the examination, not wanting to risk whatever was compromising his ability to speak. It could be readjusting to his younger body, or a manifestation of the admittedly great emotional shock he was still experiancing. Or simple lack of practice- it had been several weeks since he had last heard the sound of his own voice, from a certain point of view.
After finding no physical cause for concern, Master Vyr asked Qui-Gon to wait outside.
“Padawan Kenobi?” The Tortugan healer asked gently. “Your Master seems quite insistent that something is wrong. Would you like to discuss what the problem seems to be?”
Obi-Wan cleared his throat and was relieved when his voice came out smooth and under his control, “I’m alight, Master. I apologize for disruption. I experienced a... particularly strong vision when I woke up this morning, and temporarily lost control over myself. I’m already feeling more stable. I believe I simply need to meditate on what I’ve seen. My master unfortunately came in while I was dealing with some of the emotional aftermath.
“I see,” Vyr responded. “Did you experience this vision before or after your expansive foray into the force? I understand a surprising swath of the temple felt your presence press against them this morning.”
“I reached out after,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My vision was...particularly dark. I felt the need to ground myself with the presence of other Jedi. I’ll make certain to apologize to anyone I may have startled.”
Eventually he was cleared with the strict instruction to stick with shallow meditation for the next few days as well as a strong recommendation to seek out Master Yoda, Sifo-Dryfas, or one of the other Master known to experience visions. 
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked back to their quarters together in a peaceful quiet. It wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that Qui-Gon rounded on his padawan.
“What vision could possibly have left you in such distress?”
Obi-Wan walked to the kitchenette to make tea, stalling before answering. “You have always told me to stay focused on the present, Master”
Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, however this...vision seems to have altered you somehow. You are grieved by it.”
“Yes. But what I grieve may never come to pass.” 
It won’t come to pass. I might not know his every tool, but I do know Sideous’s biggest secret, and I WILL stop him.
“Will you not tell me what you saw?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding somewhat hurt.
Obi-Wan poured the hot water carefully, feeling torn. If he told Qui-Gon everything... would he believe him? Perhaps, eventually but...what would become of Anakin, still just a boy? And the moment he knew of Palpatine’s evil...he knew Qui-Gon. He would favor the direct approach, underestimating the sheer breadth of the trap the sith had laid (Obi-Wan himself lived through it and only began to understand long after it had closed).
“I saw...a great shadow fall over the republic.”
He sat at the table, relishing in the simple pleasure of pouring a cup for Qui-Gon and himself from a shared pot.
Qui-Gon cradled his mug in his hands. “I see. Nothing specific?”
“Your death. At the hands of a tool of darkness. You ran ahead...” Obi-Wan took a scorching sip to stop himself. “It was foolish. Unnecessary. And I was forced to fight alone without you.
Qui-Gon set the tea down to stroke his beard in thought. “Well. I have no great desire to die. While I make no promises, I will endeavor to avoid leaving you behind ‘unnecessarily.’”
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, over sincere. 
They drank in peaceful silence. It was interrupted by a shrill noise from Qui-Gon’s comm.
“I’ve just received a personal request from the Chancellor to immediately assist in negotiations with a Trade Federation blockade around Naboo. Are you feeling up to it?”
“You know, I think I am”
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sushiburritonoms · 3 years
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okay fine, I’ll play. let’s see, something you can’t make sad (and no, that is NOT a challenge!)… Summer has me in a vacationy mood, so how about DinLuke number 30, tourist/knowledgeable local au? I’ll leave you to decide if Din is the reluctantly knowledgeable local, or if Luke is eager to show the hot dad and his son around
FINE. YOU WANT HAPPY, I'LL GIVE YOU HAPPY!!!
Wait, sorry that came out in my drama voice. *coughs*
30 of AU Ficlist: tourist/knowledgeable local au
Din was no longer a religious man, not since he gently but firmly broke away from his Mormon upbringing years ago. But there were some habits that were hard to break, especially for an exmo, and he couldn’t help but offer up a quick prayer to...something...before he set out on his hike with Luke. Maybe he was praying to Poli`ahu; she would be the most appropriate goddess, given where they were (and wouldn’t his adoptive mother have had a fit over that!).  He sent up a quick prayer for no rain, for clear skies, and, most importantly of all, no tourists.  That last was a big ask, even for the Goddess of Mauna Kea.
But it was the off season for the Big Island, and a weekday, so the trail was quiet.  It was a short hike, five miles roundtrip. It was practically nothing for the two of them. Din wasn’t trying to wear Luke out….yet.  That would hopefully--fingers crossed and prayers sent to all gay friendly gods/godesses out there--come later.
“It really is unbelievably beautiful here,” Luke said quietly as walked near the ocean.  He paused for a minute to close his eyes, tilting his face towards the sun, looking like some sort of god himself, especially with the way in which the light hit the highlights in his hair. A sun god, maybe. Din felt a wave of fierce affection and lust rush through him, like a burst of wind off the sea. His hand drifted down to his cargo shorts pocket, where he reassured himself that the small box he’d put there that morning was still there.
“I can’t believe you left,” Luke admitted as he opened his eyes. “If I was raised here, I’d never leave.”
Din had heard that before from many people. But coming from Luke it felt sincere and probably was, given his childhood history.  “You’d be surprised how quickly you get used to all this,” he said as he waved his arm at their picturesque surroundings. “You don’t notice after a while. The island is too small to spend your whole life here.”
He’d wanted more from his life and freedom from the expectation that he would settle down, marry a nice Mormon woman, and have a small army of children.  He’d always been fine with the children part, and even the marrying part. But the woman part had been the dealbreaker, and when he left the Big Island for the mainland he’d also left that childhood expectation behind.
Now he was back home, a decade later, and surprisingly it was almost how he’d originally expected his life to turn out. He had a son, he had love, and hopefully….
No. Best not to think about it, not to jinx it.  Instead, he waited until Luke had his fill of the ocean before they continued on their way.
“I can see why you didn’t want to bring Grogu,” Luke said as they carefully navigated a rocky curve.  “This isn’t very kid friendly.”
“There’s not much for him to do. The current here is too strong for him,” Din explained as he reached out a hand to Luke so he could help him across.
Luke pouted. “But I thought you were taking me to a secret beach so we could swim. Or...do something else.” Luke raised his eyebrows at him.
“I never said swimming would be involved,” Din said as he gave Luke’s ass a swat.  “We’re not doing what you’re thinking about doing either.” Yet. “This beach isn’t secret, it’s pretty famous.”  There were other more private beaches he could take Luke but that wasn’t the point. It had to be this beach for a specific reason.
“Almost there,” he added as he felt his nervousness begin to grow.  Din could see the ridge where they would begin their descent into the bay. “This area is called Puʻu Mahana; it’s an ancient cinder cone that erupted eons ago.”
“Hmm... I love it when you talk about eruptions,” Luke leered at him.  “I could listen to you talk nerdy all day.”
Din snorted.  “Shut up and get over here.”
“Alright geez, wait up. I--woah.” Luke stopped at the top of the ridge next to him and stared in amazement. “That’s beautiful.”
“Papakōlea beach,” Din said with satisfaction as he looked at the pristine and--miracle of miracles--completely empty sand. They were early enough so they had the bay to themselves. Everytime Din came to Papakōlea he was taken back by the bay’s contrast of colors, with light green cliffside melting away into bright blue water.
“It’s so green!” Luke exclaimed happily. “Is that grass on the sand?”
“Not quite,” Din chuckled as he led the way down the ragged cliffside, towards the old metal staircase built into the cliffside.  “Papakōlea is special because it’s one of the few green sand beaches in the world.”
“Wait? Green sand?!”  That was it, Din had lost Luke. His love ran ahead, hoping over rocks to clammer over to the staircase like a small child.  By the time Din had caught up, Luke was pulling up handfuls of sand and letting the small grains fall through his fingers.
“I never knew sand could be green! We should have brought Grogu! It’s his favorite color!” Luke beamed at him as he approached.
“And yours,” Din acknowledged with a nervous smile. It was rapidly becoming his favorite color too, after silver.
“What is it?” Luke asked. “Fossilized seaweed or something?”
Din snorted. “What? How the hell did they let you graduate from Cal again?!”
“I wasn’t a science major,” Luke retorted. “So why don’t you explain, Professor Djarin?” He leered at Din and oh fuck. He had to bring up his favorite roleplay right now, right when there was a 50% chance he was about to ruin one of the best things that had ever happened to him.
Din pushed aside vivid memories of Luke dressed as a slutty schoolboy out of his head with extreme effort. “Ah..it’s olivine,” he said, suddenly nervous.  “Tiny specs of olivine that is created by the volcano on the island. It’s a dense mineral so it tends to accumulate on the shore rather than be swept into the sea like most other deposits…” His voice trailed off as he saw the moment when Luke suddenly realized why he’d been brought to this particular beach.
“Olivine aka peridot,” Luke said slowly. He let the last of the grains of sand fall from his hand as he moved to touch the small, slender peridot gem that was always around his neck on a smooth silver chain.
Din had asked Luke in the very beginning of their relationship why he always wore the green gem around his neck. Luke had explained that the peridot was the last gift from his grandfather, Qui-Gon.
“He told me he was originally going to give it to my dad’s future wife, because it was a family heirloom. But my biological father never really got along great with my grandfather, and dad and father weren’t able to legally marry until after grandfather died.  So he gave it to me. I don’t know why he didn’t just give it to Leia, but when he died, I put it on and never really took it off.  I’ve always loved the color. Peridots are the stones of compassion and I think that’s just really nice.”
As their relationship grew Din realized that the peridot gem was a perfect description of Luke himself. Compassionate to a fault but also vibrant and full of life. He was spiritual, creative and strong; all characteristics of the gemstone according to the hippie websites Luke liked to frequent.  So when they decided to return to Din’s hometown of Kona for a vacation, Din immediately thought of Papakōlea beach. Olivine was a common mineral on the islands--they liked to market them as “Hawaii’s Diamonds”.
So where else could he bring Luke to propose to him?
“I need to ask you something,” he began. He pulled Luke further along until they were in a spot where Din could see the green sand and the crystal clear blue ocean. Blue and green, the colors that reminded Din of Luke.  “The day we met, you gave me the greatest gift of my life by saving Grogu’s life.  You came in like a superhero, flying in on your stupid skateboard and grabbing him from the path of that car. That could have been the worst day of my life and instead it was the third most important day.”
Luke stared at him with bright eyes that sparkled with unshed tears. “The third?”
“Second one was the moment they said that Grogu could stay, that I could start the adoption process,” Din acknowledged.
Luke nodded. “And the first?” He whispered.
Din took a deep breath and sent another wild prayer to  Poli`ahu or Peli; whoever was listening and had got him this far.
“I’m hoping the first is right now.” He slowly reached for the ring box in his pocket and got down on one knee.  The sand was rough against his bare skin and he was shaking--but so was Luke. There were tears slowly falling down his face and he was looking at Din as if he was the sun god and not him.  “Luke Skywalker,” he said slowly as he opened the ring box, “Would you--”
“YES!” Luke blurted out.
“--You have to let me finish!” Din said with a laugh.
“You’re taking too long!” Luke grabbed at Din’s hands and pulled them to his chest. “Yes, yes a hundred times yes! Of course I’ll marry you! I thought we pretty much were already.”
Din laughed, his voice cracking. “I want it to be official--”
“Of course you do. Can’t take the fear of God out of a exmo like you.” The softness of Luke’s voice tempered the teasing words.
“Hey this is scared land,” Din said somewhat seriously, “on this part of the island, it belongs to the goddess Poli`ahu.”
“Well, then with the grace of ‘Polly-hue’, I say yes, Din. I’ll marry you.”  Din had only a second to frown at Luke’s butchering of the Hawaiian language before he was dragged to standing. He ditched the ring box on the sand so he could put the ring onto Luke’s finger. It was a silver band embedded with koa wood and olivine, made by a local company on the island.  It sparkled perfectly against the backdrop of the sand but Din had only seconds to admire it before he was dragged into a searing kiss by his fiancé.  He tangled his hands into Luke’s hair and let all the love and relief he’d been carrying on their short hike pour out of his mouth and into the other half of his soul.
When they finally parted and pulled away, the light caught the peridot on Luke’s neck and shone brightly, like the slender gem was alive and winking at him.
--
Au List is here if you have a request
Previous answers:
19. parents meeting when they take their kids to class au
15: meeting in the E.R/A&E au
40: Soul destroying exes meeting again after not speaking for years au
25: Library/Avid Reader AU Part I
Library AU part II
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sweetchup · 3 years
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Not A Chance!!
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Type: Shalnark x reader
Prompt: O’Inari’s Wisdom — On any day during this week, people of the ages of 19-30 years old will go through a walk in the woods carrying a clear ornament (Traditionally it used to be a Jar). The ornament is usually filled with the person’s favorite scent or perfume, Name and Phone number on paper slip, and their dream type of lover on a rose petal. When walking through the woods, the person allows the God/Goddess of the woods O’inari’s Imps to trick them into meeting their soulmate. It is a must to switch ornaments with that first person they see for it is said the imps won’t allow them to leave the forest unless they do so.
Author Note: I decided to try a different writing style with the kiss scene this time. Tell me what you guys think.
(Prompts/Rules) (Masterlist)
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“Hey (y/n), Bisky, What’s this?” Gon asks. His voice was hardly heard over the many chattering of the NPCS and other players in the city as you looked at him. Gon first shows Bisky, who was closer to him, a baby blue flier that you couldn’t quite read from where you were standing. “Is it some sort of Greed Island event?”
“Wait a minute. Gon do you not know what O’inari’s wisdom is?” Bisky questions, shocked. Walking over closer and looking from behind Bisky, you realize that the Winter Holiday of O’inari’s Wisdom was indeed taking place on Greed island. You were slightly surprised for a second but it soon started to make sense the more you thought about it. It had started snowing on the island recently and if the game was parallel to the times in the real world then it should also be December in the game. So it just made sense that Holidays were also coded into the game to match the changing seasons.
“Oh, so it’s a Holiday,” Gon says surprised once Bisky explains it to him, “We didn’t celebrate it on Whale Island. Maybe it’s because I was so young. But, at the very least, (y/n) will be able to celebrate it with us.”
“Huh?” You murmur confused. You never mentioned anything about doing it, “I’m not doing it. Actually, why would you think I would do it?”
“Well, you don’t have a boyfriend right? So you must have not done it yet. So you should do it! It will be fun!” Gon explains enthusiastically as Bisky nods in agreement. Of course, it was just straightforward thinking done by Gon, not thinking of other possible possibilities. Man, why exactly did Killua have to leave you to take the Hunter exam again?
“I actually have done the Holiday before,” You tell the two as you start to walk away, calling forth “book” as you do so. As you examine through your binder, you continued to explain what you meant to the younger boy, “I’ve actually done it many times. Sometimes doing a full week some years. Other times going to different locations from other cities or towns. But in all the years I’ve done, I never once heard nor bumped into anyone else in the forest. So I just gave up on th—”
Bisky suddenly cuts you off with a loud exaggerated gasp.
“Oh My~ Then that must mean you really do have a soulmate out there (y/n)! What powerful young love!!” Bisky states dreamily as sparkles and flowers seem to dance around her. All you can do is sigh at the older woman antics and continue on your way. Honestly, to you there was no way Soulmates could exist. Not a chance! There was just no science nor reason behind it. Nen could be explained. Monsters could be explained. But soulmates, not at all. It was just some made up myth with no hard facts.
As you make your way to the gate of Aiai, you feel Gon tug at your top to catch your attention.
“But, (y/n)?” You take your eyes away from your binder to look at Gon. “Do you think you could try? Perhaps one of the needed 99 slot cards is given at the event.”
“Oooo, good thinking Gon,” Bisky states looking at the flier and then looking at you. “With that possibility, I order you to do it then (y/n). Afterall, you are the only person who could do it out of us.”
You and Bisky stare at each other tensely for a little. Slightly challenging each other to step down until eventually you give up and finally look away. Even though you aren’t looking at her, you can hear Bisky doing a dance in success. “Fine then where do we go to take place in this event?”
“Apparently, you can get there by using an Accompany to Winterfell. We don’t even need to go there beforehand to use the accompany card.” As Bisky explains, you flip your binder and grab a spare accompany card. This is the last one from your binder so Gon and Bisky will have to start using their ones from now on. Well, Until you can get to Masadora to get some more.
“Okay then, let’s get this over with,” You state. Though for some reason you have an uneasy feeling in your stomach as you hold the card up. You wondered why, perhaps you felt nervous? But why would you? Greed Island was hardly crowded so this is the lowest chance of meeting someone during the Holiday. Maybe it was just the fact you haven’t done this tradition in a while. Yeah, that was probably just it, “Accompany on! To Winterfell!”
—.—.—.—.—
The crunching sound of snow is the only thing you hear as you walk through the forest. For what felt goes on for miles, all you have been seeing was snow covered pine trees. Not even birds or other sources of life have been spotted while you have been walking in this forest which was quite strange. How long have you been walking you wondered. It was hard to tell but you guessed maybe an hour or so?
