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b00kdiary · 3 months

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Could I request Azriel and Plus Size reader where they’re both new to the mate bond and she overheard Azriel and Rhys’ conversation about the “Cauldron being wrong.” She left before she was able to hear Azriel call himself a fool for even believing it for a second, knowing that he’s already kissing the ground his own mate walks on. She starts comparing herself to Elain and then starts lashing out, going to Rita’s every night and avoiding Azriel whenever she sees him.

Cauldron Blessed | Azriel

Azriel (ACOTAR) x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image issues, angst, and eventual smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

'The Cauldron was wrong, so wrong.'

Those words played and replayed in my mind again and again, all day, every day, for the last week.

Wrong.

He said that the Cauldron was wrong- about us, about me.

Me, his mate- wrong.

It had been an accident, me overhearing them that night, a coincidence I had decided to come home early from my girl's night with Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie. Though with the Cauldron, there was no such thing as an accident, no such thing as coincidence.

I'd waded through the House of Wind, tipsy on wine and giggling softly to myself as I banged into the walls, thumping clumsily against the art pieces hanging and tripping over my own two feet. Giddy, I had been giddy, stumbling through the halls in search of him.

Azriel, my mate.

Only a few hours apart and I missed him, yearned for him, I felt the distance as if it spanned miles and the more I drank, the more I craved him. That's all I had been thinking of when I trekked through the empty halls, closer and closer to the lounge- just of my mate.

And that's when I heard it.

"The Cauldron works in mysterious ways," Rhysand's laugh drifted out to me in the corridor, and I came to an unsteady halt at the sound. "Feyre was my salvation; I didn't expect anything good to come to me Under the Mountain."

I smiled to myself, my hand coming to my mouth, shielding any sound that threatened to slip past- Az always teased that my lips loosened when I drank too much. Instead, I lean against the cold wall, warmth filling me as he gushed about my High Lady.

They were Cauldron blessed, that was clear to see.

"I think five hundred years of waiting for her was enough, brother," Cassian snorted, and I heard the faint sound of liquor pouring into a glass, wings rustling as one of the powerful males moved. "I know I never imagined my mate as a twenty-five-year-old human female, with a bite worse than mine."

I bit my lip as Cassian laughed, a loud, bellowing sound, so full of joy, so full of content, the mere memory of Nesta, human and utterly indomitable against him something that still brought him to his knees.

"The Cauldron must have a sense of humour," Rhysand teased, and I could practically envision Cassian rolling his eyes, a vulgar gesture thrown between the two males. "Connecting people in the most unexpected pairs, in the most unexpected ways."

"Like Elain and Lucien," Cass scoffs, loudly chugging back the remnant in his glass, "There's a pair I could never have foreseen, not in a thousand years."

"Proof that the Cauldron isn't always right," Azriel muses for the first time since I arrived, and my body almost croons at the sound- low and rough, moving over me as sure as if it were his hands. "She deserves better than any male friends with Tamlin, that's for sure."

She deserves better.

It was silly I knew, for the mere mention of her, the thought of her to make me feel nauseous, make my smile instantly fade, but I couldn't help it. It was hard for me to see a female as lovely as Elain Archeron and not feel inadequate by comparison.

Another who was blessed, so lovely that she had been gifted her seer abilities by the Cauldron itself as if her beauty and delicate demeanour weren't gift enough.

"Brave words, Az," Rhys whistled, and I had to force myself to blink away the picture-perfect image I had conjured of the middle Archerson sister, forcing myself to focus on their conversation instead. "Openly opposing the Cauldron."

"Brave or stupid?" Cassian counters tauntingly, and I knew he was drunk just from how loud his voice was, practically bouncing off the walls. "You think the Cauldron makes mistakes?"

"I know it does," Azriel challenges and it was that voice, that sure, quiet demeanour that I adored and desired so fiercely. I inch closer to the door, grinning at the idea of popping out and scaring them- but then he says it.

Says the thing that makes me stop dead in my tracks, makes my heart stop dead in my chest.

"Look at me and Y/N," Azriel sighs, and there's no joy, or adoration or yearning in his voice in memory of me, not like Rhys or Cass- no, there's dread. "The Cauldron made us mates... the Cauldron was wrong, so wrong."

There's a loud crack that echoes through the room, and it's that sound, and the feel of sharp debris against my palm, that pulls me from my memories. I blink through the tears, looking down at the crumbling marble sink, the corner pieces breaking off into my hands.

I sob through my teeth at the sight, small cuts leaking stark red blood down my fingers as I bring my hands to my chest. I can't see the looking- glass before me, not through the haze of tears, tears so strong it's as if I were made of them.

As if they had become a part of me.

It was all I had done the past week, cry and cry and cry- and avoid Azriel.

Every morning I skip training and breakfast, feigning fatigue or a full stomach, just so I wouldn't see him there. Each afternoon I'd get lost in the stacks and stacks of books in the library, so vast and endless that Azriel never stood a chance of finding me in the maze.

And at night I'd find solace wherever I could find a drink- Rita's, taverns, the Music Quarter, anywhere. Anywhere but at home, anywhere that I didn't have to see him.

I couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the sight of his face, even now the thought of his tilted smile, the beam of his soft hazel eyes, the touch of his scared hands and wild shadows, it made my whole body wrecked with sobs.

I couldn't bear any of it anymore- because none of it was real.

Every smile and touch, every kiss and moment where our bodies joined as one, where he confessed his love and devotion to me, it wasn't real. Azriel thought we were wrong, a mistake, a confusion, just wrong.

My hands shook as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, rougher than necessary, blood-smearing, but I was tired of tears, I was tired of crying, of feeling so unworthy. I was unworthy of him; he was beautiful inside and out and deserved so much better than me.

I sniffed as I lifted my gaze to the looking glass before me, and my heart hurt at the reflection, knowing that this was what Azriel saw, that this was why he knew the Cauldron was wrong. Every curve and roll and inch of flesh that I had, all of it, it was all wrong.

And I hated myself for it.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I take a step back and then another step, away from the reflection that taunted me, and mocked me, before forcing myself to look away. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat as I moved across the cold floor of my bathing suit, my body desperate for my bed.

And as I step over the door's threshold, and back into my old room in the House of Wind, I know it's not the same as when I had left it ten minutes ago.

He was here.

"Azriel," I gasped, halting at the sight of him- sat on the edge of my bed, his broad shoulders and powerful wings rising sharply at the sound of my voice, those hazel eyes meeting mine and filling with something honeyed and warm. "Wha- what are you doing here?"

He rises from the bed, elegant and still, his shadows dancing around him at the feel of my presence, the scent of my skin, and I shiver as he watches me, keen eyes gracing my stiff figure.

"Y/N," He sounds almost relieved as he says my name and my breath is caught in my lungs as I stay rooted to my spot, and he seems to sense my unease, as he doesn't move any closer to me. "You've been staying here for a week now; I missed you at home."

Home- the apartment we shared in town together, a cosy space that we had made our own.

Another thing I couldn't bear to face.

"I've been catching up with the girls," I say quietly, ripping my eyes from him and walking forward on numb legs. I tug at the hem of my nightshirt, his nightshirt I had stolen, feeling too bare before him and his eyes narrow at the movement. "It's just easier to sleep here when we have plans every day."

As spymaster it was Azriel's job to scrutinise, to observe and I felt every single part of that slot into place as he watched me now, watched as I moved toward the bed. I wasn't looking at him, I couldn't hold his stare- and he couldn't figure out why.

His shadows dance through the room, through the distance between us and I jolt, biting my lip when one brushes against my bare thigh- before scurrying back to Azriel in surprise. He inhales a sharp breath when his shadow whispers to him, telling him that something is wrong, I was wrong.

"I know you've been spending time with the girls," Azriel continues slowly, his voice tentative and soft as I move to the other side of the bed, furthest from where he stood. "I just feel like I haven't seen you at all... I miss you, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

A sob threatened to rip from me at the name, so soft, so endearing on his lips and it took everything in me to not fall apart at that moment, to not crumble under the weight of it all. I shake my head, my back turned to him now and he watches as I tug back the duvet, my actions angry now.

"It's only been a week Azriel," I breathe through my clenched teeth, my tone so at odds with his and my body locking tighter at the sound of his impending footsteps. "Sometimes space can be good, it can be eye-opening, show us things we don't want to admit but know deep down."

My words hit him head-on, like a slap across the face- I don't need to see him to know it, I can tell just from the stillness in the room, the silence, so strong that even his shadows have withered.

I clench my eyes at the feeling, at the touch that strokes against my soul, him reaching out to me through the mating bond- and me slamming up every wall I have to keep him away.

"What does that mean?!"

I don't hear him until he's right behind me and when his large hand touches the small of my back, I jolt, stumbling into the bed to get away from it. I turn on shaking legs to face him, and I'm pressed into the mattress to keep the distance.

"What? Y/N-" His face pales, and I see the pain in his eyes, unlike anything I had ever witnessed from him before. It was raw, vulnerable as if five hundred years of existence couldn't hide the hurt, knowing that I had flinched from his touch, flinched from him.

A rejection- something he feared the most.

"Sweetheart, please, I don't understand," He shook his head, his beautiful face twisted into an agonised frown, and his voice trembled, weak, as weak as the hand that now reached for me, shaking as if scared to touch me. "Why won't you let me touch you? Why are you pulling away from me, why-"

He stops, and for a moment I think it's because of the tears steadily leaking down my face, the way my bottom lip trembles with the effort to hold myself together- but it's not. His nose flared, and the hazel in his eyes turned dark, narrowing down upon my hands.

"You're bleeding," He mumbles hoarsely and the pain in my chest triples when his scarred hands inch closer, my eyes fluttering shut the second he touches me, holding my palms in his and examining the small cuts. "What happened, sweetheart-"

"Don't! Don't- don't call me that, don't touch me," I croak out, my voice breaking and Azriel flinches at the cry in my voice, wings rustling when I yank my hands-free from his hold, as if his touch burned me. "Stop pretending, stop making me think you care, just-just stop."

"I don't understand, what do you mean pretending-" He pleads, his voice splintering, and I can see him thrumming with emotion, desperate to reach out to me, to hold me, but trying to respect what I had asked him. "I don't understand, help me understand what I did wrong-"

"I know how you feel about me, a-about us," I sob, my weak hands coming to my face, and I cry into them, so loud that nothing can muffle them, and I feel Azriel's' helplessness down the bond, still reaching for me, "It was cruel, to make me think-to make me think you loved me-"

"I do love you!" He snarls and my eyes snap open when I feel the familiar roughness of his hands against my wet cheeks, his grip unrelenting and needing as he draws me to him- and I don't have the strength to fight him. "Of course, I love you, why would you say that?"

His thumbs brush away the tears that won't stop leaking from my cheeks and somehow my fingers have found purchase in the material of his shirt, nails digging desperately, clutching him as tightly as he held me.

"You said it was wrong," I whisper, the words slurring in my throat, and I force my heavy eyes to his, force myself to look into those teary hazel eyes and confront him, with the burden I had been carrying alone this whole time. "You said that we were wrong, that the Cauldron was wrong."

His forehead creases, lines forming between the thick, dark brows as he peers down at me, and his hands don't release me, if anything they draw me closer.

And I see the moment realisation hits him, like ice-cold water seeping through his veins.

"I heard you talking to Rhys and Cass, you said we were proof," I gasp, feeling his shadows curl and wreath around my wrists and fingers, as if afraid to let go, as if trying to comfort me as I sniff. "You said we were proof that the Cauldron could be wrong, so wrong."

"I didn't mean you, Y/N, I would never mean you," He beseeches, his breath caressing my face, my lips and his eyes are so intense, so vibrant that I can't look away, "I didn't mean you, I meant me, I'm wrong!"

I suck in a harsh breath at his outburst and I feel it then- the self-deprecation, the vulnerability, the fear, it was all aimed at himself, it was all about him.

The silence stretches on as we stare at each other and my face must hold every ounce of my surprise and confusion, because he sighs, his forehead resting against mine. I see his wings sag behind him, as if defeated.

"I don't know how much you heard but I did not mean that the Cauldron was wrong to pair you with me," He mutters, his words unsteady, and my eyes flutter shut at his words, "I meant that the Cauldron was wrong to pair me with you- the Cauldron has blessed me but forsaken you."

"Azriel-" I gasped, and it was now my hand that lifted between us, my hand that cupped his stubbled cheek, forcing his eyes to mine. "That's not true, I'm not forsaken, I'm blessed, I'm Cauldron-blessed, Mother-blessed to have you-"

"Y/N you deserve the world, the sun and the moon and the stars," Azriel's voice breaks, a sob gurgling in his throat as he nestles against my palm, now wet with his tears. "I have spent five hundred years being unworthy of anything, and now that I have you, I will spend the next five hundred being unworthy of you."

He felt unworthy of me, he thought that he did not deserve me.

"Don't say that don't- you've given me the world and more," I shake my head, forcing every inch of surety and strength into my voice, "I love you, so much, so much that the thought of you thinking we were wrong, it killed me Az, because you're all I need."

He shakes his head against my hold, but his hands slip down my back, down my waist and to my hips and thighs, fingers digging into my flesh, holding onto my meat for leverage and pressing my soft body against his firm one for dear life.

"Not once did I ever think you were the problem, I thought it was me," His brow furrows deeper at my words, and I see the denial in his eyes, in his face, "I see a male who is beautiful inside and out, who is powerful and skilled, who has been a saviour to this Court in so many ways and I can't come close, I can't ever be equal to that Az."

