#but this time at the cost of his life and memories. Specifically everyone's memories of him- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

s-brant · 6 months

Text

Anything

Now that the council has been made aware of rumors regarding Anakin and his apprentice’s relationship, they’re put under the microscope of a careful investigation and must avoid rousing suspicion at any cost (or part three to teacher’s pet)

9k (18+)

Warnings: smut, p in v, somnophilia, dub-con due to the circumstance but they’re both very into it, choking, dom anakin, inappropriate relationships, unhealthy attachment issues, and strong language.

The ceremony itself was a quick, intimate affair.

How they pulled it off, neither of them knows, but they set their sights on a planet far away. Where nobody knew them personally or could know they were Jedi without their lightsabers visible. It wasn't a wedding most would've been satisfied with, but they were. It didn't matter that everyone they cared for couldn't know about it, nor did it matter to her that they couldn't exchange rings. What mattered was the fact that it was happening.

Dantooine ended up being the best option for them. On Naboo, he could be recognized by those who met him years ago when he was ordered to guard Padme's life, Coruscant was out of the realm of possibility for obvious reasons, and as easy as it would've been for them to go undetected in Tatooine, Anakin made it clear he had no fondness for his home planet and suggested Dantooine instead.

Using clothes they had from a mission in which they had to pretend not to be Jedi a year or so ago, they concealed their identities and traveled as quickly as they could. And though she tried to refuse given the fact that they didn't have credits of their own, a lovely older woman working for the man who married them insisted Y/N wear the wedding gown that was passed through her family for generations. In the short time they spent with these people, they learned that her daughter passed away long ago, and though the old woman had no living children, she hung onto the dress since it was the one she wore at her wedding.

When asked about their lives, it was surprising how quickly the lies spilled out of them. It was mostly her speaking while Anakin stood beside her, delighting in the way he could touch her and stand near to her without having to fear being caught there. She spun a tale of forbidden love, of her father promising her to another man and her running off with Anakin for the sake of true love, so it wasn't too far from the truth.

"Are you listening?"

The sound of Anakin's voice snaps her out of her memory-induced daze.

They are tucked away in a corner of the library where no one can see or hear them, leaning against the shelves and standing face to face. He asked her to meet him here before he was needed in an emergency council meeting that Obi-Wan warned him of ahead of time. It was supposed to be a surprise. It was supposed to catch Anakin off guard, but his old master couldn't help himself. There would always be a part of him that looked out for Anakin the way an older brother would. The reason for the meeting, he said, had to do with a troubling slew of rumors regarding him and his padawan.

"I'm sorry, I"—she shakes her head as though it'll do anything to clear her thoughts—"I don't understand. Rumors?"

Anakin's eyes move to look past her shoulder, scanning the room both manually and with the Force to ensure nobody has approached the area before focusing back on her. He steps in closer and says what comes next quietly.

"Obi-Wan didn't tell me what the rumors were specifically, but his meaning was clear. Someone knows about it...about us."

Much like it does whenever Anakin takes her out flying with him at the helm of the ship, her stomach drops at this. Before she can even think of what to say, she's already shaking her head in disbelief.

She mutters, "That can't be true. Nobody has even suspected us, let alone caught us."

He has to fight the urge to reach out to comfort her. His hand flexes at his side as he forces himself not to cup her face in it the way he knows soothes her when they're alone together. It's too risky, especially now after Obi-Wan's warning. All he can do is meet her gaze and offer her a phantom touch through the Force. She feels the presence of an invisible hand brushing her cheek and breathes more evenly in response to it.

"You're right, nobody has caught us. We've made sure of that. But someone does suspect us. I don't know how or why, but they do, and with a claim like that, the council has to take it seriously regardless of where it came from or a lack of evidence," Anakin explains. His expression hardens the more he continues to talk about it. "This is a very big deal, Y/N. If they discover the truth—"

She is quick to interrupt him.

"They won't."

There's a long pause after this, and she takes it as her chance to breech the distance between them.

The feeling of the soft pads of her fingertips touching his arm makes him take a step back at first in retreat, but she doesn't allow him to stray far. With one last look over her shoulder, she moves in close to him and throws her arms around his broad shoulders in an embrace. A kiss would be too daring, but a hug doesn't necessarily prove anything. They've hugged before, albeit after near death experiences during the war, so it could be overlooked again. It isn't the smartest move, but it's necessary. Because as soon as their bodies meet, he lets out a heavy sigh.

As relieving as it is, she's quick to pull away after a moment has passed. Her arms remain locked around his shoulders to keep him close, and the arms wrapped around her waist squeeze tighter as though she'll disappear the second he loosens his hold on her.

Those pretty eyes, a more vibrant blue than the oceans on Scarif, darken the longer he looks down at her.

"I meant what I said before," he says softly, calmly. "Nothing will take you from me."

She remembers that day so clearly. He said it with such conviction despite it only being their second time indulging in intimacy together, and she knew he meant it. It was clear in the way he looked at her as he said it, but it's different now. Now, the implication behind it is laced with something predatory and possessive, not a soft-spoken promise in the aftermath of tender lovemaking but rather a threat and promise tied together with a steely-eyed stare.

Her fingertips play with the sandy brown curls at the back of his neck as she nods and murmurs, "I know."

Y/N isn't sure why she hadn't anticipated her presence being requested in the council meeting regarding the rumors of her and Anakin's relationship. Now that she sits in front of all the Jedi masters who make up the council, she can't believe she'd been naive enough to think they would only question her master on the subject and leave her be.

They left the library five minutes apart. First, it was Anakin who left and walked out with a book to make his sudden appearance in the area make sense, then it was her. She counted out the seconds until she was safe to leave. They typically didn't need to take such precautions to avoid rousing suspicion. They had the perfect excuse to spend time together, after all, with him being her master and she his padawan. But now that the nature of their relationship has been put loudly to question, they were better off being safe.

The sun is setting in the distance through the windows of the room, casting everyone in a warm, orange-red light, and she chooses to focus on the beauty of that sunset rather than the nerves that tie her stomach into knots. They've hardly begun, but what has been said is already damning in and of itself.

"This is ridiculous," Anakin says with a straight face, although he is unable to keep the annoyance from shining through in his tone. "Ask everyone we've worked with and they'll tell you that Y/N and I have always maintained a professional working relationship. I care about her as my apprentice the same way Obi-Wan cared for me as his."

Obi-Wan's eyes flutter shut, and a deep sigh escapes from him as he leans back in his chair before opening them again. When they open, it's Anakin they're looking at.

"You forget your place in this meeting. Allow Master Windu to finish speaking, young one."

The inherent condescension present in the choice of words makes Anakin's chest muscles tighten up involuntarily. There are few things that make him as angry as being treated like a child despite being a Jedi Knight with an apprentice and missions of his own. But, he knew deep down, that would always be how Obi-Wan saw him, and he resents him for it underneath it all. In a way, he would always be the reckless and tempestuous boy they discovered on Tatooine all those years ago.

Hidden behind the overflowing fabric of his robes, his hand clenches into a fist with enough force that his fingernails nearly break the skin of his palm.

He has no choice but to keep quiet.

Master Windu watches the interaction carefully, as do the rest of the council, and waits for him to break. He waits for there to be a crack in the facade, for him to look over at her and reveal it all, but he doesn't break.

"As I was saying," he starts, shifting a bit in his seat to look at where she's sat across the room from Anakin, "we got an anonymous report yesterday, but, to be candid, these rumors did not start yesterday. They've existed for a few weeks now, but none of us would've insulted either of you by entertaining them. Not until now."

Her throat is dry, a lump forming at the very back of it, when she asks, "What exactly were we accused of?"

The way she says it is soft and calm, as she always forces herself to be in the presence of her superiors, but Anakin knows her. He can sense the rage bubbling beneath the surface of her skin that begs to be let out, and he's sure the others can too, but they won't mistake it for anything other than anger at whoever accused them. Still, she is told by Master Yoda to calm herself down before they proceed, so she tries her best.

A second passes, then Obi-Wan says as tactfully as possible, "Allegedly, the person who reported this witnessed inappropriate behavior between the two of you outside of the temple recently. At night. We have footage to prove you were, in fact, where they said you were, but none to prove this accusation of inappropriate behavior."

The news settles like a heavy weight in her gut, dragging her down and down until she has no hope of climbing out of this hole they've dug themselves in. They were always careful when they left the temple. Anakin had a keen awareness of where the surveillance cameras were as well as their blind spots, so she knows straight away that the footage they have is nothing more than them walking beside one another.

As if on cue, the footage is projected in the middle of the room.

"None of us are saying we believe these accusations without proof, but the existence of them is concerning nonetheless," Windu says. "Why did you allow your padawan outside of the Temple so late?"

Anakin stammers a little at first, the only sign of his true feelings thus far, before pulling himself together. He holds his head high as he always does and doesn't balk from the intense eye contact with Master Windu.

"It was just a walk. I couldn't sleep, so I planned to go on a walk myself when I ran into her."

"So, you had no reason relating to your duty to be escorting your apprentice into the city at night?"

The retort is fired back at him so quickly, he hardly has the chance to take another breath before opening his mouth to defend himself again. His palm stings from how hard he digs his nails into his skin as he begins to lose his composure little by little.

"Well, not exactly—"

"So, you decided to go for a walk?"

Before Anakin has the chance to respond, Y/N cuts in.

"It was my fault," she says, diverting everyone's attention away from the growing storm behind Anakin's eyes. "He was already outside of the Temple when he spotted me, and when he told me to go back inside, I refused. He stayed with me because he knew I was going to go out by myself if he didn't and wanted to make sure I was safe."

And while it's a perfect defense in comparison to them admitting the truth, it makes Anakin cringe internally all the same because it makes him look weak. It makes him appear as though he has no control over his padawan. Just another reason to deny him the rank of master, he supposes. Another to add to the list of reasons why he's a problem to them.

This admission, still halfway true, causes everyone to pause for a second.

Then, Master Windu sets his attention solely on her, and she knows that what's coming next will not be worded as carefully as what Obi-Wan said. It's never been in Windu's nature to be anything other than honest and straightforward. He has always treated them with respect, but he doesn't harbor the same fondness for them that Obi-Wan does.

"I have to ask you directly, for the sake of addressing the severity of the situation, has Anakin ever acted inappropriately with you?"

She stumbles for a second, drawing out the time between when he asks and when she responds, but it's deliberate. If they're going to accuse her of it, she will make them say it and stew in the discomfort caused by it. Let them be tortured just as equally as she is by this.

":..Meaning?" she questions.

The bluntness with which he speaks next knocks the wind from her chest.

"Has Anakin ever tried to instigate a romantic relationship with you?" he asks it with a stony, unbreakable expression, abandoning any attempts at sugarcoating it. "The report itself said he was kissing you"—the discomfort of everyone else is palpable in the air—"and...touching you. They alleged that it happened in a dark area, so they didn't recognize you were Jedi until they came closer. As your master, if this rumor were true, it would be an abuse of his power. To take advantage of a padawan..." He trails off into silence for a second before taking a deep breath to steady himself. "He could never be trusted again."

She doesn't even dare to chance a glance over at where Anakin sits with his face hardened into a mask of neutrality, refusing to give them anything to use against him.

Obi-Wan, in a much gentler way, says, "I know you both well, so believe me when I say I don't believe this to be true, but we must take these accusations seriously. Not only would it be an abuse of power, but forming such attachments is not the Jedi way."

This time, she scans her eyes across the room as though she's looking for all of their reactions, but all she's truly looking for is him. And the small glimpse she gets of him makes her heart ache. He is completely shutting down. His eyes are fixed ahead of him at the middle of the floor, refusing to stray and meet hers. It's all he can do to keep himself under control.

Windu then says again, "Y/N, I need your honest answer. It needs to be shown on record that you both deny these claims."

Without missing a beat, she speaks.

"He has been nothing but respectful and supportive," she says. Instead of looking at it as a lie, she frames it as a performance. She imagines herself as a character on the stage of a theater and plays the part. "Yes, I messed up by sneaking out of the temple, but Anakin never touched me."

In the back of her mind, she sees flashes of their memories together one after the next. His lips smeared against hers, his prosthetic hand clamped around her throat, and his flesh hand slipping beneath the waistband of her pants to feel how wet she got for him. But she fights to keep it under control, to keep the others out of her head as he taught her to.

"So, to answer your question, directly, honestly, and on the record, no. He didn't do anything he was accused of."

For the first time since they've been dragged in here, the members of the council have nothing to throw at them. Without their confession, they have nothing, and she would sooner leave the order than give him up.

Almost in response to this, Anakin looks up from the floor to find her glancing at him. It lasts a mere second, but it strengthens his resolve all the same it reminds him what's at stake.

"Anakin?"

The sound of Master Windu's voice brings his attention away from her. A few seconds pass before he realizes what they're waiting for.

"No. I've never done anything of which I've been accused."

The silence that follows is tense.

Neither of them knows what to do with themselves in the next few moments or so as the council discusses their alleged transgressions as though they aren't in the room with them, but they know not to look at each other. They already got one glimpse already, anything more would be reckless and greedy. After a long back and forth between Obi-Wan and Windu, they seem to come to an agreement.

Master Windu says, "It's settled, then. Y/N, you'll be temporarily removed as Anakin's padawan until we're done talking to witnesses and investigating. In the mean time, Obi-Wan will be your master."

It was a disgrace, an outrage.

Anakin's thoughts became poisonous as he was forced to walk out of the council meeting without sparing a glance at her, watching as Obi-Wan whisked her away to speak to her privately as her new master. Maker, even thinking those words made him grimace. There was something inherently wrong with the notion of her belonging to anyone but him. She was his first, he thought, much like a spoiled child having to share his favorite toy. After all, she was his apprentice, his best friend, his wife. How dare they try to keep them apart?

He could hardly process what Master Yoda was saying to him as they walked a little ways behind Obi-Wan and Y/N. It was something about letting the process of justice unfold without harboring any anger for the situation. It was clear in the way it was said that neither Yoda nor the others fully believed the rumors. They all entertained the possibility of them being true, but no one, except maybe Windu, seemed too suspicious of them.