Stopping next to a tree, you run your hand up it’s trunk somewhat tracing the engravement in it. You had already seen this before. It was like you have been going in circles, even though you have actually only been going straight. Was this some sort of test in the game? Maybe Gon was right about a specified slot card being here.
“Book!” In a poof, your binder opens up. Or, at least that's what you expect to happen. However, it doesn’t pop up. After calling the book a couple more times, you realize it was no use. It just doesn’t work. Was this some glitch in the game?
All of sudden, a rush of wind catches you off guard. It wasn’t just any breeze however, this gust of wind was similar to that of a giant icy blizzard. You cringe as the snow in the wind pricks and scratches at your skin. You needed to take cover from the harsh wind before you freeze to death.
Quickly, when you try to look around to find somewhere to take cover, something whips into your face, blinding you. As you struggle to pull it off of you, the wind suddenly comes to a complete stop. Weird, very weird. Finally getting it off of you and taking a good look at the item, you realize it was just an in-game scarf. Actually, you weren’t even sure it was an item from the game since it had a tag from the real world.
“Hey! That’s my sc—“ Turning around at the cheerful voice behind you, you see a familiar man a couple of feet away from you. You don’t understand why you recognize the man until he suddenly goes on guard and realization hits you. Wait a minute you remember that stance. He was a member of the Phantom Troupe wasn’t he? Shalnark, right? You quickly get on guard as well when he grabs an antenna from his pocket. An manipulator, huh? In a one on one fight like this, he has the clear advantage on you.
“Hey, I’m not here with the chain user,” You state, breaking the silence between you two. You weren’t usually someone to give up but avoiding a fight with him and going your separate ways is the best way to go in this situation. Afterall, the last thing you needed was to become his newest puppet. “I’m with the kids and all we are doing is playing the game by collecting cards.”
You wrap up Shalnark’s scarf and lightly toss it in front of his feet.
“I have no problems with you guys and I don’t want to fight you.” You continue as you start to walk backward, away from him. Hopefully, that woman, Pakunoda, told the other troupe members how you deteratarted Kurapika away from the option of placing a Nen dagger in her heart and helped spared their boss’ life.
It’s quiet and tense for a couple of minutes, not even the wind was blowing, before the blonde nods in agreement to your idea. You watch as he carefully picks up his scarf and then both of you two turn away from each other at the same time to walk away. Thankfully, counting on that woman seemed t—
All of sudden, after a couple of steps, the large gust of wind returns. You tried to fight against it and continue forward but it only seemed to grow stronger the more you tried. It grew so strong in fact that it lifted you right off your feet and threw you backward. You hoped to land on the soft snow but, of course with your luck, you hit something else very hard with a loud thump. Originally, you thought it was a tree that you hit but once you roll onto your side, you come to the realization that whatever you landed on doesn’t feel anything like tree bark.
“Ow! What was that…” Shooting up at the voice, You realize it was Shalnark that you had hit. You attempt to scurry away from him fast however, as soon as you get too far away, a gust of wind drags him back towards you. You pause as Shalnark lifts his head from being buried in the snow and looks at you confused.
“I-It’s some sort of error in the game. I swear. Maybe with the coding? Or—“ You blab out in a tangent trying to explain what was going on. Soon however, Shalnark sighs loudly, cutting you off.
“That’s a really stupid conclusion you cam up with. If you had once stop to look around you in this game, you would have realized this place, Greed Island, actually takes place in the real world. Specifically a straight shot east of York New.” Shalnark explains, somewhat sarcastically. All you do is roll your eyes. Of course you got stuck with the jackass of the troupe.
“Well then since this game isn’t actually a game, what do you think is going on, if you think you are oh so right?” You spat back at him. For some reason, you just couldn’t understand why he was being so rude in this situation, it was clearly neither of yours fault.
“Simple. This,” Shalnark states confidently as he takes the ornament from his pocket and lifts it up to you. You can’t help but laugh loudly at the idea, causing him to scowl at you.
“Y-You can’t be serious?! You and I? Soulmates!?”
“Of course! You do realize that in the myth it’s impossible for us to leave until we exchange our ornaments.” Shalnark explains, tossing his ornament at you. Clutching it in your hand, you quickly examine the ornament before scoffing.
“Yeah, not a chance,” You state as you toss his ornament back to him, causing Shalnark to sputter confused. “In no ways am I giving my personal information and phone number to the tech expert of the phantom troupe. That’s just plain stupid.”
You and Shalnark bicker on back and forth for a while until eventually he goes quiet and just glares at you. Honestly, in your opinion, it was better if he just chose to quit talking. He snaps his fingers catching you off guard, “Okay I have an idea! How about I try to convince you we are destine—”
“Soulmates?” You finish for him, slightly cringing.
“Yeah, that! And if I can convince you, then you can feel safe to give me your ornament so we can both leave.”
You ponder a little on the option he suggested. Honestly, you actually didn’t have much of any others option to begin with, “Fine. What do you got to convince me?”
“Well, first,” You watch closely as Shalnark grabs the Rose petal out from his ornament. Oh, you knew where this was going, that was actually a smart idea. Maybe this guy actually had some brain cells. “I’m going to read off my dream type of lover. I bet this will describes you.”
Reading off his petal to you, you listen carefully. As the more he goes on, you can’t deny that it did somewhat describe you, almost on the dime. As Shalnark shows the petal to you to prove he wasn’t making stuff up, You decide to grab your own petal. He seems to get excited that you finally understood what he was saying.
“See I tol—“ Shalnark is cut off when you let out a loud laugh.
“Yeah no way. Mine is ‘Someone who is like the sun; always cheerful as well as mentally bright.’” You read off, chucking it back into the ornament.
“Hey! I’m pretty cheerful! And bright!” Shalnark states, finally flashing you a smile for the first time you’ve been with him.
“Ha, I doubt that.” You say, though you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat at how handsome he looked with a smile on his face. Your eyes go wide and you mentally slap yourself. What in the world were you thinking just now? You were flustered over him?!, “N-Next! What’s your other ideas?!”
“Aw come on!”
After a couple of more attempts from Shalnark to prove you two are soulmates, as well as many more confused borderline bipolar back and forth feelings on your end, Shalnark has run out of ideas and you two sit in silence as he tries to come up with more.
“Is that all the ideas you have?” You ask him shivering slightly as you pull your jacket closer for warmth. Looking up towards the sky above the thick pine branches, you see that it had just started to get darker out, effectively making it ten times colder as well. It now dawns on you that at this rate with your progress, you two could possibly freeze to death out here if you couldn’t get to a warm shelter before night.
“Shalnark. Here I—“ You suddenly pause what you were saying as you turn to face the man, “what the hell do you think you are doing…?”
You looked confused at Shalnark, who had moved closer to sit next to you. You didn’t know what he was up to but you definitely still didn’t trust him. As you try to lift yourself up to move away, Shalnark quickly grabs your wrist to keep you put where you were. Oh hell no. You struggle against his grip, attempting to pry his fingers off of your wrist but while you are distracted he uses his other hand to grab your arm. Effectively trapping you.
You struggle against him a little more but it only causes him to push you backwards down into the snow, him slightly leaning over you. Now nervous about what Shalnark was possibly doing, you shout out to him, “H-hey! I’ll give you the ornament okay? I don’t want—“
You feel the rest of your words die in your throat as Shalnark leans his forehead against yours, causing him to get very close to your face as well. Biting the inside of your mouth, you close your eyes tightly as a way to try calming your pounding heart. You couldn’t tell if your heart was racing out of fear or possibly something else. Though, again, it wasn’t like you could think straight at this point on time to figure which one. Cutting off your thoughts, Shalnark lets out a boyish giggle and tells you, “For someone who says they hate me and doesn’t believe in soulmates, your face sure is feeling quite hot. It’s almost as if you are flustered by me.”
Quickly, most likely in an attempt to save your dignity, you turn your face away to him so his face could no longer touch yours. As you do so, your heart leaps out of your chest when you hear him let out a small aww in disappointment.
“H-hey! I said I’ll give you my ornament so let go of me!” You sputter out, trying and likely failing at keeping yourself composed. You know it’s hard for you to think logically in a situation like this but you would’ve thought you had enough common sense in you to not get flustered by a mass murder.
“Hmmmm… Nope” Shalnark answers, popping the “p” at the end. Surprised and bewildered, You whirl your head around back to look at him. He seemed to get a kick out of your reaction because he can’t help but laugh. “You are correct by the fact that all I wanted originally was to take the ornament and leave. But the more we went on, talking and bickering, I realized I wanted something else.”
“H-huh? What? I don’t have much of anything else.” You questioned. Was he talking about cards in the game? Gon carried all of the number slot cards so you didn’t have anything that was useful to Shalnark.
“Silly girl~ It’s simple.” Shalnark flashes you a smile as he boops your nose with each next word, “I. Want. You~”
As you give a weird expression in response to Shalnark flirting attempt, he looks at you confused as to why you looked like that before full on laughing, when what looked like steam started to flow from out of your head. He couldn’t believe he fried your brain with a silly pick up line. It wasn’t even a good one either.
“Adorable~” Shalnark whispers out so softly and quietly that you almost don’t hear it. You go to ask him to repeat what he said again, but stop when he leans down. He wasn’t—
You can only watch as he inches closer and closer to your face. You don’t get why you don’t stop him, you know you probably should. But you just couldn’t for some reason you didn’t quite understand.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shalnark kisses you. Stealing your first kiss, a precious thing you could never be able to get back from him. Though you doubt you would even try if you were able to.
As his lips moved against yours, you had to admit they were surprisingly soft, not at all rough or chapped like what the very few romance books you’ve read over the years described. Though you had to admit those boorish books were right about one thing, kissing someone was a feeling you’ve never once experienced before in your life. Authors have described the experience in many different ways but as Shalnark pulls away from your lips only to dive it once. Twice. And so many more times that you’ve lost count, you realize yours wasn’t like the ones written down. It didn’t take your breath away, it wasn’t rough or deep, it wasn’t messy or desperate.
But, it was yours. A feverish kiss if you must find a word to describe it. A kiss that even while pushed down into the freezing cold snow, you felt you were burning up inside. So much so, that your brain seemed to melt and your muscles turned to jelly from an non existent heat.
Finally after a while, you two pull away from each other, still in a trance like state from what happened. It’s quiet, nothing is heard nor said between you two as you just stare at each other. You know it is now dark out. You know you should be trying to get back to Gon and Bisky before they worry. You know it would be in your best interests to try to get away as far as you can from the dangerous man before you. You know you shouldn’t be feeling such feelings for him, for it is too soon and he probably doesn’t even deserve to be able to experience a pleasant emotion like this one. You know all these things almost as if they are engraved in your heart.
But, even when knowing all these things, you can’t stop yourself from dragging Shalnark back in to give you another kiss.
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Aaaaaa I’m posting this on mobile how do things work here? But i also have no impulse control so I’m posting anyway until waiting for a computer again.
chapter 4 of scattered au fic go! Au by @hermitcraftheadcanons and I @helleborusangel because they are frembd and I show my care this way!
“Oh sweet sweet dirt. I’ll never get mad at you again. You don’t just fill chests, you’re soft and safe.”
“Uh Ren, you good there?”
“Give me a moment my dude.” The wolf shifter replied, lying on the ground to hug it. “I’ve been stuck there since I spawned. Not sure what happened, but it looks like you found me.”
“Have you been looking at chat?” Etho asked, and Ren looked towards the ravine again. Looking back in it, Etho could see the comm sitting at the bottom. “Well, you’re not the only one in a situation like that. In fact, you’re in a better situation than most people seem to be in.”
“What do you mean?” Ren asked, and then he was passed Etho’s comm. Death messages filled the screen, appearing as he looked. Scrolling up, there were plenty more. “Why hasn’t anyone said something in chat?”
“Because he can’t. Nothing we try to type will send. The only thing coming through are deaths and achievements. I spawned with Beef and Joe at the real spawn, but we were the only ones there. I’m not sure how, but I managed to die, and now I’m here.”
Ren nodded. “Well, now that I’m on the surface, I’m gonna go get some wood enough for a pickaxe. Then I’m jumping back in that ravine to get my comm.” Etho raised an eyebrow. “Hey! There’s water for me to land in. I just couldn’t get to it from my cliff.”
“Well, I’ll join you. I don’t have any gear since I died, so we’ve got the same situation.”
Ren nodded and looked to the closest tree, part of a dark oak forest. “Hey Etho, I saw Mumbo was dealing with illagers. You think that could be the forest he’s in?”
“Maybe. But let’s start with getting ourselves geared up. It would probably be worse for him if we showed up and died before he could get out.”
“I guess you’re right.” Ren agreed as he went over to one of the trees and started breaking the logs. “Still might be good to see if the place is even there. I mean, I’m just suggesting he could be here.”
Etho shrugged. “Well, maybe we’ll be lucky. I was close to Joe and Beef, so maybe others are close to each other too.”
Ren nodded and finished gathering wood, now heading back to the ravine. Etho followed, not having crafted anything for himself, so Ren was the only one mining stone, the ninja just taking half of what Ren mined up for himself. Then both of them made sets of stone tools, going deeper into the ravine to gather coal and iron.
The two of them built around themselves as night finally fell, torches placed throughout the ravine to try and keep monsters from spawning. “You know, regen isn’t working right. So not only are we spread out, but we all have ten hearts until we die, no matter how much we eat. It might be different if we used gapples and potions, but figured you should know.”
“Thanks for the heads up man.” Ren thanked. “My guess is it’s just natural regen that’s been disabled, so apples and potions should do fine.” Then he pulled out his comm. “I hope Impulse will come out of this okay. He’s really dying a lot.”
Etho nodded. “Yeah, hopefully we can figure out what temple he spawned in.” And then he pulled out his own comm. We’ve still got coordinates, so memorizing that will be key. We’re at zero zero, so that’s easy enough to remember.”
Ren messed with his own comm. “Yeah, we’re still kind of far though. I say in the morning, we deal with checking the forest first since it’s right here.”
“Sounds good to me.”
.
.
Mumbo was backed into a corner. He hadn’t stopped trying to escape since he had gotten so close so many times. “Please, if you want me to leave, I can do that! I don’t have anything, and I’m not going to tell anyone where you are. I just want to get out of here!” He had started pleading a bit a few deaths ago, and was still doing it because it had made the vindicators hesitate for a moment.
He expected that was going to be all that would happen this time as well, but instead, the axes never fell. Mumbo had his eyes closed, but then hesitantly opened them to see what was going on. The vindicators were standing to the side, the evoker now right in front of him. He grumbled in a language Mumbo didn’t really understand, leaving him confused. “I’m sorry… I’m not sure I understand you.”
The evoker sighed and waved his arms with a spell. Mumbo held his arms up to brace himself, but nothing happened. Or at least, nothing to hurt him happened. “If you don’t want to be here. Why are you here?”
Mumbo looked up. The evoker still had what he could best describe as a villager accent, but he could understand them now. “I… I don’t know. Some friends and I were just trying to move to a new world, and instead of wherever I was supposed to show up, I didn’t. So instead I just keep appearing in that bedroom of yours.”
“And I should believe this why? Why leave a world behind? Alone I might understand, but with friends?”
“I… we… We like to explore different worlds and… help advance them.” Mumbo answered, being careful with his words which the evoker noticed. “At a certain point, we move on to try with a new world. It’s just this time, something went wrong.”
“I see.” The evoker said with narrowed eyes. “Well, empty your pocket. Prove you have nothing.” And Mumbo did just that. “Very well. You may leave.” And then the evoker cast one more quick spell and the redstoner vaguely recognized it was bad omen. Mumbo nodded and left, hearing a quick ‘good riddance’ before he finally was able to make it out of the mansion.
The moment he was out, Mumbo was glad to see it was now day at this point. He took a deep breath of fresh air before running over to a tree. Unfortunately, even though it was day, the forest provided enough cover for monsters to spawn. Before Mumbo could really react, he was killed by a skeleton and back in the mansion, yelling in frustration.
Vindicators quickly ran to the room ready to attack, but instead they were met by Mumbo, who was half yelling, half crying, and pulling at his hair. “I can’t leave. I’m never getting out of here. I’m cursed or something. Who knows if anyone’s coming to get me. I could be stuck here forever. No, I’m going to be stuck here forever. No might about it.”
There was a noise from one of the vindicators and Mumbo looked over before lying down on the wool next to himself. “I don’t care. Just kill me. I’ll just respawn here anyway. And it’s not like running will do anything.”
He closed his eyes and just waited there, but he wasn’t killed. Instead, he heard footsteps walking away, leaving him alone. Mumbo just stayed there, trying to think what he could possibly do next. His first thought was to get killed again as there was a new set of footsteps coming his way, but again, nothing happened.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” Mumbo recognized that that was probably the evoker. He didn’t respond though, not really having the willpower to do so. “Even if you did, something seems to be keeping you here.”
“Can you just lock me up or something? Then I’ll be out of the way.” Mumbo replied, voice muffled by wool.
“Oh believe me, I would like nothing more than to do that. This place is outfitted with a cell. The thing is, I doubt your patron would approve of that and I would rather not get on the bad side of that.”