"Y/N, no-" He growls, nails carving crescent moons into my flesh.

"I'm not a warrior like Nesta or a ruler like Feyre," I continue, and I open up the walls I erected to keep him out from my soul and mind, letting the mating bond flow freely again- to let him see all I had thought these few days. "I'm not beautiful like Elain... I'm not enough."

"You are everything," He hisses, and I can feel his overwhelming pain as sure as if it were my own as he graces over my feelings and thoughts- as he takes in every disgusting, horrific thing I had thought about myself, about my body. "You are everything and more to me, Y/N."

Power flashes through his eyes and then his head ducks toward me, capturing my lips in his.

Time seems to slow when his lips meet mine in a gentle collision, the kind of impact that steals the breath from my lungs, the kind I can't get enough of. Azriel grumbles at the taste of wine on my mouth, his tongue lapping at mine as if devouring the sweetness.

"Azriel," I sigh, like putty in his capable hands, and like always, he's skilled with how he handles my body, so easily turning us so my legs hit the mattress, my body weightless as he lifts me to sit on the edge.

"I have seen you navigate politics and arrogant High Lords in a way that has us all on our knees," He mutters against my lips, and I croon at the feel of his hands languishing up my thighs and hips, squeezing the flesh, his eyes dark with desire now.

His nose brushes against my cheek, so bare, as he kisses and trails his tongue along my jaw, moving down my neck and I can't do anything but moan softly as he lies me flat on my back, his powerful body towering over me, covering me wholly.

"I have seen you cut down soldiers triple your size as if they were little more than weeds in a field," His canines scrape against the racing pule-point at my neck and my eyes flutter, neck exposing for him and back arching when his hand cups my breast over my shirt.

He settles between my thighs, and he groans when his hard length brushes my wet core, the smell of arousal heavy in the air, the kind of stimulation that made us both dizzy with need. I arch my hips up to meet him, needing to feel something, anything from him.

"And I have seen males and females alike marvel at your beauty, at your body, desiring to see you without a scrap of clothing on," Azriel's voice turns furious, dark, as if the mere thought of someone else seeing me naked made him violent, honed to kill.

"Az, please," I mewl, fingers clawing at his back, feeling the muscles ripple under my touch, his shadows in a frenzy, caressing and dancing and wreathing around my body, feeding off every moan that escaped me. "I need you Az, please."

He presses long, wet kisses against my jugular and I sigh in relief when I feel his body shift, hips lifting and the sound of a belt clinking as he unhooks his slacks, freeing his hard length from within.

"I love you, sweetheart," His head lifts, face tight with sincerity and I can feel the thumping of his heart against mine, those intense eyes capturing me wholly. "I love all of you, I love all that you are-"

"Body," His fingers hook into my underwear, and I gasp as he tugs the wet material to the side, fingers brushing my clit.

"Mind," Our sounds meld as he rubs the tip of his cock against me, parting my folds, spreading my arousal from my entrance to my clit, and his breathing deepens as I whimper.

"And soul." He pushes into my entrance, stretching me just from the tip and automatically, my thighs clamp around his hips and my back arches at the feeling of him.

"I love you, Y/N," He pushes in until his long, thick length hits my cervix and my cunt is stretched thoroughly, throbbing around him. I trace my hands up his arms, nails scratching along every muscle, every strong, lean plane of him.

"I love you too, Azriel," I whisper back, and when my eyes flutter open, I see him above me and I know that nothing else, no one else could feel this right.

He doesn't move, merely staring down at me, his eyes burning like embers- feeling the thought as intensely as I did.

The Cauldron was right, so right.

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

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen

Comment to be added to the tag-list >3

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel smut #cassian acotar #rhysand #acotar smut #smut #plus size reader #azriel x plus size reader #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #sjmaas #plus size smut #plus size y/n

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salemwritesxx · 3 years

Text

𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼.

𝔹 𝕒 𝕜 𝕦 𝕘 𝕠 𝕦 𝕂 𝕒 𝕥 𝕤 𝕦 𝕜 𝕚

⇴ male reader [24, pro-hero, alpha, quirk: ice-phoenix] ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ summary: Bakugou and [Your.name] were dating, about to get married. Though one morning, everything that was dear to [Your.name] was brutally ripped away when he found a letter from his fiancé. Katsuki was gone, no traces left behind. And now, after three years [Your.name] was suddenly confronted with the reason when he meets his ex-fiancé again in a small town in Hokkaido.

↣ rating: mature ↣ warnings: abo universe, male pregnancy, bonding (biting for the bond mark to appear), drama / angst that turns into a happy end though; angst ending version read here.

AN: This was inspired by @amgjiks ’ request they sent in a few months ago! posting this story under your original request feels kinda “wrong” since I’d be ignoring half of what you requested basically so imma keep the original for when inspiration kicks in, in the future :)

part 2.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Walking along the streets, you didn’t have a destination in mind. Just walking around and letting fresh air clear your fogged up brain. You had been overthinking – again. It was one of those days were you couldn’t help but think back to three years ago. Tomorrow three years ago would have been the date were you and Katsuki would have said “Yes”, but alas… it all came differently.

Running your hand through your hair, you sighed deeply.

“I need to stop thinking about this. It’s been so long! Like this, I will never be able to forget him.”

But how were you supposed to forget the love of your life? Especially when it all came so quickly and out of nowhere? One day everything was fine, the next, he was gone. And as much as you tried to find him, despite him stating in the letter you shouldn’t try, it was all in vain anyways. It’s as if Bakugou Katsuki had never existed. Even his parents, that were always very much in love with you as their son-in-law, completely ignored you and cut you off.

It was such a deep cut, even time wasn’t able to heal anything. The last three years were rough. Sleepless nights were a normal thing by now. And while media praised you for working so hard on your hero career, you just pushed yourself like that so you wouldn’t need to think about the past. Because when you were working, it all just faded away.

However, after collapsing one day, the agency forced you to take time off and so you landed in Hokkaido. Far away from the bustling streets of Tokyo, your gloomy small apartment and your work place. With nothing to do, you found yourself overthinking day and night. If you just could ask him one question.

Why?

Putting on his scent-blocking collar, Bakugou suddenly felt a little tugging on his t-shirt, hence he looked down. [Eye.color], big eyes stared at him and the toothy smile immediately had him smiling as well.

“Are you ready to go outside, Hiroto?”, he asked his son who looked so much like you, reminding him every day what he had done.

“MH! Can I bring Popo?”, Hiroto’s big eyes sparkled a little, making it very difficult for Katsuki to say no, hence he nodded a little.

Watching his son, it only took a few moments before he came back with his stuffed animal, it was a phoenix. Rather, it was your merchandise. It… was complicated.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeess!”

And so, Katsuki locked the door behind him, leaving to go for a walk around the block and a quick park visit.

Leaning against a bridge, you stared down, still pondering. If you had just acted differently, maybe you could have saved your relationship. Whatever it was you had done, it pushed him away from you and it was eating you inside to not know what the reason was.

You didn’t know how many hours you had been wandering around town, trying to stop thinking, but as always, you only thought harder the less you had to do. Hence why you decided to go back to the inn you were staying at.

After hours outside, Hiroto was tired, his plushy Popo hugged tightly against his chest as he silently walked besides Bakugou along the streets. One more time, Katsuki tried to pick his son up, “Hiro? Want me to carry you home? Aren’t you tired?”

“NHN!”, he shook his head, “Daddy is never tired when he fights the bad guys! So I am also not tired.”

Hiroto was stubborn as he kept walking besides Bakugou who was just sighing a little. It was his own fault, but he couldn’t lie to his son. Without even thinking about it, Katsuki talked about you whenever you were on TV. He didn’t know why he just couldn’t keep quiet about you being Hiroto’s father. So now, whenever you were on TV, Bakugou had to lie and say you were in another country fighting the bad guys, even though you were still in Tokyo, mere 4 hours away with the train. But Katsuki couldn’t come back. Not after he had hurt you so much. It was his decision to raise Hiroto alone. You deserved to be successful, it had been your dream. Kids just weren’t a thing you had planned for, at least not with 21.

Being caught up in his own thoughts, Bakugou didn’t see you on the other side of the street. Neither did you see him. Both of you staring ahead, thinking back to three years ago, what had been and what it could have become. However, something connected you both. You never had a chance to bond with him, was it a tradition in your alpha family to bond during the wedding night, but your connection was different. Said connection was looking up and across the street.

Hiroto just looked around tiredly when he saw someone. Someone he had seen on TV multiple times. The little boy didn’t know how many times he had wanted Katsuki to show him YouTube videos of you fighting.

“HAAAHHH!? DADDY!?”, a piercing cry came from the little one, shaking you and Katsuki awake. The latter immediately grabbing Hiroto, but.. it was too late.

“HIRO?!”, he yelled, though his son ran across the streets.

You, on the other hand, were so incredibly confused. There he was, standing literally on the other side and then there was a little child, running towards you and calling for you. Was this the “Why?” you had searched for, for so long? You couldn’t think about it when your legs moved on their own to get the kid out of a potential dangerous situation.

It was a blessing that the small town didn’t have much traffic, hence why you could easily run towards him, scoop him up and get back to the safe sidewalks in mere seconds. You didn’t want to imagine what could have happened in a busy city like Tokyo.

Then you stood there, awkwardly holding Hiroto who was crying and sobbing into your t-shirt while Katsuki’s own emotions were all over the place. The Omega had never imagined the possible chance of meeting you again. After three years, all he had built up from scratch to have a comfortable life far, far away from you, as to not disturb your career, it all broke apart.

However, Bakugou wasn’t the only one hearing something shattering, your own heart dropped into your stomach. The already broken pieces shattering more when you saw the pure horror displayed on his face. This was not how you imagined meeting him again. He hated you. You were certain of that. Whatever you had done to him, he never wanted to see you again. It all was so clear to you now it almost brought you to tears then and there.

Your inner Alpha was strongly urging you to just grab him, Katsuki was your Omega, even if you never had a chance to mark him, that’s just how it was. He was yours. But…

Slowly pushing your son away you put him into Bakugou’s arms. There were no words said, the only thing disturbing the silence was Hiroto’s sobbing. Especially when you loosened his tight grip on your t-shirt, he started squirming and screaming, trying to grab onto you more. He had seen you on TV so many times and now you were right in front of him. Yet, Hiroto had to watch when you turned around and left him behind.

You had so many questions rushing through your head, but at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to utter them out loud. Not after seeing Bakugou’s expression. This was never supposed to happen. Even if your heart yearned for answers, especially regarding his son… your son?

Without thinking about it, Katsuki put Hiroto down to let him run after you once again. It was such an impulse thing to do, he truly didn’t know why he had done it. Though after three years, why should he hide anymore when you had seen everything now? Also… after so long, he might have not been able to ignore his heart’s desire and yearning any longer.

It was so incredibly hard to ignore Hiroto’s crying and just walk away as if it had never happened, but for the sake of Katsuki’s happiness, you chose to go. However, a sudden tug made you stop. Looking down you saw ice around your ankles. It was weak and thin, easily breakable really. Hiroto’s? When you turned around, he had already clutched your leg tightly. Why?

When you looked back up, Bakugou also stood in front of you, his ruby eyes shimmering a little.

“Do you … want to talk?”, he finally asked, his voice breaking at the end though as he tried his hardest not to cry. What was he doing? It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you in like three weeks, it had been YEARS since he left without any other word. Why would you even want to have anything to do with him or Hiroto?

“Yes!”, you said and it truly caught the Omega off-guard. After everything he put you through… If he was in your position he probably would have been so angry and furious, but you just seemed exhausted and tired.

But finally, you would be getting some answers.

All night long, you couldn’t sleep. After you had calmed down Hiroto enough, Bakugou gave you a little piece of paper with his address on it. “I work until 7. So we can talk without any disturbance.”, he said when he gave you the information. It was probably for the best. You didn’t want to imagine what would happen when your feelings would overcome you out in a café. [Your.hero.name] seen screaming in Hokkaido – you could see the news all over the internet already. So, it was probably for the best to meet him at home.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous. How had your ex-fiancé been living his life the past three years? It was all exciting and scary at the same time to find out those things.

When you knocked on his door, your inner Alpha was impatiently pacing up and down. It was as nervous as you. But when the door opened and Katsuki stood there, you were sure for the first time in the last 12 hours, that it wasn’t a dream. Walking inside was heaven and hell at the same time. Everything smelled like him. The Omega’s scent was so familiar, but another one was mixed in – probably Hiroto’s.

“A friend of mine is looking after Hiroto tonight so he won’t be dragged into this.”, he said, nervously fumbling with his scent-blocking collar.

It was weird wearing it at home, but for you and himself, he had to wear it. His Omega had been going in circles ever since he met you again yesterday. It wanted to be taken and to be honest, Bakugou was also close to surrender to you. But it wasn’t that easy. You probably had so many questions.

“Oh… Yeah that’s for the best. Katsuki.”, you suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallways.

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry I can't wait, but you need to tell me now. Hiroto, he… called me Daddy and he has an ice quirk… so I am not wrong to assume that he is… our son?”

Katsuki could vividly feel your emotions, the Omega was shuddering, his throat dry and hands sweatier than usual.

“Yeah…”, was all he could choke out.