Unfortunately for him, Master Yoda stuck by his side for longer than he anticipated, so he had no choice but to leave her in the hallway with Obi-Wan. If he lingered to speak with her, it would only fuel the rumors about them. He opted for going back to his room to meditate instead, but every time he closed his eyes, his mind became flooded with thoughts of her. Of the meeting, of the night they snuck out, and who possibly could have recognized them.

She, however, was too preoccupied with Master Kenobi.

He walked alongside her at a leisurely pace, speaking freely with her, "I know how upset this whole thing has made you both, but believe me when I say I tried to tell them it wasn't true."

Whether it be willful ignorance or outright denial, she didn't know, but he was being truthful. Of all the council members, he was the least convinced that these rumors could be true, and that was by their design. They've always been extremely cautious in his presence due to his close relationship with Anakin. Her husband taught her how to control her thoughts, to keep from projecting them and allowing the other Jedi into her head, and she practiced it every time they worked with Obi-Wan.

Y/N refrained from picking at the skin around her nails as she often did when nervous and nodded along to what he said.

"If it had to be anyone but Anakin, I'm glad it was you they chose."

"I actually requested it," he says. Upon seeing the confused look on her face, he adds on, "I know Anakin cares for you. I thought that it may ease his mind to know I'm the one stepping in as your teacher."

She can't help but offer up a slight smile in response to this. It was sweet. How Obi-Wan always looked after him, even when Anakin thought everyone was against him or didn't care about his feelings. His old master would always care about him. Later, if she has the chance to see him, she'll tell him about how Obi-Wan defended them to the rest of the council and made sure she was placed under his command.

"I appreciate that greatly," Y/N says. "And I think Anakin would too. He'd probably benefit from a talk with a friend right about now if you're able."

"I'll talk to him as soon as I can, but they'll be questioning me about the allegations in a few moments, so I can't yet. You have my word, though. I will speak to him."

The thought of Anakin being provided with some form of relief is comforting enough to let her contracted neck and shoulder muscles relax.

"Thank you, master."

He simply bows his head to her and offers his goodbyes before turning back toward the council room. In the distance, she sees Master Yoda waiting for him, and all she can do to stop herself from losing what little composure she has left is breathe deeply as she walks the other way in pursuit of the kitchens. Perhaps a light meal will soothe her nervous stomach.

It's an hour past the curfew set for apprentices to return to their rooms.

She relies on the light of the lamp beside her bed to read the book Anakin gave to her a few years ago. Annotated in the margins by Yoda, Dooku, Qui Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin, she finds it helpful to read a page or so before bed each night to settle her mind after the events of the day and bring her focus back onto what's most important. Her duty.

Every time she comes across Anakin's sloping, cursive penmanship, her face lights up with a giddy little smile. The page is worn beneath the fingertip she runs over the spot where he signed his name, as though this book has been carefully handled and passed down from generation to generation. Her night clothes are little more than a thin, plain shift that falls down to her calves, so she doesn't feel too warm with the sheet pulled up over her body as she flips through the pages to read all of Anakin's annotations.

However, the joy she derived from reading his thoughts along the margins is quickly washed away by worry. Worry as she begins to wonder where he is and what he's doing. Have they continued to interrogate him? Hopefully he's been allowed a break from their incessant badgering at some point. Perhaps Obi-Wan has found the time to speak to him privately already.

She's so lost in her thoughts, she doesn't even sense his approaching presence until the door to her room opens without a sound.

Already, she's flipping the sheet off of her body and tossing the book onto the side table to meet him as he crosses through the threshold to her private dorm. But what he sees when he shuts the door behind him isn't a happy, smiling face, it's an angry one, and he's already being chastised before he has the chance to greet her.

"Please, tell me you weren't seen coming here? What if they find you with me? Then everything we did today would be for nothing—"

The last word dies on her mouth with a surprised "hmmpf" sound when he reaches forward to cup the back of her neck and pull her into a fervent kiss.

Her hands shoot out to grasp his arms reflexively as he traps her in his strong embrace, one arm around her waist and his other raised to hold her to him by the back of her neck, and kisses her the way a dying man gasps for air. As soon as their mouths meet, she knows where he's been. The taste lingering on his lips is that of his preferred form of alcohol, and she grimaces at how strong it is for a second before pushing at his arms to break the kiss.

You'd think she struck him. His brows furrow and eyes widen at the rejection.

"Why won't you kiss me?" he asks with a tired exhale, leaning forward and angling his head as though he's going to steal another from her in retribution.

"Because it tastes like you drank the whole bottle," she says with a chuckle and keeps him at bay for now. "Where did you go?"

He lets out a sigh, overdramatic as ever, and allows her to slip out of his grasp now that he knows he won't get any kisses until he answers her. The walk over to the bed is short for him with his long legs. All it takes is a few strides and he's collapsing onto the mattress with huff. The glove is already being ripped off of his cybernetic hand before he conjures a suitable response for her.

"Out."

A scoff escapes her.

"I gathered that."

"I went to a bar."

Her brows furrow at him.

His hands come up to allow him to rub his eyes as he says, "Not that bar, I went to a normal one."

The casual reference to that bar brings a searing heat to her face. "That bar" meaning the one they snuck out to go to the first night they were together, with the secret back rooms he led her into and had his way with her in front of a few of the sex workers lounging there. He felt it necessary to clarify that he would never go to such a place without her present for obvious reasons. The thought alone of her thinking he would do something like that, putting himself into a situation no married man should ever be in, made his heart ache a little.

She allows herself to smile at him just a little, even though he can't see it, and walk over to where he's laying with his legs hanging off the foot of the bed. Feeling the mattress dip beside him with her shifting weight, he drops his hands back down and looks at her. And even when he's drunk, angry, and worried, he still finds it in himself to look at her like that. Like she's more important than the Force itself.

In return, she gives him the same look. It isn't too hard to summon. It comes so naturally when he looks the way he does right now; effortlessly beautiful with his overgrown hair framing his face and looking up at her through his lashes with a pink-flushed face.

"What did they say to you?" she asks softly.

Her fingertips are feathery-light where they touch his hair, brushing it away from his face in a way she knows soothes him. It causes his eyes to shut in appreciation of it, then, once he's fully taken in the moment, he answers.

"Not much." His body starts to shift to allow him to roll onto his stomach, and he wraps his arms around her hips. In this position, he gets to rest his face on her thighs, placing tender kisses along the soft skin. "They repeated the all same questions just worded differently each time. When they finally told me I was free to go, they were bringing in others we worked in close quarters with."

"Did Obi-Wan happen to talk to you?" she asks. This piques his interest straight away. His head pops up from her lap, his arms unwrapping from her waist to help him sit up to face her. "He told me he wanted to speak with you. To let you know that he requested to be my master in your absence because he knows how much you care for me."

In lieu of a response, Anakin starts to lean forward to nudge her face with his. Their noses brush as he captures her lips in a wet kiss, humming in satisfaction at how she instantaneously kisses back without thinking. Call him what you want for it, but he knows the effect he has on her and how to use to for his own gain. Right now, he's using it to redirect her back to what he wants. Which is, of course, to hold and kiss his wife. He doesn't think he's asking for too much.

She murmurs against his mouth, "Why won't you answer my question?"

His breath is hot against her skin when he pulls away to dip his face down into the curve where her shoulder meets her neck. All she feels is a soft pair of lips caressing her skin followed by the sharp hip of his teeth. He finds a way to shake his head through it all, not faltering for a second throughout the process of kissing her neck and nudging her slowly onto her back.

"I don't want to talk about Obi-Wan right now," he whispers.

With his body now laid flush atop hers, hips nudged between her parted thighs, he brushes his lips against hers softly. It's a sweet, gentle kiss. One she hadn't been expecting with how eagerly he was crawling on top of her seconds ago, but no amount of sweetness can make her forget that he's not in his right mind at the moment. So, she lets him kiss her for a few more seconds, giving him the chance to revel in what he so clearly wanted all night while he was out drinking, before looping her fingers through the soft hair on the back of his head to pull his face away from hers.

He winces at the slight pain caused by having his hair pulled, but they both know it's something he enjoys. His lips curve down into a slight frown as he realizes what's happening.

"Why are we stopping?"

She chuckles a little and cards her fingers through the hair she just pulled to soothe his mortally wounded ego.

"Because you're very drunk, and I'm also quite tired so I won't let you do it until you've sobered up."

His brows furrow.

"You won't let me?"

Her head shakes, a coy smile teasing at her mouth, and this causes him to stop as though in consideration for a second before groaning and rolling off of her. He ends up flopping onto his back on the mattress beside her, causing her to laugh a little at his dramatics before scooting closer to him and cuddling up next to his body. Her arm wraps around his slim waist and pulls tight as though she fears he won't remain here if she doesn't.

Sensing this, Anakin turns his head to look at her. His eyes soften the moment they land on her, and he reaches out with his flesh hand to brush his thumb over her lips.

"Sleep," he says quietly. A command, not a request. "I'll be with you. Always."

It takes a lot less time than it usually does for her to fall asleep once she burrowed beneath the sheet and rested her head on his pillow, right beside where his was laid. Part of it is due to him. Not only because his presence is soothing but because he breaks into her mind. She's so used to having him in there that she doesn't notice or care when he encourages her to sleep. For her body to relax far quicker than it usually would due to the soothing presence of his force signature.

For the first hour or so after she goes unconscious, he stays to ensure she doesn't wake. But, then, the boredom gets to him. Not to mention, he reeks of liquor and sweat, so he doesn't see any issue with temporarily leaving her for the sake of freshening up in the bathroom. The spray of the water hitting the floor hardly makes enough noise to reach the door, let alone beyond it into her bedroom, and he keeps checking, using the force to sense if she's still sleeping. By the time he is toweling himself off in front of the bathroom mirror, he no longer feels as impaired as he was when he first arrived.

The substance is still present in his system, yes, but he doesn't feel like everything is fuzzy around the edges anymore. Another hour has passed once he emerges from the bathroom with the towel wrapped low around his hips and his hair damp. What he sees when he lifts the sheet to slip into bed with her, tossing the towel to the floor on his side, halts him for a second.

She must have taken off her thin shift in the time he spent in the bathroom. It isn't uncommon for her to do this, rousing herself to a dazed state of partial consciousness to rip the bedclothes from her body due to the heat causing her to sweat in her sleep.

With the shades pulled shut over their windows to keep the city lights from invading the dark sanctuary of her bedroom, his eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to see her beside him.

A quick glance at the time projected onto the ceiling in faint red light proves he has been awake far too long, and it's hard for him to not huff in frustration as he rolls onto his side. Facing her...

The curve of her hip juts out in an exaggeration of its usual shape from her laying on her stomach with one of her legs bent up near her side and the other lying flat against the mattress. With the sheet pulled up just enough to cover her ass, looking at her is cruel torment for him. How else is he supposed to react when his wife insists upon sleeping in the nude right beside him? He refuses to feel shame for how his cock stirs to life at the sight of her nearly every night.

Anakin's left hand slides up from his side to grasp the thin sheet between his fingers, gingerly pulling it down until it only covers the lower half of her legs.

At first, his only intention is to touch her. To caress her soft skin, hairless and smooth for the first time in ages now that they're back on Coruscant where she can groom herself, and relish in the fact that she's here with him. There's something so intoxicating about watching her sleep. It occurs to him that that thought, if spoke aloud, would probably creep her out, but it doesn't feel wrong to him. It's nice to see her without worry for once. So much of their time together is spent fearing that someone will catch them, but when she's asleep, she's at peace.

His hand ghosts over the back of her thigh, climbs up the curve of her hip, and keeps going up until he finds her neck. So delicate, so pristine in the way he only finds women can be. Men are so rash, harsh, and unsatisfying to look at to him. Himself included. She, however, is a work of art. Everything about her, from the way her hips sway just so when she walks to how her hair blows around her face in the breeze, is beautiful. He has always preferred them as a sex. After all, everyone he truly cares for, aside from Obi-Wan, has been a woman. His mother, Padme, and, of course, his beloved apprentice and secret wife.

He thinks to himself as he allows his hand to dip down to cup her breast, They make more sense. Everything about them was designed with careful thought. In a way, he envied them. In other ways, he didn't. As his hand grazes down her navel in search of the apex of her thighs, he can't help but stare at her in awe. His fingertips dip into the delicate folds of her cunt. So warm. Soft. Inviting. Begging him to delve further and give her what she desires.

She has done this to him a countless amount of times—woken him up with her mouth around him, sucking hard into the back of her tight throat—so he has no qualms with returning the favor.

It becomes clear to him very quickly that he won't be satisfied with merely touching her. While it is invigorating to see her subconscious response to his touch, her thighs pressing together and trapping his hand there as he rubs her clit, he knows what he truly wants right now.

He wants to take back his ownership of her.

What happened today was nothing short of traumatizing for him. He isn't stupid, he knows what they're trying to do. If he isn't careful, the council will try to take her from him, just like every other woman he's loved has been taken from him. When he was assigned to protect Padme just before the start of the Clone Wars, he lost his mother. Shortly after, he lost Padme too. She refused to be with him in the end, saying she couldn't lie to the senate and the council. He refuses to let the same thing happen with Y/N.

Soon, he begins to feel a wetness seeping out of her. His fingertips dip down to collect it from her hole and spread it over her throbbing bud, rubbing faster. A soft, muffled sound escapes her lips at this, and that's when he loses whatever scrap of patience remained in him.

Anakin slips his hand out from between her thighs to stroke himself a few times. Although he's already hard, he takes it as a chance to spread her slick arousal along his cock to make it easier when he inevitably fucks her. With the stimulation now withdrawn, she begins to fuss a little. It isn't anything like it would be were she awake and aware, but she does writhe ever so slightly in her spot upon the mattress as if instinctually searching for the pleasure that evaded her.