Mumbo paused, confused. He took a few seconds to process what the evoker had said, then he pushed himself up enough to look over at the illager. “I’m sorry, my what?”
“Oh dear void you don’t even know. Why would they even- No, questioning might make things worse. Oh void he probably got put here on purpose.” They said, talking more to themself than Mumbo as they pinched the bridge of their nose. “Look, don’t cause trouble and you can stay here. Do whatever you please if it’s going to get you to leave.”
Mumbo was still confused, but after a few moments of stunned silence, he nodded and the evoker left. Did he have any clue what was going on? Absolutely not, but at least he likely wasn’t going to die again anytime soon.
.
.
“Come on Ren, we’ve looked at every inch of the forest and the sun is going down again. Between you and me, if he was here, we would have found him. We would have found anyone if they were here.”
“I feel like I can’t do nothing.” Ren complained, tapping his foot in frustration.
“We can still get more gear and get back to spawn. That’s not nothing. The more people we can get to spawn, the better. It means more numbers so that eventually we can go help anyone who’s stuck. I mean, there’s people in the nether and end. Do you really think you and I could solve that on our own like this?”
Ren looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t say anything. He just followed Etho when he started to walk in the direction of spawn. Ren kept them supplied with food and even got them beds from killing every sheep he saw. Etho on the other hand made sure to keep wood, stone and coal stocked, gathering enough iron for them to both finish up their sets of armor and tools.
When night finally fell again, they set up another small base for the night. Etho went staircasing for more ores while Ren stayed at the base. Their original plan was when Etho came back up, Ren would switch off and take up mining instead, and they would do that until morning. But before Etho could even return once, Ren watched as the sky suddenly started to move rapidly, and before long the sun was on the horizon.
“Etho! Ethooo!” Ren shouted, running down the stairs. Further down, Etho heard the shifter yelling and immediately thought the worst of the situation. He dropped what he was doing and started going up, sword in hand ready to defend against whatever problem was happening. But instead, when he finally met up with Ren in the middle of the stairs, he was smiling and his tail wagging out of control. “The sun’s up!”
“What? I wasn’t gone that long, was I?”
Ren just took out his comm. “No, look. Grian managed to do a day shift!”
Etho read the messages on the comm.
Grian has made the advancement [Sweet Dreams]
Grian went to sleep. Sweet dreams!
Grumbot has made the advancement [Sweet Dreams]
Jrumbot has made the advancement [Sweet Dreams]
“Huh, we weren’t able to do that.” Etho said, rubbing his chin. Since they had gotten enough wool for beds, the two of them had both tried sleeping before actually mining, but nothing had happened.
“Yeah, but if at least someone can do it, that’s going to be good for everyone! I bet Bdubs is mad about it though.”
“Don’t say that. Who knows where he is.”
“Well, he hasn’t gotten a single death, so I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“He also hasn’t gotten any achievements, so he might just be stuck somewhere.”
“I guess you’re right.” Ren strugged. “Well, since it’s day, do you want to keep traveling, or are we mining some more?”
“Travel’s better. I’ll grab what’s useful and join you in a few minutes. You pack up the camp.” Ren nodded and ran back upstairs. By the time Etho finally returned with his loot, the place was mostly packed up, though the cobble walls and beds still sat there, along with a sign pointing towards spawn. “Still working on packing?”
“No actually. I’m leaving some stuff here. If anyone stumbles across it, they’ll have some supplies, a place to set their spawn, and know where to go for spawn. Plus, we’ve got our spawns set, so if we do die, we’ll be closer to true spawn when we restart.”
“Hmm, good idea.” Etho nodded, then looked to Ren. “You’ve got enough wool for us to make more beds as we go?”
“Oh yeah, I’ve got plenty. Some of it is in different colors, but if we kill a few skeletons, we can redye them to be white.”
“Assuming that still works here.”
“Yeah, if now, we throw them out and I carry around white dye to use on sheep before I kill them.”
Etho pulled out some iron. “You know we can just make shears.”
“Yeah, but we also get meat out of it. Unless you want to sit around and grow wheat. Or hope we get some apples while chopping trees.”
“Alright, fine. Mutton it is. Can you hand me over some of the wool just in case. If you happen to die, I’d like a way to keep a new spawn while I wait for you.”
“Fork over some of that iron and you got yourself a deal.” Ren said, pulling out his woll. Etho complied and the two traded resources before starting to travel once more. Everything was going well for a while, but then they passed a surface cave, and a noise from inside caught Ren’s attention. “Hey! There’s a skeleton in there!”
Before Etho could say anything, Ren was racing off to attack the monster and steal its bones. Etho followed behind to make sure the wolf shifter didn’t die, only to nearly be shot when he entered the cave. In front of him, Ren was attacking the skeleton, which was trying to stay away from him and attack at the same time. Etho pulled out his sword and helped to attack the skeleton, and soon the monster was dead.
Ren immediately jumped to grab the bones, turning them into bone meal and then into dye. Etho looked around the cave to make sure there weren’t any monsters left, and for a moment, he thought there weren’t. But then, from a tunnel off of the cave, Etho saw the familiar green face of a creeper making its way towards Ren.
“Hey, look out!” Etho shouted. Ren looked up towards Etho who was coming at him with sword drawn. The wolf shifter then turned to look the other way, and saw the creeper starting to glow. Time seemed to slow as Etho hit the creeper away with the sword, though the slash managed to catch Ren as well in the process. Though the creeper had been knocked away slightly, it wasn’t enough to stop it from exploding, so a moment later, it did that.
As the dust settled, Etho was glad to see that he was alive, and looking over to Ren, he was as well. They were both low on health, but as long as they were careful from here on out, they would be fine. But then Etho heard growling. It wasn’t the growling of a zombie, no. It was something that normally was never meant for a player.
Etho turned and saw Ren’s sunglasses cracked from the explosion. His shirt was ripped a bit where Etho’s sword had sliced into it, blood dripping from the wound it caused. The shifter’s teeth were bared, and his normally brown eyes were red. Etho tried to back up, but before he could go far, Ren attacked him.
Etho was slain by Renthedog
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chokemeanakin · 4 years
Text
First Kiss - Anakin Skywalker x gn Reader
Summary: Anakin treats you to your first kiss ;)
masterlist
Read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469749
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It happened on Tatooine. Anakin didn’t want to come back, but you had begged him to show you where he grew up.
“I grew up with Obi-Wan, travelling the galaxy,” Anakin corrected, a scowl clouding his face. “Not on Tatooine. I was just a slave there.”
“But it’s got your history,” you argued. “It’s where Qui-Gon found you. It’s where you build C-3PO. It’s where your--”
“It’s where my mother died,” he bit, jaw tense and eyes shadowed. “I know.”
“Maybe we could visit her.”
Anakin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He did that a lot, ever since he came back from the dark side, to calm the anger inside of him. His hands clenched over the controls of the pod, then suddenly relaxed. When he opened his eyes, he was considerably less tense.
“Okay,” he agreed. “I think she’d like that.”
*********************
“I hate sand,” Anakin muttered as he hopped down from the ship. His boots landed on the ground, sending dust to cloud up around him. He swatted it away from his face.
“Oh, quit pouting,” you take his flesh hand, then raise it over your head with both of yours. “You’re home!”
“This is not my home,” he tried to sound angry, but his face softened when he looked at the smile on your face. He could see you were excited-- for what, he still didn’t understand. You would have to stay in the remote parts of the planet because Anakin would never be welcomed back after what he did to the sand people. You wouldn’t even be able to see the market or Jabba the Hut’s pub, or the place he used to live. Not that Anakin ever wanted to go back to any of those places, anyways. They came for one reason-- to see his mother.
Anakin led the way to the grave. It was just a plank of wood sticking up from the sand, so you weren’t sure how he even knew this was hers. But it was the only thing out here for hundreds of miles, and the somber look on his face was proof enough. This was his mother.
You sat on the sand in front of the wooden plank, drawing shapes in the course minerals. You didn’t say anything, and neither did Anakin as he sat down beside you. The silence was comforting, and just being there was enough. Anakin closed his eyes and his face was peaceful.
You watched him, his face unmoving, as you thought about Anakin and his past. This was where his life began, as a slave, working in a junk shop while his mother struggled to get by. He built his own pod and would race because he was good at it. He built his mother a robot so she wouldn’t have to work so hard. He could still speak the language, as sometimes he would mutter what you were pretty sure were swears under his breath in the foreign tongue.
This was where the sweet, unsuspecting, hopeful little kid who loved flying and wanted to be a Jedi grew up with his mother. He had left her to do just that, and that was the beginning of the end. He never got to see his mother again before she died in his arms. The Jedi Council consistently underestimated his power and belittled him. They alienated him from the one thing he was destined to be. No wonder he turned to Darth Sidious, who was the only person who seemed to trust him in those harrowing times. He had fallen, like Icarus from the sun, like an angel from heaven, and fell and crashed and burned.
But now he was back. He was here again, that same sweet, hopeful boy who just wanted to be a Jedi. And he was sitting before you, with his mother-- a family again.
You were there for hours, until the suns began to lower in the sky. A gust of wind blew sand in your direction, and Anakin cracked an eye open.
“We should get to higher ground,” he said, standing and holding his mechanical arm out for you to take. He helped lift you up, and then brought you in close so he could share his cloak with you, shielding you from the sand. “The wind should let up as the suns go down. For now, we can watch them set from the pod.”
The two of you climbed on top of the ship and sat with your legs dangling off the edge, watching the double-suns inch toward the horizon. The sky seemed to bleed when the lower sun crashed into the sandy mountains, but then melted into a melon-orange glow as the higher sun followed in its wake. Soon, the whipping sand clouds calmed and the sky turned to a deep purple, then black, dotted with thousands of stars. You wondered how many times Anakin had watched this sunset as a kid, and if it’s changed at all since then.
“You’ve come a long way,” you told him, breaking the silence. He lowered his head and looked at his hands.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
“But you always come back,” you said. He lifted his head and his eyes connected with yours, but they were far away. He was deep in thought, and there was something warring behind them. Guilt.
“I left you,” he said, and it’s barely above a whisper. “We were friends, but as soon as Padme came along, I left you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You were happy with her.”
“I was happy with you, too.”
The confession caused an eruption of warmth to blossom in your chest. You smiled at him, a genuine, delighted smile, and knocked his shoulder playfully with yours.
“You have me now.”
At this, Anakin lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulder. He pulled you close for a moment, then relaxed with his arm still around you. For once in your life, you didn’t move away.
Anakin was warm. You basked in the weight of his arm around your shoulders, the feeling of his torso pressed against your side. Your thighs were touching and you realized that this is what you needed, this is what was missing all along, this warmth. Suddenly, you felt complete.
“Why haven’t you ever been with anyone?” Anakin asked suddenly. You tried to fight back the blush from your face at both the question and the fact that his fingers seemed to be absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. Suddenly he paused. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No,” you told him, and he resumed the patterns. “I just… have a hard time connecting with people.”
“Because of your mother?”
“Because of my mother,” you confirmed, and he coaxed every bit of information out of you on how your mother was strict and mean and cold and judgmental, and your father watched as she stripped your humanity away. He listened attentively as you told him of the suitors you’ve failed with in the past, and his arm tightened around you.
“I just get nervous,” you frowned, twisting your fingers in your lap. “Like the closer someone gets to me, the more they’re going to realize I actually suck.”
“I don’t think you suck,” Anakin said, his voice that sweet, comforting timbre with a gentle rasp that you loved so much. He always sounded like that when he’s spitting off orders to R2 when piloting, or late at night when he’s half asleep and doesn’t know what he’s saying. He also had that stupidly soft look in his eyes, and that half smile you’ve only ever seen directed at Padme.
God, he’s so pretty, you groaned inwardly, unintentionally tensing up when you realized just how close you were sitting. And he was looking at you so deeply, and man, his eyes can be so intense sometimes-- your face burned and you ducked your head so he couldn’t see.
He caught your chin with his gloved mechanical hand, cradling your chin between his index finger and thumb. He turned your face to look at him straight on, right in the eyes, and all you could see was Anakin. He was so close, and he was getting closer. Your eyes shifted to his lips, the same ones you had fantasized about for years, and hoped he couldn’t notice what you were thinking.
“Have you ever been kissed?” you could feel his breath on your lips, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You blinked madly, breathing erratic, palms sweating. Every single atom in your body was buzzing with energy-- excitement, nervousness, fear. You wanted to pull him in and kiss the living daylights out of him. You wanted to push him away and run as fast as you could until you got to a cliff high enough you could jump off and never wake up. You wanted to explode.
“You’re trembling,” Anakin’s eyes shifted across your figure for a split second. “Do you want me to let go?”
“No,” you begged him, your hands shooting out to hold onto him without your permission. They landed on his thighs, and your face burned harder.
“Do you want this?” his thumb stroke your chin. There was nothing you wanted more.
“Yes.”
You weren’t sure how he even heard you, as you barely uttered the word. But before you could do or say or think anything else, Anakin was leaning in. Your eyes closed on instinct and you felt, very softly, the brush of his lips against yours. The volcano was back in your chest, spurting lava all over your insides as you realized, holy shit Anakin Skywalker’s lips are on mine. Holy shit, Anakin Skywalker is kissing me!
The feather light touch tickled more than anything, and you could feel his mouth twitch into a slight smile as your hands’ grip tightened on his legs.
“This okay?” he pulled back a centimeter to ask. “You want more?”
“Yes,” you said again. It was the only thing you could manage to say, the one syllable word, and you began to wonder just how much of a lost cause you were if a simple brush of his lips against yours could render you brain dead.
He muttered an ‘Okay’ and then brought his flesh hand up to cup your face, fingers sliding along your neck and locking into your hair as his thumb stroked your cheek. You shivered, goosebumps staining every inch of your body with the touch. His gloved hand stayed on your chin, tilting it up toward him for easier access.
You closed your eyes again, and he leaned in, and this time he really, actually kissed you. He applied the slightest bit of pressure, then he did it again, shifting his head and capturing your lips in his, pulling back slowly only to do it again.
You were in heaven.
You forgot to respond at first. All you could think of in your short-circuited brain was how Anakin smelled so good and his lips were so warm and he tasted like the stars. Oh, he definitely knew what he was doing, with the way he was moving his lips and the confidence he did it with. You had no idea what you were doing, so you let instinct take control.
You unclenched one of your fists from his leg and raised it to place on his shoulder, pushing just a bit to get a bit of leverage, get a little bit closer so you could respond in earnest. You opened your mouth and closed it over his lips, your stomach cartwheeling as you hoped you were doing this right. It felt right. It felt good. So you kept doing it, and Anakin’s metal arm dropped from your chin and fell to your waist as you rose onto your knees, hands finally tangling into the soft curls of his hair, kissing him like you’ve wanted to kiss him for years.
When Anakin pulled back for air, you realized just how starved you were for oxygen as well. You didn't even notice. You panted, fingers loosening in his hair, lips tingling and burning. Anakin was looking at you like you were everything he wanted, and his eyes caught the twinkle of the stars. This is right where you belong, you realized, right here in Anakin Skywalker’s giving arms. Your breathing evened out, and you seemed to be thinking the same thing.
You leaned back in.
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bunnirs · 3 years
Text
Scarlet Crossroads
Chapter 5: Trust
Previous/Next
Scarlet Crossroads Masterlist
For being one phase, it seemed to carry on forever. Sure, you were a patient person, but that didn’t mean you liked doing nothing for such an extended amount of time.
To be honest, you weren’t just doing ‘nothing’. You were running in the woods, your shoes covered in mud, the cold mist hitting you in the face as you took large steps. You were confident in your tracking abilities, knowing that if you somehow lagged behind, you’d find the group quickly. (Not that it would ever happen though.)
That’s why you didn’t hesitate to stick behind with your newfound companions, Leorio and Kurapika, as they trailed behind Gon and Killua.
You must say, their progress was surprising. Neither of them seemed a bit tired, nor worried. It was comforting in a way, their innocence that is. Looking at them could be compared to still water, resting in its permanent tranquility, unbothered by the unforgiveness of the other elements.
You hoped it would forever stay that way, but of course, life is cruel, and so are the people who walk with it. Breaking from your thoughts, you notice that the two pre-teens had wondered ahead, separating themselves from the group, or maybe even someone in particular.
There was no question as to who it was, which made it all the more amusing to you. The magician hadn’t even tried to hide his aura, the lust practically seeping off of him. As to why your brother affiliated with him? That answer remains unknown.
You glance at your comrades, Kurapika and Leorio matching paces, their breathing evening out with each other. As much as the two liked to argue, they sure did match pretty well. It was as if their personalities were made to clash, often butting heads about some small thing that really held no interest to you.
As you listened to the men ahead of you, you almost wanted to scoff. It seems you weren’t the only one pissed off at Hisoka’s advances. The more you glanced at them, the more they stood out to you. They were running in a formation that looked almost thought out, as if they all knew each other. Most likely a gang of some sort.
Whatever the case was, Hisoka got lucky. He’d be able to let loose some of his pent up bloodlust, meaning, he’d maybe calm down for once.
