a/n: so this one is solely focused on Anakin and there is no y/n action lol. I also wanted to say Ik pregnancy and babies are a hot topic rn and I really don’t want to get political on here, but I will say I refer to it as the “thing” and “it” sometimes; more as a joke thing, casue I think that’s how this anakin’s inner dialogue would go. ALSO I AM NOT A FERTILITY SPECIALIST SO THAT SECTION IS NOT MEDICALLY ACCURATE LOLOLOL
NSFW
Anakin goes to the clinic to get to the bottom of the situation.
warnings: cursing, cannon disabled character, insecurity, mentions of pregnancy, arguments, mentions of alcoholism, mention of adoption/abort--n (idk if they sensor stuff on tumblr), self pity
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Anakin scored an appointment at the fertility clinic for the next day (luckily he didn't have to wait long for the high steak results). Ahsoka drove him home quietly and thanked him for asking for the test.
Before she left she made sure he wasn’t going to go back to the bottle- even if he was anxious.
He agreed, but Maker… it was hard.
The next morning he got ready to get an answer to a question that could change the trajectory of, not only his relationship, but also his life.
The check in was quick and soon he was led to the back for privacy.
He sat himself in the dark room that allowed for his sample to be taken; the television exclusively played adult videos and there were a plethora of explicit magazines to speed up the process.
He was a little nervous, he hadn’t touched himself in a long time. The stiff feeling of his mechanical hands never really worked for him, but he needed to try.
His blue eyes wandered towards the television as he slipped his hand beneath his waistband; he shut his eyes and let out a small moan as he closed each individual digit around his member.
The television portrayed a few girls having an orgy with a well endowed guy; it was really over the top and totally overdone. Anakin was getting turned off by the excessive noises, so he opted to turn off the TV.
He slumped back in his chair with a frustrated sigh; he needed this test to be done so he could have peace of mind… but how was he going to get a sample in these circumstances? He already didn’t love the sensation of his false hand on his dick.
He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander… and as much as he hated to admit it, it seemed that you still were the only thing that could get him that riled up; so instead of utilizing any of the resources in the room, he visualized you.
He imagined your exquisite breathy moans and sighs as he would trace all along your beautiful body. He imagined your reactions when he would eat you out just right, how you would gasp and your thighs would tense in his metallic grasp.
He was pulsing.
He kept his mind racing as he plunged his hand down his pants to retain his strained dick once more.
As soon as his digits managed to get a hold on it, he began to roll his hips into his fist.
A shudder ran through his body when his fist touched the base of his cock.
The sensation was odd, it wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t terrible either. He tried to relax and just focus on cumming; he imagined more scenarios of you and him, which actually helped him quite a bit.
The longer he thrusted his hips back and forth, the quicker he felt his climax coming; with a particularly forceful thrust, he knew he was about to cum. He scrambled for the specimen cup and angled his dick to the entrance.
His chest heaved as he reached his high. To push him over the edge, he imagined you riding his dick with your hands in his hair; the way you would arch your back as you used his shoulders to steady yourself, you would toss your head back in ecstasy and he would lean in to mark up your neck with his teeth-
His hips stuttered and he let out a breathy “f-fuck” and jerked forward with a groan.
Quickly, he coated the inside of the sample container with his warm cum.
He placed the container on the table beside him and leaned back with a sigh; he didn’t realize how much he was sweating from that- but to be fair, he hadn’t really masturbated with his prosthetic before. Of course, he tried, but it never did it for him.
But now- now he had you to imagine and if you were on his mind, he would be able to cum.
“Maker” he exhaled as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
He sat in the shaded room for a while, coming down from his high and grappled with his incoming thoughts.
He used to be able to watch porn and get off by rolling his hips into his bed or a pillow, but now that wasn’t getting him hard….
Only you were.
Why was that?
He was angry with you- he had no positive emotions towards you at the moment, so why were you still on his mind?
Was it solely the lust of your intimacy that he missed or did he miss you?
No.
No way, he couldn’t- after everything?
Well, now he wasn’t too sure he even had grounds to be angry, that's why he was at this clinic, right?
What a mess.
The realization suddenly hit him- no matter the result of this test; if he was viable or not, his heart would take a hit.
If he couldn’t have kids that would mean that you not only cheated, but lied to him about the baby being his.
But…
If he could have kids, he would have been a complete asshole towards you for no reason. All of his yelling and the awful things he said to and about you would have been completely uncalled for and he may never get you back.
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The drive back to his place was weird- it was the middle of the day and he just went to a random building and jerked off… what the fuck?
As he drove he couldn't shake an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach; never had he felt so nauseous after cumming, but then again, this time his whole life was in the balance.
Once he got home he went to the fridge to grab a beer (out of habit), but he stopped himself when he saw the sodas he had been working on before he relapsed.
Maybe he should get back on track, after all he only relapsed for an evening- maybe he could just go back to the soda?
He grabbed one of the fizzy beverages, chugged it, and then flopped onto his bed to stare at the wall.
Now all there was to do was wait for the results.
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The next morning he woke with a jolt as his phone blared next to him with his familiar ringtone. He groaned because the noise woke him from his sleep, but then he realized what the call was; it was his results.
He groaned and sat himself up with his right arm (the only prosthetic he was currently wearing). His heart raced as he leaned against the headboard of his bed and picked up the phone.
With an anxious breath, he answered the call.
“Hello?” he asked
Hello, Is this Mr. Skywalker?
“Yea, that’s me,” he answered.
Wonderful! We have the results from your fertility test, they came in this morning. Would you like me to relay your information through text or email?
He sighed. If the information was sent to him, he would just spend the rest of the day avoiding opening the message; he needed someone to just rip off the bandage.
“Could you just tell me?” he asked.