He's careful not to wake her just yet. Since she was so tired, he thinks she should rest for as long as she can before she's woken up by him. So, he's gentle in how he guides her into the easiest position to allow him access. She remains on her side, but he brings her legs up closer to her chest, forcing her back to arch and offer up her soaked pussy to him.

From there on, it's too tempting.

He guides the broad tip, messy with precome, of his cock into her first, waiting a moment to listen to her deep breathing to assess if she's waking before nudging further into her inch by inch. Being inside of her is serenity itself. It's like coming home, and he delights in how responsive her cunt is to him even while she sleeps. Her walls clamp down around the thick girth of him only to relax a second later to allow him in the rest of the way. His mouth drops open in a quiet gasp at how good it feels to bury himself inside of her, pushing and pushing until he bottoms out with his tip nestled close to her cervix.

The hand that isn't devoting it's time to rubbing her clit reaches to cup one of her breasts. It squeezes softly at first, but, as usual, it isn't enough. With the first thrust he makes back into her after he pulls almost all the way out of her, he grasps her breast harder and rolls the nipple between thumb and index finger. Having both of his hands on her—one on her chest and the other anchored between her thighs—gives him better leverage to fuck her how he wants to.

"Feel so good," he murmurs into her bare shoulder, not caring that she cannot hear him say it.

He loses control of himself quite fast. It's all too easy to allow the pace of his thrusts to speed up little by little, but, more importantly, he can't help himself from going harder. He enjoys going slow sometimes, but he never goes easy on her. If he ever did, she would scold him. Most often, she has the control between the two of them when it comes to intimacy, and that's the way he's always preferred it. But now...He finds that he likes having total control over her more than he thought he would.

His lips press gently against the curve of her shoulder to help suppress the load moan that threatens to leave him in response to her squeezing down around him.

The haze of sleep has a strong hold over her still when her eyes begin to flutter open.

At first, she's certain it's a dream. Trapped in the space between consciousness and unconsciousness, her mind has yet to realize that she's slowly but surely coming back to consciousness. Her dreams have always been incredibly vivid, especially when they concern Anakin, so no alarms are raised at the feeling in the pit of her abdomen. It isn't until she feels his teeth graze her skin that she realizes that it isn't happening inside her head.

The light beyond the shut curtains, the only source of light at this late hour, illuminates just enough of her face to allow him the pleasure of watching her react to what's happening. Her brows pinch together, a crease forming in the skin between them, and, then, her eyes open slowly.

Y/N wakes to the overwhelming pleasure of him touching her, kissing her, fucking her—essentially doing anything he can to feel closer to her—and the first thing she thinks to do is reach being her to grab onto him. Her hand lifts from where it laid on the mattress to reach back for him, sliding down the side of his bare, muscled abdomen until it reaches his hip. There, her nails dig into him.

She says, evidently confused, "Ani?"

The second after she says the nickname, a particularly harsh thrust causes her to whine in both pleasure and sensitivity, head tipping back while he finishes sucking a mark onto the back of her shoulder. Even through the fog in her mind, she's thankful that he's only leaving marks behind in places she'll be able to cover. It wouldn't be wise to meet with Obi-Wan tomorrow morning with a love bite visible on the side of her neck.

He pulls his face from her neck to press his cheek against hers, lips pressing a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"I'm not intoxicated," he says as explanation for the euphoric wake-up call. "And when I came out of the shower, I noticed you ripped your clothes off in your sleep..."

This brings a sleepy grin to her face, and she can feel him grinning back at her with his cheek pressed to hers. The fingers toying with his clit continue at that perfect, toe-curling pace that increases the bliss she feels tenfold. That, when combined with how consistently he hits the sweet spot inside of her, is almost too much for her to handle so soon after coming back to consciousness.

"You're acting awfully brave. Aren't you worried I'll have to punish you for it sometime?"

Every word is punctuated with a panting breath as he drives into her harder and faster, her breasts bouncing with the force of it now. The palm he had molded over one of them slides up to grasp the very top of her neck, just beneath the jaw, in a possessive act of claiming.

He shakes his head, pushing hers a little further into the pillow it rests on.

"No," Anakin pants, "no, you won't be punishing me for taking what's mine. You forget that I'm your master."

Knowing how angry it will make him, she says, "Actually, Obi-Wan—"

The hand around her neck squeezes impossibly tight before she can dare to finish the sentence, and his pace becomes nearly brutal in a way it's only been a few times before. After a loss on the battlefield or a man leering at her in front of him. But this is...this is different. She can feel it—his anger, the possessiveness, the jealousy.

A second later, he releases his grip on her neck.

"Take that back," he mutters, seething, and pulls her hair taut from her scalp, eliciting a sound that's a strange mix of a moan and a wince. "Or I won't let you finish. You can do it yourself if you're so quick to betray me."

The mere thought is enough to make her brows pinch together in displeasure, and she starts to shake her head frantically. How cruel of him to wake her like this and threaten not to see it through to the end. Although, it does arouse her even more to think that he's simply using her for his own gratification now that she's "betrayed" him. The tension brewing within her, readying like an asp about to strike, seems to enjoy the notion of that.

And, worried that he'll stop, she cries out, voice breathy and soft, "You own me, master. Just you"—the next rut he makes into her is hard enough for her to gasp—"There's only you, Anakin."

"Yeah?" he asks, turning her face with the hand that choked her a moment ago to force her to meet his gaze.

The eye contact is so intense, she doesn't know what to do with herself when she's pinned beneath him like this. And, of course, everything is heightened by the vitriolic feelings roiling inside of him. He projects them at her without a second thought, letting her in to hear every thought that is practically shouted at her. She can't deny to herself that some of them are quite...disturbing. It's nothing too outrageous, but it's obvious to her that he perceived what happened today as a threat. A threat he will not take lightly.

She nods her head a few times, their noses brushing with the frenetic movement, and he can't help but smirk.

"Good girl," he mutters.

He keeps his lips as close to hers as possible without breaking eye contact with her. The urge to kiss her is heavily outweighed by the power he derives from looking into her eyes as he pounds into her. The whole day, he has felt helpless, mad, and scared, but it's all mended by her. By this moment. Not only due to the physical intimacy, but the emotional as well. He can feel how much she loves him. It's a feeling he wishes he could bottle and keep in his possession forever. He'd get drunk off of her if he could, but he can't, so this is the next best option.

When her eyes flutter shut in appreciation of her impending release, building inside of her like the swell of the sea, he says, "No, I want you to look at me."

Seeing that he holds the power regarding whether or not she'll come, she obeys his command immediately. When her eyes open to find his face so close to hers, the sight of him hits her like a punch to the gut, and that overwhelming feeling of love he felt emanating from her increases tenfold. She takes this time, the few, never-ending seconds before she's pushed over the edge into oblivion, to commit every detail of him to memory. The hair that falls in his face, the healing scar slicing through the outer edge of his eyebrow, and, most importantly to her, those sultry eyes of his.

Even outside of the bedroom, he has a way of looking at her that makes it obvious to anyone who looks too closely that he's undressing her with his eyes, but it's far worse when she's actually undressed and at his mercy. It makes her inevitable peak come on stronger and faster than either of them expected it to, her nails digging into his hip so hard that they break the surface of his skin.

She says breathlessly, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes, "Promise you won't let them keep us apart."

And though he's already reassured her countless times that they'll remain together no matter what, he surges forward through the small gap left between them and kisses her with a hunger that'll never be satisfied. It only lasts a second or so, but it's all she needs to reach her climax.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, kissing her deeply as she begins to tense around him. "Anything."

It's such a powerful, explosive surge of pleasure, she cannot do anything but tense in his arms and surrender herself to it.

The noises she makes are borderline pornographic, and if he weren't so in tune with her, he would probably think she's faking it. But there's no way of faking her body's natural response to him. As he guides his cock in and out of her at a brutal pace, the sound of their bodies colliding and how wet she is filling the room, he feels every spasm and twitch of her around him. There's no avoiding those guttural sounds, the slack-jawed expression on her face, or the tight cunt milking him with every unyielding wave of her climax.

Anakin's mechno-hand squeezes around her neck with just the right amount of force to restrict her gasping breaths and provide himself the amount of control over her as he loses himself in it all. His thrusts turn sloppy the closer he comes to his end, and he buries himself in deep one last time before spilling into her.

His face falls into her neck with a whine, teeth biting down on her shoulder to stifle the sound. Her constant clenching and unclenching helps him ride out his orgasm, and he continues to fuck into her in small, dying thrusts until every spurt of his release is trapped within her.

Y/N goes limp on the mattress beside him.

Her head has fallen back into its original place on the pillow, and all she can hear is him breathing heavily into her neck. Behind her, his chest rises and falls at a rapid rate against her back. The hand that was around her neck has slid down to rest against her stomach, holding her close as he always does in the vulnerable moments following his orgasm. All the excitement and emotion turns him into a clingy, needy little thing.

They lay like this for so long, limbs entangled in the sheets and racing hearts beginning to fall back into a normal rhythm, that she can't tell if it's been five minutes or ten when he finally speaks up. Sometime in between him collapsing onto the bed with her and now, he pulled out of her and repositioned himself against her. Both of his arms are snug around her waist, and his face is no longer buried in her neck but rather right beside hers. His cheek presses against hers as it had when they were in the midst of fucking, savoring the closeness shared between the two of them.

"I love you," he says softly.

It isn't the first time he's said it, but she always gets the same fluttering sensation in her stomach as though it is. As quickly as the anger and jealousy took control of him, turning him into a demanding and domineering lover, he shifts back into his usual nature with her. It's as though his mind goes on autopilot after having sex with her, exposing the true motivators that drove the anger. Insecurity. Fear of abandonment. Worry.

Knowing this, she doesn't hesitate to say it back.

"I love you more."

The feeling of his chest moving against her back with a soft huff of laughter brings a smile to her face.

"Believe me, that's not possible."

She then starts to shift around in place, forcing him to loosen his hold on her for a second or two until she has flipped over to face him. Those strong arms are quick to wrap around her waist and pull her in again, their bodies flush against one another.

"And why is that?" she asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.

He answers it so quickly, so sure, she cannot take it as anything other than honesty.

"I was made for you," Anakin whispers, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face. "There's no purpose for me in this life without our love."

Her brows furrow in concern.

"That's not true. You have purpose regardless of whether or not I'm here."

He shakes his head, just once, and when she cups the side of his face in the palm of her hand, he leans into the touch. The tip of her thumb caresses the scar cutting through his brow, moving down until she brushes his bottom lip.

He says, "I don't want to know what it's like to not have you in my life. It was easier before. I didn't know what was waiting for me. But, it's different now. If I lost you, I'd lose myself."

Her other hand moves to hold the other side of his face, leaving him with no choice but to look into her eyes and hear every word, every thought, and every feeling that passes through her.

"You aren't going to lose me."

The soft look in his eyes transforms into determination at this, and he allows his forehead to rest against hers as he repeats what she said in his mind over and over again to reassure himself.

A/N: It's been a long time, but here's part three! I hope you all enjoyed it.

Tag List: @juniebugg and @riley12.

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction

294 notes · View notes

anna-the-undertaker · 1 month

Text

The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

I have more ideas for Badass MC and have taken a lot of inspiration from Supernatural. This is slightly different, though, and focused specifically on a female MC. I might give this OC a name. If you have ideas for one let me know:

Armor Art

After Lilith was reborn into human form, as she matured, fragments of her celestial past began to resurface despite Diavolo's attempt to erase her memory. Memories of her time as an angel gradually returned, though the specifics of her rebirth remained elusive.

Over time, through relentless practice, she managed to rekindle some of her angelic powers, particularly her skill in summoning celestial weapons at will. Silently honing her abilities, she painstakingly learned to wield these gifts without endangering herself or others in her newfound human existence. With each passing day, her muscle memory gradually reawakened until she attained a semblance of mastery, adapting to the limitations of her mortal form.

As she reached adulthood, Lilith assumed the mantle of humanity's protector, driven by an enduring love for the beings she cherished. Vigilant against both angelic and demonic threats, she passed down her skills to her daughters, then their daughters, and their daughters, creating a lineage of guardians spanning generations.

However, as time marched on, the noble cause she championed began to fray at the edges, tainted by the relentless march of human ambition and pride. Dogma hardened into unyielding doctrine, and corruption seeped into the fabric of her legacy. And the power passed down waned, sealed away through the mixing of bloodlines.

Centuries after Lilith's passing, MC emerged into a world practically devoid of celestial or demonic presence. One of the lucky few over generations to have been born with the power to use weapon summoning. Armed with the techniques of her forebears, she displayed remarkable prowess and dedication from a tender age, assuming the mantle of hunter at a mere sixteen. Dispatching angels and demons alike, she began to question the righteousness of her cause. Why were these beings targeted? Had they truly committed wrongdoing, or were they merely puppets of human whims?

Years later, one fateful encounter with a young demon challenged MC's convictions. Confronted by the genuine fear and innocence in the demon's eyes, she hesitated, recognizing the injustice of her actions. Letting mercy guide her, she allowed the demon to escape, defying the expectations of her kin. But this act of compassion came at a cost — her status was revoked, and she was shunned from her family's legacy, her very existence erased from their annals.

In the present day, MC finds herself summoned to the Devildom, expecting retribution for her past deeds. To her surprise, the demons are oblivious to her lineage and history, and she resolves to keep it that way, having left her former life behind.

Despite her best efforts to suppress her instincts, a confrontation during the TSL quiz exposes her true nature. In a split-second decision, she defends herself against an enraged Levi, revealing herself to the stunned onlookers with a display of angelic weaponry. Though she spares him harm, the revelation leaves all present dumbfounded, questioning the depths of her secrets.

The dreaded day had arrived, and MC found herself standing in the council room facing Leviathan, whose smug expression grated on her nerves. She silently hoped to navigate through this ordeal swiftly, reluctant to escalate tensions with her new found companions. However, deep down, she knew that a confrontation was inevitable.

"Alright, everyone! Finally, the wait is over! It's time for Devil's Trivia Showdown, the quiz show that pits demon against human!" Asmo's melodious voice rang out.

MC couldn't help but smirk inwardly at the irony of his statement.