You merely scowled at the thought, knowing that it would never come true. Hisoka didn’t know the definition of calm, well atleast, your definition of it. You knew that these men wouldn’t complete this exam, much less this phase. They wouldn’t even get to go home to whatever families they had, hug their children, wives, whatever they had waiting for them.
But they chose to come here, knowing the consequences behind it. Murder upon contestants was legal, knowing that as long as the examiners were safe, they didn’t care what happened to you. How comforting.
As you watched Hisoka from afar, he seemed to be luring the group into a separate direction, and as much as you’d like to follow him, you had to stick with Leorio and Kurapika.
Minutes felt like hours, and to your dismay, the fog only grew. If it weren’t for your background, you might have fallen for the tricks used by the creatures of Swindlers Swamp.
Speaking of which, it was pathetic watching these men subject to the noises around them. They gave in to their fear, letting their feet guide them to something even greater.
You stopped as soon as Kurapika and Leorio began to slow their pace, almost like they were out of breath.
“What’s up?” You questioned, your feet digging into the mud below you. “Something wrong?”
Leorio cried out in shock, pointing ahead of him. “Of course somethings wrong?! Where’d the other contestants go?!”
Kurapika was wide eyed, watching as something began to move closer.
Your eyes widened, your arm reaching behind you to grab something from your bag when suddenly someone walked past you. They looked to be in a daze, the contestant clearly confused.
As soon as he got close enough to the object, he disappeared with a yelp, causing Kurapika to jump backwards.
It seems you hadn’t been careful enough, and led them right into a trap. Hopefully, by saving everyone’s asses, you could make it up to them.
With that in mind, you rushed forward, shoving the two men behind you just as the ground tore apart.
Large portions of earth were kicked towards you, your arms crossing as you braced for impact. Before they could touch you, you appeared in the air, landing gracefully on your feet, away from the destruction.
Before you stood a Noggin Lugging Tortoise, a monster who used food shaped spikes on their back to lure prey towards it. It was smart, but due to its size, it wouldn’t be fast enough to keep up with you.
You looked back towards Kurapika and Leorio, the other contestants running away from the large monster. How pathetic, but at least they knew they couldn’t win this fight.
You ran to join the duo, standing back to back with them, your eyes tracing the air around you. From what you could tell, three of the monsters had circled around you, all preparing to crush their jaws down on your tiny, fragile, human bodies.
Before they could do that, you rushed forward, pulling a long metal staff from out of your bag. It’s sharp edges gave off a harsh glare from whatever light was exposed, making it look all the more deadly.
It crackled with energy, the engravings turning a deep red, glowing with what seemed to be the power of its owner.
You sprung upwards, the edge of the staff making contact with the brittle skin of the beast, immediately piercing through it. It let out a shriek, trying to shake you off, but it was of no use.
The area you had punctured turned a deep purple, almost as if it was completely out of blood.
That’s when you pulled back, jumping down from your suspended position, your staff spinning in the air as it made it back to your hand.
The large monster fell to the ground, its eyes drooping to a close. It shook the ground as it made contact, almost comparable to that of an earthquake.
You whipped your head around as you heard the shouts of Leorio, who had gotten caught in the mouth of another beast, wood being his savior as it prevented the jaw from closing.
That’s when Kurapika jumped into the air, his wooden blades piercing the monster's eyes, his eyes filled with nothing but worry for his friend.
That’s when you noticed a difference between the two of you. He did it to save his friend, while you, did it to strengthen the trust they held for you. He did it out of selflessness, while you did it for your own confirmation.
You scowled, the staff shrinking in your hand as you stepped forward, catching Leorio as he dropped to the ground, his weight almost taking you off guard.
Kurapika shouted a quick “Let’s go”, before sprinting further into the fog, knowing you’d be close behind.
As you quickly followed his example, you glanced down at Leorio, who seemed to have experienced whiplash. “You alright there, tough guy?”
He blushed at the current predicament, somehow forgetting the large monster that was growling from behind him. “Y-yeah! Of course I’m fine! You can’t really expect that to stop me, can you?!” He huffed, flailing his arms, almost hitting you in the face. “And can you put me down?! A woman isn’t supposed to be holding a man like this, it’ll give someone the wrong idea!”
“Like what? I saved your ass?” You question, your eyes narrowing. “Cause it’s true.” You paused, looking behind you at where the monster used to be. “That fall would have broken a tailbone, which could interfere with the performance of the exam.”
“Well, I didn’t! So, I guess what I’m supposed to say is, thank you! But seriously, put me down!” Leorio complained, sounding almost like a child.
“Alright fine.” You rolled your eyes, dropping him on the ground, his rear making contact with the wet ground. His head shot up at you, a strong glare on his face. “What? You said to put you down.” You smiled, glancing at Kurapika, who seemed to mirror your expression.
“Not like that-“ he groaned, sitting up to wipe off his pants. “Just- whatever! I don’t care! Let’s just go before we really get behind!”
“Right, like we aren’t already.” You muttered, starting to match paces with Kurapika, your eyes trying to read his features.
Kurapika’s own eyes met your gaze, his orbs widening a bit when he noticed you were staring. He bashfully looked forward again, his teeth baring down on eachother.
“Also, are you gonna explain the weird stuff you did back there?! I kinda wanna know who I’m traveling with! You haven’t said a word about yourself, and you expect us to trust you?!” Leorio had caught up, looking at your bag, almost like he was going to rip it from straps that kept it close to your back.
“Leorio, she doesn’t have to say anything if she isn’t interested, not everyone is nosy like you.” Kurapika mumbled. “She saved you from that fall, you should be thankful and leave it at that.”
You chuckled softly, a genuine grin on your face as the boys argued over you. “It’s quite alright actually.” You spoke, your voice clear as day, almost as if water had been released from their ears. “I don’t mind sharing some things.”
“Great! Now, I’ve got a few questions.” Leorio pondered, his eyes trailing your body, a cheeky smile on his lips. “What’s your-“
Before he could finish his sentence, your hand collided with his mouth, clamming it shut.
Ahead of you stood a clearing, Hisoka and the group from before standing in front of each other, a wicked smile on the magician's face.
Shit.
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TYSM FOR READING CHAPTER FIVE BABES!!! THIS IS WHERE WE STARTING GETTING INTO IT!!! IM NOT THE BEST WHEN IT COMES TO FIGHTING SCENES, SO I HOPE THIS WENT WELL?? IM HOPING SCARLET CROSSROADS WILL HELP ME GET GOOD AT ACTION SCENES HAHAH!
ANYWAY, THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING SO CONSIDERATE LAST WEEK! I was seriously going through something AND I don’t think It would’ve ended well if It weren't for the HUGE AMOUNT of support I got from you!!! I love you all so much, so please, take my love. If you ever need anything, send me a dm or an ask, I’ll answer it in a heartbeat.
83 notes · View notes
blubberingmess · 4 years
Text
[Dead heart]
Pairing: zombie!Bucky x reader
Summary: "Help plea--" the moment he turned around, you knew you had made a big mistake.
Warnings: blood, stupid (Y/n), Please don't do this irl. Just ran away.
Note: look what I found in my draft. Also the title... it sounds familiar...
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It all happened so fast you didn't even know if it's real, it's like from a show you once watched. Everything is falling apart. People are dying, eating each other's flesh and guts like monsters. As soon as you got bitten-- and not got eaten alive-- either way, you'd be as dead you'll ever get.
Within a few months after the massive virus outbreak, the world have now more zombies than humans. Every corner of the city stinks of dead rottening flesh and guts of the unfortunates. So you moved out to a more rural part of the country, away from the city where the zombies are just... everywhere.
You've never seen anyone for a month now, not even a single group of teenagers that claimed "prepared" for zombie apocalypse.
Pathetic.
And now you're being followed by a horde.
"Shit," you mutter to yourself as you shot the last bullet of your gun at the zombie, exploding it's head everywhere. You saw one of them tried to grab you by the shoulder but you quickly threw the empty gun at its face, giving it a huge dent but unfortunately, not enough for it to be killed. It only continues to limp towards you with others.
So you run, forgetting about your things back at your small camp not too far. You started shouting with all your might. "Help! Please! Somebody!"
The woods might not be the best way to go but you don't have a choice, you're panicking. Your heart is beating erratically against your chest as you run further into the woods, only getting a small sense of relief when you saw a person - a man - standing with his back turned to you.
"Mister! Mister!"
You saw his head perked up at the sound of your voice, head going left to right to find the source of the sound. His body looked stable and well built, like really well built. His arms are bulging through his shirt, maybe that's why he doesn't have a weapon with him - but that's still stupid though. He's wearing a black long sleeve top, cargo pants, and boots. His clothes looks clean, not like a zombie so you continued to shout.
"Help plea--" the moment he turned around, you knew you had made a big mistake. Some visible red veins are scattered around the left side of his face as well as his neck. His left eye is cloudy and grey and red rimmed, but the other is in a light shade of blue. He looks alive but at the same time, he looks just as dead as the zombies behind you.
You were about to stop in your tracks when you clumsily trip over a stone and came tumbling down right in front of him on all fours. Looking up, you saw him already staring down at you with that dead look on his face before looking up at the horde of zombies limping your way.
He doesn't look like he's rottening, maybe he just got bitten before you found him.
Sitting up quickly, you didn't know why but you turned your back on the beefy-- clearly strong-- looking zombie and whimpered as the zombies continues to limp their way towards you. But then they suddenly stopped to your surprise, standing there and just staring at - you don't know who - you or the zombie behind you, or both at the same time.
It's all quiet, only the soft breeze and the tweeting of birds from a distance. Confused, you watched the horde slowly turns around and started limping away, as if eating your brains out isn't their main goal anymore.
You heard a grunt and slowly look up with your eyes still wide open in horror, breathing unstable and ragged. Uncomfortable, you whimpered, closing your eyes tightly.
"Please, don't hurt me."
The weird zombie kept his eyes on you for a few moments, analyzing your features albeit being upside down before turning his heels and walking away, leaving you still leaning back with your eyes tightly closed. You heard the crunches of leaves and opened your eyes to see the zombie man is gone and is now a few feet away from you, lazily walking away from your fatal position.
The zombie is walking away from you, a living breathing not so fresh looking human.
You quickly stood up from the ground, watching as the zombie walks away. He didn't even tried to harm you, instead, he actually helped you. He somehow pushed the horde of zombies, but how?
You decided to stalk the mysterious zombie, noticing that he's walking with a direction, on his own trail like he knows where he is. Maybe he's going back to his zombie family, you mentally kicked yourself in the butt at the absurd idea. Or maybe he's taking a casual walk in the woods - okay, now you're going crazy.
You've made a noise a few times, randomly tripping over some stumps and rocks, broke a twig or two as you follow him through the woods. You heard him sigh a few times, stopping to turn his head to the side before walking again, shaking his head.
You didn't noticed it but whenever you got to far, the zombie would stop, only resuming his walk when he hears the loud crunching of you shoes against the dried up leaves.
After a few minutes of walking you saw him began heading towards a small cabin next to a small lake. The place is secluded and quite beautiful, you wonder who could be living here and then you remembered the zombie.
You sprinted out from your hiding place behind a random dead tree and pulls out your pocket knife - it's not much, but it's the only weapon you have - pointing it at him.
"Hey!" You shouted, stilling him on the porch of the cabin. Shaking your head, you bravely took a step forward. "I won't let you harm anyone who's living there. Not on my watch."
Oh look at you being a hero.
The zombie just stares at you dumbfounded before it turns into an amused look. He slowly tucked his hand in his pockets before pulling out a key, a smug smirk on his face when he saw the look of shock on yours. Opening the door, he kept his eyes on you as if silently challenging you 'oh yeah? What ya gon' do 'bout it?'.
He walks in leaving the door open. Is he... inviting you in?
You look down at the pocket knife in your hand, still shiny and sharp, the only weapon you have left - and probably useless.
Inhaling deeply, you stand up straight and started making your way closer towards the cabin. In all honesty, you expected the inside to be trashed and abandoned but no, it's so far from that.
Most of the furnitures are made out of wood, it looks expensive. The inside is clean and warm... like a home. It doesn't smell like the dead either, that means someone must've been living here for quite some time now.
You heard the grunt again and snapped your eyes towards the sound; from kitchen, frowning when you saw the zombie gently placed a steaming cup of coffee on the counter before stepping back, giving you space. Finally noticing his left hand; a prosthetic. You unconsciously tighten the grip on your knife.
Bucky noticed you staring at his metal arm and can't help but hide it behind his back, surprising you at his action, like he's uncomfortable at your staring.
"I'm... sorry." The zombie only nodded his head, the corner of his mouth twitching up.
"B-... Bucky," the zombie rasped out. You felt your eyes almost bulge out from your eye sockets at the sound, not expecting him to talk since, well, he's a zombie.
Bucky? What's that? Bucky noted your confusion and points at his chest, eyes still on you as he spoke once more, now much more slower for you to understand.
"Bucky." His name.
You nodded your head, pointing at yourself as well with your still slightly shaking hand. "(Y/n)."
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He's a friendly zombie isn't he?
133 notes · View notes
sunassweetie · 3 years
Text
Already Gone.
Pairing: Suna x Osamu (Osasuna)
Word Count: 5.4k 
Genre: Pain haha :):
Disclaimer: Underage Smoking don't @ me 
Warning: I wrote this after I read the galaxy is endless. But also like major trigger warnings for a lot of various things, just know I didn't hold back. 
When Osamu was younger, he absolutely, and indefinitely, hated the idea of holding onto nothing. The idea that a person alone could hold themselves upright, and power through life on their own. Maybe it was because he had been surrounded by the welcoming arms of his family his entire life, hell the man shared a womb with his twin. There was never a time where Osamu had felt alone, and he couldn’t understand the want to ignore those who held their hands out to help. He couldn’t fathom not having a support system, or someone to help him get back up when he fell off the tracks. 
There was always someone there. Until of course there wasn’t, and only then did Osamu realize what he had meant when he said, “The world is unforgiving, you’ll always be alone even when you’re surrounded by millions of people.” 
-:-
Osamu met Suna in his first year at Inarizaki, shuffling into the lowest class, his twin in tow next to him as they moved down the corridor. He could hear people whisper, even through the speakers of his earbuds, unsure of whether or not he liked the attention him and Atsumu had been receiving the moment they stepped foot onto the school grounds. 
Are those the miya twins? 
They’re so attractive! 
I want to ask Osamu out! 
Do you think they are going to try out for the volleyball team? 
Duh, just look at them. 
Osamu could already feel an immense amount of pressure settling upon shoulders as he slipped into his designated classroom, leaving Atsumu’s side as different classes separated them. Idly walking down the aisles until his name tag placed on the corner of the desk seat number popped into his vision, cueing him to take a seat. 
It's uncomfortable, he thinks, I didn’t miss this. His notebook, that he didn’t really plan on using, took up space at his desk along with the small pouch that only contained two pens, a pencil, and extra lead. Leaning back in his chair, his hand fishes down into his pocket to pull out his phone, turning up the volume, as he checks the time. 
He has five minutes till class starts, not that he cared in the slightest. The only thing currently on Osamus mind besides his first high school volleyball practice (after guaranteeing a spot on the team months prior during his middle school scouting days) he was mostly worried about what seasonings he could add to his next onigiri batch. 
There's a loud thump next to him, his head craning to see the commotion. He’s only met with a lanky boy, shoulders broader than those Dorito chips he once saw his old school mate aran eating, and eyes slanted in a bored glare. His earbuds dangle from the neck hole of his shirt, but his large hands quickly come to pull the buds into his ears, leaning forward on the desk  and putting his arms out in front of him to use as a pillow against the hard wood of the tables. Osamu couldn’t describe the way the boy rendered him speechless, eyes staring into the boy wondrously.  
“Do you need something,” The boy says to him, pulling him from his daze, blinking twice as both boys stare at each other. 
“Sorry,” Osamu fumbles, turning forwards in his chair. 
-:-
“So these are the new first years?” The coach says next to a second year whos hair falls in front of their faces, amber eyes weaving in between each of the younger boys lined against the court. 
“There's one missing.” His voice is automatic, cool even to hear. 
 Osamu isn’t paying attention to the talk, his mind blankly staring at the nets, wondering what type of position would he be most effective in. Perhaps Atsumu would play as setter, and he could work alongside his brother, the only harmony that was ever brought into their never ending sibling rivalry. 
“Your late first year,” The coach booms as someone stumbles into the gym. This catches Osamus thoughts, his eyes following the commotion as someone goes to stand next to Atsumu. 
“Sorry, a teacher held me back.” 
“On the first day?”
“I fell asleep during announcements.” 
He falls silent as the coach goes on, explaining how the team would work and what was going to be on the agenda for the upcoming scrimmage game they were suppose to be playing against another school. But Osamu finds it hard to concentrate, looking between the tall brunette and the court. 
-:- 
He couldn’t pinpoint the moment he knew, it wasn’t something he had ever realized before in his life, until the confusion of his emotions finally made him realize it. Over the year, he hadn’t just grown close to Suna as you would expect of friends. No, it was much more to Osamu then he would ever admit to Suna. 