“Oh.. my God.”, you just mumbled to yourself. Hearing it out loud was like another punch in your stomach.

“Did you… leave me when you were pregnant?”, was your next question, still standing in the middle of the hallway.

However, Katsuki couldn’t even blame you. There were so many questions left unanswered.

“We were too young…”, his ruby eyes were shimmering again with tears, but he tried his best to keep them at bay.

“Too young?”, you were speechless for a moment, before looking back, “Why didn’t you tell me?! Why did you just… leave? Why… did you do everything yourself?!”

Now you were finally angry. After so long, you just couldn’t understand why he would leave you without saying anything. It could have all come differently if Katsuki would have just been honest!

“You had your career?! A baby didn’t just… fucking fit into our lifestyle! What else could I have done?!”, Bakugou yelled back. He knew it would come to this.

“SO?! You also had your career, we were both working hard to become well-known heroes so that’s not a fucking excuse. What else?? You seriously ask me?!”, you gestured wildly.

“You wouldn’t have wanted to raise a child, it was too soon!”

“It was NOT your right to decide that for me!”, you yelled, your voice breaking as tears welled up.

Bakugou once again being a little taken aback. His heart was racing and his tears so close to falling.

“You could have asked me, we could have worked it out.”, the first tears successfully fought their way out as they rolled over your cheeks.

“I loved you SO MUCH. If it was possible I would have literally brought you the stars from the sky. I would have done anything. And you? You just leave. Without anything but a letter telling me you cannot marry me. Do you have the slightest idea how I felt?”, your voice was shaking and breaking here and there, but it was freeing to finally let it all out.

“I thought it was for the best. I didn’t know what to do.“, Bakugou’s voice was so uncharacteristically weak and small.

“You didn’t know?? Did you never trust me, Katsuki? Was I just- such a horrible Alpha to you? Did you think I’d force you to an abortion? Was I not good enough to be a father?!”, you asked trying so hard not to scream, but all these pent up feelings, it all just gushed out without any sort of valve to stop yourself.

“That’s not it! I knew you wouldn’t do that, I just-“

“WHAT? Please tell me why! Why?! Why was I not worthy to be your mate? Why did you refuse to tell me and just leave?! Why did you chose raising OUR baby alone, I-“

“I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?! I don’t know! It was a fucking stupid decision out of nowhere!”, he finally screamed back, tears cascading down his face.

“Don’t you think I have regretted it? Do you think I LIKE being a single parent?! I know I fucked up. I know I threw it all away because I panicked, okay?! I just panicked and before I knew it I was on the train.”, Katsuki sobbed, desperately wiping away his tears.

“We were so fucking young! We had planned to marry, we were talking about saving up for the future to build a house, to have a family in like 10 years or more. But… But I just messed up! I forgot to take my medication before going into Heat, it was my fault I got pregnant- I… I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. Throw everything we planned out the window because I was too fucking stupid to remember.”, his voice broke horribly, being squeaky from time to time as Bakugou’s guilt just overflowed.

The Omega was shaking and instinctively, you and your inner Alpha wanted to protect him. Hence why you wiped away your tears and took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“I know I messed up. Fuck.”, he cried and yet laughed at himself. Hands buried in his hair, Bakugou just wanted to cease to exist in that moment. He had done so many things wrong in his life. The only good thing that had ever happened was meeting you and falling in love with you and even that he destroyed.

He was gasping for air due to talking nonstop while gesturing with his hands wildly. And then, you just hugged him. Your Alpha scent surrounding him and soothing him. Your arms strong and warm, just perfect to melt into them and let everything loose. Oh, how he had missed that.

“I just… wish you had given me a choice. I wish you would have trusted me more. I would have done anything for you and our baby. It would have been hard, I know, but I am sure we would have been able to make it work.”, you quietly said while soothingly caressing his back and letting a quiet, calming purr erupt from your throat. A sign how close you truly were as you would never purr for anyone else than Bakugou.

“I’m sorry.”, Bakugou sobbed and clawed at your clothes, “I love you and I missed you and.. it was so hard alone, but I know I don’t have any fucking right to complain about it because it’s all my fault and I hurt you so much and-“

You hugged him a little tighter.

“I regret everything, I… I… can you forgive me? Can you give me a second chance? I know I don’t deserve it. I know…”

Had you ever seen him so weak before? No. And it truly tugged on your heart strings. There is nothing you wanted more. Get back together. Be happy again. But-

“Katsuki… have you ever thought of coming back to me? Like, if I had never shown up, if I had never found out… wouldn’t you keep on living without me just fine? Don’t you think this is your guilty conscious speaking? You don’t want me. You don’t need me.”

That was the last thing you said before you pulled back from him at last. Bakugou was quite speechless, just staring at you, red, swollen eyes and a tear-stained face made it hard to just go. But it was for the better. Even if he had regretted it, he was never pushed so far as to come back to you. Like that, maybe it was for the best.

Though before you could turn away, he grabbed your hand.

“Katsuki…”

“I wanted… during the pregnancy, after Hiroto was born and every time I saw you on TV, I was so close to leaving all of this. But at that point, I was too fucking scared. I had no right to go back… There are so many letters I’ve written and never sent. [Your.name], I… I literally have a suitcase ready to go. I’ve been waiting for some sort of sign or I don’t know and now? You’re here. Right here in front of me. I know it’s foolish and I’m stupid and have no fucking right to demand this from you, but please… Let me come back. Please forgive me. Please… be Hiroto’s father.”

He had never in his life begged. His superiority complex definitely wouldn’t allow for any of that, but right now was different. He realized the hurt he had caused. How wrong he was. Bakugou had regretted running away in the first week of living in Hokkaido. He always told himself it was “the right thing”. So maybe it was pathetic that he came crawling back, but if there was a slight chance you would take him back, he just had to take it.

But then, you looked down and onto his hand. The gold engagement ring you had gotten him around four years ago was still on his ring finger.

“You still… wear it?”, you asked as you reached for the hand that gripped your wrist tightly. His hands were shaking still – you have never seen him like that.

“It’s the only thing that kept me connected to you…”

“Katsuki…”

Reaching out, you cupped his face with your big hand, the Omega instinctively leaning against it. It was okay. Even if you were to get hurt again. Even if you forgave too quickly. Everything was okay now as you leaned in to connect your lips.

Holding onto you immediately, Bakugou’s fingers clawed at your t-shirt not wanting to let go ever again. Your lips melting together, emotions overwhelming you both as you pressed him into the wall. One hand reaching up to his collar. It took mere seconds for it to snap open. Then it fell to the floor, unleashing all of Bakugou’s Omega scent.

It being overwhelming was quite the understatement. Your knees were weak and legs shaking. You couldn’t resist the urge to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“Oh my God…”, you moaned as you slowly slid down onto the ground with him, Katsuki just whimpering as he hugged your body as close as possible.

He would never let go again – never!

With your teeth gracing along his neck, your sweaty bodies collided over and over again. Bakugou only able to sob as he held on to your hands tightly, nails digging into your skin and almost drawing blood.

You were hovering above him, hearing his cries and sobs. The sweet scent from his neck being so irresistible. You just wanted to bite. Mark him. It had been a tradition in your household to do so on your wedding night, but…

“Do it…”, you suddenly heard.

Bakugou could barely choke it out, ruby eyes filled with tears of pleasure as he whispered one more time, “Do it… It’s overdue…”

And then, without thinking twice about it anymore, you grabbed him tightly while your teeth sank into his skin.

A marvelous burning pain rushing through his body almost made Katsuki pass out. The sweet torture of being bonded to his mate was almost too much. That was all he had longed for, for so long. He didn’t know why you would take such a coward like him back, but he was so grateful and plain… happy.

Once you opened your eyes the next morning, it all felt like a dream. Especially when you reached to your side and it was empty.

Sitting up abruptly, you looked around – definitely not your room. So what happened last night was not a dream. However…

Without putting anything on, your heart was beating so fast when you rushed outside the bedroom door. Flashbacks to three years ago were haunting your mind.

“Katsuki?”, you tore open the next door, prepared to just see another letter on one of the tables.

Though it, thankfully, wasn’t the case. There he was, standing in the kitchen, your flannel from yesterday the only thing covering his body while he was talking to someone on the phone. Unintentionally, tears had formed in your eyes, but now, you just sighed shakily and wiped over your eyes quickly.

Bakugou, who had turned around once he heard you calling for him, certainly had his heart sinking in the pit of his stomach.

That was his fault.

“Okay… okay, thank you.”, then he ended the call and turned to you, “Sorry, it was about Hiro. Akitoshi will bring him over before lunch.”

“Ah? Mh, okay.”

“Hey…”, putting his phone onto the table, he walked towards you. The Omega’s strong arms wrapped around your waist as he cuddled against your chest.

“I am not running away again. I promise.”, Katsuki barely whispered.

Hugging him tightly with your hand buried in his hair, you just quietly sighed and then kissed his forehead before leaning your head against his.

“I know. I just need some time.”, you also said quietly and Bakugou understood.

Hence why he reached out to cup your face, smiling softly.

“I love you.”

A small smile also flitted across your lips. Your hands cupping his own as you leaned down to kiss him.

“I love you, too.”

Walking back into the bedroom, Bakugou soon lost the flannel again as he slipped into bed, snuggling against you; legs tangled and naked bodies melting together. Unintentionally your hand had slipped down to his belly. That’s when you felt uneven skin and a scar underneath your fingertips. Yesterday, you were caught up in all your pent up emotions too much, so you didn’t notice.

It was his C-Section scar.

“Katsuki?”

“Hm?”

“Tell me about Hiroto.”

Subconsciously, his lips curved into a smile. That you wanted to know more about your son melted his heart but also made him feel more guilty. If only he could turn back time.

“Yeah.”, and then, he started talking and you just listened to the soothing voice of your Omega.

There were three years to catch up on, but due to Katsuki telling your son about you all the time, at least it was easier for Hiroto. With how he was clinging to you yesterday, it was obvious he loved you even though he had never met you in person. And you wanted to be there for him at last. You had only met him yesterday for a brief moment but your heart was already filled with so much love that you wanted to give to him.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: I’d love to know what y’all thought of this story? :) once again I took inspiration from the request and I am pretty happy with the outcome!

#salemswriting.#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x male reader #bakugou x reader #bottom bakugou #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #abo #mpreg #omega bakugou #bakugou

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wickedscribbles · 3 years

Text

Come What May, Chapter Three

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the support! It means a lot. <3

Masterlist

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Original Female Character (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: fluff, teasing, being in a relationship with Obi-Wan means witty banter, spoil Obi-Wan damn it the man is TIRED, fantasizing in places you shouldn’t, Obi-Wan being a bit of a tease, Jedi are touch-starved, loss of virginity (for both parties), cock riding

Word Count: 6.3 K

You're sure that all this sneaking around isn't part of the Code, either. But in the middle of a war, you and Obi-Wan take what you can get. With one or both of you needed off-planet more and more often, even being back at the Temple to sneak around with one another is welcome. Disputes between Republic and Separatist planets are only getting more tense. As Jedi, you both have your duties. Obi-Wan as a General, and you as a healer.

Life is busy, sometimes overwhelming and scary. Whether you’re on the front line, holding the hand of a soldier, or home on Coruscant tending to Jedi and low-level civilians. The thing that keeps your gut from gnawing itself to pieces with worry for Obi-Wan is your comm blinking with his encrypted message. One word; safe. He never forgets. Though you can’t feel through your bond off-planet, you can at least relax enough to sleep before typing your own reply. Safe. No matter where you are, he insists on knowing the same is true on your end.

So when you feel a flicker of him among the hundreds of other souls coming in and out of the Temple, you don’t hesitate to reach out in excitement. Obi-Wan hadn’t said when he’d arrive the last time you were able to speak, just that he would be back at the Temple soon. Forgetting yourself, you push out for his own life Force, a wordless wave of happiness. The colicky baby you’re comforting in the creche feels it too, going from the brink of a tantrum to a wide-eyed smile.

!!!!

Hello there, he says, answering with his own push of delight that you’ve found him, that you’re home too. Underneath it runs a silent warning in the form of his usual anxiety. However happy you both are, you must be quieter. You tell him you understand, duck your head though he’s not there in the room to admonish you.

Obi-Wan’s nerves fade, replaced by the usual rush of curiosity that bubbles up from both of you after an absence. There will be dozens of questions, when you're together to talk. It’s difficult to have a real conversation through the commlink without raising suspicion, so reunions are full of stories. For now, though, you ask only one.

Where are you?

Come and see, he says mysteriously. You can almost see the grin on his face. You roll your eyes at the unnecessary antics, but can’t bite back a smile. Negotiations must have gone well for him to be teasing you.

The baby fusses again in your arms, and you stroke his head to soothe him. “I know, Myn. We’ll get you to bed, then see where Master Kenobi is hiding. Now, let's help you feel better.”

----

He's not where you expect him to be.

After an unsuccessful visit to each of his favorite spots, you find the scoundrel sitting in the main refectory. In a room meant for hundreds, only around a dozen mill about or eat at this hour. Each long table has an average of only one or two occupants, and most of the holodisplays are buzzing on standby. Droids roll around, mopping tables and cleaning spills. The transparisteel windows are open, letting in a nice evening breeze. Obi-Wan is one of the few, looking out of place in armor. He must have really just gotten home, then.