As Asmo continued his introduction, MC observed Leviathan's prideful demeanor, sensing his unwavering confidence in victory. She felt a twinge of guilt for what she was about to do, but she couldn't let his overconfidence go unchallenged.

"I am the G.O.A.T. None can oppose me!" Leviathan boasted.

"And his challenger claims to have been introduced to TSL only very recently after binge watching the DVDs! Say hello to MC!" Asmo declared.

With a polite wave and a small smile, MC acknowledged the introduction, mentally preparing herself for the impending quiz.

Leviathan's bluster and threats didn't intimidate her, and with each correct answer she provided, she could sense his frustration mounting, exacerbated by Satan's commentary.

When the moment came to reveal her trump card, Leviathan erupted into a rage, vehemently denying her assertion with a torrent of protests. Yelling that the Lord of Masks wouldn't do such a thing to the Lord of Shadow.

"Lies, all of it! Pure hogwash! Don't think you can fool me by making up random stuff like that!" he bellowed.

Interrupting his tirade, Diavolo interjected with a calm, observant tone, "Hmm. Actually, MC doesn't appear to be lying as far as I can see."

"Levi, you know as well as I do that Lord Diavolo has the ability to discern whether someone is telling the truth." Satan added.

Leviathan's protestations faltered, disbelief etched on his features as he struggled to reconcile his convictions with the truth before him.

"But...no...! Everyone online has been talking about how the Lord of Masks and the Lord of Shadow are totally going to make up... What you said CAN'T happen! It...it just CAN'T!"

Leviathan's transformation was swift. With a surge of dark energy, his form contorted and shifted, the air crackling with unsuppressed power. In an instant, his slender frame elongated and his features sharpened, his skin taking on a sheen of iridescent scales. Horns sprouted from his forehead, curving gracefully as his eyes blazed with a molten hue, reminiscent of lava that boiled the deepest reaches of the ocean. His serpentine tail thrashed and lashed out with erratic intensity, mirroring the agitated movements of a threatened serpent.

Leviathan lunged towards her, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. Despite the urgent warnings from Mammon to flee, MC's instincts held her firmly in place. With desperation coursing through her veins, she summoned her magic, a claymore materializing in her grasp while armor enveloped her body in a protective embrace.

Shifting her stance just in time, she deftly dodged to her left, using the flat side of the blade to intercept Leviathan's attack and push him away. The vibrations of his scales against the blade sent a shiver down her spine, and she silently prayed that she hadn't inflicted any harm, though deep down, she doubted her abilities to cause him significant injury.

As the claymore vanished, replaced by a shield and spear, MC turned toward her opponent and could feel the weight of everyone's gaze upon her. Her heart hammered in her chest, knowing that her true nature had been laid bare, and that she faced imminent danger.

Leviathan rose from where he had fallen, his rage palpable in the air. MC knew that her initial success had been a result of surprise, and she doubted her chances of repeating it.

"Please, don't force my hand," she pleaded. "I don't want this, but I'll defend myself if I must, even if I know the odds are against me."

The chamber fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the ominous hiss of Leviathan's discontent. Before the tension could escalate further, Diavolo's commanding voice sliced through the air like a scythe.

"Stand down, Leviathan," he ordered, his authority brooking no dissent.

Leviathan's protests withered in the face of the Demon Lord's command, and all eyes turned to Diavolo as he addressed MC with measured scrutiny.

"Look at me," he commanded, and she obeyed, steeling herself for what was to come.

"So, you are a hunter," Diavolo stated matter-of-factly.

"I… yes, but no longer. I left that path behind years ago," she confessed, her words weighted with remorse and resignation.

It felt as though she stood on trial, offering her final confession before an inevitable reckoning.

"Were you ever going to tell us?" Mammon's voice cut through the tension, his hurt palpable.

MC sighed heavily, her gaze shifting between the assembled figures. "No. I wanted nothing more to do with it."

"Why?" Diavolo's question hung heavy in the air, demanding honesty.

"Because our purpose had been twisted from protecting humanity's free will to become senseless slaughter," she admitted, her voice tinged with regret. "I won't deny that I took pride in it in the beginning. The ego boost from besting entities who were supposed to be far more powerful than I was intoxicating. It wasn't until my hands were stained with the blood of many angels and demons that I realized what it was I was truly doing."

As she allowed her weapons and armor to dissipate, MC's gaze fell to the floor, heavy with the weight of the lives lost by her hand. Faces of beings flashed before her eyes — some had fought fiercely, others had surrendered, while some had never even seen her coming.

"The more I came into contact with them, the less I could see them as mere creatures to be culled for humanity's protection," she confessed. "They were people, with wants and fears, individuals who had been born into their roles without choice. They had no control over which realm they were born into. They had feelings, desires, just like I did. And most had been summoned to the human realm against their will, called forth by humans seeking blessings or curses. From then on, I let mercy guide me."

"For that," she continued, her voice growing faint, "my sisters in arms cast me out, wiping my name from our history."

Mammon's features twisted with a mixture of hurt and disbelief as MC's confession unfolded before them. His eyes, wide with shock, darted between her and the others in the chamber, struggling to reconcile the image of his friend being a hunter. A pang of betrayal pierced his heart, as if the ground beneath their bond had shifted. Yet, beneath the hurt, there lingered a glimmer of understanding, a recognition that there was more to MC's story than met the eye. Despite the tumult of emotions swirling within him, Mammon's gaze remained locked on MC, silently conveying his unwavering support and the hope that their bond would endure.

Lucifer's stoic facade remained unyielding, though a flicker of suspicion danced in his steely gaze. His keen mind worked overtime, dissecting her words for any hint of deception or ulterior motive. The revelation only served to validate his lingering doubts about MC, solidifying his belief that her presence among them was fraught with hidden agendas. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a subtle indication of the wariness that had plagued him since their first encounter. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her, his resolve to protect his brothers from any potential threat only strengthened by her confession.

Beel's expression softened with empathy. Though surprised, he regarded her with a gentle understanding, his eyes reflecting a depth of compassion that surpassed judgment. Despite the weight of her past actions, Beel recognized the sincerity in MC's words, sensing the turmoil she must have endured.

Asmo's demeanor shifted subtly, his usual indifference replaced by a flicker of curiosity fueled by self-interest. While initially uninterested in her presence, the revelation of her past as a hunter ignited a spark that had previously been absent. His gaze lingered on her, though his scrutiny was not born out of empathy or concern, but rather a selfish desire to satisfy his own curiosity. The prospect of unraveling the mysteries surrounding her magic holding a tantalizing allure.

Leviathan's eyes widened in shock, his jealous outburst forgotten. Their past dealings flickered through his mind, casting a shadow of doubt over his perception of her. While he had once viewed her as nothing more than a means to an end, her sudden revelation threatened to upend his carefully constructed worldview. His paranoia, a constant companion, whispered doubts in his ear, urging him to distance himself. The notion of forging a pact with MC, despite their agreement, now seemed fraught with uncertainty.

Satan's eyes gleamed at the promise of uncharted knowledge, his mind ablaze with a myriad of questions, each craving to unravel the enigma of her past and the intricate motivations of her order.

"How is it that your 'sisters' managed to elude discovery for so long?" he inquired, his voice laced with curiosity. "Centuries of clandestine hunts on both celestial and infernal fronts surely would have left a mark. When did this begin? And who was its progenitor?"

MC hesitated, her uncertainty stemming from the lingering remnants of spells that had once bound her to silence.

"Our origins trace back to a single woman, though her identity remains unknown to me," she revealed. "Details of her existence were obscured, relegated to forbidden archives. What I do know is that each of us is a descendant of hers, inheriting not only her lineage but also her magic. I am the first in three generations to manifest this magic, however. The dilution of our bloodline has dimmed the genes potency."

A mix of astonishment and relief bloomed in her chest, a surge of liberation coursing through her veins. She had shattered the shackles of secrecy that bound her, reclaiming her voice after years of silent submission.

Undeterred, MC forged ahead, her loyalty to her sisters eroded by the passage of time. "As for our concealment, with each entity vanquished, we acquired new arcane arts, using them to cloak our existence and our elders used them to enforced our silence. Moreover, our armor veils our very souls, rendering us indistinguishable to both demon and angel when not in the field."

Diavolo cut in, prompting MC to look at him.

"Why reveal this now?" he pressed.

"Because I dedicated countless hours to unraveling the bindings that once tethered me," she declared, her tone resolute. "I refused to remain ensnared by chains that held no sway over me any longer."

Satan's contemplative gaze bore into MC before posing his next question, "How is that a meer human like yourself, magic aside, has been able to overpower angels and demons?"

"As I'm sure you know," she began, "angels and demons are inherently weakened when traversing the human realm. Some magics draw upon the energy of their respective realms, and when removed from that source, they become vulnerable to manipulation and restraint. This vulnerability applies primarily to lesser demons and angels. However, it's important to note that our tactics would prove practically useless against beings such as yourselves or the Archangels. Hence, why you have never been targeted."

Barbatos maintained his serene composure. He regarded her with a knowing gaze. His powers had afforded him a unique perspective. Though he had been privy to MC's past as a hunter, only sharing his discovery with the demon lord, Barbatos had seen no cause for concern. In his eyes, her journey had been one of growth and redemption, and he quietly observed her honesty in this moment with quiet approval.

Diavolo's cheerful demeanor returned. Barbatos' subtle encouragement had indeed led him to ponder the implications of MC's past. Yet, rather than rushing to judgment, he had chosen to reserve his conclusions until after getting to know her better and her honesty in this solidified his trust in her. In his eyes, compassion and understanding were the cornerstones of effective leadership, and he applied this principle not only to his fellow demons but also to humanity.

Diavolo's laughter filled the room, resonating with a warmth that belied the gravity of the moment. "Thank you for your honesty. It's clear to me that you've been truthful. I'm delighted to say that you truly were the perfect candidate for the exchange program."

Gasps of astonishment reverberated from the others, even Lucifer's usually composed facade cracked with surprise, while MC stood in disbelief, her jaw nearly hitting the floor.

"You knew?" she stated, shock written across her face.

"Of course," Diavolo replied with an unwavering smile. "We took great care in selecting participants for this program, ensuring the safety and integrity of all involved. I must say, I'm impressed by your ability to keep it hidden for so long, and equally surprised that others hadn't noticed your familiarity with certain subjects."

"But why keep it a secret?" MC questioned, her confusion evident. "Wouldn't it have been simpler to address it from the outset?"

"While it may have been easier, it wouldn't have fostered growth or understanding," Barbatos interjected, prompted by his lord to offer insight. "Your past is best shared by you, the one who lived it. Each person's perspective shapes their understanding, and by witnessing your emotions and reactions, we've all gained a deeper understanding of this aspect of humanity allowing us to cultivate better relations in the future."

MC stood in stunned silence, her emotions swirling in a chaotic whirlwind of relief, confusion, and disbelief. She struggled to find the right words to express the myriad of feelings coursing through her, her mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events.

"I honestly expected you to throw me into a pit of fire after killing some of your people," she finally managed to voice.

Diavolo's laughter filled the room once more, echoing with a warmth that washed over her like a comforting embrace. "While the loss of my people is indeed a tragedy, it's important to remember that those of us gathered here have all taken lives in the past," he remarked, his tone gentle yet resolute. "It would be hypocritical for any of us to pass judgment on you. Besides, I have full confidence that you no longer harbor any intention of causing harm to anyone."

As the weight of Diavolo's words settled over the room, a sense of peace descended upon MC. She felt a burden she had carried for so long begin to lift from her shoulders.

With a grateful nod, MC found her voice once more. "Thank you," she said. "For seeing beyond this and giving me the chance to prove myself.

Diavolo's smile widened, and with a final glance around the room, MC let out a deep breath. She was ready to embrace this change and embark on the next chapter with courage and resilience.

This got weird toward the end because I'm tired and have only slept 6 hours in the last 48. I may or may not do one more chapter that includes relationship changes with the brothers and the introduction of Simeon, Luke, Solomon, and of course Belphie and their reactions to her past. It really depends on how im feeling and if I still have the urge to write. this whole thing probably sucks if im being honest.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me badass mc #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

87 notes · View notes

chr0llossexygf · 2 years

Text

SURVIVORS GUILT

PAIRING: eddie munson x hargrove reader

SUMMARY: y/n hargrove hasn’t been the same ever since her brother passed away. her best friend eddie is trying his hardest to help her get over it but it’s not working. they get into an argument only to find out after y/n is cursed by vecna and probably doesn’t have much time left.