The person on the other end off the phone seemed caught off guard and paused before answering
Oh- I guess I could, most patients usually like to have their results opened privately-
“Ok, could you tell me then?” he butted in, he was growing impatient and wanted to get it over with.
Of course sir, your sperm came back conclusive- having a fertility rate of 79
“What does that mean exactly?”
It means that your sperm has a chance at fertilizing a healthy egg 79% of the time, which means that you are viable.
“Is that a normal amount? Is it likely that I can get someone pregnant?” he inquired, he needed to make sure he really understood the information that was coming at him.
Yes sir, your chances are lower than average but after looking at your files, that would be expected. But just because your chances are lower does not mean you can't; depending on the frequency and measures you take while engaging in intercourse can determine the probability of having a child. Do you have any more questions?
“Sorry, if this is TMI, but I just want to understand…”
No worries, sir
“My girlfriend and I have been having sex alot..” he cleared his throat awkwardly.
Are you asking if I think it’s possible that you could have a child?
“Yes?”
The person on the other end sighed and asked
Well that depends whether or not you have been using protection and if she is on birth control, there are many factors-
“She’s not on birth control and we don’t use a condom- we thought I couldn’t…”
I see. Well then it is very possible that you will have a child in the future, Mr.Skywalker
Anakin felt his chest swell with pride- he could have a child.
Any more questions sir?
“No, thank you so much,” he responded.
Of course and congratulations.
He sat his phone beside him on the bed and let out a stunned laugh; after all these years, his fertility was back- he could have kids.
You popped into his mind and his smile grew even larger, the thought of you growing his child inside of you made him feel dizzy with love.
You were having a baby.
He was going to be a dad.
Soon his smile faded and his feelings of joy turned sour. This was the scenario where he was the one who fucked up… Now he had to deal with the consequences of his behavior.
A part of him wanted to call you right then and there but how could he? After shouting at you, verbally degrading you, accusing you of cheating?
He couldn't just waltz right back into your world now after weeks of silence.
But not only that- he didn’t even know what you were going to do; were you going to keep it? Were you going to abort it? Were you going to put it up for adoption?
Just then he realized he knew nothing about the pregnancy other than the fact that you were pregnant because he refused to listen.
Fuck.
He slumped back into his bed and rolled over on his side. Even if you were keeping the thing, who’s to say you would even want him to be a part of its life? And even if you allowed him to be, how would he be able to be around you but not have you?
He hated himself.
He hated himself so much and understood why you would probably never want him in your life again.
After all, you deserved so much better.
You deserve someone who would never say those things to you, not in a million years. You deserve someone young and whole.
Not him.
He was almost twice your age, an alcoholic, and disabled. Why did you even want him in the first place?
He needed a drink. No, wait…what he needed was to stop drinking.
But Maker, he felt like shit and didn’t want to feel that way any longer. He wanted to feel the burn of the alc as it traveled through his system, he wanted the hazy feeling he got after a few bottles.
And he would have gotten a bottle, if he had his legs on; but since the call had woken him up- he hadn’t already put on his other prosthetics.
So he didn’t get a drink, instead he curled up and started to cry.
He wasn’t strong, he was just as scared about the future as you. He was terrified- what was going to happen? Literally everything was up in the air.
He eventually hastily put on his legs so he could go to the bathroom and while he was up he grabbed a six pack that was in the back of his fridge. He knew if he started drinking he didn’t know when he would stop- but he couldn’t handle his emotions.
He brought his wheelchair to the bedside, settled into his sheets, and took his legs off.
The clink of the bottle cap popping gave him a feeling of relief, he had been itching for a drink. He pressed the cool glass to his lips but paused- did he really want to keep doing this?
He lowered the bottle and bit his lower lip; he didn’t want to keep doing this, but he just couldn’t stop.
He wasn’t strong enough alone…and he was alone because of his actions. Tears brimmed at the corners of his blue eyes; as much as he tried to change…This is who he was.
And he hated himself for it.
Begrudgingly, he tilted the bottle back and shut his eyes, the cool burn felt like bliss as he downed the bottle.
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Anakin’s phone buzzed with that familiar ringtone that he hadn’t heard in what felt like ages.
It was you.
The phone rang and vibrated mere inches from him; he reached for the device and held it in his mechanical hand, the buzzing sending vibrations all the way up to his actual arm.
He could literally feel your call and yet he didn’t answer, he just let it buzz.
Eventually you stopped and soon he got a notification of a voicemail from you. He might as well listen to it.
He pressed the play button as he pondered over why he didn’t just answer the damn phone when you were calling.
“Hey Anakin-” your recording greeted.
He sighed when he heard your sweet-sweet voice, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders just by hearing you again.
“I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I just want to let you know- I’m keeping the baby… It’s ok if you don’t want to be involved”
Soon his happiness plummeted back to a feeling of self loathing when he processed what you said.
He looked at the screen with glassy eyes; of course he wanted to be involved.
Maker, he wanted to be with and raise the child with you- together.
But even though he knew what he wanted, he couldn’t bring himself to respond to you.
He couldn't face you,
not yet.
Instead he clicked his screen off and rolled onto his other side and squeezed his eyes shut as more tears began to flow.
He was single handedly ruining his own life.
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a/n: so anakin is entering a depression and sorry that this chapter was angsty… (it’s only gonna get worse oops) but i hope you are enjoying so far!! next chapter will probably b shorter though!)
Guys, I dreamed about it and I've got it! This is very first Andy's appearance on the TV screen, two years before Dirty Harry! And it seems like Scorpio was resurrected... In fact, that's sort of sketch of him. It was posted on You Tube six days ago. Enjoy it!)
ANDY ROBINSON as Whitey in N.Y.P.D., S2.E15 (Three-Fifty Two) 1969