Your breath catches to even recognize the back of his head. Between your conflicting schedules, a month has passed since you've seen him. Gods, you wish you could run over. Wish you could beam at him, in this public space, wrap him up and breathe him in. He'd smell a little strange, blaster fire and recycled air and foreign planets. But under it all, undeniably Obi-Wan. Jedi Master, War General, and secret giver of the best hugs.

Not just hugs, you sigh to yourself, thinking of the last time he was home. Every step you force yourself to walk over to him only makes the memory that much clearer. As inexperienced as the both of you'd started, Master Obi-Wan was proving to be an attentive and voracious partner. Seeming as eager to please as he was to learn, you never left disappointed. After his initial reluctance for intimacy, you'd watched him shyly blossom under the attention you gave him.

In return, your accidental Force bond positively shines, and being connected to another living being this way is an experience you wouldn't trade for anything -- sexual encounters or not. You find yourself similar to him in ways that surprise and delight you -- and your differences aren’t so monumental. After all, the most tender parts of your minds, your souls, are often laid bare for one another. Though you've only been together for a few months, and even then for a few stolen moments, you feel comfortable with him, and he with you. Any concerns or discomforts are hard or impossible to hide. In this way, the bond often forces honesty.

It doesn’t surprise you that Obi-Wan isn’t alone at his table. Seen as something of a celebrity among the younglings and Padawans, they tend to swarm him when they get an opportunity. He’s ever-patient about it, always managing to find time for them, which you find unbearably sweet. Sitting with him now is a familiar group of young Padawans. They seem intent on asking questions how to improve their saber technique at every turn, though they’ve only just built their own weapons.

Children their age aren’t exactly your specialty. It always makes your stomach roil with nerves when you think that soon you must take your own Padawan. But even you have to admit that they’re sweet, all nerf-tails and braids and wide eyes. They hang onto Master Kenobi’s every word. A check of your bond reveals that he’s in full lecture mode, and isn’t even aware that you’re behind him. He’s busy making sure that the way he explains the difference in lightsaber forms is easy for them to understand, while still being comprehensive.

It’s almost a shame when Master Windu locates his Padawan, the ringleader, and scolds the group away for bothering Obi-Wan when he’s trying to enjoy a late dinner. You were enjoying the explanation of the differences between Juyo and Vaapad. Though the topic was a little advanced for the group, Master Obi-Wan rarely turns away an honest question.

"Did you do that just to make me walk around the entire Temple?" you say after they’ve cleared out. "I checked the gardens, the library, the Fountain Room, the docking bay…"

Obi-Wan lights up when he hears you, turning with an easy smile that morphs into a look of mischief. This time he's the one to reach out through the bond, and you accept it as willingly as a full embrace. You take the seat across from him, keeping your body language casual though you can’t help beaming. Obi-Wan looks just as pleased -- arms crossed on the table though his Force tells you he’d love to take your hand. You know he’s right to worry; you can’t take bold chances. Everyone must be fooled into thinking that what’s developed between you is a friendship, and nothing more, if you’re to get away with this.

"I wasn't hiding. I really did come straight here. You've had what they serve on the clone ships." A wrinkle of displeasure travels mutually between you. Food served in the Temple couldn't exactly be called the height of luxury, but what they served the troops was downright flavorless. You've never heard a clone complain about it, bless them. In front of him sits an empty bowl and a half-finished cup of what has to be tea.

"Fine. I guess I'll forgive you." The look you give him is a little too cheeky, but no one's watching.

"Oh, a thousand thanks," he replies, every bit as taunting. He places his chin in his hand and smirks, looking far too cute in far too public of a setting. Maker, he’s starting to figure it out, isn’t he? The effect he has on you. He’s dangerous in many ways, but this might be the most threatening he’s ever been.

“Got you something,” you announce, changing the subject. You hope he doesn’t notice the deep breath you have to take to steady yourself. Before he can protest -- because you know without looking up that Obi-Wan will protest -- you untie a pouch from your belt.

Sure enough, he’s got the look. Normally reserved for Anakin, it’s all disapproval and scrunched brows. And of course, it’s still attractive. How does Anakin get anything done? Anakin doesn’t have the kind of daydreams you do. At least, he probably doesn’t.

“I thought we’d discussed this. It isn’t wise to --”

“Master,” you interrupt, unwrapping the package. The fancy paper crinkles under your fingers, and you're trying not to make a lot of noise. “I’m pretty sure that this won’t blow our cover.”

“Well, I still don’t --”

You peel back the plastic sleeve on the package, revealing half a dozen cookies. They’re an off-planet delicacy you’d discovered in a little tea shop in the mid-levels, each about as big around as your pinky finger is long. Each is a different flavor, with some sort of icing sandwiched between two halves of the confection. All you know for sure is that the sample you’d been coaxed into trying had melted like butter on your tongue. You were handing over credits before the Twi’lek behind the counter had to persuade you any further.

“ -- oh!” His reproach melts away in seconds. “You’ve brought biscuits. I - I suppose that’s fine.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” you tease, pulling one out and handing it to him. It looks like your hunch to bring this gift is right on the money; you’ve seen how keen he is to get to the refectory on the nights they serve desserts. A part of you -- a very un-Jedi part -- had been thinking of him. Had wanted to get him something, something that would sit on the desk in your room until he returned, something small enough that he wouldn't fuss over it. You'd wanted to spoil him in the tiniest of ways, knowing how hard he drives himself.

Obi-Wan takes it with barely disguised delight. You watch him bite into it, amused, thinking of all the times he and the other Masters have lectured you on the ways of a Jedi. Something about conquering curiosity would have been said, had the positions been flipped. “Do you like it?”

He nods happily, licking a crumb from the corner of his mouth. "'S good."

You try not to focus on the pink tip of his tongue, how quickly it slips over his lip and then disappears again. That tongue had been your undoing, when it had last touched your body. Stop thinking about that here!

His eyes dart down to the package, and you know he wants another one.

"Take one, I got them for you." You pry another loose, offering it easily. It makes you happy to see him let himself want something -- and to know that you can give it to him. The Code has its purposes, sure. But sometimes it's nice to detach from grace and serenity, and just...enjoy.

As long as you aren't devastating your own way of life, razing it to the ground as former Jedi-turned-Sith have done, you see no harm in feeding Obi-Wan Kenobi a cookie. Or doing other things with him, far from prying eyes.

He doesn't seem to see it as a capital offense either, and lets you feed him the second one with a happy hum. His eyes flutter closed for a moment as he savors the taste, far sweeter than anything they serve here in the refectory. When he finishes this one, a blue crumb sticks to his bottom lip.

"Master."

"Mm?" He tilts his head ever so slightly, blue crumb not budging.

"You've got something."

"Got -- got what?"

"On your face," you struggle to keep your tone even, hold in a laugh. He looks -- he looks silly. One eyebrow quirked, no idea what you're talking about though it should be obvious. Master Obi-Wan, cookie crumbs on his face, looking at you like you're the one two screws short of a saber hilt.

Predictably, when he puts a hand to his mouth to brush it away, he's nowhere near the actual crumb. This goes on for several frustrating seconds, until you finally look to see if anyone's watching and brush it away yourself. Your thumb lingers on his bottom lip.

"Gosh. You were a parsec away," you chuckle, savoring the memory of his very real confusion.

But something in his gaze has shifted. Obi-Wan looks right at you, your thumb still light on his bottom lip, and licks a slow stripe over the pad of it.

The bond, so carefully shielded after you greeted one another, breaks open like a crust. Desire builds on his end, warmth that soon becomes an unbearable heat. It feels like it's flooding you, a steady stream in your chest, your limbs, your feet. You spare a thought to sift through the Force for the others in the room, too captivated with what’s in front of you to look. No one feels shocked or surprised or even interested in you.

Parting his lips further, Obi-Wan takes your thumb into his mouth and sucks, only for a moment, but you shudder. This is so damn bold of him, this tiny thing, but it sends you spiraling.

Sometimes you don't make it easy to think clearly.

You pull your hand away, hearing him speak in your mind. Everything he's not saying, out loud or through the bond, swirls between you. How he's been aching for you since you realized he'd arrived back at the Temple. How hard it's been to hold back from doing all the things that you want to do, as soon as you laid eyes on one another. How he wants you, now.

"My room or yours?" you murmur.

"Mine." He answers, barely above a whisper. Though you know it's more logical to go there -- the Master's quarters are always less occupied -- a little thrill always runs through you. You watch his hands clench and unclench on the table, considering something.

"Wait an hour before you join me," he adds.

An hour? you whine.

Far less suspicious this way, he answers, though you can feel his returning tug of desire, of impatience.

"What do you say if you're found outside my quarters?"

"I'm watering Master Kenobi's plants while he's away," you recite. Not a lie in the slightest; you kept the growing collection in excellent health. And it gave you a reason to be in his room every few days, whether he was actually on-planet or not. Watering the plants...taking in the smell of Obi-Wan that still clung to the bedsheets and robes, leaving your own scent.

"Good girl," he says. Again, your mind darts to the last time he'd praised you that way -- where his mouth had been. Immediately, he seems to remember too; color floods his cheeks and he’s suddenly very interested in the tabletop.

You brighten at the words, even as he blushes to say it so publicly. Like he hadn't just been suckling your finger. Not exactly what a Master would say to a Padawan -- and you haven't been a Padawan in years. His blue eyes burn into yours with a hunger, and you feel one last little touch through the bond before he gets up from the table. He doesn’t look back.

Lingering a little longer, you head to the Fountain Room with a long sigh. Meditating away your arousal is not going to be easy.

The hour passes in uncomfortable slowness. You haven't been this unfocused in meditation since you were a youngling, but you're squirming for a different reason. It takes almost forty minutes for the roar of the fountains to lull you to relaxation, and once you realize that the hour has almost passed, you slip and have to start all over. Even Obi-Wan would scold you for the way you shift and fidget, the living Force all around you but your mind too disconnected to reach out.

So you resort to pretending. You remain in a meditative stance, but simply count in your head instead. It’s a Padawan trick, and part of you feels guilty, even though there’s no one around to watch. You almost expect Master Rancisis to slither up behind you, insisting that he was not angry, only disappointed.

When the hour finally trickles to an end, you get to your feet. It takes a fair amount of restraint not to break into a jog when you reach the end of the Temple where Knights and Masters live. Muscle memory takes you easily to the door of Obi-Wan’s room, though it’s identical to the others around it.

Knock knock, you say, bouncing on the balls of your feet outside the door. In response, the lock clicks open. You slide inside and close the door in one motion, locking it again behind you.

Obi-Wan’s room is structured much like every other Jedi’s quarters. It looks quite like your own. Each sports the same bed, wallpaper, desk. The differences are its inhabitant, and the rank of Master.

While your room is boxy, not leaving much space to move, Obi-Wan’s can easily be walked around in. Potted plants adorn the small windowsill, beginning to crowd it. He’s been able to get more since you started watering them. The short bookshelf next to the bed has watermarks on the end from how many times he’s placed a teacup there. In the corner, he even has an attached fresher -- the source of much envy when you first found out.

But all this would feel empty without Obi-Wan sitting cross-legged on the bed, out of his armor and looking freshly showered. His boots are tucked neatly at the foot of the bed, so he sits in his sock feet. An unguarded, toothy grin lights up his face as he lifts his arms for a hug. The bond slams together two seconds before you get there, mingling and tasting and feeling each other’s life Force without restraint. You embrace him tightly, burying your own smile in his neck as the two of you fall back on the mattress.

Missed you, you say, pressing a kiss to his jaw. It makes him squeeze you tighter, his sigh moving a few strands of your hair.

Your life Force is a little too jumbled right now, overwhelmed with his closeness, both in your mind and in your arms. Images roll from you in ways you don’t really mean to send them. Obi-Wan, head ducked between your legs, the last time he was home. Your own hands, plucking dead leaves from one of the plants on the sill. Bending over a clone trooper, gently encouraging his wound to close with the Force. The lowest, most-poverty stricken levels of Coruscant. Setting up a clinic tent there with a few other healers when you’re not occupied with other war efforts. A little girl squealing in excitement when she realized she got a sweet for being good during her treatment.

In return, Obi-Wan shows you his own line of thought, and where he’s been. The way your lip wobbled when he’d looked up from eating you out, pupils huge and eyes pleading. How that image had been enough to make him spill in his hand in one of the Resolute’s freshers, a week later. The sweaty-humid jungles of Felucia, the heat making his tunics stick to his skin. Anakin singing some shanty with the 501st on the ride home, in high spirits. Commander Cody shaking his head when his own boys started in, making the lyrics even dirtier. (Obi-Wan had held Ahsoka’s lekku tight so she didn’t hear anything after that.) How good you smell to him now, all vanilla and grass after a thunderstorm and something he can never identify.

“I’m willing to bet,” he says, shifting you both so that you lie side by side, “that I missed you far more.”

“Master,” you say innocently. “It’s not a competition.” You slide your thigh between his legs, pleased at how readily he allows it, how he draws you closer. His cock presses against you, almost fully hard. The pressure elicits a small gasp from him, and a smirk from you.

Obi-Wan thinks on your remark for a moment. “No,” he admits. “But there may be a struggle.”

And with that, he claims your mouth with his own. He feels so warm, so safe. Calloused fingers slide up to caress your face, and you melt even more.

Though both of you are wound tight with anticipation, his kisses drag slow over your lips, sweet and lingering. You let him lead, a little dazed when one of his hands starts trailing absently up and down your side. He tastes like the cookies you fed him. The dominant note of sugar overcomes the usual flavor of Obi-Wan that you're used to, though it's hard to complain.