WARNING: curse words , abuse , mentions of blood , survivors guilt , neil , pls tell me if i missed anything! creds to the original gif owners i can’t find their @ :( also in this fanfic eddie had nothing to do with chrissy’s death!

severe headaches.nosebleeds.nightmares. it’s all you’ve been having for the past two weeks. nightmares from the incident, the incident that costed your brothers life. the memory of watching the mind flayer attacking him, the mind flayers hands going right through his body. tearing him apart. running to him only to be held back by steve and robin. watching him sacrifice himself for you and everybody else and not doing anything. the second his body had hit the ground you ran to him, he had a single tear running down his cheek. before you even got to open your mouth to say something to him you were getting dragged away by steve. you tried to fight him off but he kept a tight grip on you. “ no no!” you screamed looking at your brothers dead body on the floor surrounded by blood.

that wasn’t the only nightmare thats on repeat. that one is more heartbreaking then scary. sometimes you’d have a nightmare with billy chasing you through a maze, taunting you with the ‘truth’ as he likes to say. ‘ you just stood there y/n.’ he would say running after you. you tripping and falling over vines, ‘ i didn’t mean to!’ you would shout back. ‘ you left me to die y/n’ he shouts. you’d get pulled into a wall with vines trapping you. he’d wrap a hand around your neck squeezing it. a single tear rolling down his cheek as he tightened his grip. ‘you deserve this y/n’ he’d choke.

it was the same two dreams over and over again on repeat. it wouldn’t stop. waking up everyday covered in sweat. your hair sticking to your face. your tank top stuck to your skin. you’d wake up with tears in your eyes. your chest heaving up and down. sometimes you’d wake up with a nosebleed too. blood would be dripping down to your white tank top staining it.

ever since the incident life has been shit basically. but a specific someone made life more bearable. a specific someone made you wanna get up from bed and actually do something and get something done. and that person is your best friend eddie munson. you don’t know he’s with you though. you weren’t exactly close before the whole star court accident, you weren’t close with anyone of the opposite sex to be exact. mostly because everyone feared billy. but now that billy’s gone you start hanging out with more people. not that you wanted to. your step mom susan forces you along with max, your sister.

you and max were extremely close when you first moved to hawkins. you hated how billy treated her and always tried to make him be less of an asshole to her, though it wouldn’t work a lot. so you became close with max. she’d always sleep in your bed whenever neil and susan would argue. or even cry when lucas and her would break up for the 4th time. you were always there for her. but ever since the whole star court accident you two just drifted apart. you both needed time for yourselves. you needed time to grief over billy. she needed time too. instead of spending that time together and recovering together, you two chose to just spend it alone which probably wasn’t the best thing to do.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you grab a bunch of tissues wiping your nose, you look in the mirror. the bathroom stalls behind you were taunting and mocking you, or atleast that’s what it felt like. throwing the tissue in the trash you pull the faucet lever. leaning your head down splashing water on your face. blood drips down the sink drain. “ fucking hell..” you mumble splashing more water on your face. looking back up you grab another tissue wiping your nose.

the bathroom door opens. you don’t turn to look though, it doesn’t really matter who it is. you look down at the tissue to see it’s still covered in blood, sighing you throw it in the trash. pulling the faucet lever again. “ hey..you alright?” someone says behind you. you recognise the voice, you also recognise the music blasting from the cheap headphones. “ yeah. yeah i’m fine.” you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your white shirt. “ you sure?” she says holding onto her walkman. you nod biting your lip, “ yeah of course max. see?” you turn around awkwardly smiling. she nods opening the door to one of the stalls.

you walk out of the school bathrooms only to be hit by the bright hallway lights and the sound of people talking and laughing. you grab your walkman from your pocket, you put the headphones on and press the play button. ‘rock you like a hurricane’ starts playing. it’s the song that billy used to blast whenever you two would be driving by the beach back in california. it brought back so many memories. you start walking towards your locker pushing past people earning a bunch of remarks and stares. the b word was thrown around a lot. but who gives two shits about what people think right?

“ the devil has come to america.” eddie says in a deep voice leaning against your locker, you grab your spanish book. “ dungeons and dragons, at first regarded as a harmless game of make-believe, now has both parents and psychologists concerned." he continues hiding his face in a magazine. you giggle closing your locker, “ shit look who’s revved up today.” you mumble taking off your headphones. “ when is he not revved up.” dustin says crossing his hands. " studies have linked violent behavior to the game, saying it promotes satanic worship, ritual sacrifice, sodomy, suicide, and even...murder." he throws the magazine onto the floor.

“ i mean they have to blame someone.” you mumble biting your nails looking at eddie, “ exactly! we’re an easy target. we’re the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game.” eddie crosses his hand in annoyance. the bell rings.

“ i’ll see you guys later.” dustin says turning around. you nod grabbing your backpack from the floor. you turn to eddie, “ i have to go to the guidance counsellor.” you mumble putting your headphones back on. pressing play on your walkman you start walking. “ hey hey l/n wait!” eddie jogs after you, you turn around taking your headphones off. “ you uhh up for the campaign later. my sadistic campaign? “ eddie says shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

blood drips down your nose. “ shit sorry..” you curse wiping the blood with the sleeve of your shirt. eddie looks at you, your eyes swollen. they look so empty and dull. that’s what they’ve looked like for the past few months but this week they seem worse? he already knows the answer. it’s a no. but he can’t help but try. he hates seeing you like this. it’s true that you and eddie didn’t talk when billy was around. but he still watched you from afar. he remembers how bright your smile was. he remembers how your eyes held so much happiness and joy when you talked. he remembers how you used your hands to exaggerate your words. he always thought it was cute. it’s like your a whole different person now. you never smile. you barely ever talk. you always seem to sneak your way out of plans with the club. you barely attend your classes and spend most of the time in school with the guidance counsellor. with all the amount of time you spend there people would think your slowly healing and recovering but your somehow still the same, even worse.

“ i..i don’t know eddie i have to go..” you mumble turning around grabbing onto the straps of your backpack. “ yeah yeah of course.” eddie says nodding, accepting his defeat. you walk towards the guidance counsellor ignoring the glances people give you. you sense some of them are of pity and some of them are of confusion. it’s been 6 months, just get over it. right?

you stop right in-front of the counsellor door. “ fuck..” you curse under your breath as your head starts throbbing. you hold onto the brick wall for support. your temples were buzzing. the back of your head felt like it was getting pounded into with a hammer. make it stop. make it stop. your temples twitch. your eyes squeeze shut. your eyebrows furrowing in pain. everything around you went silent. the sound of buzzing coming from your temples was the only that you could hear. it sounded distant though. you let go of the wall, grabbing onto your head tightly. you bite your lower lip trying to hold back a groan.

“ y/n..y/n..y/n..” it’s billy. it’s billy’s voice. you shake your head. “ y/n..” he says again. you look up opening your eyes, billy is standing right infront of you. or atleast you think it is. it’s blurry. it’s all blurry. but you could see the slight curls of his hair. “ y/n..” he repeats. you shake your head rubbing your eyes. “ y/n are you okay?” their voice changes. you look back up to see ms.kelley standing infront of you, crouching down to your level. “ y/n are you alright?” she asks looking at you. you nod with your eyes close. “ yeah i’m fine just a slight migraine.” you mumble. “ right.” she smiles opening the door for you. you step inside.

“ could you turn the music off, please?” she says pouring tea into a porcelain cup, “ sorry.” you mumble pressing the pause button on your walkman. “ A C- in spanish and a C- in math.” ms.keller says grabbing the handle of the cup along with a cookie. “ yeah.” you mumble looking down at your worn out jeans. “ well that’s not normal for you y/n.” she affirms setting the cup down on the table, along with the cookie. “ if you say so..” you mumble crossing your legs.

“ how’s your dad holding up?” you stiffen at the mention of neil. you intentionally avoid things that remind you of him. you gulp biting your lower lip, “ he’s..” you start biting your nails. “ he’s fine..i mean he’s changed since..” you pause memories of the event start playing in your head. you stare at the tea cup, it’s full about to tip over. “ but he’s fine..” you whisper letting go of your nails. “ how’s max?” she asks looking down at her notepad, “ shouldn’t you know?” you blurt out drying your wet fingers on your jeans. ms.keller sighs writing something down on her notepad, “ is your dad still drinking?” she asks clicking her pen repeatedly.

you gulp closing your eyes. “ like, yeah, a little bit but. well-“ you start biting your nails again. “ ever since the whole..” you take a deep breath in. “ thing i-i don’t blame him. so it’s not easy…” you mumble letting go of your fingers again. “ it must not be easy for you either with billy gone.” you tense at the mention of his name. how is this helping you? how is bringing up unwanted memories supposed to help you. you nod biting your lower lip. “ but you still have max.” she says placing her pen down. you clear your throat, “ yeah max..” you mumble nodding. she closes her notepad placing it on the table, “ are you sleeping better?” she asks grabbing her cup of tea.

the memory of you waking up in cold sweat earlier today plays in your head. you were shaking and breathing heavily. your clothes were sticking to your skin. so was your hair. your eyes swollen. your forehead was hot.

“ yeah fine..” you mumble looking down unable to make eye contact with her. “ no more headaches? no more nightmares?”

‘ you left me to die y/n!’ he shouts walking after you. ‘ billy stop!’ you scream tears rolling down your face. ‘ what kind of sister are you!’ he shouts picking up a car from the road and throwing it to the side. ‘ billy stop please!’ you scream.

“ nope.” you say looking back up. “ y/n? what you’ve been through, what your still going through, it’s a lot for anyone. and it’s okay to not be okay. but i can only help you if your truthful, if you open to me.” she sighs taking a sip of her now cold tea, you rub the back of your neck. “ yeah i..i know. i’m..i’m being open..” you take a deep breath in forcing a smile.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

“ hey hargrove!” eddie shouts from a distance, you turn around taking your headphones off. he runs to you with a smile on his face. “ so about the campaign. are you still up to see eddie the dungeon master slay his victims?” he asks in a ‘scary deep’ voice. you bite your lower lip looking down, “ actually eddie i don’t know if i can..” you mumble trailing off. “ oh..that sucks.” he says dropping his smile. you nod turning around, “ how long is this gonna go on for?” eddie blurts out. he didn’t mean to say that. but he’s just so mad and upset of you blowing him off for 6 months.

“ what?” you say turning around to look at eddie. “ i mean how much longer are you gonna be like this?” he says narrowing his eyes. “ how much longer am i gonna be like what?” you reply raising an eyebrow. “ like this! your acting like nobody cares about you when we do-i do!” he says walking up to you, “ it’s been 6 months y/n almost 7.” he whispers looking down at his shoes. surprised by his own outburst. “ what’s that supposed to mean.” you say voice loud and stern. “ at some point your gonna have to get over it y/n..” he mumbles. his eyes widen, you scoff. “ wait no i didn’t mean it like that-“ you cut him off. “ right you didn’t mean it. do you still mean the ‘ i care’ part-“

“ y/n i didn’t mean to-“ you cut him off tearing up. “ because if you did fucking care eddie it wouldn’t matter how long it would take me to ‘ get over it’ because if you truly did care for someone you wouldn’t make them feel like a horrible person for grieving!” you shout tears rolling down your cheeks. when did it get so heated? was it his fault or yours? you had to burst eventually, and him trying to ‘comfort’ you and tell you to ‘ get over it’ just sent you over the edge. you kind of feel bad for him. you also feel guilty. you’ve been feeling guilty a lot these past few months. your always blowing everyone off. your cutting conversations short. your escaping your friends. but they can’t blame you for that. that’s just how you are now. you can’t..you can’t control it.

“ i’m trying y/n. i’m trying to be there for you. but how am i supposed to be there for you when you just keep pushing me away it doesn’t make sense!” his face starts to turn red, “ trust me eddie when i say i try my hardest not too. i’m really tryin-“ he cuts you off. “ everyone misses the old you. it’s like, it’s like your a ghost y/n!” he exclaims. people stare at you two as they walk by, some giggling some whispering. you nod biting your lower lip, “ i miss my old self too okay.” you whisper glaring at him. he glared at you, “ y/n wait-“ he reaches out for you. “ just forget it eddie.” you mumble turning back around. “ damn it!” eddie shouts kicking the trash can.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the pounding starts again. you sit up in your bed, holding onto your legs tightly. burying your head in between your knees. the left side of your face is completely numb and your right side is throbbing. everything around you is spinning. you want to scream. you want to cry. muscles your right cheek flex. you hold onto your head tightly as if that would make it stop. but it wont. nothing will.

your door slams open, you look up to see neil. “ why isn’t max home yet? ” he harshly says standing straight. susan stands behind him, she looks at you. your sweating. your chest heaving up and down. “ hey neil it’s alright shes probably just at the arcade.” she mumbles unable to make eye contact with you, she knows how far your father is willing to go to get answers out of you but you just look so tired. all though she’s your step mom and you two barely talk she knows something is wrong. call it ‘mothers instinct’ or whatever. when billy was around you’d sometimes talk to her. you’d even sometimes watch movies with her. but ever since the incident with billy your always locked in your room. she knows your going through a lot, so much. too much for your age and adding neil into it all is gonna make things worse.

“ you go to school with her y/n. you were supposed to watch her.” he says taking a step towards you. susan takes a step back, looking down at the floor. “ I know dad..i was..i’m sure she just-“ he cuts you off taking another step towards you. “ sure she just what? “ he says crossing his hands. you slowly stand up from your bed looking down, “ i’m sure she just went over to the wheeler-“ he cuts you off pushing you up against the wall. he “ i told you to watch over your sister.” he says tightening his grip on you. “ instead your cooped up in here crying like some bitch.” he shouts with his mouth wide open, spitting some of his saliva on your face. you close your eyes looking down, “ then you go look for her..” you mumble.

he slaps you across the left side of your face, now it doesn’t feel so numb. at-least you can feel something now. “ what did we talk about?” he whispers grabbing your chin. you shake your head tearing up. he tightens his grip on your chin, “ i said what did we talk about?” he whispers grinding his teeth. “ respect and responsibility..” you whisper taking a deep breath in. “ now, apologise to susan.” he says turning his head around to look at susan. you can’t look up. “ i’m sorry susan.” you whisper tears rolling down your cheeks.

susan watches you. her heart aches. she feels guilty, like this is all her fault. “ it’s okay neil really-“ neil cuts her off. “ no, it’s not okay, nothing about her behaviour is okay. she thinks just because her brother died she can have an attitude and be disrespectful to her family.” the mention of billy makes you bite your lower lip, your hands are shaking. you tear up at the mention of his name. “ but she’s gonna make up for it. she’s gonna go look for her sister. like the good, kind, respecting sister that she is. isn’t that right y/n?” he lets go of your chin. “ yeah.” you mumble taking a deep breath in.

the second the door slams close you fall down to your knees. you grab onto your left cheek gently rubbing it, a single sob escapes your mouth. you feel something running down your nose, you thought it was snot. reaching for a tissue you quickly swipe it across your upper lip, you open your eyes to see the tissue is covered in blood. “ damn it.” you curse standing up. grabbing a bunch more tissues you blow your nose into them. you look up and see yourself in the mirror. your hair is a mess. your eyes are bloodshot. water is collecting at the bottom lid of your eye. your lip begins to tremble. “ no..no!” you cry out grabbing your head. it’s happening again. oh god it’s happening again. you fall down to the floor holding onto your head.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

“ wait so i don’t understand what’s going on?” nancy says running a hand through her hair, “it turns out chrissy had also been seeing the school counsellor-“ nancy cuts robin off. “ yeah but what does that have to do with vecna?” nancy says crossing her hands tilting her head to the side. “ so max and the other losers broke into the counsellors office to find clues leading to chrissy’s death when max realized she was experiencing the same unusual symptoms as chrissy.” robin babbles looking around the room. “ so we’ve come to the conclusion that max is also cursed by this weird monster thing-“ eddie cuts her off. “ vecna. it’s vecna’s curse.” he corrects making everyone look at, “ does that really matter right now eddie?” lucas says standing up. dustin shrugs. “ given how they’ve had the same symptoms that means..” robin trails off. max clears her throat, “ that i don’t have much time left..” she mumbles looking down.