The way his heart would beat out of his chest, or the slight sheen of sweat that would slip across his hands when he spoke to the other boy. Sometimes he hated the way he felt, wishing he could return to simpler times, when all he had to worry about was volleyball, and the next snide remark he’d throw Atsumu’s way. 
He wondered endlessly if Suna ever picked up on those miniscule hints he’d leave. Like when the team would go out for ramen after a tournament went right, and he’d always take the seat next to Suna. The same applies when traveling distances, it was an unspoken agreement that Suna and Osamu would always be paired together in the bus seats. Those little gestures when Osamu would pick a pack of Chuupets to hand to Suna at the most random times, “Saw ‘em when I was grabbing some stuff for the onigiris ‘m makin’.” Possibly when Suna forgot his team jacket on cold days, Osamu would give him his extra that made home in his locker specifically for this occasion to pop up. 
-:-
The first time that Osamu ever inhaled the hazy smoke into his lungs, he was sitting next to Suna. The dark sky towering over them, the pressure of nationals coming to cause a permanent crease in their brows. 
“Wanna hit,” He asks Osamu, as they swing back and forth in slow, repetitive motions on the empty playgrounds swings. 
“I’ve never smoked before,” Osamu admitted, somewhat shyly, embarrassed at his lack of experience in front of someone who he knew had been smoking for a while now. 
“It's up to you, no pressure,” Suna would say, taking another hit, the rolled joint limply dangling from his lips, smoke emitting from his mouth with each inhale and exhale. Osamu wants to, he wants to know the high that Suna had adored so much, the pleasure that Suna would succumb to with each passing moment.
“Teach me,” He was scared he sounded desperate, or enthusiastic. He tried his best to act as if it didn’t bother him, attempting to keep a cool façade in front of Suna. Suna looks at him with a smirk, eyes slanted and red as he hands the drug to Osamu. When Suna slips him the joint, their fingers brush by slowly, lingering momentarily. It takes a few tries for Osamu to stop coughing when he takes a hit, Suna laughing each time until he gets it. 
Osamu gets it now, the feeling Suna chases each time he comes to smoke under the stars, “Does it always feel this good?” 
“Most of the time, sometimes you might have a bad trip,” He says. 
Osamu looks at Suna, wondering when they hand ended up lying in the grass together, at the most a foot apart as they gazed up at the burning balls of fire littering the sky. He always has his earbuds in, and Osamu wonders what is always playing through them, what music accompanies the man in front of him. 
“What are ya listen’ to,” Osamu asks then. Suna looks at him, and without a word, is taking the other earbud and handing it to Osamu.
Cigarettes after Sex. 
He had been listening to Cigarettes after Sex. 
-:-  
At the beginning of their third year, Osamu caught Suna in the halls, long after the bells had dismissed everyone to return home, leaving the building empty of all noise, minus the creaks the old building would create every once in a while. 
He had been kept back by his teacher, insisting to go through his bag as he, as the teacher explained, “Reeked of weed.” However Osamu mentally praised himself for leaving his stuff at home and blaming the smell on a convenience store he had been in, addressing the owner who had been smoking that morning. Of course this was a lie, but the teacher was stupid enough to believe the pitiful lie, sending Osamu on his way out. 
He was propped against the wall, head tilted upright as he crossed his arms over his body. He looked peaceful there, with his earbuds more than likely playing some form of arctic monkeys or pearl jam. Maybe he was listening to the 1975 this time, or U2, it could have been any of them. The sunlight bounced against his complexion, soaking him in a warm bath of melanin. His hair had been slightly tousled, more than likely the job of himself constantly running his hands through his hair. 
“What are ya still doing’ here,” Osamu asked him when he had finally approached him after ogling at him for a moment down the hall. 
“I heard you got called back, figured I wait around to go to practice with you.” Suna says as if it were nothing at all. Osamu would never admit it, but it meant more to him then words would even be able to begin to describe. 
“Ya coulda gon’ to practice,” Osamu mumbles, walking in sync with Suna now. 
“Got me out of warm up laps anyways.” His words are mysterious, not that getting out of warm up laps wasn’t a common occurrence for Suna, but to wait for Osamu, it just wasn’t typical of Suna. 
It surprised Osamu even more, when the next week after finishing a test late he found Suna waiting for him in the corridor, and every time after that. 
 -:-
“Do you ever think about what's going to happen when we graduate?” Suna asks quietly next to Osamu. They had been sitting at the skate park together, smoking accumulating between the two of them, as they talk quietly though they are the only ones here under the dim lights scattered around. 
“We graduate in a week and you want to start pondering what's going to happen in life?” Osamu laughs, taking another hit, lying against the cold cement. Suna doesn't say anything, staring directly in front of him. Osamu wonders what's going on inside of his head right now, though he doesn’t feel like he has the right to know. 
“Yeah,” He hums, “ I guess you're right.” 
But his words have something hidden behind them, something that Osamu can’t describe, but it twinges a wave of fear through him. The words felt cold, distant. He wants to ask, he wants to ask so badly if he’s okay, if there's something he can do if he is not. But he bites his lip and he doesn’t ask. 
He knows Suna too well at this point from the countless nights spent smoking together, the morning practices and pairings in class. He’s been to his hand more time then you’d even be able to count. He knows every little thing, like when he starts complaining more than he normally does, it's because he’s running on an empty stomach. And if his hands start shaking, it's never because he’s cold or because he’s angry, it's because he hasn’t gotten his daily dose of caffeine, and when he goes silent, it's never because he's sad, it's simply because he has nothing left to say. He hates when people talk too much, and it irritates him when people start singing for no apparent reason other than to just sing. He loves chuupet, and volleyball, and alternative music, and smoking. And he doesn’t care about much of anything else. 
But right now, as his eyes hold back the emotions he’s suppressing within himself, Osamu can see right through it, he can see the pain lingering in his grey-yellow eyes. He knows Suna will lie to him, because Suna’s thoughts were Suna’s thoughts alone. 
-:-
Osamu hated the way that the feeling never changed. It never let up, it never ceased. It only grew until the roots had entangled so deeply he could feel it crawling into his lungs branching out in a painstakingly slow ache. Suffocating him like he was ten feet under, buried beneath the surface of platonic smiles and thoughtless gestures. 
Some days he wished he would just say it. Three words, thats all it would take to assimilate this stupid feeling he couldn’t control. Three, simple, little words that hefted the weight of the world. 
In ways, it made him angry. Why couldn’t he just say it, why couldn’t he just tell the boy how he had truly felt. It was a simple feeling, and when the rejection came it would bide Osamu the time to figure himself out, to learn how to breathe again. But maybe that was it, maybe the reason he feared telling him the hardened truth of his feelings is because he knew deep down the rejection would kill him. It would make him lose any ounce of control he had built up, it would make him see red. He had already been hanging by the shreds of thread, if he exploited himself in this way there was no going back, there was going to be no more midnight smoke sessions, no more trips to the convenience store after practice, no more movie nights, no more him. 
Osamu felt constricted by the material wrapped around his body, was it hot in here? It was just him, the pouring rain against the window fogging it with each burst of coldness proving it to just be him. With a sigh, he slips the material off of his body, and throws it to the other side of the room. He’ll pick it up later, he tells himself when it hits the wall with a thud and silently falls to the ground below. 
He knows he won’t though. The pile of laundry that had been piling for the last month tells him exactly that. 
-:-
It's sticky in here, Osamu thinks. 
Its stick, and its muddy, and its hollow. It's packed to the brim with people, it's loud and annoying and they won’t shut up over the obnoxious thumping of whatever trash was blaring through the speakers set up through the house. And it's lonely. He knows Kita and Aran are over in the corner, arguing over who is going to be the designated driver, and he sees Atsumu’s talking to some boy with a mask over his face, thought Osamu notes how the boy looks out of place and uncomfortable (he feels the way this boy looks, but he wouldn’t ever voice that outloud) and he sees Suna. 
He’s sprawled against the leather couch, there's two girls, one on each arm, stuck to him like pesky little leeches, taking hits from his joint with those agonizing high pitched laughs. They were fake, he could see it from a mile a way, and he was sure Suna could see the same, but Suna wasn’t going to complain, not when later he’d mingle his way upstairs with one, if not both of them. 
It hurt Osamu to even think about it, and now the kitchen counter seemed to be pressing into his back more evidently, more uncomfortable then it had been before. He moves quietly outside, ditching the red solo cup that had been placed in his left hand, somewhere now scattered with the array of cups lining the counter. 
His hands pressed into the rail against the outside patio overlooking the backyard. Not as many people were here this time, only the couple in the corner who resembled suction cups and the scattered druggies doing harsher things than Osamu would ever even think about trying. Osamu couldn’t explain what was happening to him right now. 
Why did that suffocating feeling seem deeper, rougher now. Why did it feel like everything was breaking down. He didn’t understand why water had been leaking from his eyes, or why his breathing had picked up in pace, or why the red bleeding feeling felt like it was going to overcome his entire being. He just wanted out, but he couldn’t move. Paralyzed into holding onto that rail, knuckles burning white as he leaned over the edge slightly, rocking back and forth on his heel. 
He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to breathe again. 
“Osamu,” He can hear the voice, but he can't make it out. It's more like white noise, like that shitty music in the background, or those girls laughing in Suna’s lap just moments ago. 
“Osamu,” He hears it again, it's louder this time, but the panic begins to trickle deeper inside of him, the rocking becoming more violent. Shaking his body in waves of unstoppable tremors, more tears relentlessly streaming down his face. 
“Osamu, hey, listen to me,” There are more words this time. He can feel someone's hand on his shoulder, he could hear the fear in their voice, as he slips further and further down this rabbit hold he can't climb out of. The world shifts for a moment however, and he feels his body slipping, he can’t tell if he’s being moved, but he feels the tugging at his wrist. The voice is yelling again, the music is louder, and Osamu can’t remember how, but somehow, someway, when he snaps from his daze, from that suffocating world of constant agony, he’s in a dimly lit room. 
Suna’s in front of him, his eyes are wide, and he has each hand on Osamu’s shaking shoulders. Atsumu is behind him, nervously biting his lip with his arms crossed against his chest in a worried manner. Kita is at the door with a glass of water, and other members of the team are hanging on at the door frame. All eyes were on him, and it made him feel even more constricted than before. 
“Make them go away,” He whispers, pulling his legs to his body, only now realizing the fetal position he had taken accustomed to on the floor. 
“Everyone out,” Suna says while standing up, pushing even his twin out the door, grumbles and groans following suit, a ‘hes my brother i should make sure he’s okay’ and a ‘he doesn’t need you to see him like this right now, it will only make him feel worse now get out’ before the room goes silent with only the bass from below shaking the floors and Suna’s shuffling from the door back over to him. 
“Are you okay,” He quietly asks, unsure of how he can help Osamu right now. 
Osamu doesn’t know how to respond, so instead he stays silent, he stays so quiet for so long he hopes that Suna will eventually get bored and take his leave. But Suna never does, he never moves from the squatted position in front of Osamu, he never takes his hand away from Osamus shoulder, he never stops the little circles he rubbing into the top of Osamu’s shoulder. 
It only hurts Osamu more, because it only makes him realize how much more in love with Suna he truly is. 
-:- 
“We did it.” Suna mumbles, kicking his feet against the wood chips surrounding the child's swing set him and Osamu had been sitting at. The sun had long since fallen, and the breeze picked up in their black graduation robes, the suits underneath the flimsy fabric enough to keep them warm. It had only been a few hours since they had been taking a plethora of pictures with family, walking across that damned stage and shaking hands with a principle they had only met enough to count on one hand alone. 
“I guess we did,” Osamu mumbles. He thinks back to only a week ago, back at the skatepark, the smoke, the atmosphere, the words that had left sunas lips that night. “Do you ever think about what's going to happen when we graduate?” 
Its only now Osamu truly understands what Suna was getting at. With one foot out the door they had their entire lives ahead of them now, bracing for impact for the true glories and misfortunes life had to offer them.
“I’m not gonna pursue Volleyball in college,” Osamu blurts, speaking softly as he watches the star twinkle in the sky. He had been thinking long and hard about this decision, fearing what the consequences may be of quitting a sport, he not only loved, but was good at. He can feel Suna’s head turn toward him. 
“Really?” 
Osamu stays quiet for a moment, “I love volleyball, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think I like it as much as ‘tsumu does, and it just doesn’t feel like my calling.” 
“What feels like your calling then?” Suna is quiet. 
“Not sure yet, but I do love food. Maybe I’ll travel, learn different food cuisines, or I’ll start my own shop, who knows where life will take me.” 
Suna goes quiet, his eyes trained down into his laps as each finger picks at the other, his chunky silver rings twirling and twisting with each fumble, “What if life won’t take you anywhere.” 
It was Osamu’s turn to snap his head in the direction of the brunette, curiosity laced in his emotions. Suna won’t look up at him, instead focusing still on his rings, playing with them gently, in particular the snake slithering up his middle finger, whose emerald eyes glare up at him.
“What do ya mean by that.” 
“What if...what if life doesn’t have anything planned for you, what if you're just there to take up space.” 
“Everyone is here fer a reason Suna. Everyone has a purpose, a cause, an effect. One day, yer gonna find yer life heading in directions ya love, and directions ya hate. But there’s always gonna to be a path waiting for ya, there’s always gonna to be somebody there too, to keep ya standing, to keep ya breathing,” Osamu was sure these were the wisest words to ever push past his lips. 
Sunas eyes bore into his now, they’re still on the swings, not even the gusts of wind can move them at this moment. Suna breathes out for a moment before taking off his snake ring, and gently opens up Osamu’s fingers before placing it in his hand. 
“The world is unforgiving, you’ll always be alone even when you’re surrounded by millions of people.” 
-:- 
It was exactly 2:46 am when Osamu had been disrupted from his sleep, pulled out of bed by the crying sounds of his phone, blaring out that ringtone he wished he could just smash at the wall. 
It was exactly 2:46 am when he heard Suna’s shaky heavy breath on the other line. 
It was exactly 2:47 am when he was running out the door, his shoes half on, his keys in one hand, his brother yelling from down the hall. 
It was 2:59 am by the time he had reached Suna’s front door, smashing through it at the speed of light. 
It was 3:00 Am by the time Osamu found him, mopped up by his own saliva, foam trickling from his mouth, his body convulsing in panic rages surrounded by pools of blood seeping from his wrists and pills sprawled across the floor. 
-:- 
Osamu hated hospitals. He hated the smell of antiseptics that flowed down each hall, and the way people walked in almost pure silence. He hated the way he would see people crumble on their knees the moment the doctor came out with that look on his face. He hated that hospitals go be the center of positivity and the bane of someone's worst nightmare at the same time. 
“How did we not know he wer’ gonna do something’ like this,” He hears from next to him, and with the lull of his head and the most deadpan expression Osamu mutters, “Shut up ‘tsumu.” 
And the silence overtakes them, and the entire waiting room is filled with people. So many people Osamu knew from school, and others from when he’d go over to Suna’s house after school. The hardest, perhaps in Osamus opinion, was Suna’s little sister. Her hair was in two separate braids, flicked up in different directions as her eyes were puffed out in an angry red color, glossed over by the tears that had long ago stopped falling. She hadn’t released her bottom lip from the grip her teeth had on it, her hands moving in her lap, similar to the way Suna’s had once fumbled. 
It chokes Osamu, suffocating him, but this time it's not because of the emotions he felt towards Suna. This time it was at the numbness that began to over encumber him leaving him void of any expression. 
-:- 
He couldn’t leave the chair at Suna’s beside when no one else was in the room, he always held his hand too then, even if the wires got in the way of him holding his brittle cold hands. The snake wrapped around his index finger now, curled up against the pale flesh Suna had silently offered to him. 
He was afraid he wasn’t going to wake up. Osamu knew this situation too well, he knew he would drown in this. It was his fault, wasn’t it. He should have picked up on the cues that night, he should have picked up on the cues the week before, or the months before that. He should have known when it started, instead, he was selfish. Instead he only focused on himself, on the feelings he tried to hide from the male next to him. If only he admitted his feelings, if only he had seen the bigger picture, maybe he would have seen Suna. 
Osamu hadn’t cried yet, though he had probably been the closest to Suna, he hadn’t let a tear slip yet, afraid that if he were too, then he would never stop. He brings Suna’s limp hand to his lips, leaving his lips to gently lay a kiss at the spot where Suna’s thumb and index finger were conjoined. 
“Come back to me Suna, I have something to tell you.” 
-:- 
He never missed a day, every single morning he embedded it into his routine to check in on Suna during the following months. He was always still breathing, but never awake. His heart always pumping, but his brain shut off. 
He just wanted Suna to wake up, to hold his hand instead of the other way around, he wanted Suna to know the truth, he wanted to hold him, and this time he would never let him slip. It was a promise Osamu always wanted to make to him. 