You curl yourself closer, tighter into his chest, wanting as much contact as possible. Being with Obi-Wan makes you feel vulnerable in a way you never get to be otherwise. There's a part of you that wants to be tended to. Maybe it comes from being raised among dozens of other children in the creche, with no minder giving you specific care or attention beyond what was required. A lesson before the lesson, that Jedi were not supposed to form attachments this way. It's too late for you now -- no matter what you'd promised Obi-Wan, you are very much attached.

"Your thoughts betray you, dear one," Obi-Wan murmurs in the shell of your ear. You can hear his smile through the gentle scolding. Like he isn't just as fond of you.

"And your body betrays you," you shoot back, rubbing your thigh against his dick once more. It jerks at the attention, always eager to make itself known when you're involved.

He laughs a little at that, the sound low and conceding. "So it does."

"What will we do about it?" you ask. You lean in and place a string of kisses down his throat, teasing the sensitive place right below his ear. His shaky inhale and flash of excitement through the bond tell you all you need to know about how it affects him.

“Anything,” says Obi-Wan. "Anything you want." You hear him swallow, trying to keep it together. Collecting himself, using the patience that comes with the training of a Jedi Master. You can see him losing his grip, but it's not enough. You want him utterly lost.

But as luck would have it, you have a trick up your sleeve that might change things.

"I want this," you reach down and grab his dick, giving it a firm squeeze, "inside me."

His breathing grows harsher. "We -- I -- we can't." Even as he arches into your touch, wanting it. You can feel the damp spot through the thin material of his trousers, evidence of his excitement for you. Gods, he looks good like this. Not letting up, you cup Obi-Wan's erection harder, unable to bite back a whine of your own.

Obi-Wan had refused to enter you without guaranteed protection, which for him meant something more reliable than condoms. (Stars, no matter how much you begged.) An implant chip had been difficult, but not impossible, for you to get.

"We can. See?"

You flex the implanted arm, where the chip sits underneath the surface of the skin. His eyes track the movement, then a finger comes up to trace the tiny device.

"You really got it," he says, almost to himself. The finger presses gently into your arm, moving the chip in little circles. Like he's checking to make sure it's really there. "I didn't think…"

"Didn't think it would ever be a possibility?" you finish. "I have my connections, Master."

Obi-Wan sends a wave of suspicion through the bond, so you show him how it was obtained. As a Jedi healer, you keep in contact with other medical centers throughout Coruscant, trade resources and sometimes favors. It just so happens that you were able to stop by in plainclothes and receive the implant, off-record, from one of your colleagues. Paid for, of course. Evidence of your visit just happened to disappear from the data system after your friend inserted the chip.

"I can't say I entirely agree with your methods," he admits. "Still, I much prefer it to you risking one from the black market."

"I wouldn't take that kind of chance."

"I know." He kisses your cheek. "You're smarter than that. But desperation can drive us to do things we normally wouldn't."

You squirm, happy that he's okay with what you've done, but getting restless. In your hand, his cock hasn't softened a bit, but from the way he's speaking, you wouldn't think it. How does he do it? The Knights you'd been with before hadn't had a quarter of his self control. Then again, they aren't half the man that Obi-Wan is.

"Speaking of desperation." You let out a small laugh, half breathlessness, half embarrassment. Your pulse is racing, and you know he can tell how badly you want him. "Please, Master? Take me?"

And you feel the waver. His serenity shivering like a mirage in the sand. The physical proof of how hard he's trying to keep it together in your hand jolts again at your words, how politely you beg for him. You know he loves it.

"Little one." His voice is low in your ear, something about the tone strange and new and dangerous. "Are you sure you know what you're asking for?"

You nod vigorously. "Obi-Wan, I -- I've wanted this for so long. Yes."

A flicker of uncertainty shows in his eyes as his hand comes up to cup your cheek once more. "So have I. But if I were to...to hurt you, you must tell me immediately. We can stop as soon as you say. And --" His anxiety is running away, and you break in to stop it.

"Hey. Hey," you put a finger to his lips, and he frowns at the interruption. "Obi-Wan. Listen to the Force. Feel me."

With a shaky breath, he does. Trusting in the Force is something he's been doing his whole life, and asking him to do it now helps calm him down. His half of your bond reaches, nerves spread over his emotions like thorns. When all you have to show him is your eagerness, your excitement, your joy that you finally get to do this with him, much of it relaxes.

I very much want you, Master Kenobi. It will not hurt. Unless...I want it to.

He's silent for a long moment, contemplating your implication. Then, "Trousers off, sweetest."

Yes!

Obi-Wan chuckles at your mental cheering, while you get to your feet and struggle out of your pants and underwear. He follows suit, sitting up on the bed and making quick work of his own clothes. You pause in taking off your tunic, because stars.

If you think he's pretty with clothes on, it's nothing compared to him looking up at you naked. His toned body is covered in fine, coppery hair, and adorned with a scattering of scars. You love to hear him tell their stories. What you love most, though, are the freckles. Almost gold in color and not visible when he's wearing robes, you feel like there are thousands spanning across every inch of the normally hidden skin. Like they exist just for you to kiss and worship. Miniature sunspots, marking his time in the galaxy.

This is the first time he's been fully naked for you, and Obi-Wan seems shy about being on display while you're still half dressed. You are so gorgeous, you think. His cock arcs up toward his belly, leaking a little at the tip. You all but lick your lips, watching a drop of pre-come dribble down his shaft. You want it inside you.

"Then take it," he murmurs, eyes darting back up to yours. One hand pats his own naked thigh, an invitation. His legs spread further, and you moan. "Come here, darling."

You don't need any more persuading. Even if you're nervous, you can't see yourself waiting one second longer for this. So you cross the small distance, crawl toward him on the mattress, and let Obi-Wan wrap his arms around you.

At first, that's where it stays. He sighs into your chest, breathing in the scent of you. You squeak when he reaches around and squeezes your bare ass with one hand, giving you a wry smile. The look almost says, Well? Are you going to ride my dick or not? You’re overwhelmed with how much of him there is to touch, how fucking nice he looks, just sitting there waiting for you. Like he could do it all day, no matter what his dick is saying. Patient and perfect and kind.

So you scoot closer, brushing your wet slit against his length. His nails grip into your naked skin, holding on tight as he watches your face. You relish the idea of his neatly kept fingernails leaving little marks on your hips and ass, where no one will know but you. You take him in your hand, lining him up with your opening, and Obi-Wan bites his lip -- hard. Still not letting more than the softest of gasps leave his mouth.

But as you wrap your legs around his waist and bury his cockhead in your wet warmth, that changes fast. He's barely inside you, testing both of your limits. You rock your hips a little, adjusting to the feeling of having something so large there, though you know this is just the beginning. Obi-Wan looks up at you, eyes huge, stock-still. You can feel him holding back, that perfect composure crumbling.

"This -- alright?" he asks, voice strained as if it's taking everything in him not to push you down onto his entire length.

You run a hand over his chest, taking a moment to appreciate the situation.

"More than," you say, hitching your hips higher. His cock sinks further, only a little, but each of you responds to the sensation. When you try a shallow thrust, Obi-Wan makes a sound suspiciously like a growl.

"Then please," he bites out.

"Please what?" you pull back until his tip sits inside your slit, and you swear he whines. You clench on nothing, wanting him fully seated inside you as much as he does, but teasing him like this is getting both of you so worked up.

"More," he gasps. "need you deeper, gods, don't -- don't tease me --"

Finally. You grin down at him, glad that he's stopped trying to act so composed. His face is flushed with the embarrassment of saying such a thing out loud, but he's looking right at you, determined to make you understand how much he needs it. Obi-Wan tugs at your tunic, hands insisting that it come off and now. You raise your arms and let him strip you bare, not missing the hungry look he gives your tits.

"Of course. All you had to do was ask," you say, and sink onto him completely.

You see his eyes roll back, and he does nothing to stifle the moan of relief and pleasure that rises from his throat. It echoes in the small space, sending dual shivers of fear and excitement through you. He realizes his mistake, uneasiness bristling in his Force signature.

Kriff, you wish that you weren’t doing this in the Temple right now. Because as delicious as he is trying to keep quiet -- all round eyes and stifled whimpers -- you’re greedy. You want more; your name in his mouth, on a desperate cry as he comes. Obi-Wan’s always so loud in your mind, in his pleasure, you can’t imagine what it would be like if he was actually using his voice. Hopefully being with him somewhere less...populated is something you can do in the future. For now, you work with what you’ve got. Starting a shallow rhythm, you ride Obi-Wan’s cock.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hands turning to claws as you scramble for something to hold onto. One wraps around Obi-Wan’s shoulder while the other finds purchase against his chest, your nails digging hard in his skin. He covers the hand with his own, making yours look tiny in comparison.

“Lan --guage --” he says in the middle of a deeper thrust from you, caught off guard. You can only laugh, breathless, too focused on keeping a reasonable volume yourself. It’s like you can feel every single curve and vein of him, like his cock was made to fit snug against your walls. Obi-Wan’s starting to meet your hips with every thrust, chest heaving with his ragged breath. He yanks you closer, your bodies parallel now instead of you sitting on him.

His pupils are blown wide in those deep blue eyes as he fucks you harder, nearly lifting you off of him with the force of it. At this point, you don’t have to do anything but sit there and take it.

“Obi-wan,” you whine. Tension is coiling deep in your stomach, and you’re powerless to stop yourself from giving your throbbing clit attention. But when he realizes what you’re trying to do, he bats your hand away and does it himself, calloused fingers providing a rough stimulus to the most sensitive part of your body. He pinpoints it in seconds, caressing and stroking just the way you like it. You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the squeak you can’t bite back, spreading your legs further under his soaked fingers.

“If you’re coming,” he growls in your ear, not far off himself, “then I’m going to be the one responsible.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck --

Maybe it’s the expert way he’s manhandling your body. Maybe it’s the way he’s still thrusting inside you, breath getting higher and more ragged as you sense him getting closer to his orgasm. Maybe it’s the way his half of the bond is blown wide open, a door left open in a storm, banging against its hinges. Obi-Wan’s thoughts are a barrage on your mind, relentless, almost too much to handle in such a sensitive state.

Gods so beautiful could look at you all day -- you’re going to come for me, darling, aren’t you? -- I love the way you look you feel so amazing around me so tight so wet so perfect --

It’s too much. Hand still tight over your mouth, you sob and come, bucking against his fingers as the contractions wrack your body in pulse after pulse. He’s generous enough to thrust more gently as you shiver through it, his eyes glued to the curve of your throat, how you’ve thrown your head back. Your thoughts are a blaze of nothing but Obi-Wan.

When you catch your breath, you slide off of him in one motion, feeling slick drip down your thighs. The mix of confusion and panic that shoots through the bond would have made you laugh, if you weren’t so turned on and orgasm-fuzzy.

“Your turn, Master,” you say, sinking onto your back with your legs across his lap. You wiggle there, teasing. “On top. Come for me -- please?”

For a few seconds, he does nothing. Then the realization of what you want, what you’ve said, hits him. Obi-Wan rushes over you like a tsunami, caging you against the bed. His cockhead brushes your sensitive slit and you arch into it, not shy about how badly you want this. When he lines himself up and sinks deep inside you, he buries the sound he makes into your shoulder, teeth grazing your collarbone. He starts thrusting at a brutal pace, forcing your breath out of you with every push in. You scratch at his back, helpless to control yourself, and that only makes him fuck you harder.

“Little -- one,” he grits out, hot breath on your skin.

“Y--es?”

“This -- won’t last long.” Obi-Wan’s pace is getting erratic even as he says it. “Where do y-you want --?”

“Inside me,” you answer without hesitation. “Obi-Wan, please, inside, come for me, please --”

Oh my gods, sweetest, yes -- yes -- oh, oh, oh --!

He doesn’t need any more persuading. Three more thrusts and he’s spilling inside you, hot and deep, planted as far in as he can get. He bites down on your shoulder through it, chest flat against your own. You find yourself hoping he leaves a mark. You roll your hips, loving the broken moans it drives from his lips.

Obi-Wan stays inside you after it’s over, nestling his head on your shoulder. Contentment swirls in his life Force, an almost drunken sense of relief and euphoria making him drowsy. You twine your own through it, letting him know you’ve been equally satisfied. It feels so right to lie here with him, a tangle of limbs and Force, knowing one another in every way. He hums in your ear, one hand stroking your hair sleepily. Though you’ve lived in this Temple your whole life, you’ve never felt more at home.

“Darling,” he says, voice lilting. You feel him stirring inside you, starting to harden again already.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go again.”

That’s a surprise. You expected him to politely but firmly insist you clean up in the fresher and then make yourself scarce, lest someone get suspicious about where you’ve gone to. Your silence must confirm that you’re taken aback, because he continues.

“I ship out again tomorrow.”

When you curse this time, he only laughs. “Such is war, love. Are you up for it, or not?”

You can’t refuse him.

#come what may ao3 #wickedscribbles #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x you #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x oc #obiwan smut #obi wan smut #ziva courtee #obi-wan x oc #obi-wan fanfic

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uwua3 · 3 years

Text

white day confession.