“ where are the files by the way?” nancy says looking around the messy basement, “ over there.” dustin points at the corner where all the files were scattered on the floor. nancy walks to the files kneeling down grabbing them.

max drops her book. lucas looks at her. “ max.” he stands up. “ hey! hey! stay with me max!” lucas shouts putting his hands on max’s shoulders shaking her. steve rushes to max, along with eddie. “ wake up max! wake up!” steve shouts shaking max. her eyes were rolling to the back of her head. “ what’s happening what’s happening!“ robin shouts panicking running to max. “ it’s vecna’s curse! she’s under some type of spell!” eddie says looking at max who wasn’t moving.

max was falling down a black hole. screaming for help. “ help! somebody help!” she screams looking around only to be met with nothing. she falls down on her back, she immediately sits up looking around. star court mall. she looks around her. it’s dark and cold. there’s white fuzz surrounding her. there are vines scattered all across the floor. “ somebody!” she shouts standing up. silence. pure silence.

‘ do you remember what happened maxine?’ a deep voice says, max turns around trying to see where exactly the voice was coming from. ‘ or have you already forgotten?’ he asks again, the white fuzz disappears. the light blue light turns into an angry shade of red. ‘ when i kill someone.’ max looks around the mall panting. she hears a scream, billy’s scream from that one night. ‘ i never forget’

she looks up. the roof of the mall is gone. there are bats flying around. “ what do you want!” max shouts trying to catch her breathe. ‘ i see you've been looking for me, maxine. too busy looking for me, ignoring everyone and everything around you. too busy looking for and ignoring the calls of help from your sister am i right maxine?’ a vine grabs onto max, slamming her body against the empty car mode inside the mall. the very car steve almost hit billy with. it’s all coming back to her. all the unwanted memories

the mention of your name confuses her. what’s wrong with you? what’s happening to you? she knows you were heavily affected by billy’s death? but how does he know? how does vecna know about you? what does he want with you? what calls of help?

max screams as the vine drags her out the mall. she tries holding onto something but she’s moving too fast. she screams.

she gets thrown to a brick wall, the vines wrap around her legs and arms holding her in place. ‘ let go of me you asshole!’ she screams trying to break free but it’s no use.

‘ i see you for how you truly are maxine.’ vecna speaks again earning a bunch of swear words from max. but those stop when she sees you in-front of her, her eyes widen. “ y/n! y/n! y/n!” she screams trying to break free. you can’t hear her. “ let go of me you asshole! y/n! y/n!” max screams tearing up looking at you. your on the floor holding onto your head. your nose is bleeding.

‘ your too busy with yourself that you failed to see your sister is going through the exact same thing.’

max shakes her head in denial. “w-what?” she mumbles looking at your shaking figure on the floor. “ y/n! y/n! please y/n!” max screams looking at you. she turns to look at her arms still trying to break free. she gets one arm out, then the other. she tears the vines off her feet and runs to you, the second she touches you. you turn to dust. “ no! no y/n! “ max screams looking at the dust particles slowly fade into the air.

she turns around and she’s suddenly back in the mall. right where billy died. she hears you scream for billy, she turns around again to see you screaming and crying covered in bruises and blood. it was the day of the ‘fire’. you were running to billy only to get pulled back by steve and robin. she sees herself behind you. she was frozen. if she was to run to billy could she maybe have saved him?

she shakes her head. her nose starts to bleed. she looks back up to see she’s in a different location. she’s in your room.

“ y/n! hey! y/n! “ max runs to you falling down to her knees. she doesn’t wanna touch you. she’s scared your just gonna turn into dust again. “ y/n come on please!” she screams tears rolling down her face. she grabs your hand, this time you don’t turn to dust. her eyes widen when you look up at her. your eyes are bloodshot. you have a large hand print on your left check. you had blood running down your nose. ‘ save me max..’ you whisper tears rolling down your face.

you turn to dust again. “ no! no! y/n!” max screams standing up. ‘ you have lost maxine.’ vecna says as your room also starts to turn into dust, max turns around watching everything around her disappear. she looks down, she’s stepping on water. ‘ you have lost another sibling maxine.’ he says opening a portal under max, she looks down and starts screaming.

she opens her eyes and looks around, she’s back in the wheelers basement. her vision is blurry, water is collecting on her bottom eyelid. she’s trying her hardest to catch her breath. she falls into luca’s arms. “ it’s okay i’m right here i’m right here..” he cries holding onto her tightly. max sobs grabbing onto his hand. “ y/n..” max whispers looking up at them. “ what? w-what’s wrong with y/n? “ eddie shouts crouching down on the floor. he glares at max waiting for her to speak again. his heart starts racing. the color drains from his face. his stomach starts flipping and turning. nothing can happen to you. “ what’s wrong with y/n max!” he shouts grabbing max’s shaking hand.

max’s lower lip trembles. “ she’s..he’s coming for her..vecna is coming after her..” max cries tightening her grip on luca’s hand. everyone freezes.

nancy drops the file she was holding, the file that read y/n hargrove.

this can’t be happening. no no this can’t be happening. how didn’t he see the signs. this can’t be happening. the last time he talked to you, he was..he was shouting at you. he was judging you. last time he saw you, he made you feel like crap. he still remembers the look on your face, the look that you gave him. that can’t be the last look you give him. it can’t be.

nancy looks up at the clock. “ we have to go.” she says looking at everyone.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you stop crying for a moment. everything around you is quiet. you open your eyes. where are you? what’s going on? what’s happening? you were in your room not even a second ago. why is it so dark. why are there vines scattered on the floor and wall. why is everything torn apart. you turn around in panic and see a an old grandfather clock. the bell chimes four times, four times.

1K notes · View notes

disgruntledexplainer · 9 months

Text

the characters of Generator Rex as living symbols

Something interesting that's been bouncing around my head for years is the inherent symbolism of several of the characters in Generator Rex.

Van Kleiss is transhumanism; the philosophy that humanity can and should be changed into something new through technology. in other words, he is the idea that humans should abandon their humanity to become gods, at any cost. he's brilliant, but menacing, and everywhere he goes unsettling change follows. he commands nature, enslaves time and space, and nearly becomes what he seeks to be, but he leaves suffering and misery in his wake.

White Knight is the inverse of this, a reactionary fear of change. he sits alone in his sterile room to insulate himself from change. he is the last vestige of the old order, the last memory of humanity before the event. he may be a "good guy", but in the first 2 seasons he's a nasty old bastard all the same. ultimately his efforts preserve humanity, but also hold it back from truly growing.

Black Knight is something of a synthesis of Van Kleiss and White Knight. She is a symbol of the old order, but specifically the part of the old order which brought about the new order. she is power hungry but calculating and manipulative, and willing to crush others under her heel if it allows her to get what she wants. she is in many ways similar to a bureaucrat, ceo, politician, or career military officer, or some kind of combination of the most dangerous and callous elements of all four.

Caesar Salazar represents science, in all it's glory, and all it's horror. He is capable of creating devices which can entertain and make life easier for others, and to solve problems which everyone else is unable to solve. but he also creates weapons of terrifying power, and has a knack for inventing things that nearly end the world by accident, over and over again.

So where does that leave Rex? well, that's simple. Rex is the living manifestation of all the positive aspects of science and technology, all of the potential of humanity's mind and spirit. He heals the sick and defends those who cannot defend themselves. he builds, he fixes, he creates wonders. he is a living miracle. in many ways he represents humanity at it's very best, even with his disdain for authority and difficulty following directions.

of course characters like no-face, hunter cain, quarry, and gatlock are also living symbols, but I don't feel like typing all day. if anyone wants to pick up where I left off through reblogs, feel free.

#generator rex #superheroes #philosophy #transhumanism #technology #science #rex salazar #van kleiss #white knight #black knight #caesar salazar

146 notes · View notes

cerealboxlore · 1 year

Note

something i need more of is protective captain marvel

specifically fiercely protective of people he personally cares about (mostly leaning towards family hear but also friends) captain

like of course with a heroes heart (whatever that means) caps gonna be naturally protective

but billy probably also has some separation anxiety from his parents death and, if it’s a twin sister mary version, being separated from her

possibly add onto that memories from past champions of their loved ones dying? no way he wouldn’t be protective

so what i want to see is a marvel, who has been working with the league for a while, having them meet the shazamily for whatever reason and just just being fiercely protective

i want his mindset to revert(?) to billy to a certain degree making him act a little bit (a lot) feral to protect them from the smallest of things and to glare a glare harsher than batmans at the league while trying to physically distant them

if the flash or someone flirts with one of them (obviously not knowing they’re underage and if its the flash him not being married/in a relationship) and for marvel to just punch him in the face immediately without thought

I think we could all benefit from more protective Captain Marvel, if I speak for everyone.

Billy having separation anxiety isn't something I considered before, but now that you bring it up, it makes complete sense! It fits into his character so well with having been abandoned so many times in his life, he'd depend on the few stable and promising relationships in his life for safety and comfort, even when in his champion form. He'd want to protect them at all costs, no matter what. Because underneath that magical form of a champion is a small child scared of the world who wants them to be continuously alone. A child who is used to having nothing will protect the the things they hold dear as they grow older, no matter what. Adding on that, with the reoccurring memories and dreams from the past lives of the former champions of magic who have already experienced death, mourning, and worse fates, Billy Batson wouldn't come out of it without needing some therapy.

Tawny as a therapy cat is much needed.

Billy has such a pure heart, a sweet boy, I can definitely seeing him accidentally become overly protective of his found family when introducing them to other people and fellow superheroes.

The idea of another superhero flirting with one of them isn't an impossibility, just a little awkward to approach. If anyone ever does, I'm pretty sure the whole shazamily would reject that person as a team, hahaha

Maybe Flash would give Mary a compliment considering the similar costumes, but I think Guy Gardner trying to make a pass at one of them and immediately getting decked across the city sky by Billy would be incredible. Feral nature is approved in that moment. Unleash the Billy!

#This was such a lovely ask #Tysm!#Billy batson #dc captain marvel #Shazam #Shazamily #I love getting asks like this #Makes me think more about Billy and how his personal traumas affect him even as the Champion of Magic #Like #I could make an essay about this boy one day

177 notes · View notes

starrysky28 · 2 months

Text

RE2 Leon Kennedy SFW Alphabet (N-Z)

A/N: You guys seemed to like part 1 so...Part 2 (N-Z) of the sfw alphabet is here!

Link to part 1

Warnings: None this time!

Enjoy!

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with him are pretty low-key. Most of the time, he likes to stay in and watch movies (he prefers them to TV shows).

After Raccoon City, he tends to get nightmares, and as a result, he gets a bit antsy at night. Because of this, he starts spending more time with you so he feels less stressed and uncomfortable.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

As much as he hates talking about things from his past, such as his parents murder, it's easier for him to open up about traumatic things the better he knows and trusts someone.

He'd reveal things little by little or very slowly, never all at once, and unfortunately, as time goes on, he becomes more closed off and private about these types of things.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He's not a hot-tempered guy by any means, so not very quick to anger. That doesn't mean he wouldn't get angry at all.

As for what makes him particularly angry, I feel like any sort of injustice or mistreatment of others would be enough to get him riled up.

I also think he'd often say things he wouldn't mean in the heat of the moment. He would always make sure to at least apologize if he said something he'd regret later.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He would have a pretty sharp memory. Can remember names, faces, an even dates without having to think about it too much. However, this doesn't mean that he doesn't forget every once in a while.

During the first year that you two knew each other, he forgot your birthday until you subtly reminded him that evening.

"OH! That was today???"

You tell him that it's okay and not to worry about it. The next day, he shows up at your door with a teddy bear, store-bought cupcakes and a birthday card ready to give to you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment was the moment he first realized he was in love with you. You happened to be out with a group of friends and you were the only one who laughed at his terrible puns.

He didn't realize at first, but after going home that night, you were pretty much the only thing he could think about.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

VERY protective of those he cares about. He managed to make a career out of protecting people (or so he thought he could), so he’s naturally protective in nature.

As for him being protected. He always tells you that he’s fine and doesn’t need to be protected.

However, even in dire situations, like when he’s hurt/injured, you’ve still got his back regardless of how he feels about being protected in the moment. He still appreciates you greatly for this.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Makes sure to put his best effort into everything he does. From showering you with gifts and affection, to making sure he does his job the best he possibly can.

Unfortunately, all this effort he puts in over the years will eventually come with the cost of stress and burnout.

Luckily, you and everyone else who cares about him in his life is there to help him and encourage him not to overdo things.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

A bad habit of his is that he’s never been a very good driver. Sometimes you wonder how he even got his license.

One of the things that specifically makes him a bad driver is that he drives waayy too fast. Like you could look down at the speedometer and he’ll be going almost 90 in a 65 mph zone.

“OMG!! Slow down, Leon!”

He’ll just respond so nonchalantly like, “Hehe oopsie daisies”

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I think he’d be a little insecure of the fact that he’s got a baby face and looks very pretty for a guy.

But other than that, he’s very keen on keeping himself looking neat and tidy at the same time.

I also think he wouldn’t really have one of those 10-step skincare routines either. Like people are always asking him what he washes his face with and he’s just like “soap and water” lol

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He wouldn’t really realize it at first, but as time goes on. I think he’d really come to appreciate each time you’re with him and that he actually feels more content when he’s by your side.