“I’ll be back later tonight, you’re mom asked me to drop some things off at your house for her, don’t wait up,” he tries to joke, but it doesn’t ease the feeling inside of him. He looks at the motionless body, his eyes were trained on his lips. Osamu had always wondered what they felt like, but he was sure between the stone cold air of the hospital and the lack of vanilla Chapstick Osamu always saw peeking out of Suna’s bag, that right now his lips would feel bitterly chapped.
It doesn’t stop him from leaning in, to place his own against Suna, just slightly away from his lip however, and onto the silky smooth skin that lie at Suna’s cheek. 
He’d kiss him for real when he woke up. 
-:-
“The key is under the mat, Osamu thank you so much for doing this, I just...I can’t go into his room right now, I haven’t been able to for months,” Suna’s mothers voice was strained, cutting in and out from the sobs she was trying her best to hold back. 
“It’s okay Mrs. Rintarou, I’m glad to help.” 
And the line goes dead as Osamu hangs up with a simple click to the red button as his hand slips under the welcome mat to find the spare key awaiting him. He pushes the key in and the stagnant air hits him like a brick as he steps through the doorway, discarding his shoes at the front entryway. He looks down the hall, his memories flashing back to that moment, as if it were all in slow motion, like it had been happening all over again. 
Osamu shakes his head as he slowly steps down the hall, making a left before the sealed off bathroom, and walking into the room he hoped he’d never have to step into again. If he thought the front door had been a pile of bricks, then his room had to be the cement burning him into the earth. 
“Dude shut up, it was one time.” Suna laughs, throwing pieces of the popcorn from the round bowl in his arms at Osamu. 
“Oh yeah, just once,” He mimics in a sarcastic tone, throwing the popcorn back at Suna. Suna rolls his eyes and goes back to scrolling aimlessly at his phone. Osamu was lying stomach down on the floor, and angled that if Suna looked over, he would absolutely see the younger miya twin staring up at him, but how could he not when the sun was glowing so effortlessly against the boys skin. 
He could trace every curve along Suna’s defined face in this lighting, burning this image of him into the back of his skull. 
Osamu blinks, reality setting in around him that he now stood in the room alone, the basket of clothes Suna had arrived at the hospital now lying in the plastic bag, taking up needless space inside of his hospital room.  He just needed to set it in the corner and leave, that was his only job, nothing more, nothing less. 
But Osamu’s eyes flicker too far to the right, and an envelope neatly placed in the center of Suna’s desk fills his vision. He knows what it is, that's obvious enough from the placement of the paper. When his legs wander to the table, he wishes he had just turned on his heel and left right then. But when his vision is evoked with the letting of Suna’s familiar scribble and his name adoring the empty space of the white canvas, Osamu loses his control to stay strong, and the first tear falls. The second when his hands unseal the back of the envelope, the third when he pulls the letter from the pouch, and the fourth when he reads 
Dear Osamu.
Its not your fault. 
And I love you too, even though I should have said it allowed. 
I love you so dearly.
I’ve lost my fight, but please don’t lose yours. 
Suna. 
He didn’t know when the showers from his eyes began as he collapsed down to the floor, holding the letter closely to his chest as he screams out. For the first time in months, he screams out the pain blocking him, the pain consuming him. 
He doesn’t even have the time to process this information, because that ringtone flares up again, just like it had done that night. 
“H-hello?” Osamu says as he picks up, unsure of the caller id, he couldn't care to look at this point. 
“He woke up Sumu. He’s awake.” 
And just like his legs carried him out of the house that night, he’s sprint full force to his car and sliding into the driver's seat, turning the key into the ignition and speeding down the road recklessly past the stop sign. 
He should have stopped. 
-:- 
“Where’s Osamu,” Suna croaks out, it's the first thing he’s said, the vision of Osamu bleakly pulling into his memory. 
“He’s on his way, he’ll be here any minute,” Suna’s mother says, with joyous tears in her eyes. 
-:- 
“Where’s Osamu.” 
“There was an accident.” 
-:- 
Suna was wrapped in the navy blue sweater Osamu had given to him, tightly secure in the knitted fabric as his white collar shirt peeked out from the bottom of it, contrasting against his dark jeans. His long legs were wrapped up to his chest, his head softly laying in between his knees. 
“It would have been easier if I couldn’t remember you,” he whispers, “You were like a drug you know. You were heaven to have, a high I’ll never get back now that you're gone.” 
He stares at the stone in the grass carefully watching the flowers he had set up hours ago sway with the wind, “We’d probably be smoking right now, except we’d be closer. Sometimes I imagine the way it would feel to have you laid across my lap.” 
Suna can feel the tears now, “I wish I never woke up, I wish I had gone that night, you’d still be here, and it should have gone the way it was supposed to.” 
He can almost hear his words in the back of his mind. Everyone has a purpose, a cause, an effect. He sniffles slightly as he brushes his finger past his nose with his sweater hanging past his fingers, “You would have told me otherwise...wouldn’t you Osamu.” 
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justinalovee · 3 years
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Now we live
Previous chapter
Chapter:03
“What are you doing?” Nova asked in a low voice.
She had woken to see a bloodied John Murphy in front of her, he was untying her. Nova noticed he had also brought ‘normal’ clothes, along with a knife.
“Soon as you get the chance to run go and don’t look back.”
The screaming woke her. Flickering her eyes open, they quickly adjusted to the brightly lit room for her to see nothing but white. At first Nova thought she had died, and this was the bright light people used to talk about. But she wasn’t dead, just trapped in hell. The screaming was her own.
The man in the hazmat suit was pulling the tube out of her arm, it was then she heard the drilling noise again. Nova wanted to beg for the pain to stop, but she was too proud. A grounder would never plead for their life.
“Thank you...” Nova couldn’t believe he was helping her escape. “Why are you letting me go? Won’t your people be mad?”
The sky boy didn’t answer her question. He had dried blood around his nose and mouth, but what Nova noticed most was the way his fists were shaking. Looking between his hands and his face, the grounder recognized the look on his face. Murphy had murder on his mind.
______
Nova’s body creaked and ached while she tried to get comfortable in the small cage they locked her in. The room was full of grounders from different clans being healed against their will in...whatever the place was.
“Psssst!”
Nova looked up to see the grounder in the cage above staring down at her. “Treyton?” She had seen his face before in her village. He couldn’t have been any older than sixteen.
“Cadeau has been going koken lufa au Yu, she mous don frag op those Tu fools when she learnd chit emo don dula gon You. She don bilaik convinced gon kom daun gon tondc gon huk op birth.” ‘Cadeau has been going crazy searching for you, she almost killed those two fools when she learned what they have done to you. She had to be convinced to return to Tondc to give birth.’ The young grounder informed her.
Cadeau..her pregnant sister shouldn’t be worried about her. Nova should be looking after her, instead of being trapped like an animal ready for slaughter. “Ha dula op Oso get au kom hir?” ‘How do we get out of here?’
Treyton shook his head. “Oso na't. Guards surround Disha place, emo na frag op Yu raun spot taim emo ai op Yu trana gon escape.” ‘We can't. Guards surround this place, they will kill you on the spot if they see you trying to escape.’
Nova grimaced when she felt drips of blood landing on her arm. They must have put the young grounder through hell for him to still be bleeding. “na fig au a edei gon get yumi au kom hir!” ‘I will find a way to get us out of here!’
The door to the room opened again as guards checked the cages to see who was still alive, and who had succumbed to their injuries. Three grounds had died. Nova tried not to scream or cry when a guard hit her with a stick that sent an electric shock through her body. At least she was still alive to feel the pain.
Running through the woods, Nova still hadn’t been able to shake who was following her. She didn’t think it was anyone that fell from the sky. They wouldn’t have been capable of sneaking around so quietly.
Nova let out a squeal when she tripped over a branch and landed on the ground with a thud. Men in strange suits with guns quickly surrounded her. As Nova tried to move an object struck her on the back of the head.
“Chit don dula Skaikru dula op gon Yu??” ‘What did the sky people do to you?’ Treyton asked once the guards left with a new victim.
“Eintheing, emo jos questioned Ai. Emo became i’ll kom gona virus. Ai didn’t get in anya don gaf gon infect emo.” ‘Nothing, they just questioned me. They became i’ll from the warrior virus. I didn’t know Anya wanted to infect them.’ Nova confessed.
Treyton shook his head. “Sha, she was meizen pissed gon chit happened gon lincoln. Skaikru tortured em.” ‘Yeah, she was pretty pissed at what happened to Lincoln. The sky people tortured him.’
Nova pressed her lips into a thin line. She could believe it, the one called Bellamy probably would have done worse than pull her hair if they were alone. He was full of anger and wanted some kind of revenge. “A gada called Okteivia don trana gon help. also boy dane en lamos kept honon helped Ai escape. He could yu don bash op Ai, ba choose gon help instead.” ‘A girl called Octavia tried to help...also the boy Dane and Lamos kept prisoner helped me escape. He could have hurt me, but choose to help instead.’
Treyton gave her an unconvinced look. “Skaikru can’t na trusted. Gon bilaik get in boy might yu don been handing Yu odon gon maun hef.” ‘The sky people can’t be trusted. For all you know the boy might have been handing you over to the mountain men.’
“Ai don’t fig raun krei. he was trana gon help Ai.” ‘I don’t think so...he was trying to help me.’ Nova stopped talking when a loud screaming noise echoed down the hallway. She looked up at Treyton who was visibly scared. “Oso na get through Disha.” ‘We will get through this.’
“Ai hope krei. It’s a shame Yu don’t yu don you’re bow en arrow nearby, na Yu tech Ai ha gon mana once Oso get au?” ‘I hope so. It’s a shame you don’t have your bow and arrow nearby, can you teach me how to aim once we get out?’ Treyton asked in a slight chuckle.
“i'll make Yu finest archer raun houd.” ‘I'll make you the greatest archer in the world.’
Next chapter
Notes:This wasn’t my favorite chapter to write, but I felt it was necessary for the story's progression.🥺
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kenobis-kyber · 3 years
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From the Stars
Here is the continuation of my first fanfic. It is a little shorter but you all should enjoy it! Again feedback, reblogs, and just general love would be greatly appreciated!
Rating: M for injury, angst, and smut in later chapters.
Chapter 2
A young woman in her early 20’s could be found in a rural part of the country. She was average built with some soft curves. She stood at about 5’6”.  Raven black hair and brown eyes enhanced the beauty of her pale skin. This woman was on her back porch relaxing in the swing, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, with a mug of tea. She admired the stars that shone so brightly out in this area, it had always comforted her. Breathing in the fresh air into her lungs and closing her eyes enjoying the stillness around her. The only sounds were the lightly snoring of her Chocolate Lab, Hershey. She stifled a giggle as he rolled over on his back and had his paws straight up in the air. The dog looked like someone had snuck up on him and tipped him over.
As she was bringing her tea to her lips, she was startled, almost spilling the hot liquid over her. Hershey had woken up suddenly and was staring intently at woods that ran behind her house. She put her mug down and kneeled next her dog and asked in a small voice.
“What is it boy?”
Her eyes scanning along the tree line not seeing anything her self. With a sigh she stood up and went inside to grab a lantern and her shot gun. After all a woman could never be too careful living this far out on her own.
“C’mon boy lets go investigate.”
The dog marched in front of her straight to the woods, stopping at times to sniff the ground. She clutched the lantern tight as they entered the woods. The woods during the day weren't that scary, but at night was a different story. Sniffing the ground, he kept walking forward until suddenly his head shot up and he bolted off deeper into the woods, leaving the young woman to her self.
“DAMMIT HERSHEY. GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!” She yelled while she sprinted off in the direction she saw him take of in. After a few minutes she heard him barking up a storm so she followed the sound. Arriving in a small clearing she saw him whining and pawing at something tan and white. As she walked closer she gasped as she realized it was a man. His auburn hair was cut short with the exception of a small ponytail in the back of his head, as well as a long braid behind his ear.
“Odd” she thought as she approached the man with caution. Her eyes widened as she realized how bad shape he was in. His tan and brown clothes were singed and torn, skin that was visible looked to be either burned or bloody. She kneeled cautiously and stretched out her fingers to his neck to check if he was even alive.
As soon as her fingers grazed his neck, she was startled by the man when he grabbed her wrist. His eyes shot open and she could see the fear in his ocean blue eyes.
“Qui-gon…..force…..light….” he said hoarsely before he passed out.
She inspected his face and realized he was in bad shape. A bad cut above his eye brow, and burned skin in patches all over. She stood up quickly and told her dog to stay put and watch him. Understanding he sat right in front of the man and guarded him. She sprinted to the house and went into her garage looking for something to help her. Knowing she couldn't carry him by herself, her eyes landed on a wheelbarrow. She threw lantern in and hoisted her gun over shoulder and took off toward the clearing. Arriving to the scene Hershey stood up and wagged his tail excitedly. She put down the wheel barrow and began the task of hoisting the mystery man into it.
“Right” she nodded and began to push it towards her house. Her thoughts raced through her heads. ‘Normal people wouldn't just take strange men to their house. But there is something about him. Besides I couldn't live with myself if I left him out there by himself.’  They approached the house and she slowly began to yank the wheel barrow up the stairs careful to not let it tip over. She wheeled him over to the sofa and dragged him on top of it.
She got a better look at him. He was young, maybe in his 20s with auburn eyebrows that matched his hair. Underneath all the damage so to speak she could see that he had smooth skin and plump lips. Shaking her thoughts she set around the house to gather the materials she would need to clean him up and provide some basic first aid. She came back and cleaned the wounds gently before producing a pair of scissors. With them in hand she slowly began cutting away the strange clothing he wore. After removing the top she cleaned the wounds and burns. She began to rub antibiotic in the areas and realized how great of shape he was in. Lean arms and firm chest with the same color hair as his head on his chest. She bandaged him carefully before she moved to other areas.
She worked her way down and removed his boots before cutting away at the severely damaged bottoms. His legs were also strong and lean she noticed while applying the same treatment to his bottom half. Satisfied with her work she went into her hallway to put her supplies away as well as find some coverings for him as well. She came back with a pillow, a blanket and t shirt that was way too big for her. Walking past her dog who sat watching the whole thing, she kneeled down leveled with the man. She pulled him up to put the shirt on him and to place a pillow behind his head. After she laid him back down she covered him gently as she could so as to not irritate his wounds.
He looked peaceful and she shook her head at the strangeness of it all. Bringing in a stranger, let alone a man was one of the craziest things she has ever done. She sighed and turned to head to her room.
Turning to her dog she called to him to follow her and turned off the light. Arriving in her room she changed for bed. She laid there for awhile just thinking of what transpired today. Something in her told her, that her life wouldn't be the same after this. Hearing the soft snores of her furry companion she yawned. Turning to her side and closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Taggging: @ayamenimthiriel, @blondekel77, @princessxkenobi
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jasontoddiefor · 4 years
Text
Title: death by any other name [1/6] Summary: While on a mission during his years as a Padawan, Obi-Wan escapes the tight hold of death transformed into something not quite human. In the years following, he isn’t always so lucky. Or: Five Times Obi-Wan Kenobi should have stayed dead and one time Anakin Skywalker nearly did. An: Happy birthday @bigdickobiwan! Here, take a cheesy Vampires but in space AU except I never use the term vampire.
Read on AO3
Obi-Wan’s entire apprenticeship was cursed by troubles and disasters. He stumbled from one war into another, every conflict tearing more at his soul, sending him into the healing halls far more often than his friends. He knew they eyed his situation warily, as did many Masters given his rocky start as Qui-Gon Jinn’s Padawan, but Obi-Wan didn’t feel like they had any right to interfere. They didn’t care enough to look after him when he was thirteen, angry, and hurting with nobody willing to take him on. Nothing had changed since then, except that despite his many failures, he seemed to have become worth something in their eyes. He wasn’t enough, not yet, but apparently he had more potential now that they hadn’t been able to spy before.
It only took a few near-death experiences.
Most Padawans didn’t engage in as many combat missions as Obi-Wan, but their Masters also didn’t have a penchant to favor aggressive negotiations. Or maybe they decided to listen to common sense as well as the Force and not just rely on the latter. Obi-Wan didn’t know, he was merely guessing and now it soon would be too late for him to ever learn.
He had lost too much blood, he could feel it. His life was slowly ebbing away. The pain had already disappeared completely and so had all sense in his fingertips. At least his death would be painless. He wasn’t drowning or suffocating or being tortured to death. His side had merely taken a terrible hit and he was bleeding out faster than his Master could come to save him.
He just hoped he wouldn't be causing Qui-Gon too much grief with his death. The man deserved at least one apprentice who didn’t screw up and he could see to their knighting. Obi-Wan was distinctly aware that he should be afraid of passing away like this, but all he could feel was regret.
All his missed opportunities seemed to play out in front of his inner eye, weeping. There were so many people he had wanted to talk to still, apologize and laugh with them one last time, but it wasn’t the will of the Force.
At least he had managed to get the princess out of the camp she had been held in and found them shelter. Qui-Gon would be able to find them and return her to her family, restoring the peace of the planet. The dark woods of this world weren’t a terrible grave either. Obi-Wan had been supposed to go to the AgriCorps, perhaps it was just right that he fell asleep amongst trees so old, they had seen the rise and fall of the Republic many hundred times.