❄️🍶 yukishiro azuma

summary: azuma receives many gifts of admiration on valentine’s day, but he’s only returning one on white day

dedication: ruri — my divorcee of all time, internet bff, and much more, i love you! happy birthday!! 🎁🎊🎉

warnings: distance, feelings, slight angst

author’s note: this is for my best friend, ruri! i love her endlessly and so does azuma! happy birthday to the angel born on white day; azuma loves you and so do all your friends! (･ω<)☆

word count: 1,518

music: say yes – loco, punch

it was as if azuma wielded cupid’s bow, unintentionally shooting everyone within sight to fall hopelessly in love with him

after all, how could you not? he appeared like a demigod, with the grace of something heavenly and the touch of a human. azuma captured the hearts of anyone who gave him a second glance

it was only natural for him to receive confession after confession on valentine’s day, with the typical box of chocolates he disliked and traditional store-bought cards presented to him. it didn’t matter who it was; azuma would always politely reject them with a sympathetic smile before leaving behind a trail of broken hearts

it wasn’t exactly a reputation he sought after, but the title “king of broken hearts” began to follow azuma every valentine’s day

many thought they could change his mind, that they could chain him down and get him to sign a contract to commitment. azuma was blessed with ero’s wings, he could fly away from any trap possible. no one could keep azuma on the ground

except, you

azuma expected a letter from anyone but you. you were always one of his closest friends, where the line between friendship and romance blurred. it was a no strings attached kind of relationship, where you two could do anything you want but still be with each other at the end of the night

so when you carefully gave him a folded letter, azuma repressed a sigh at the foreshadowing of another failed casual relationship. he didn’t open it, nor did he say a word and neither did you. it was like a silent agreement—nothing would change if the feelings weren’t said aloud

there was this non-verbal deal to not read the letter, so azuma didn’t. but, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. all he had to do was rip it up and destroy any chance of being curious

but, it was like pandora’s box. azuma would lay in bed, knowing the letter was in his bedside and all he had to do was pull open the drawers. azuma would wake up, wondering what you possibly were afraid to say, and azuma would fall asleep, dreaming of what contents were penned in your handwriting

it was like you put a love spell over him. ever since azuma received your love letter, he couldn’t think of anything else but you

unfortunately, it wasn’t a drunk decision to open your letter once and for all. azuma smoothed the wrinkles upon his forehead for the nth time, finally giving in when homare (who quickly ran away for his own good) commented about the condition of azuma’s skin

the world was quiet for once as the moonlit letter was read. the ink seemed like a fountain pen, with a lavender wax seal discarded to the side. as azuma took in your words, he unintentionally began reciting them whenever his eyes closed for a moment too long

My dearest, Yukishiro Azuma

Good day. This will be my first letter to you which I believe is long overdue. Now where do I start? Should I mention how I first fell for you? It was love at first sight. The moment you appeared in my eyes, I was struck by your beauty and I was affected even more when I heard your alluring voice which promptly sent shivers down my spine.

azuma reminisced on the past, where you two were much more naive and younger than you were now. had he truly missed the way your eyes looked towards him? how had you seen him? were you infatuated as well? for all these years? azuma was flattered to be the subject of your affections, but how was he so unaware?

How could this be? How could this possibly be? Just your first appearance already made my heart aflutter. My feelings for you grew tremendously once I started to get to know you better. I smiled when you smiled. I laughed when you laughed. I cried when you cried.

it was true you two shared a bond unlike any other. it was as if you two were truly connected; soulmates, if you will

when you smiled, he had no choice but to smile along. when you laughed, azuma found the world to be a much better place than he originally thought. when you cried, azuma did everything in his power to hold you close. you two shared something indescribable and unexplainable, that much was true

When your first leading role came, I did my hardest to support you. I gave my everything for you. Of course, this was only natural. For my heart, body, and soul belongs to you.

azuma faintly relived what it felt like when you ran into his arms, throwing your arms around his neck with a bouquet of the prettiest cecilias. it was closing night and you were the first to stand up during the standing ovation. azuma watched you like you were the star of the show that night

I can't believe that such a fine man like you exists. Oh how blessed I am! Can you see it? Can you feel it? How I wish to caress the side of your face? How I wish my lips could touch yours? How I wish to be embraced in your arms throughout the night? My darling Azuma, allow me to be by your side forever and always.

I love you, my darling.

with your signature gracing the bottom of the parchment, azuma’s heart warmed from the thought and consideration you had put into the letter. at first, the feeling was a pleasant warm sensation but quickly faded into a bitter cold

this was the first time azuma had felt truly moved by a letter before. what did this mean? did this mean... no, it couldn’t be

azuma closed the letter, his hands faintly shaking and a blush that couldn’t go away across his face. you love him, azuma repeated this in his head until he fell asleep, your words pressed against his chest

a month passes before azuma writes his own letter. a month of fleeting glances, touches that trailed for too long, and unspoken words that could change everything. although both of you tried your best to make sure nothing changed, something did

conversations that once flowed so smoothly froze over like a winter waterfall. energy that only you two knew the meaning of faded into a spark of what it once was. you two slowly grew distant no matter what either of you did. you both knew what was inside the letter now, there was no turning back

so, azuma sits down, takes out his own fountain pen, and watches the lilac wax melt above the aromatic candle. all the words he couldn’t speak were forming at the tip of his fingers, all he had to was write

if azuma shared his feelings, he’d lose what he worked so hard to maintain: his independence, his freedom, his privacy. but, after a month-long contemplation, azuma knew he’d rather lose those things than lose you

To my beloved,

Perhaps this may come as a surprise to you, but my letter is long overdue as well. Words that I cannot bring myself to share are now dutifully written upon this page; I promise you, they are as truthful as they come. I have laid out my soul bare for you to choose whether or not to accept. Please be gentle with me as I attempt to express how I feel about you.

When we had first met, you had come into my life because the heavens had blessed me with humanity’s greatest gift. What did I, an unfortunate mortal, do to deserve such a person? Overcome by my blinding adoration for you, I continued worshipping you as the gods intended. For the past years have been nothing but bliss, you are the only person who could make me feel such a way.

I could see your angel wings when you had hugged me that closing night after Winter’s first show. I should’ve told you then, but I didn’t know. I am only human, how could I know what these emotions were when I had never experienced them?

To this day, I do not know if I’ve always felt this way about you. But, I do know now. Please forgive me for taking so much time to admit the truth.

I love you, too, my angel.

Love, Yukishiro Azuma

white day had arrived. you weren’t the type to receive an influx of gifts on either days, since you only had ever given one letter to a special someone in all your life

azuma was the type to be showered in sweets, chocolates, and letters every day of the year. his charm and charisma could make anyone fall head over heels, including you. but, he had never given a white day gift before

when you turned around, you noticed a letter being held out between the hold of azuma

could it be? did azuma love you, too?

“happy white day. i love you, my angel.”

#yukishiro azuma #azuma yukishiro #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #a3! actor training game #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #azuma x reader #a3! azuma #a3 azuma

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lovelypasteldreams · 3 years

Text

WC: 1.1k

Pairing: Tanaka R. x F!Reader

Genre: angst (minor), fluff, wedding vibes

Summary: Tanaka Ryunosuke has been in love with Kiyoko Shimizu from the moment he laid eyes on her in the gym. She was his goddess, the one he worships the ground she walks on. He would do anything to see her happy, and he does. So why does it hurt so much? And why do you have the same expression as him?

____________________

He always had eyes for one woman up until that fateful day. He always showered her in affection, praising the ground she walked on. She was a Goddess that the heavens above have sent down to bless him with. Everything about her was perfect. From the way she spoke to that of her extraordinary beauty.

Her presence left everyone within a hundred-mile radius looking at her - as if she was the only one in the room. She was the sun on a clear day, a dazzling ball of light that brought forth the best in everyone with just a simple word. She was ethereal.

He had never witnessed anything more enchanting than watching her steadily walk down the aisle. The room was in slow motion, the sounds of the music now white noise in the background. Everyone’s gaze was solely on her, her face was highlighted in a minuscule amount of makeup, only being there to enhance her natural beauty.

Midwinter eyes glowed ever so gently with shimmers of undying love and affection. Pools of feathery soft black hair fall over her shoulders in waves. Time resumes when she finally makes it to the altar, eyes connecting. She gives him a soft smile as the music eventually stops.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two women in holy matrimony.” It was then did their eyes finally tear apart, her steel grey connecting with warm pools of honey brown.

And once again, everything was blocked out. He could see the pastors' lips moving but he couldn’t hear what they were saying, the sounds overpowered by the tug in his heart.

It was her wedding so why did he feel so bad? Why did he have this ugly thudding in his chest? It coats his heart in a sickly glaze, leaving him feeling as if he was weighed down by a thousand bricks. The faint sounds of ‘I do’ rang through his ears and before he knew it, the ceremony ended.

Hitoka and Shimizu were bound together forever now, their bondage completed. Everyone was heading outside to the reception while he stood grounded to his spot. He subconsciously raises his hand to his chest, gripping it tightly as his face contorts into that of heartbreak. If only she was his, maybe then-

“Hey,” a soft voice calls out before a hand gently rests on his forearm, breaking him from his trance. “You alright?”

He wordlessly looks around, wondering why it was so quiet. Noticing the lack of people in the chapel, he felt himself grow tired, as if he aged ten years in two seconds. Finally, his eyes land on the figure next to him, his normally boisterous attitude now dim. He lazily scans her features.

Her (h/c) hair gently rests on the top of her head. (E/c) orbs peer back at him with a certain look in them, one he’s sure he’s seen on his own almost a thousand times now. He looks down at the hand connecting them, her (s/c) skin standing out against the white dress that fades to a soft blue. He gave her a small strained smile, shrugging off her touch gently.

“I’m fine, no need to worry about me. Promise!” he chuckles, refusing to let their eyes meet.

However the female knew better, she could tell exactly what he was feeling, it was like looking into a mirror.

“Don’t lie. I know that look more than anyone. You loved her, didn’t you? I could tell by the way your eyes followed after her. Up until the end of the aisle.” She hums. Tanaka stays quiet, it’s not like he could disagree. He should’ve known that someone who has the same look of heartbreak in their eyes would be able to sniff out his lies.

He laughs dryly.

“I could say the same to you. Every time i would see Yachi, you would be right at her hip with the same look in your eyes…” he trails off, their eyes locked.

“Looks like we’re more alike than we thought…” they both keep eye contact before she breaks it. They both let out weak chuckles before nudging one another along.

“C’mon,” he chuckles, pushing her along. “Let's go support our girls on their special day.”

----------

It was after the wedding did they agree to exchange numbers. They agreed to meet up and hang out as they start to establish their friendship. One meet up at the cafe led to them going to the movies another night. And from the movies, they visit amusement parks. Months pass as they grow closer and closer, their bond tightening to what outsiders would view as something more.

It was a few months after getting to know each other and the wedding that they both decided to visit the newlyweds and see how things are going for them. Picking a day for them all to meet up, it was then did Hitoka and Shimizu notice something different with the two.

Hitoka had left to go with (Y/n) to grab more drinks, leaving Tanaka and Shimizu alone to talk.

“Tanaka, it seems you and (Y/n) have gotten rather close lately,” she hums teasingly, sipping on her water. Tanaka flushes slightly and rubs the back of his head, giving her a small toothy grin.

“Yeah, after the wedding we decided to get to know one another. We realized we had more in common than we thought and just clicked right after that.” He plays with his cup, not realizing his dazed look. Shimizu, however, knew better and gave a smile of her own.

“Well you know Tanaka, (Y/n) is quite the looker and I’m afraid that someone might just come and snatch her away…”

That quickly snaps him out of his daze as he hurriedly looks at Shimizu with a fierce expression,

“As if I’ll let some snot-nosed bastard steal her off her feet!” He continues to rant heatedly, however, he was soon cut off by Shimizu's soft laughter, her eyes gleaming in adorance.

“...I’m happy you finally found someone you can give your affection to. It truly sets my heart at ease.” He looks at her in shock before a soft smile mellows out his face.

His eyes wander away from the woman before him and over towards where he can see you and Hitoka giggling to each other. Everything about you was magic to him. From your loud chortles that filled up the room to the bright aura that surrounds your joyous form. You couldn’t have been more perfect in his eyes.

“..Yeah, me too…”

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq tanaka #tanaka x reader #tanaka ryunosuke x reader #tanaka ryunosuke #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader angst

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

Tipsy Confessions (Darrell “Shifty” Powers x f!Reader)

So based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic because I love it!

Warnings: None...just Shifty cuteness.

Words:3200

Tag list: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m

He looked down the barrel of his M1 Garand rifle, lining up the sight with the target at the end of the shooting range. The noise of his fellow paratroopers drifted away to blessed silence. There was something for him when lining up his shot, everything else seemed to fade away. The world narrowed down to himself, his rifle and the target. The faint breeze kissed his cheek and made the ends of his hair sway. Shifting the rifle just slightly, he accommodated for the wind. Finally, he was ready. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, hold, squeeze…

Bang!

"Nice shot, Shifty."

Darrell "Shifty" Powers looked up at the target, an almost perfect bullseye, just a little to the left, then over to his friend standing nearby. "Thanks, Popeye."

"Can we head back now?" Floyd Talbert asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Why? You gotta brush your hair or somethin'?" Popeye Wynn teased.

"That's why I get all the dames at the dances and you don't."

"Come on, lectures will start soon." Smoky Gordon stated good-naturedly, then he pointed at Talbert. "And you owe me a pack of smokes. Told you Shifty could hit the target."