So whenever you have to leave him for a while, he can't help but feel a bit lonely, or like he's missing something.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I headcanon that he's a music lover. Has a secret soft spot for 80s music, especially since he would have been a kid in the 1980s. It just reminds him of a simpler time.

When he got to be in his teen years, he definitely took a liking to 90s rock, specifically grunge. I also think he has a decent-sized collection of CDs, including some that he would keep in his car.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In terms of partners, he's not that picky. There are definitely things he'd find unattractive in a partner, but because he's still a tad inexperienced, there isn't much. I feel like he would be more about personality than anything else.

As for things he wouldn't like. He loves food and will basically eat anything, but he absolutely hates spinach (this is totally not me projecting lol)

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

As mentioned before, he gets frequent nightmares after the events of Raccoon City. He's also a very restless and light sleeper and often ends up in weird sleeping positions.

On a cuter note, I think as a kid, he slept with a stuffed animal. Specifically a stuffed dog. He still has it in a closet somewhere, as he didn't have the heart to truly get rid of it.

And...That's it! I hope you guys enjoyed. Feel free to request other characters for me to do hcs for if you feel so inclined to! (This also includes characters other than Resident Evil characters too!)

#resident evil #re2 #re2 remake #re2 leon #leon kennedy #resident evil headcanons #sfw alphabet #fluff #now its time for me to stop procrastinating and finish my post-re2 fic lol

27 notes · View notes

guess-that-ship · 2 months

Text

S10 Round 1

A Coin Needs Two Sides

cw: spoilers, near-death experience

Yin is a plucky young hero-type who wants to stop evil and keep people safe. During one mission, he comes across a strange artifact that creates Yang, a cursed reflection of him. While Yin is a bit clueless but ultimately good natured, Yang is spiteful and cold to everyone around him. When Yin's enemies try to recruit him, however, Yang denies them. Stating that he only serves himself.

Yin and Yang run into each other many times, continuing to clash with each other. But as those encounters go on, Yang can't help but begin to find some begrudging respect for Yin. This culminates in the two teaming up to face down an escaped eldritch abomination. Though they are able to beat it, it attempts to drag Yang down with it. Yin risks his life in a sudden effort to save Yang, and while Yang is saved, it puts Yin in a near death state. Thus, Yang braves enemy territory to secure a method to save Yin, even costing him some of his own independence to return the favor Yin had paid to him.

Magical and Mechanical

[This description has been modified to remove potentially identifying information.]

V is a wizard looking for a new lease on life. B is a science experiment who was cloned over and over and over again to be an army pawns, though his lack of fighting ability lead to all of them being failures. Despite coming from completely different circumstances, they are drawn together and become almost inseparable.

Specifically, after the organization that experimented on B is destroyed, he's left to pick up the pieces of his life. He decides to open a cafe in town, and joins a sports team centered around bonds and love in an attempt to better himself. There, he meets V, and is subsequently partnered with them for the upcoming game. However, after a spell gone wrong, V loses most of their memories, and ends up relying on B for support. The two become quite close during that time, as V learns more about what happened to B and helps to teach him better coping mechanisms and self love. During this time, they also begin to form a crush on B, but hesitate to do anything about it.

Eventually game day arrives, and the two work together shockingly well. Despite his own lack of skill, B finds success alongside V, and gets further than he ever has before. At the same time, V and B's feelings for one another become increasingly obvious, and are called out by the other competitors (as well as being shipped online in universe. There is in universe fanfiction of these two). Once they're eliminated from the game, the two take a private moment together (paid for by one of the previously mentioned competitors) and finally confess, agreeing to try dating. Ever since, they have been attached at the hip, with V working in B's cafe, and B bragging about V every chance he gets. Love wins <3

#s10 #tournament poll #s10 round 1 #spoilers

20 notes · View notes

dadmareau · 1 year

Note

Does Sunbeam work himself into the ground sometimes, and if he does what's dadmare's reaction to that?

+ Now that he's older, do some biases he had as a child/feelings change? Did little Nightmare know the amount of responsibility Dream forced on himself? Now an adult with more experience and knowledge, does he see the things his brother went through in a different light? Did he envy, even feel a little bitter towards his brother as a child, and has that emotion changed now that he has a different view of what happened/what's happening? maybe this is a bit much to ask all at once but ohh I'm so curious about how Nightmare feels/felt about his brother... and how maybe Dream's life wasn't as idyllic as he thought.

Love all of this. Hope these responses work.

1) Sunbeam does work himself into the ground, and gradually, Nightmare has gravitated out from bedrest to actively watch over him and ensure he doesn’t get pushed around. Initially, Sunbeam took offense to this and felt he was being looked down on-he feels it’s his duty to be help others even at the cost of himself. Nightmare is heavily against this.

Later on, Sunbeam would be able to forget his guilt and frustration and just exist as a child. He’s encouraged by Nightmare to go play with other kids and do whatever he wants, instead of constantly helping others.

2) Nightmare’s biases have changed over the time he got to process everything. He feels less angry and more… bitter. He’s had time to think of exactly what he would want to do and how he would do it to every person who wronged him, and who he’s forgiven or forgotten thus far.

You’ll find there are specific characters he has a strong grudge against-and others that have simply faded to memories. Most of those who’ve faded are kids. He’d feel ridiculous tormenting a child for something they hadn’t done (yet) or didn’t fully understand the impact of.

3) Kid Nightmare didn’t quite realize the full scope of Dream’s plight. I’d imagine he wasn’t really capable, having grown up with that being their only option. Additionally, he was more preoccupied with how he was being treated.

Dream was his baby brother, and Dream was also the Chosen One from his book. To everyone else, being the Hero was more important than being Nightmare’s brother. He hated this.

Most of the time, when he saw Dream, he thought ‘brother.’ But when he felt abandoned, he thought Dream was doing what he had to as the Hero of the story. Still, he blamed Dream for leaving him behind when he needed him most, and felt betrayed while still pushing him away. Dream needed to help the villagers, it was what he had to do because everyone said they had to.

As an adult, Nightmare had time to process. He partly blames Dream, still, but most of the animosity is for the person he’d grow up to. A lot of his hatred is for the villagers.

4) Originally, Nightmare, as a child, was envious of Dream. Dream was surrounded by constant love, friends, and attention. It wouldn’t make sense to him why Dream could even think of being miserable while being clearly cherished. He could understand being tired out, since he had to work so much, but he didn’t grasp the full constant burden of responsibility and expectations Dream had.

Why would Dream have room to be sad when he wasn’t being outcasted and bullied like Nightmare? He didn’t understand what kind of pain his brother was in-mainly because Dream didn’t even know.

Now, as an adult entrenched in the past and forced to re-evaluate everything he thought he knew, Nightmare recognizes that it was far more complex than he knew. Dream was worked to the bone, he was cherished, but he was abused. Nightmare and Dream were scapegoats of fault for the village. They were never children to them.

It makes him sad and frustrated and angry, to know he’s back here, and to know that the issue isn’t easily solved by a bit of carnage. (Well, it could be solved that way… but the thought of upsetting his brother stops him.)

#worldbuilding #ooc #modmare #dadmare #inbox #sunbeam #modmare answers #pure stream of consciousness #bit hard to fully word all of it but this is the gist

83 notes · View notes

sixosix · 5 days

Note

To approach ask length and my apologies… lkfhdh you created this monster and now you gotta deal with the consequences of your actions.

i wanted to keep this separate as a more focused thing as opposed to my other rambles. But as to how i think the potion stuff goes down…

Rosalie: no, unless T!Reader desperately wants her to.

T!Reader: Depending on how the interaction with father goes/any interferance, yes.

Rosalie I don’t see drinking it unless T!Reader wants her to, because I’d think she’d want to remember someone she considers her daughter, even if T!Reader doesn’t stay by her side. I’d think she would still cherish those memories and want to hold onto them, kinda like a parent looking back on memories rasing their kid when their kid is now living their own life and creating their own family. But I do think that if T!Reader does push hard enough, that she would drink the potion as to not put her child in distress in what could potentially be their final moments together.

As for T!Reader… something i’ve noticed but never really said rambling wise is that both her and lyney have that same intate urge to do anything for their family and loved ones. And right now, from T!Readers point of view, her only loved one (and family) is Rosalie. If she gets promised/convinced that Rosalie will be safe and left alone by the Fauti if she drinks the potion, I bet she would. Even if she no longer remembers her maman or the positive memories she has of the fauti, as long as Rosalie was safe I doubt she would care.

As for if she actually gets the chance to drink it or not… i’m honestly torn. On one hand, there is the chance that the trio + aether and paimon get their in time to stop her from drinking it and find another way. Which would be very cool and neat… But the potion is already the nice way out, as the hearth’s rule is with their life is the cost.

Theres not really any nicer way to go around the hearth’s core rules, especially with the distraction t!reader is and the persistence lyney has. I’m sure Arlecchino knows that although her orders to leave t!reader alone may put lyney on a pause, it won’t last forever. I mean, the guy went straight to T!readers house with lynette’s help once their meeting with father was done. And although I haven’t done the story quest yet, I know enough to know that even with the traveler helping, they wouldn’t win unless father specifically let them.

Plus, (and i had to go digging to find the exact words once i remembered it) i remembered something you said in one of my very first asks. Specifically art naosaki’s quote, "Reader needs to learn how to stay, and Lyney needs to learn how to let go". I can see the reader’s form of staying being finally confronting her past and taking the deal not for herself but for everyone else, while lyney’s form of letting go is letting go of the mc from before the potion. A bit more bittersweet, and again, i’m torn over it, but its just my thoughts!

Also, I sent this at the same time as the fic since my theory influenced it a fair bit… so ye, back to the pit i go-

-deadman aether anon

- HI DEADMAN AETHER ANON u sent the fic first but i wanted to answer this one cus i got excited and wanted to treasure it…

- im very glad u got rosalie figured out tho!!! despite all the suspicion she received by everyone in the beginning, at the end of the day, she really just cares about mc and will always put her first! AND MC TOO!!!! top tier character analyzation 🙏🔥🔥

- I LIKE HOW U HAD TO SEARCH FOR THE QUOTE 😭😭😭 your interpretation of the quote deserves praise for fitting in the plot of the way things are going right now but i dont want to say anything in case i end up confirming or denying it HHAHA

- still, such a thoughtful and fun little read from you once again 😭🫶🫶 i have so much fun listening (reading???) your thoughts but now i got a wholeass fic from you as well?? oh i am so blessed truly U ARE A BLESSING TO MY ACC

#606:inbox #606: deadmanaether anon

7 notes · View notes

flowers-for-the-grave · 10 months

Text

Gaia's Curse

The vines dug into his skin sometimes. An unhelpful reminder of what he had lost.

They were like chains, in a way.

He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how his hair changed; from a bright cyan to a pale ivory tainted with blotches of red.

Every time he passed a body of water and gazed at his reflection, he couldn't help but think he looked familiar. He remembered fangs, long and pointed and sometimes uncomfortable in his mouth. He recalled how similar his cloud jump was to abilities he'd long forgotten; sometimes he'd jump up into the air and think about switching places with an angel.

But, as far as he knew, no one on the server was an angel. No one he knew closely.

Sometimes he would feel hungry. Phantom-hunger, if you will. Because he didn't need to eat anymore. But he'd still wish he could eat.

He'd probably kill to be able to enjoy the taste of cabbage rolls or pumpkin soup.

Would probably kill himself in order to get it.

As he sat on the balcony of his house, staring at the starry sky, he remembered.

He didn't remember anything specific; all the memories were murky, and most of the faces were blurred to the point where they couldn't be recognised. But he took note of other details. Like cod, cats called Norman, fields of poppies. Kingdoms of snow and golden antlers. Of rat tails, attics and giant feline catastrophes. Of necromancy, loneliness and dances with time.

They all mixed together in a strange cocktail of memories that both were and weren't his.

Scott clutched at an ache in his chest; a yearning for knowledge.

He sighed and looked up at the sky. Running his tongue along his teeth, he could almost imagine feeling fangs. But they weren't there. Because he was a fungal mage.

His hands itched. The pain of hurting a mob - he couldn't be bothered to remember which one - pulsed through his veins. Gaia had cursed him in that moment. He'd hurt someone, betrayed being a 'peace keeper' and paid the price for it.

How many people had he upset in the past?

Gaia, goddess of the earth. Mother Nature. She had given birth to the Titans and Giants. A powerful entity that was not to be messed with under any circumstances.

There were others, too. In a past life long ago, he'd killed an angel. And as a result, he was cursed to burn in the sun.

His own patron god, Aeor, and his brother Exor. How long had he been a devoted worshipper of the Stag Gods? How much of his life had he dedicated to following Aeor's wishes, to pleasing him, to keeping people safe, for nothing? Because he did everything in the end. He was the one to seal the demon away at the cost of his own life. And neither of the gods batted an eye.

He'd upset Them, too. Hundreds of pairs of eyes that Watched eternally. They despised him because he refused to play Their games properly. So he was made to constantly outlive his closest allies. Other than one.

Scott was a danger. To himself and to everyone around him.

The vines - nay, chains - dug into his skin.

He deserved them. He deserved the chains, for they were keeping him from hurting others. A criminal, a thief, a killer - all of those titles belonged to him - deserved the chains that kept them contained. That shackled them to their crimes.

He took a glance at the moon, and the stars surrounding it.

The moonlight shone down on him in a warm embrace. As did the stars.

The stars seemed to form a halo around Scott's head.

Scott curled up and allowed his eyes to droop shut.

Gaia's curse, as all the other curses placed upon him, would never leave him.

#new life smp #nlsmp #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #angst #hurt/no comfort #references to other SMPs #hope you enjoy :)

31 notes · View notes

tallseaweed · 6 months

Text

Relinquish Your Burden: Chapter 2

Word Count: 2.9k

1,277 days.

42 months.

3½ years.

No matter how Mobius construed the data, time was passing. It was a phenomenon he was shockingly unfamiliar with.

The irony was far from lost on him. He, Mobius M. Mobius, a literal agent of time itself, had never truly experienced the very thing he'd been trying to protect for as far back as his modified memories allowed. Laughable really.