“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan,” the princess cried.
“-alright,” Obi-Wan managed to reply, half his sentence swallowed by his breath.
He was so, so tired.
But the princess was going to be fine. Obi-Wan would die with honor, doing his duty as a Jedi. The poor girl would get to go home and hopefully leave all the memories of this kidnapping behind her. She didn’t look to be a day over eight, she might learn to forget this day yet. Her family hadn’t been particularly forthcoming on why she had been kidnapped, had only stated that she possessed a valuable gift and no negotiations would be happening until she was home again.
“I can- I can fix this,” she stuttered and wiped her tears off her cheeks. “I can make this right.”
She didn’t have to do anything. Obi-Wan had accepted his fate and he would become one with the Force and watch as the storms over Mon Calamar, the winds on Cato Neiomoida, and the deserts of Tatooine.
“You didn’t deserve this,” she said. “And they will all just stop fighting if I give it up. Stupid traditions. Just watch, Obi-Wan. I bestow upon you my gift of life.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t make out what she was doing, but next thing he felt was a sharp pain in his neck. It felt as if somebody had jagged two knives into it. The pain didn’t dull, it burned and slowly spread. It felt as if somebody had set him on fire. Then, just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, the princess pushed her hand into his mouth. Out of reflex, Obi-Wan bit down on it. He tasted something sweet that reminded him distinctly of the teas he drunk back in the temple.
For a moment there was silence.
Then he started to scream. The last thing he heard before unconsciousness claimed him was the princess’s unwavering voice. “You’re not dying on me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
The darkness lingered for long. It felt as if centuries passed all while Obi-Wan was just vaguely aware of his surroundings. When he did wake up, he felt even more exhausted than he had before he had passed out. Above him stood Qui-Gon Jinn, looking more torn than Obi-Wan had ever seen him. Obi-Wan tried to reach out to him with his mind, but their bond felt like it had been torn to shreds, was only now starting to connect again.
“Master?” he tried to say, but all that escaped him sounded more like “Mashe’?”
“Rest,” Qui-Gon said and Obi-Wan closed his eyes once more.
It continued like that for a while.
Obi-Wan woke up, feverish, confused or in pain, and his Master was sitting at his bedside, watching over him. When Obi-Wan finally woke up for good, the very same view greeted him once more. Qui-Gon was sitting in a chair, engrossed in a datapad. They were not on their mission anymore, but back in the temple. Obi-Wan could feel it in the Force, he was home, a place he had believed to be lost to him.
And once more he was back in the healing halls, though he didn’t recall them being so bright.
“Master?” Obi-Wan said, squinting through his eyes. “Can you turn off the light?”
Qui-Gon packed away his datapad carefully by throwing it on the table next to him.
“Obi-Wan!” He exclaimed. The worry in his voice honestly took Obi-Wan aback. He hadn’t expected his Master to care so much. “How do you feel?”
“Tired,” Obi-Wan replied honestly. “But if you tell me to go back to sleep one more time-“ Obi-Wan paused, fading memories echoing in his mind, “-or attempt to put me under with a Force-suggestion, I will protest.”
Qui-Gon smiled fondly at Obi-Wan, making him feel much more like a youngling than an adult. Obi-Wan wasn’t old by anyone’s standards except that of the children in the temple – and even that varied. There were many Jedi whose lifespans were much longer than Obi-Wan’s would be.
“I will not try so, Padawan.”
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said. “Lights?”
A dark expression flashed over Qui-Gon’s face, the like of which Obi-Wan had never seen before so that he even considered whether it wasn’t just a trick of the light. Qui-Gon stood up and disappeared out of his field of vision, soon after the lights dimmed to a more bearable level.
“What happened?” Obi-Wan asked when Qui-Gon sat down again. “Did we fulfill the mission?”
Qui-Gon hesitated. That was the first sign something was wrong.
He was a Master of the Living Force, always moving like the currents of a river, never still, never hasting beyond the passage of time. His strange behavior was starting to worry Obi-Wan.
“I found you and the princess and brought you back both back. She has been safely returned into the arms of her family and the negotiations picked up again, even if it was all under less favorable circumstances.”
That explained absolutely nothing. Jedi prided themselves on their eloquence, as much as they were allowed to be prideful. While they all jested about Master Yoda’s utter crypticness, they couldn’t deny that saying a lot and not much at all at the same time a necessary skill. Qui-Gon talked in riddles often enough, but never when it came to matters of such importance. Obi-Wan was not a foreign diplomat who needed to be appeased with Jedi wisdom, he was a Padawan who wanted to know whether his charge was alright.
“Was she harmed?”
Qui-Gon shook his head. “No, not as such. But your return did finally enlighten us on her family’s superior standing. The other Ancient Houses have been fighting about her gift and whom it should be used on, which was also the reason she had been kidnapped in the first place. They were displeased she used it on you.”
“I don’t recall,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I was very dazed and so sure I was going to die.”
“You did.”
Qui-Gon’s words weighed heavily in the room, seemingly dragging gravity down on Obi-Wan’s body, pressing the air out of his lungs.
“What?”
Obi-Wan tried to push against the force chaining him to his bed to sit up. He couldn’t hold such a conversation while lying down. Seeing his attempt, Qui-Gon quickly set to support Obi-Wan’s back, helping him up.
“But I’m not dead,” Obi-Wan said. He could feel his heartbeat, his thoughts was whirling and the Force kept humming at the back of his mind, a kind lullaby he didn’t know how to characterize.
“Not anymore, no, but trust me when I say that I felt our bond snap. It was a painful experience, Padawan. Worse than anything words could describe.”
Qui-Gon used the moment to gently tug and Obi-Wan’s messy braid. Nobody seemed to have cared for it while he was unconscious. Obi-Wan had always seen to ensuring that he looked presentable. His displeasure with its state must have shown as Qui-Gon smiled at him in amusement and something deeper Obi-Wan couldn’t decipher. It appeared to him to be relief.
“The princess,” Qui-Gon continued, “has the extraordinary ability to create one person who is like herself and she used it to save you. Her gift has been passed down in the Royal House for generations and they were quite eager to claim you as one of their own in the aftermath, but she stood up to them, saying that she didn’t give you a choice.”
All that was nice and everything, but it didn’t explain anything to Obi-Wan.
“Master, I still don’t understand. What did she do?”
“She gave you life,” Qui-Gon finally answered, the exhaustion of the past days catching up to him as well. “Eternal youth and protection against almost everything. It is not reversible. I’m sorry I could not prevent this fate.”
Eternal youth.
The words rang in Obi-Wan’s mind as if it were from a language he had never heard, couldn’t speak or write.
“But what does it mean?”
Obi-Wan hated being ignorant, being left out. This information was crucial and he just wanted to understand.
“I don’t know yet, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said. “But we will find out together. The Royal Family hasn’t been too forthcoming with their information before we returned to the temple, but I believe we can figure it out on our own. I already know you’re more sensitive to light.”
“I’m not sensitive,” Obi-Wan muttered. “It’s just bright in here.”
Qui-Gon leveled him with a dry look. “I have turned off the light entirely, Padawan, and you can still see as clear as day.”
Okay, maybe Qui-Gon had been right with his first assumption.
“I’ll have to learn how to adjust to these changes then,” Obi-Wan concluded.
The thought irked him. He had thought that he was finally making enough progress to start becoming more independent. He knew of his friends that their Masters had already begun considering them for Knighthood. Obi-Wan wasn’t jealous of them, he had been the first to tease Quinlan when the Kiffar Padawan had admitted what his Master had confessed, but his doubts had risen once more. He didn’t want to be left behind. Adjusting to whatever gift the princess had bestowed upon him would be another setback.
No, he couldn’t think like that. He had to take it as a challenge. Jedi didn’t focus on what blocked their way, they thought of solutions.
“When can I get out of the healing halls?”
“As soon as we’ve figured out what blood to feed to you.”
Obi-Wan stared at his Master with a deadpan expression, expecting him to be joking, but the man looked serious.
“Blood?”
“Blood?” Qui-Gon repeated. “It’s apparently one of your dietary requirements now.”
The world started to spin again and Obi-Wan dropped back into his bed. Maybe he should sleep some more before getting confronted with facts that made him nauseous.
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xyliane · 4 years
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AU-gust 2: college au
PROMPT THE SECOND: COLLEGE AU (one of these days I’m actually going to draft a story out of my own tales of undergrad into chaos, mayhem, and jumping out of windows cuz the class was boring. instead today, you get the aftereffects of being a TA and also seeing this post on twitter and jumping a few dozen steps to the right. hxh again, zushi pov)
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It’s 3am, Zushi has a paper due in the morning, and he is bouncing impatiently from foot to foot outside of the RA’s door in shorts and an old shirt that should have fallen apart months ago. It’s not fair, really. He could have had this done days ago, all he needs is the translation for some final key conclusions, but his partner on the Artomatic forums fell off the map, Professor Palm absolutely refuses to help, and Zushi still doesn’t read Greek in any form, let alone whatever form of it is going on in this tome he’d scavenged out of the dusty corners of the old art wing library.
Zushi’s an engineering major. He has a whole internship lined up after this, working with Wing and Dr. Krueger on practical applications of Da Vinci’s wing sketches. This art class is the last humanities section he ever needs to take. Why does he need ancient Greek just to understand a fresco made thousands of years ago depicting a bunch of naked people breaking vases--
He pounds on the RA’s door again, just as the flimsy wood creaks open. Killua, to no surprise, is still awake, white hair casually tousled and blue eyes a little red from whatever he’s using to stay conscious. He looks like any other time Zushi’s seen him, save for the chocorobo-print pajamas. He blinks a little, like he’s not used to looking up at someone taller than him. “Oh, hey Zushi. What’s up?”
Zushi all but launches the tome at Killua (and it is a tome, leather-bound and heavy as a whole weightlifting rack and smelling of dead dust). The RA catches it in his chest with an oomph fuck. “I heard you...” Killua raises an eyebrow, and Zushi swallows heavily. “I heard you can read ancient Greek?” he asks the chocorobos covering Killua’s knees.
When he doesn’t get an immediate response, Zushi knows he’s screwed. He’ll take the F on the term paper, the absolute mess it will do to his overall GPA, Wing will just look disappointed--
And Killua lets out a little chuckle. “Haven’t got that in awhile. You bring your phone?” At Zushi’s stare, he adds, a little sharper, “For the translation.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Killua sighs, and steps into his room as though expecting Zushi to follow. They’re friends, Zushi thinks, or at least friendly--Killua’s a good RA as far as making sure everyone’s forms are in on time and not enforcing the rules when he thinks they don’t make sense. But he’s never been in here before.
It looks like any other single, but with a private bath. Maybe a little neater than most, a teetering tower of textbooks threatening to consume most of the desk. Zushi doesn’t know what he expected.
Fortunately, Zushi has had the fresco’s page marked for ages now, so it’s easy to find and point out the troublesome scrawl. At the sight, Killua seems to brighten, some of the everpresent uni student exhaustion lifting as he traces a finger along the photocopied brushstrokes. He looks absolutely thrilled at whatever it is he’s found, words boxy and stark against the naturalistic forms.
Zushi coughs a little too loudly, and Killua’s head snaps up, white curls bouncing a little. He grins a little sheepishly. “Where did you find this?” he asks. “When I was--I know some people who would kill for a look at this.”
Killua’s previous major is a source of much debate amongst the freshmen--what gives someone fluency in at least three languages, a solid basis in at least calc 3, and way too many opinions about world leaders?--but Zushi doesn’t care right now. He just wants to get this done. “Can you read it?” he asks. “Please?”
Killua shrugs. “Sure, as long as I can borrow this when you’re done. Pronunciation first.”
And Killua begins to read. Zushi has no idea what he’s saying, but the words seem to flow musically, one into the other, until it’s hard to tell if Killua is reading or singing. When the phrases finish, they don’t so much end as echo, vibrating around the shabby college dorm as though aching to sink in and create a place worthy of their sound.
Zushi doesn’t realize he’s stopped breathing until Killua takes a deep breath himself. He’s pale, paler than usual, and his hands are white-knuckled around the edges of the pages. “Well. That was...” He glances up, seeming to remember Zushi is there, and rolls out his shoulders. “Now, to translate--”
And the ground erupts in light.
When Zushi’s eyes clear, it’s still nighttime, but he’s laying on well-used cobblestone, and an infinite array of stars stretches out in front of his eyes. He doesn’t remember laying down. He doesn’t remember the outside. And he certainly doesn’t remember such colorful statues towering overhead, not unless you count Captain Biggs’s much-defaced figure outside of the gym.
A brown-skinned young man with wind-swept black hair stares at him, brown eyes dancing as he yells something across the stone--a plaza maybe? a courtyard?
By the time the young man’s helped Zushi sit up and offered a small sip of what tastes like wine, Killua’s back, now dressed in something out of a toga party with a smile practically splitting his face, wider and wilder than Zushi has ever seen. “Cool, you made it. Did you know you found one of the last remaining active frescoes? Because I didn’t, and if I had I wouldn’t have read it out loud.”
Zushi shakes his head. “I don’t read Greek,” he says.
Killua says, “You’d better get good quick. We’re in Athens until our friend here--” The young man says something, voice a question even if his expression is still laughing, and Killua shakes his head. “--Gon, can help us find the original.”
“The original...”
Killua kicks him gently with a bare foot. “You’re an engineering major. You’re not that stupid.”
Zushi can all but feel the wheels creaking in his head, splitting away from logic and reforming into some new, illogical, impossible set of gears. “Th-that’s not--we’re in Greece???”
“Circa 4th or 5th century BCE, if I’m getting my dates right,” Killua agrees cheerfully. He holds out a hand and tugs Gon to his feet, their grip and Killua’s eyes lingering just a little too long before offering the same to Zushi.
Zushi takes a few deep breaths, then one more for good measure. He can deal with this. He’s shit at language, but this is a problem, and there will be a solution, and he will find it before he has to turn in that miserable paper.
“Okay,” he says, and lets Killua help him up. “Okay. And your new boyfriend will get me clothes, too?”
Killua’s grin turns smug in a way that Zushi really, really does not want to know. “When in Rome, right?”
“We’re in ancient Greece!” Zushi squawks.
(AUgust prompts)
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delicrieux · 4 years
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Can we get some uhhhh Mutual Pining and Cuddling for Warmth with one of the marauders?
to this request i silently whispered “yes....”
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Remus Lupin knew you would never engage him in conversation, or offer to have breakfast together, or help with homework, or any of the sort. To him you were a mirage, pretty, but far away. And perhaps he had, on moments of dullness or dissociation, dreamed what you were like: to talk to, to joke to, to... Well, admitting it would tarnish him. He is terribly shy, but more than that, terribly lacks self-confidence due to the beast locked inside his body until the next full moon. He’s absolutely riddled with fear at the mere prospect of hurting anyone, of even the chance that it might happen. And so he keeps people away, pushes them out, and even when involved in conversation with James or Sirius or Peter he is always, in his own way, reserved and distant. He knows they love him for who he is. The problem is that he despises himself with such unfiltered disgust that it is hard to remind himself that it is only his tormented thoughts that paint him as a monster; that no one besides himself sees him in that light.
Alas, he could never allow himself to indulge with you, the risk of rejection and self-sabotage is too great. Therefore you live inside his daydreams, safe from harm, from him, oblivious to his feelings or how sometimes he sneaks glances at you in class.
But if he only knew what sort of things rummage inside that head of yours, what sort of butterflies erupt in your chest when he walks into your line of vision. He is always so swift, yet strangely refined, tense, in control, though his face never once warped into a frown in your presence - it had always stayed deliberately neutral or soft. And your friends, quick to notice as they were notoriously perceptive, teased you about this crush often. It was a ridiculous one, that you knew. You didn’t even know him personally! Had never even uttered “Hello!”. But you almost knew what he was like, just from observing him. Almost knew how the conversation would go, if you ever approached him, or vice versa. Imagined scenarios in double digits on how you’d meet him, prepared for each one just in case.
Nothing happened, of course. He lived inside your daydream with you.
No amount of myths, legends, daydreams, or imagination could have prepared the both of you for the actual way you’d meet. Fate is funny like that - nothing ever happens the way one plans it.
It’s the 7th of December and a storm is brewing, wind howling in your ears. Hogsmeade was frozen over since last Sunday, though the townies swore the weather had been lovely: setting sun, cloudless sky, crisp air, dancing ice sculptures, piles of puffy snow that decorated the small houses like icing. And it had been a wonderful afternoon, one full of gossip, butterbeer, Christmas shopping. That was, of course, till the first gust of wind nearly knocked you off of your feet. All changed from there: the sky darkened with clouds, snowflakes raged, it was suddenly freezing and ice started to collect on the windows, on the loose strands coming out your hat. Everything was white and hazy and you couldn’t hear a thing; separated from your friends and from the rest of the world you quickly searched for shelter. Fear picked at your throat and your nerves were the only thing keeping you alert and from hypothermia. After what felt like eternity you spotted a building, a house, a something and ran to it, nearly tripping over your own two feet before yanking the door open and the wind shut it behind you.