"You said bullseye, not just hit the target."

"Well, he did it."

Talbert grumbled but dug the pack out of his pocket and tossed it to a smirking Gordon.

Bang!

Shifty looked over his shoulder in the direction of the gunshot. He thought they were the only ones there. This was his favorite time to practice since everyone else was either at the mess hall or relaxing in their barracks. Usually he came alone but today Popeye decided to keep him company and then from there Gordon joined them, dragging Talbert along.

To his surprise, he saw you a few lanes over, laying on your belly, rifle set in front of you with your finger still on the trigger. The ODs they gave you were just a one or two sizes too big, thus your sleeves and pant legs were rolled up a few times. Somehow you still pulled the look off well. Instead of looking like a child playing dress up in too large clothes, you looked…. well…. good.

Talbert gave a low whistle. "She's a good shot, I'll give her that."

"Even if she arrived with Hitler's head in a sack, Sobel would still hate her." Gordon stated, watching you closely.

"And Guarnere."

Another shot rang out and Shifty would easily admit...he was impressed. Not because you were a dame and knew how to shoot a gun. His mother would string him up sideways for thinking something like that. No, the distance you were shooting at...most of the soldiers did not even try it. Only himself and a few others shot that far with any accuracy.

And you were dead on.

Finally you stood up, slinging the rifle over your shoulder when you noticed the four men staring at you. He could see the hesitation in your usually guarded expression. You had only joined Easy Company once they arrived in Camp Mackall. Sink thought your connections and resources in Europe would prove invaluable to the paratroopers. Unfortunately, by that point, most of the men had bonded and were not looking to add an outsider...especially a woman. Even worse, you spent most of your time with Intelligence so the men could never get a good read on you.

"Hey, doll," Talbert called, a flirtatious smirk lighting up his face, "you going to be a sniper for Easy?"

You moved a little closer, head held high and shoulders back. “If the need arises...and that's Lieutenant to you, not doll."

"Yes, ma'am."

Your gaze moved his way, eyes assessing with just a look that seemed to see more than they let on. "Are you Private Powers?"

"Ah, everyone calls me Shifty, ma'am."

"You're an excellent shot. If you have the time, I'd appreciate some pointers from you. I'm better with a pistol."

He could feel the blush rising on his cheeks. "It's not a problem, ma'am. I'm… I'm not sure how I can help though. You're an excellent shot yourself."

Your lips turned upward at the corners but you just shrugged. "Thank you, but there's always room to improve."

"How good are you with a pistol?" Talbert asked, gaze skimming over you. "Think you can hit that target?"

The target he pointed at was only about five yards away, any paratrooper was expected to hit at that distance. It was almost an insult to think you could not.

And the look on your face after he asked...you definitely took it as an insult.

Without removing your eyes from Talbert's grinning face, you pulled the pistol off your hip, pointed at the target and unloaded it.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

"Have a good day, boys. Shifty, I hope we can talk soon." You stated, switching from staring down Talbert to a small smile at Shifty. Then you stomped away, reholstering the pistol, rifle still slung over your shoulder.

Shifty's gaze moved to the target and froze. All six shots were in the center of the bullseye...which you had shot at without looking.

"Tab, you better not piss her off. She don't even have to look at you to kill you." Popeye japed.

Shifty's eyes darted back to your retreating form in awe. He had never met a woman like you before. And damn, if watching you shoot did not do something to him.

"Oh, now that's a knockout." He softly said, unable to tear his eyes from you. Never mind him giving you pointers, he wondered what you could teach him!

"Yeah, yeah. She can shoot." Tab muttered, turning to head back into camp.

"You're just mad she showed more interest in Shifty than you." Gordon joked then screeched when Talbert hit him upside his head.

Shifty ignored their taunts as the group walked back towards their barracks. He found you beautiful, any man with eyes could see you were attractive. But watching you shoot, that focused look on your face and the confidence you held...that was going to be a problem for him, he could already tell.

Especially with the way he kept having to readjust his pants so the others would not notice the effect you had on him.

*****

"You're starin' again."

"Mmm?" Shifty blinked, it took a long minute for his friend's words to sink into his brain. When they finally resonated, he practically jumped in his seat, face turning red. "What? No, no, I'm not."

"You're starin' at her like Perconte when he sees garlic bread." Popeye stated, clearly amused if the shit-eating grin said anything.

"What?" Perconte yelled further down the table.

"Nothin', Frank! Wasn't talkin' to you!"

An argument broke out with Perconte demanding to know why Popeye said his name. Shifty only half listened, his gaze drifting back to you across the mess hall. You were facing away from him, talking with some of Easy's officers.

It had been several weeks since the encounter at the shooting range. Since then whenever you were around, he became a bumbling mess. He stumbled over his words, a blush continuously heated his face, a couple times he tripped when you would casually touch his shoulder or arm. Yet the whole time you were kind and patient with him, ignoring his awkwardness. Or at least he hoped so. A few times the two of you would find the other at the range and shoot together, giving one another pointers or creating silly competitions. It was during this that he realized he was falling for you.

Hard.

Like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute and feeling gravity control one's descent as if that person was just along for the ride.

It did not take long for the others to notice how his gaze was always on you when you were nearby. How his brain ceased to function properly as if you were all he could focus on. How he would go out of his way to try and say hi to you every day. The dopey smile on his face when you smiled or laughed, even if you were across the room.

And thus, the teasing began.

One of the more embarrassing moments was when Sobel was leading a strategy practice in the woods, quickly getting everyone killed from his impatience. Shifty, you and two others were forced to be left behind as wounded while everyone else tramped back to the rendezvous point. During those hours of laying in the grass, you and him, lying next to each other, began a quiet, running dialogue telling stories from your lives. Who taught you to shoot, what you were doing before the war, favorite foods, ect.

Once the four of you were relieved and allowed to return to the rendezvous point, you broke away to return to your separate barracks to clean up. When Shifty returned to 3rd Platoon, they immediately teased him about his rumpled clothing, the grass in his hair and if he remembered to wear a condom when you two….

He still blushed thinking about some of the graphic things they said.

Not that his mind had not enjoyed picking up those images and replaying them in his dreams.

*****

He was drunk.

Or at least tipsy.

A part of him knew going out was a bad idea. He never drank. Just did not like the taste of beer. It always sat like lead in his gut. But at the moment, he did not care.

Easy celebrated the fact that they were moving on from Camp Mackall soon. One step closer to be official paratroopers. One step closer to war. Drinks were flowing, some even found local women to dance with in the bar. Glenn Miller crooned over the radio. Sobel was gone on a forced weekend pass. Everyone was in high spirits.

Shifty sat at a table with a few others from Easy, listening to Luz tell some story...and he kept giggling.

Giggling!

Popeye was giving him an amused side-eye as he sipped his own beer. They all knew Shifty did not drink. Sure, he got teased about it but most respected it. For a very specific reason tonight when someone offered him a beer, he took it. And then another. And another.

He felt sort of floaty as he sat there. Everything was funny. His head was spinning slightly but it did not ache. That was good, right? He could still see straight...mostly. He was beginning to see why the others drank often.

When he looked around the bar, he finally spotted what had made him start drinking. You reclined at a table talking to Lt Winters and Lt Nixon, which was unsurprising. What was different was the dress you wore. It molded to you in sinful ways and dear God! he almost swallowed his tongue when you walked into the bar. Between that dress, the red lipstick and victory rolls in your hair, he swore even sunrises were jealous of your beauty. Others definitely noticed, a few buying you drinks but you refused to dance with anyone. A comradery had finally developed between you and the men of Easy, most accepted your presence and the intelligence you provided. Plus, your marksmanship added points and willingness to take the brunt of Sobel's verbal abuse.

You laughed at something Nixon said, head tipped back and a hand on your chest. A sappy smile grew on Shifty's face as he watched your joy radiate. He loved seeing you smile and laugh. Even if he was not the cause of it, he liked you being happy. You had the ability to make even the gloomiest day seem like the peak of summer sunshine.

Excusing yourself from the table, you started towards the outside door. With a bright smile, you redirected slightly and stopped at his table before passing it.

"You boys having a good time?"

A chorus of "yeahs" answered from those around.

"So, when are you going to admit you're in love with me?" Talbert asked, cigarette between his lips. Over the past weeks, he shamelessly flirted with you, even more than Luz but everyone knew it was done jokingly and when superior officers were not around.

"Mmm...the same time Sobel admits he has a hidden stash of pornography in his footlocker."

Malarkey's chair dropped back down onto its four legs as he gaped at you. "And how in the hell would you know that?"

You just winked. "Well, I'm off. Have a good evening, boys."

As you stepped away, Shifty found himself stumbling to his feet to catch up. "Y/n, ma'am."

You stopped, turning to watch him as he approached your side. There was no plan, no rationale in his following you. It was almost instinctual. He wanted to be near you...to hear you laugh again...be graced with one of your brilliant smiles. Now though, as you stood in front of him, waiting for him to speak, his brain sluggishly tried to come up with a reason for him to be near you.

"I'll walk you back if you like. It’s...you...you shouldn't walk 'round alone none." His words tumbled out, somewhat coherently in his rush so he was not just awkwardly staring at you.

You smiled, your face lighting up. "Thanks, Shifty."

A giggle escaped him and he practically felt his heart splatter on the floor at your feet. You were so beautiful and looking at you made him feel warm inside. Or was that the alcohol?

A few wolf whistles follow you both out but he did not pay attention. He floated walking next to you...or felt like he did. He was unsure. His boots caught on a rock and he stumbled faintly but tried to play it off. For some reason the ground swayed just enough under his feet. It reminded him of the floating dock in the next town over from his home, how it was stable yet unsteady. The stars were really pretty tonight. Not as pretty as you. Oops...he stumbled again and a giggle slipped out.

"Are you well?"

"Ah?" He looked over at you, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes scanning him as if for an injury. "Yes, yes." He giggled out. Why would he be injured? No more Currahee!

And then he tripped, almost landing on his face if you had not caught his arm.

"Stop. Stop. Look at me." You moved to stand in front of him, placing your hands on his chest to hold him still.

Your touch sent an electric current through him. It sharpened the warmth of your hands on his chest, how good they felt there. How your breath ghosted over his face as you peered at him. How close your bodies were. No one could ever compare to you. His feelings, his affections, bubbled up inside of him like a champagne bottle after being shaken, threatening to explode.

But he could not say anything. No! It would be wrong. So wrong. Not right. You were a superior officer...and... just incredible.

"Shifty, are you-"

"I like you. " He suddenly blurted out. The cork of the champagne bottle finally popping off.

You tipped your head to the side, watching him. Your hands still on his chest, still so close to him. Your eyes seemed to draw him in and he did not have the strength to escape their current, pulling secrets and truths from him.

Before he could stop it, his mouth disconnected from his brain and went on autopilot. Secrets and thoughts spilled out he had never told anyone. "I think youse beautiful and strong and an amazin' shot...and... I like you but not like...I like Popeye or Gordon or Lipton, no. I like-like you... like I want to kiss you and hear you laugh. But I can't tell you cos youse an officer and you would just laugh at me. I love watchin' you shoot. Rogers says you have a great ass but that don't matter to me cos, well truth is, I think I--"

You slapped a hand over his mouth, clogging the outpouring of words. "Are you drunk?"

He shook his head then changed his mind and nodded. Christ, he hoped he was drunk. Maybe you would ignore his ramblings then. Oh, what had he done? What happened? If he suddenly sprinted away, could he somehow hide from you for the rest of the war and he could pretend this never happened?

"Right. Here's what we are going to do." You tapped his chest with your pointer finger, drawing his attention back to you and ceasing his inner panic. "I am going to walk you to your barracks so you can sleep this off. After everything you just said, if you still feel this way in the morning, I want you to tell me all this when you are sober. Since I like-like you too. If not, then you owe me breakfast in exchange for my silence, jerk, and we'll never speak of this again." You smiled, other hand still on his mouth. "Nod if you agree."

He did not think he ever agreed to anything so quickly in his entire life.

"Good, let's get you back now." You pulled your hand away from his mouth and slipped it around his arm. Together you two walked, arm in arm, towards his barracks.

Shifty still felt like he was floating on air. For more than one reason.

*****

A few hours later, just as the sun was rising, he stood outside the barrack you were staying at. Practically bouncing on his toes, he knocked on the wooden door. Thankfully you stayed there alone since there were no other female paratroopers. You opened the door wearing an oversized shirt and gym shorts, hair amess and a sleepy smile on your face.

"I still think you are the most beautiful woman and I like-like you a lot." He exclaimed without preamble...and then paused. "And I'm sober."

"I like you too, Shifty."

A stupid grin spread across his face, cheeks warming up but he did not mind for once. "Can... can I... hug you, ma'am?"

You laughed lightly before grabbing the front of his ODs and yanking him inside, slamming the door behind him. Before he could utter a word, you pushed him against the closed door and slammed your lips against his, your hands gripping his ODs tightly.

Oh.

Oh!

This was much better than a hug.

Cupping your face, he returned the kiss fervently. He sank into your mouth, loving the feel of you pressed against him, how everything seemed to fade away and your touch and taste were all that mattered. You deepened the kiss, your tongue slipping into his mouth. If you did not have him pinned to the door, his knees would have given out. His hands slipped to the back of your head, tangling in your hair. Your tongues fought for dominance, which he would gladly let you win if only you did not stop. But it was when you whispered his name against his mouth that he almost came undone right there.