At first, he'd kept track of the passing days for the sheer novelty of being able to. Now, it just left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Because each day that passed was another day without him.

How was he supposed to move on, knowing that somewhere out at the edge of time, Loki was holding together the multiverse all by himself? He was stuck eternally shouldering a burden that should never have needed to be his to bear.

Why had he thought it was the only way?

Loki had seemed so sure, but minutes before he'd been fully on board with attempting to use Victor's Throughput Multiplier.

To Mobius, it seemed like some other force was at play, but he couldn't see how. They'd fixed Loki's time slipping! He'd literally risked his own skin to do so.

And he knew he'd do it again a thousand times over.

Sometimes, Mobius almost found himself wishing he could go back; before the multiverse had been unleashed, before Loki had met Sylvie, back when he thought his life had meaning. He always shut down that train of thought immediately. How selfish was he? Everyone in the multiverse now had free will, and he was missing a time when he'd been intentionally pruning innocents?

Yes, he could argue that he'd been brainwashed, but as Loki had been quick to point out:

"You and I here at the TVA, we're the only ones who are actually free."

He'd had the free will to do something back then, but had been perfectly happy to let himself believe they were the good guys.

But maybe he wasn't giving himself enough credit. He had cared once, back when he hadn't been able to prune that 8-year-old boy in the Black Sea. That little slip had cost the lives of a couple of Hunters, and Ravonna never forgiven him for it. Hell, he hadn't been able to forgive himself either. But that little boy had been so carefree, so happy. At one point Mobius had a heart, but his work at the TVA left it damaged, covered in scar tissue.

"You know where I'd go if I could go anywhere? Wherever it is I'm really from.

Yeah, wherever I had a life before the TVA came along."

No, It wasn't the TVA he missed. It was Loki.

The God of Mischief's absence was the main reason Mobius hadn't been able to stay. It had been torture, constantly expecting to see him come around the corner with some new ingenious idea, or to sit down at Mobius's desk and strike up their usual banter.

That specific brand of emotional torture—paired with Sylvie's confrontation before Loki's sacrifice—had led him to where he was now: the midwestern sprawl of Cleveland Ohio.

"You found out you're a Variant, and you haven't even looked, have you?

It's just another bad day at the office for you. Timelines are just lines on a monitor. Doesn't matter if a few disappear.

Because you've never bothered to look if one of them was yours."

Well, he sure was looking now.

After Loki's sacrifice, Sylvie had been quick to leave the TVA behind. Luckily, he, B-15, and O.B. had managed to confirm that they'd be able to communicate with her TemPad in case they ever needed her help again. When Mobius had decided to leave the TVA, he'd sent her a message letting her know where he was going. He was shocked when she actually showed up to give him a send-off. The gesture had meant a lot to him.

After her quick departure, he'd spent the majority of his first weeks on this timeline covertly watching Don from a distance. Everything about his Variant fascinated him. Mobius had always been good with young Variants, but he'd never envisioned himself as a father. Kids weren't permitted at the TVA for obvious reasons, so it was somewhat jarring for him to see how naturally Don took to the role.

Fatherhood aside, there were more similarities than differences between them. When Mobius had seen where Don worked and that they shared a passion for jet skis, he'd been over the moon.

It was relieving—and a little disconcerting—that the TVA hadn't been able to take that from him. He cherished the reminder of his humanity, but it also served as undeniable evidence that he'd actually had a life before the TVA. One that he still wasn't sure he wanted to know about, even if Sylvie offered to release his memories.

So he'd kept that uncomfortable curiosity at bay by watching Don.

After a while, he began to feel a little creepy. It was one thing to analyze people from the temporal distance of the TVA or every once in a while on a field mission, but doing it while living on the timeline felt distinctly stalkerish.

He'd decided it was about time he got a job and a place of his own. By then, he'd started to run low on the 21st-century American dollars from the TVA's stock that B-15 had sent him off with. "For until you find a place to land," she'd said.

Ultimately, he'd decided that he would try to live a life that was somewhat similar to Don's. If it satisfied his Variant, maybe it would someday satisfy him too. Anything to fill the void Loki's absence left behind. Luckily, he'd had just enough money left to scrape together a month's rent for a modest apartment. From there, he'd managed to use his passion for jet skis to pull a job at a water sports rental shop.

He enjoyed the job, particularly how it gave him the opportunity to use his people skills in ways other than interrogation. His extraordinary work ethic had even secured him a permanent position. In the winter off-season, his duties switched from customer service to equipment maintenance and upkeep. His coworkers were incredibly kind and welcoming, but no matter how much he tried, he still felt distinctly detached. It was hard to get close to anyone when they could never know who he really was.

Presently, Mobius rolled over to glance at the familiar numbers on his bedside clock. 7:30 a.m.. Even on his days off from work, his body always woke him at the same time. Slowly, he pulled himself up to standing. After meticulously making his bed (a habit from the TVA he'd never been able to shake), he trudged toward the bathroom.

Pale blue eyes rimmed with dark circles met his reflection in the mirror. He'd let his hair grow longer during his time here. At first, he'd done it as a makeshift disguise in case he ever ran into Don. After a while, he'd decided he liked it that way. It felt symbolic.

"Let time pass."

Mobius flipped through his TV's channels, looking for the news. He enjoyed getting to hear about events that the TVA (or He Who Remains) had decided were too insignificant to monitor. He was also curious to see if he would recognize any current events. Since he was on a branched timeline and the future wasn't written anymore, anything could happen.

It wasn't long before the existential dread began pressing in. As a general rule of thumb, he avoided being in his apartment as much as he could. The small, impersonal space served as a reminder of just how alone he really was.

Hoping some fresh air would help loosen his knot of tangled emotions, he hopped into is car and drove toward Lake Erie.

Once parked, Mobius set off to find his usual spot on the lakeshore. He had chosen it for its balanced proximity: close enough to people to remind himself he wasn't completely isolated, but far enough away that he could still have a little privacy.

As he sat down, the frigid January air pierced through his warm layers, whipping the hair around his face. Unbidden, memories flooded from his subconscious.

Mobius rushed back toward the time theater, carelessly shoving past the various TVA workers dutifully going about their tasks. Variants. All of them. Loki hadn't been lying, the TVA had. And he hadn't believed him for a second, sending him right back into the Time Loop.

How many times had Sif berated him? "I hope you know you deserve to be alone and you always will be." He felt slightly nauseated.

The memory skipped ahead.

"Do you really believe you deserve to be alone?"

"I don't know."

Mobius's gloved fingers pulled at his hair, head bowed with guilt. In the end, Loki had ended up alone. He just prayed his friend knew he didn't deserve it.

Why should Loki have to be the one to take up the mantle the TVA should have been upholding all along? He'd fought so hard to do the right thing—bringing the TVA's despicable actions to light—and now he had to physically hold the multiverse together all by himself?

It wasn't just unfair, it was cruel. Loki had tried—really tried—to make the TVA better, and had even seemed to believe that it could be. All that misplaced hope, just to end up sacrificing himself for the cause.

"You can be whoever, whatever you wanna be, even someone good. I mean, just in case anyone ever told you different."

The smile that bloomed across Loki's face was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Hot tears stung at his eyes, slipping down his crooked nose until they fell between his knees, gathering on the concrete.

"I know what I want. I know what kind of god I need to be.

For you. For all of us."

As soon as those last words had left Loki's lips, Mobius had realized he was saying goodbye. He knew from the countless times he'd watched Loki's file that those were the same words he'd said to Odin before letting himself fall from the Bifrost.

The first time Loki had said them, he'd been using them as a cry for help, a desperate last attempt at validation from his dismissive father. This time, it was painfully clear that he'd really meant what he'd said.

"For you."

As Loki's eyes locked onto Mobius's, the bittersweet determination in his gaze shattered Mobius's heart into a million pieces.

Suddenly, his subconscious made a quick, painful segue to the memory that haunted him most.

"Mobius, if I… If I don't make it back, I…"

"You'll make it back."

"Right, but when I use this thing, I might not make it back…"

What had Loki been about to tell him? At the time Mobius had cut him off because he didn't even want to consider the pain of losing him. But now that Loki was really gone, the unspoken words constantly tormented him, picking at his grief like a scab, never allowing him to fully heal.

A green butterfly with purple wing tips landed on Mobius's knee. The tears just flowed faster.

"Thought I might find you here."

Mobius jolted at the familiar voice.

"Sylvie?" He whirled around.

Sure enough, Sylvie was situating herself to sit down next to him, dressed as if she'd just walked out of the '80s. Which he belatedly realized she probably had.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Am I not allowed to check in on an old friend?

"Well, see you around, I guess."

After her parting words, he hadn't actually expected to see her again, even if initially, he'd desperately hoped he would. He'd briefly considered the possibility that they might be able to grieve Loki's loss together, but quickly recalled that she wasn't the type of person who did that sort of thing. At least not for him, anyway. Centuries of hunting her down like an animal didn't earn him any favors.

At a loss for what to say, he gave a noncommittal hum and decided to change the subject. "You hungry?"

"I could go for a bite."

"Let's get some takeout. We can talk back at my place."

The car ride home was—awkward. He'd tried to make small talk by asking how her new life was going, but she mostly just gave him vague, distracted answers. Obviously, something was on her mind.

After a brief stop to pick up some Chinese food, they made it back to Mobius's apartment complex. He pulled into his designated parking spot and proceeded to lead her through the long winding hallways until they stood in front of his door. As he turned the key in the lock and led them inside, he winced.

Through her eyes, his place must look like a hotel room. Nice looking, but entirely impersonal. Unlived in. He'd even left the news running in the background. Glancing back and seeing her raised eyebrows, he knew he'd been right in his assumption.

"This is… nice," she said unconvincingly.

He sighed. "Yeah, well, I'm still adjusting to it all."

She nodded, opting not to comment on it any further.

After hanging up their coats, Mobius led Sylvie to his dining room table and began unboxing their food. She slid into one of the wooden chairs, and he followed suit a moment later. For a minute or so, they ate in uncomfortable silence. Then, she set down her fork.

"Mobius, I need to tell you something."

He set his fork down too, stomach roiling in apprehension. "What is it?"

"I…" she hesitated. "I did some investigating, and I think Loki might be able to come back."

Mobius froze.

"What did you say?" He whispered, almost unwilling to believe he'd heard her correctly.

She sighed. "I went to the place that Loki opened the portal to—the place where he dragged the timelines. It used to be He Who Remains' Citadel. I thought I'd find him holding on to all the timelines, and I'm pretty sure he is, but-" she paused, collecting herself. "He's formed them into a living, self-sustaining magical entity." Her shining eyes met Mobius's. "He's turned them into a multiversal Yggdrasil."

Mobius took a moment to consider what she'd just said, emotions running wild.

His immediate reaction was elated disbelief. Could she actually have found a way to help Loki? Hope was such a precarious thing, but he couldn't deny that it was beginning to take root. He wanted to jump out of his chair and spin her around with joy, but then the full meaning of what she said finally registered.

"Hang on, you're telling me you've known exactly where Loki's been this entire time and you didn't say anything?"

He'd spent every day of the past 3½ years trying to think of ways to get to Loki, but never even knew where to start. He'd assumed that Loki had gone to some obscure, unknowable place at the edge of time, but now Sylvie was telling him she'd known exactly where he'd been all along?!

"Mobius, I didn't think there was anything we could do. You saw him on the gangway, the branches died when he let go! How was I- how were any of us supposed to know that he'd be able to create something like that with the branches of the multiverse? It's literally unheard of."

He stared at her incredulously for a moment before he snapped.

"First of all, if you had stuck around at the TVA for a bit instead of immediately running off to gods knows where, you would've already known that Loki had woven the timelines into a tree! We didn't know it was self-sustaining, but maybe knowing that would've given you a reason to investigate! You of all people should know better than to assume that anyone knows the extent of what Loki is capable of. Bringing timelines to life with magic? That was unheard of too until we saw Loki do it literally right in front of us!"

She let out a resigned sigh, dropping her head into her palm. After a moment, she replied defeatedly. "Yeah, you're right." She lifted her eyes and met his. "I'm sorry, I should've told you, or at least checked sooner." Sitting up fully, she leaned forward. "But right now, I think we can do something about it. Will you help me?"

Mobius rubbed a hand over his face, exasperated. "Of course I'll help you, I'd do anything to bring Loki back. But that doesn’t mean I forgive you." He fixed her with a glare.

She raised both her hands in acquiescence. "I don't expect you to."

Selfishly, he let Sylvie fidget in the tense silence for a moment before deciding he'd let it stretch on for long enough. "So what are you planning?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but her gaze suddenly latched onto something over his shoulder, her eyes growing wide. He whirled around, expecting some sort of threat, but only saw his TV—still dutifully playing the news.

Which featured live footage of Thor Odinson battling aliens in New York.

Sylvie sucked in a breath. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I think the last part of my plan just fell into place."

"Wha-"

She pulled open a Time Door and looked back at Mobius, pointing at him in a very Loki-like fashion. "Don't move, I'll be right back."

The next second, she was gone.

Five seconds after that, Sylvie, a young girl, and the God of Thunder were all standing in his living room.

-----

Notes:

Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all support you’ve shown this story!!

Poor Mobius is really going through it 😭❤️‍🩹

Next chapter we’re getting a partial Thor POV, and Sylvie explains her plan to the freshly compiled Team Free Loki.

Unfortunately, I’m about to enter finals season, so I won’t be able to post Chapter 3 for at least two weeks 😓

My entire month of December is going to be very chaotic, but starting the second week of January I’ll be updating this story weekly!

taglist:

If you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist at any point, please leave a comment or send me a message :)

@loopsisloops @muddyorbsblr @superficialdomina @infinitystoner

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

#loki #loki fanfic #loki s2 finale spoilers #loki spoilers #fix it fic #lokius #lokius fic #mcu loki #loki marvel #mobius #mobius m mobius #mobius mcu #loki series #mcu #marvel #brodinsons #the sun will shine on us again #relinquish your burden

12 notes · View notes