You breathe slow, steady, standing eerily still by the entrance. You only now realise where you are; you recognise the old stairwell, the dust, the rotting wood, the creaks that sound like wails from ghosts, all collected from stories your friends had shared about the most haunted place in Hogsmeade. The Shrieking Shack. It is absolutely silent, however, besides the moans and howls of the wind blowing past barged up windows. Snow is already covering the floor with a thin layer. You release a breath you had been holding and it comes out your lips in white smoke. Your clothes are damp and you start to shiver. Groping for you wand you—
A loud thud echoes from upstairs, then something that closely resembles a hiss. You freeze. Then spring into action, only to realise that your only means of getting dry, of casting spells, of protecting yourself is not with you. It must’ve fallen out, you realise in horror, it must’ve happened when I ran. Your teeth begin to clatter, fingers stinging, numb. It might be a bird, or a cat, or a raccoon, or anything but a ghost, you reassure yourself. And really, if it is a ghost you’ll join it soon if you loiter by the door instead of looking for something warm. Snow crunches under your feet as you move to the stairs, making your way up. The second floor is brighter than the first, yet it rocks from side to side gently, as if on a boat, and for a moment you feel light headed. Rooms with no doors greet you from all sides. No sign of ghosts, though. You pick at random and—
You physically jump when you see him, a strangled noise of surprise escaping your lips, eyes wide in terror. Remus Lupin, of all people, sits on a ragged bed, pale and sickly, scars and bruises covering his face, his clothes ripped and tattered. Around him is a mess: wild claw marks on the floor, broken furniture, shredded paintings and wallpaper... He glances up, startled, brinks a few times, rubs his eyes as if not believing them.
“A-Are you okay?” You ask, rasp, almost voiceless. He gives a nod. You frown, “You s-sure?”
He clears his throat, “Got caught in the storm.” He says hoarsely, looking away from you, “Ungracefully landed here, and, well... ripped my clothes on some nails.” He finishes, rubbing the back of his neck.
“A-And your f-fac-e.” You add with a shaky smile. He releases a humourless laugh.
“Yea, that too.”
He finally turns to you and a bit of warmth rushes back into your body, though not enough to feel your fingers, or your toes. He gives you a shy smile and glances you over, the smile diminishing into worry as he stands up and yanks the sheets off of the bed, sending a flurry of dust your way, “You must be freezing.” He says, offering it to you.
“Aren’t y-you?” You question. He shrugs.
“I...am...sort of. Not nearly as bad as you, though.” He insists, and you relent, if a little. “Where’s your wand?” He asks once you wrap the fabric around yourself - it does little but reek of mold. With your head you vaguely motion to the windows.
“Lost. Yours-s?”
“Uhh-yea, mine too.” He utters, another hiss that sounds a lot like a swear falling from his lips. You relax, almost laugh - it was him you heard, of course it was.
“S-so no fire, then.” You attempt to lighten the mood, but all he does is nod solemnly and you realise it was for naught.
“You’ll catch a cold.” He states the obvious, but in a way that sounds gentle, concerned, though as if he knows it is inevitable. “Damn, if only I...” He gives you another once over, “Uhm, well, I, uhm-I’m Remus, by the way. Remus Lupin.”
It takes you a second to register his name, suddenly feeling giddy - you, of course, already knew it. It also dawns onto you that you might already have a fever. With a crooked smile you introduce yourself and he nods, pleased. Then, he starts again, “Well, I have this— I don’t... please don’t take it the wrong way or anything like that, I just don’t want you to fall sick or-or worse, so, I, well-“ He does a motion with his hands, as if they would somehow convey his point, “you should- not that you need just, uhm- should, should take off your jacket, and hat, and scarf, everything that’s soaked.” He turns his gaze away, suddenly more interested in the marks on the floor, “They’ll keep you from getting warm.” He adds, quieter.
You feel slow. As if he’s moving, talking, changing courses and topics too quick for you to follow. Chills wash your body in cold sweat like waves, and you nod after a moment of consideration.
“Y-you’re nifty.” You say, shrugging off the sheets and they ungracefully fall to the floor. He quickly picks them up and smiles, happy that you’d taken his advice, “You’ll... hav-e t’help me, t-though.” You stutter; your limbs feel numb and heavy.
“Oh!” Heat rushes to his cheeks and he throws the sheets onto the bed and approaches you, “Of course, I, just...” He trails off, not exactly certain on what he wanted to say. You slowly pluck your hat from your head and drop it on the floor, then move to the scarf and unwrap it. The cold air bites your neck and you suck in a breath. “Here.” He mutters, helping you take it off, his hand brushing yours. Your eyes widen. His touch feels like fire.
“Y-You’re r-really warm, y-you know t-that?” You question, watching him work on your coat. He gulps.
“Uh-Yea, runs in the family.”
“A-Are you related t’dra-g-gons or something?” You ask.
He looks at you, locks your gaze, and your heart skips a beat. His lips melt into a smile.
“Something like that.” He admits and takes off your coat, folding it neatly. Left without an outer layer, the cold attacks your body fiercely, and you stagger to the bed, as quickly as you can, and curl into a little ball, wrapped up in blankets.
When Remus is done collecting your things, he places them neatly on a table that has the least damage done to it - only a chewed up leg. He joins you, sits down next to you, and immediately his presence radiates heat like a furnace.
“I-I wish I h-had your genes.” You say, trembling. Something painful crosses his features, but what you can’t place. He doesn’t say anything, just lifts his arm up as if to touch you, but then hesitates. Your gazes meet again and he awaits for permission, and you, with a small, broken voice, only manage to murmur “Please”.
He pushes you close to his body under the blankets and sheets and you shiver in delight. You press closer to him, if possible, as if trying to absorb all the warmth you can. It feels better, instantly, and calmer, and you can smell the remnants of his earthy cologne and blood and sweat.
“You’re like a popsicle.” He mutters into your hair.
“S-Sorry if you catch hypothermia because of me.” You say sleepily.
“I’ll be fine, you need to worry about yourself now.” He urges gently, “And... try not to fall asleep, no matter how much you want to, okay?”
“Okay. When do you think the storm will end?”
“Soon, hopefully. You need to see Madam Pomfrey.”
“She’ll probably scold me.”
He breathes out a laugh, “I have yet to meet a student she hasn’t scolded.”
“Even you?”
He pauses. Then, “Especially me.”
If you were in the right state of mind you would have asked why, but it matters little at the moment. All you can focus on is how close he is and how safe he is and how warm he is. The prospect of leaving to see Madam Pomfrey did not seem appealing at all.
thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed & feedback is always welcomed 🖤
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disneydreamlights · 3 years
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Across the Stars: Epilogue
AO3 | FFN
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]
Summary: Tensions between the Separatists and the Republic are climbing as the Senate debates whether there is need for an army. Anakin Skywalker, Senator of Tatooine, has recently returned to Coruscant to speak against its formation, resulting in an assassination attempt that forces him to reunite with long time friends Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and the newly knighted Padme Naberrie for his own protection. [Anidala]
A/N: Thank you to everybody who read this thus far. As I’ve mentioned on AO3 and ffn I do have plans to continue the roleswap into TCW, ROTS, and some of the stuff prior to AOTC at a future date. (Which has probably been clear by my NaNo given it’s ROTS roleswap.) If you have any requests for TCW arcs to touch on just let me know!
"Padmé, a word, please?" Padmé looked up, still fairly exhausted from the past few days, but slightly more functional than she had been as the pain from the attachment of her new arm was starting to ease, and so she had been weaned off of the painkillers and was finally working in more of a capacity than 'drug induced haze'. She wasn't surprised to see Obi-Wan in the medical rooms, he and Anakin had by far been her most frequent visitors on the rare times she was actually awake.
"Obi-Wan." Padmé pushed herself up off the bed, definitely trying to at least seem more alert than she actually was. "Am I in trouble?"
Obi-Wan chuckled. "Nothing of the sort, my dear Padawan." He sat down on the foot of her bed, but Padmé frowned. If she wasn't in trouble. "I wanted to talk to you about your mission to Tatooine."
"With Senator Skywalker?" She slurred, looking at him in confusion. "What about it?"
Obi-Wan hesitated, as though unsure whether he should bring it up at all. "Did something happen during it? Involving you and a certain young Senator?"
Padmé blinked, her brain still under the effects of the painkillers unsure of what she was hearing, or perhaps it was just her hoping that Obi-Wan hadn't picked up on what had transpired between her and Anakin. "What?"
"Padmé, we all know that Anakin has feelings for you." The honesty behind Obi-Wan's answer, caught her off guard. He wanted to know about her possible not even defined yet relationship with Anakin? "He has never made it much of a secret. Normally I'd presume the feelings are one sided, but I know you and him have always been...close. And the way he's acted during his visits, and even on Geonosis, aren't of a platonic nature." Padmé racked her brain, trying to remember through the drug addled haze of the past few days.
She knew Anakin had tinkered with her arm some, making it more responsive, but that couldn't have been what was cluing in Obi-Wan. They hadn't been significantly more physically affectionate than Padmé had been with any others who had visited. He'd grabbed her hand a few times, but there wasn't anything overly…
Right, he'd outright kissed her forehead, she'd nearly forgotten about that visit. Yeah, she wasn't going to be able to just lie her way out of this one, was she? "...they're not." She finally acknowledged. "Anakin is in love with me, and somewhere along the way I fell for him too."
Obi-Wan fell silent, his hand resting on his chin. "I see. I had a feeling something like this was coming. And I'm assuming he knows?"
She nodded. "On Geonosis...before we were going into the arena."
Obi-Wan sighed, and she prepared herself for the incoming lecture on attachments she knew was coming. "This can't go any further than it already has."
"I know."
Obi-Wan frowned, looking at the obviously guilty Padmé. "When you're fully recovered, you'll need to tell Anakin that the two of you cannot be together." For a moment, Obi-Wan gained a wistful look on his face, perhaps thinking back to another time. "You do not have to deny your feelings for him, my Padawan, but allowing them to continue to develop unchecked is against the code."
In that moment, she felt like a wayward apprentice rather than a freshly knighted Jedi, being scolded for breaking the rules she already knew. "We'll be too busy to try anything anyways right now." She responded after a moment. "We're going to have to become leaders in the war, and Anakin…" He was a senator. His goal was going to be stopping the war as quickly as he could. "I know he won't be free either. A relationship between the two of us would be destined for failure. I'll...I'll talk to Anakin about it when I'm finished recovering."
Obi-Wan smiled at her answer, and Padmé felt her stomach churn with the guilt that she had to lie. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, Padmé."
"I know." And she did. Obi-Wan was her mentor, her best friend. He'd chosen her over Anakin, ignoring Qui-Gon's final wish ten years ago, and even now he cared for her happiness so much. He was telling her exactly what she knew all along, that eventually, she would have to make a choice.
Except a small, selfish voice in her head whispered that she didn't.
-x-
A little over a week later, Padmé was released from the Halls of Healing with an all clear on her ability to use her new arm in and out of combat and the rest of her wounds having been fully healed. It was weird, having a metal prosthetic now. It functioned like a real arm, touched like a real arm, and yet…
Before she could continue contemplating it, Anakin put his hand on her new one, startling her and pulling her attention away. "So, you're finally all better, General Naberrie."
"Please don't call me that." It was bad enough that once she was shipped out she'd have to hear the clones call her it near constantly. Hearing it from her friend (boyfriend? Lover? What were they?) just made her feel worse. A reminder of the war she'd had a hand in starting, that they were all trapped in now.
A mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes, and he smiled. "In that case, maybe I could suggest a new name to go with the title." She tilted her head, waiting for a response that he was only too happy to oblige. "General Skywalker."
"Are you hoping to get in on the war effort too, Ani?" She treated her question like it was a joke, but that didn't stop her heart from pounding as she realized exactly what he was implying, what he'd asked her with that statement.
"Me? No, my job is in the Senate, but my wife's job will be leading Clone Troopers in the Grand Army of the Republic." His confident smile became more nervous, as he looked up at Padmé with pleading eyes, betraying everything he wanted, everything he hoped for. "That is, if she'll have me."
"Anakin…" He waited for a moment, forever patient and understanding and willing to follow her lead for whatever they wanted. "You don't think it's too soon?"
Anakin simply smiled. "In the ten years since we've met, there's been nobody I've met who could even compare to you. If I could do it all over again, I would propose to you sooner."
Padmé closed her eyes, trying to remember Obi-Wan's warning. She'd lied to him about telling Anakin to break off what they had, but she'd figured she'd have had more time before having to make her decision fully between the Jedi Order and Anakin. "What about the war? I have to help lead Republic forces, I'm needed on the front lines, just like you're needed here. I can't leave the Jedi."
"So don't." It was as though Anakin had given the traitorous thoughts in her head a voice to finally speak with. "Stay with the Jedi until the war is over, and I'll be the husband waiting for you to come home, and doing what I can to make that war end faster." His eyes met hers, and she felt the same intense connection between them as she'd felt when they'd first reunited. Had that really only been a few weeks ago? "Please."
She kissed him as an answer they both knew to be yes.
-x-
The wedding itself had been beautiful, and the night afterwards held promises for both the week she would still be in Tatooine, and for the rest of her life so long as she remained with Anakin. Those thoughts were for later, however, as right now she was simply content to enjoy the feeling of her husband's arms around her, and the comfort he brought.
Husband. It still hadn't really sunken in yet that she and Anakin were now married to each other. That he would forever be hers and she would forever be his. And yet despite having only acknowledged their feelings for each other a few days ago, everything around her screamed that this was right. That it was where she was supposed to be, content, happy, and warm right in his arms. As she began to fall asleep, she heard Anakin speak. "I want you to take Artoo."
"Hmm?" She opened her eyes, and found herself looking right into Anakin's.
"I want you to take Artoo," he repeated. "He knows all of my tricks, and while I can't always be there to help you, he can. He's also an Astromech, and you'll have a lot more need for one in battles than I will."
Padmé nodded, surprised at the offer, but appreciative nonetheless. "Thank you, Ani." If he was giving her a droid as a wedding gift, surely she had something she could…
She wiggled out of his arms, Anakin giving her a look of confusion as she went over to her robes. "What are you looking for?"
She reached out into her pocket and pulled out the Kyber Crystal. There were already plans for her to go to Ilum to get a new crystal. The Jedi had all assumed with her lightsaber gone, the crystal too had been destroyed. "If you're giving me Artoo, I want you to have this."
"The crystal you grabbed on Geonosis?"
"It's a Kyber Crystal...the one that powered my old lightsaber." She smiled, and placed the small blue crystal in his hand. "Obi-Wan and I are going to get a new one before I go out into the field, so I figured if I'm not using my old one…"
"It's perfect." He smiled. "That way, I'll always have a piece of you with me." And she knew right away that Anakin meant it. That he would treasure the small crystal forever, just as she did the tiny piece of carved wood a little slave boy had given her all those years ago. He put the small crystal on the nightstand by the bed, and it wasn't long before they had returned to their prior position in each other's arms.
The world outside would be ready for battle, a battle in a week they would be rejoining as Senator and Jedi, but for now the outside world didn't matter. It was just the two of them.
"I love you, Ani."
"I love you too."
-x-
In the bowels of the Senate building, deep underneath Coruscant, Count Dooku arrived in his ship, undetected by the remainder of the Coruscant. He had a mission, and it would be unwise to let his master down. "The Force is with us, Master Sidious."
The hooded figure smiled, Sidious, smiled. "Welcome home, Darth Tyrannus. You have done well."
"I have good news for you, my lord. The war has begun." Everything had gone exactly as Sidious had predicted. Dooku handed him the file he had collected from the Geonosians, and Sidious uploaded them into the system.
Sidious smiled as he looked at the plans within the database. "Excellent. Everything is going as planned."
In the Jedi Council chamber deep within the temple, Yoda, Mace Windu, and the newly elected Obi-Wan Kenobi stood together, troubled as Obi-Wan finished giving his report to the other two council members. "Do you really believe what Dooku said, about Sidious controlling the senate?" It was hard for Obi-Wan to wrap his head around, at least. "It doesn't feel right."
Yoda frowned. "Joined the dark side Dooku has. Lies, deceit...creating mistrust are his ways now." Obi-Wan could only imagine what the Grandmaster of the council was going through, right now. Yoda was Dooku's master, after all, and if Padmé fell to the dark side, he wasn't sure he would be able to face it either.
"Nevertheless, I feel we should keep a closer eye on the Senate," Mace said. He was right. If Dooku was lying, no harm was done. If he wasn't, then keeping one eye on the Senate might be the only thing that could stop them from meeting an early end.
"I agree." Yoda nodded, and the matter was settled. If Padmé hadn't yet broken Anakin's heart, perhaps the Senator would be willing to help them in this matter, but that was a matter for another day, another time, when she wasn't escorting Anakin back to his home.
"I must admit, without the clones, it would not have been an easy victory." Obi-Wan looked to his fellow masters to thank them for the help they provided, but before he could say more, Yoda spoke.
"Victory? Victory, you say? Master Obi-Wan, not victory. The shroud of the dark side has fallen."
"Begun the Clone War has."
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