Finally you broke apart, desperate for air. Both of your chests heaving like you had been sprinting up Currahee. Staring into your face, your pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen; he decided he liked this even more than watching you shoot. Then he dove back into your mouth with unbridled passion, wanting to test how good your accuracy was in other ways.

Yes, this was much better than a hug.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #ww2 #world war 2 #shifty powers #shifty powers x reader #darrell powers #mzwrites

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mneiai · 4 years

Note

Hello! I love your writing so much and I would really like to see how you’d do a soulmate au where all mandalorians can tell (somehow lol) who their mandalor’s soulmate is... jangobi obviously!

So, this reminded me a lot of Fate Comes Early, and originally I was thinking of maybe just linking that, but then I was dwelling on it and thought how I could make it a very different take lol

This one kinda got away from me! I’ll probably post it as a one-shot on AO3.

I’m still accepting prompts in my ask box!

XXXXXXXXXXX

The moment they set foot in Mandalorian space, their whole mission went from not too unusual to completely kriffed up.

Maybe, Obi-Wan considered, before that even. Because the closer they got to the sector, the more Mandalorians they passed at refueling stations and there was something like a low buzz of danger in the Force.

Or maybe it was anticipation.

Regardless, he really wished Qui-Gon had listened to Obi-Wan instead of doubling down on his Living Force prejudices and insisting they had to live in the present. It would have saved them a lot of problems.

Because as soon as they were off their ship, they were surrounded, separated. There was no way to combat it without violence, which was not an option while they were on a diplomatic mission and there were government representatives in the crowd.

Obi-Wan was taken into what he assumed was the palace. Mandalorians, most but not all in their signature armor surrounding him until they reached a small building within the building. It was set in the middle of a courtyard, surrounded by what he guessed were native plants from the sector.

It was huge, lavish, and extremely well-secured. He could see guards at every point he'd think of for escape, even spotting a few on the nearby rooftops with the telltale bulk of a jetpack on their figures. He wouldn't have minded so much, if any of them had been talkative.

The building was the nicest prison he'd ever seen and apparently was just for him.

***

He spent a whole day mostly in one of the sitting rooms, refusing to take the comforts offered by the large bedroom he'd been shown, picking at the (admittedly, very good) food the guards brought him. Every so often he walked through the rooms, trying to act as though he were simply taking them in instead of looking for a way to break out.

Eventually, someone came to meet with him. A humanoid woman in armor who the guards in armor were respectful of and the guards without seemed to dislike. She treated him with surprising deference from the start, as one might a head of state and not a Jedi Padawan.

It was all making him very nervous, remembering a mission where a sentient sacrifice had been made temporary king before being thrown into a lava pit.

"Olarom, Ka'rata. I am your tengaa'cabur, your guide.."

Obi-Wan hesitated, then replied, "Olarom," back, remembering it as one of the polite standard greetings from the mission information packet he'd read on the way.

The Mandalorian smiled at him and it looked sincere enough, though she was surprisingly hard to read in the Force. "Your presence at this time shows the crossroads our people have arrived at. There is much to prepare, Satine Kryze was nearby for the," her face twisted in distaste, "election," before she managed to smooth it out again, "but the others are farther away."

"...Others?"

"The other candidates for Mand'alor. Once they are assembled, we will being the Ka'ra'ur'cire."

"That's...like an election?" he asked, hopefully, even though the word didn't seem at all familiar.

She laughed, though he got the impression she might have been rolling her eyes if she had less control. "In Basic, perhaps that is a close enough translation."

He'd been here to oversee the election, so at least it seemed like some part of his role would be fulfilled. He could only hope his Master was with Kryze.

"And why am I...separated? Why isn't my Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, here?"

Something twisted on her face, the same way it had when she'd first spoken of the election and Satine. "You are Ka'rata, it would be...improper. If you desire, after the Ka'ra'ur'cire you may be allowed other guests."

"You said that the Ka'ra'ur'cire," he thought he did a fairly good job at pronouncing it, the language coming surprisingly easy to his tongue, "would start once all the candidates are here? How long will that be?"

"Tor Vizsla will be here within the next few days. Jango Fett we hope within a week of that. The announcement has been made. You will meet all on even ground."

Neither of those men had been candidates of the election Obi-Wan had come to Mandalore for. Fett hadn't even been seen, as far as he knew, since the tragedy of Galidraan and Vizsla was considered a terrorist by most.

"And what does the Ka'ra'ur'cire entail?"

The guide stared at him for a moment, as though weighing what she'd say (or, perhaps, what he'd understand). "The Ka'ra will guide you. The one who will be Mand'alor will be revealed."

He didn't get much more out of her, after that.

***

The days after that continued with vague information, very good (if spicy) meals, and the introduction of coursework on Mando'a.

None of the language materials he was given included any of the odd terms that were used. He knew he was being called "Ka'rata" and it was honestly very rude of them not to clarify that point.

From the other information he was given, and what he'd already known for the mission, he was able to piece together that Mandalorians didn't have elections like most Republic states, that there were three main political factions each represented by one of the potential Mand'alors, and that the people guarding him and speaking to him had taken vows of neutrality and therefore would not--could not--support anyone over another until after they were declared.

He, too, was expected to have some sort of neutrality, at least to start off. And then...apparently he'd be the one doing the choosing.

That was a daunting task, especially without his Master's help, moreso because Obi-Wan was having trouble accessing the Force. He didn't know if it was nerves, or perhaps some sort of barrier around the building he hadn't noticed, but even in deep meditation he was finding it difficult.

He could still feel Qui-Gon, at least, though their bond felt muffled and indistinctive. It was enough to know that he was alive and he didn't feel as though he was in pain, just horribly annoyed. Wherever he was, maybe he was getting the same runaround that Obi-Wan was getting.

***

His guide from the first day came back, eventually. "The candidates are assembled," was the first thing she said after her formal greeting and he breathed a sigh of relief. "The Ka'ra'ur'cire will begin tomorrow."

"Does that mean I finally get to find out what it is?" His tone was maybe more petulant than he wanted it to be, but between the isolation and his growing disconnect from the Force, controlling his emotions was becoming harder.

She studied him, then nodded. "Yes. Your to'hodar to the epara'kyorar has faded, the Ka'ra will protect you."

Obi-Wan frowned. Ka'ra had been mentioned before, he knew that meant stars, but as some sort of divinity. The other two seemed to be combinations of words, none of which had good connotations.

"Right, would you mind explaining that as well as the other parts?"

The guide regarded him for a moment, then nodded again. "Elek, Ka'rata, I will explain all that I can."

But, of course, she didn't start explaining. Instead she guided him through the building to a dining room that he had seen in passing. There were other Mandalorians there, mostly older ones, though a few didn't have their helmets off to judge.

"The Ka'rata's blessed presence is known again in Mandalore," his guide stated and Obi-Wan suppressed a shudder as the others either bowed or saluted him. "He is prepared in spirit, but must be prepared in mind. It is our duty to do so."

Obi-Wan was directed to sit in one of the two chairs at the head of the table, the other remaining empty. Just like with his guide before, no one bothered introducing themselves, but he'd worked out that the ones in armor were Death Watch and the True Mandalorians (and could tell from the crests basically which ones) and that the ones who were not were most likely New Mandalorians. There seemed to be an even mix, four of each, plus his guide.

Food was placed in front of everyone who didn't have a helmet on and Obi-Wan reluctantly started to eat when others did, despite his need for answers. There was some sort of ritual at play, he knew from experience and learning, and interrupting it would probably do him no favors.

When the meal was over, his guide finally turned to him. "We will tell you now of what you are, and what it means, and what will come."

He sat up a little straighter. "Thank you."

"The Ka'rata is the heart and soul of the Mando'ade, chosen by the Ka'ra. In terms the aruetiise might use, the soulmate of the Mand'alor."

Obi-Wan wished he hadn't eaten, because he was starting to feel sick. He'd heard of soulmates, everyone had--a leftover of the Taung found almost solely in Mandalorians, a bond of the spirit that connected two people. He had a very brief education on them, in a single lecture that had discussed their simularities to naturally occurring Force bonds, and nearly everything else he knew came from the awful holonovellas that Vos sometimes watched.

"You think I'm the Mand'alor's soulmate?"

"We know it," one of the Death Watch members stated with conviction that, if Obi-Wan could just feel the Force, he knew somehow would ring true.

"We could feel it, the moment you neared us," his guide continued. "Once you nau'ur to'manda, you shall feel it, too."

He worked through those words, fairly sure it meant to forge the soulbond the stories spoke of, and frowned. "But you said I'm the Mand'alor's soulmate? So...who is the Mand'alor?"

"There are three potential Mand'alor's," the others shifted, clearly disliking comparing their own leaders, "and each must be given a chance to of nau'ur." Someone cleared their throats and she rolled her eyes. "And, arguably, their heirs."

"So if a Mand'alor dies...."

"There is always a Mand'alor. The individual might die, but someone always fills the role."

"You're saying that I just...get passed along like some heirloom?"

"You are Ka'rata, this is no insult meant to you. Once you open yourself to the Ka'ra and your to'manda, you'll understand, you'll want this."

Somehow this was worse than being sacrificed to a lava pit.

"I can't, though. I'm a Jedi, this...sounds like a very big attachment, which is forbidden by our Code."

Not only did many of them look uncomfortable at the reminder of what he was, he was fairly sure a few made a finger sign to ward off evil. Which...seemed excessive, though after Galidraan he supposed he couldn't blame them.

"The Ka'ra has freed you from the epara'kyorar. It can no longer smother you."

His breath caught. "Epara'kyorar...that's...that's what you call the Force?" He sounded small, weak, even to his own ears.

"It will not devour you any longer, Ka'rata, you are nearly free."

Obi-Wan reached desperately for the Force, but it was true, he could barely feel it at all. His bond with Qui-Gon might as well not even exist, not just as though it had been broken, but as though it had never been there at all.

He stood, chair falling behind him from the force of the movement. "I...no. I'm a Jedi, I need the Force."

"The epara'kyorare was blocking your sense of self," his guide insisted. "Your ability to use it was a trick to help you perpetuate it. Torre Vizsla learnt of this, warned us of it, what had long been suspected."

"How are you blocking me from the Force? How do I reverse it?" he demanded.

Looking around, he realized how foolish it must seem to them, a teenage boy without weapons or armor in a room full of Mandalorians, making demands. But the looks on their faces were not mocking, but more pitying. That grated.

"You can't just kidnap someone, take away one of their senses, and expect them to cooperate with you!"

"There is no kidnapping the Ka'rata. You are in our sector, under our laws you are ours."

"Your property?" he sneered, though cold sweat broke out across his body at the remembered weight of a collar around his neck.

One of the New Mandalorians, perhaps the least threatening looking person in the room, stood and approached him. "You are sacred. Once the Mand'alor has been decided on, only they can restrict you."

He looked in the man's eyes and saw what wasn't being said--the New Mandalorians were the least traditional, Satine Kryze would be less inclined to follow whatever tenants insisted that Obi-Wan was kept locked up in a separate building, guarded, unable to see any non-Mandalorians. Maybe she'd even let him go back to the Jedi, once she was confirmed Mand'alor.

Obi-Wan looked around the room, noticed eyes narrowed at the man, but no one discounted what he said. "Fine," he muttered, crossing his arms. "Fine. How do I decide which one is Mand'alor, then?"

***

It couldn't ever just be a simple "point at someone and say they're Mand'alor," but "spend a week learning how they feel to you" was aggravating. If he'd had the Force, Obi-Wan might have been able to tell right away, with a few questions, who would be a better leader.

Or he would have just chosen Satine, as he desperately wanted to, especially as the time they spent together within the building he was housed in or out in the gardens around it made it clear she disdained this tradition as much as he did. She was going along with it to hopefully gain more support and wasn't actually going to do anything more than that. She respected the Republic, the Jedi, him.

He really, really liked Satine.

Vizsla was...well, he wasn't sure what to expect, the file on him and his activities painted him as a terrorist for good reasons. But he was a traditionalist to the core and he had utter respect for the tradition of the Ka'ra'ur'cire.

Though, he did seem to be holding back parts of himself to interact with Obi-Wan. Despite surely thinking being soulmates would be an automatic thing, he was almost wooing him.

The last of the three he met was Fett. Who...seemed almost as out of sorts as Obi-Wan. He was abrasive, condescending, didn't have much time for Obi-Wan's lack of knowledge around the Ka'ra'ur'cire or any Mandalorian culture, and at first Obi-Wan took offense to that.

Until he realized this might be the first time Fett had seen a Jedi since Galidraan.

And then he looked beyond the surface of their interactions--Fett was shaken, broken, he felt like a failure and knew he didn't deserve to be Mand'alor.

Obi-Wan took two days of the meetings to realize he was understanding Fett a little too well. Another day to accept that Fett himself seemed to have quickly moved on from his hatred of all things Jedi to watching Obi-Wan like he couldn't believe he existed.

The guide had said that their stars would tell Obi-Wan who his soulmate was and horribly, Obi-Wan was realizing that maybe that was right. He, intellectually, wanted it to be Satine.

But his heart, or maybe it was his soul (or maybe it was the Ka'ra), was crying out for Jango.

"Oh," he breathed out during one of their meetings, watching Jango studying a battleplan in front of them, after he'd taken a piece of Obi-Wan's advice (hard-earned on Melida/Daan) without any protest or condescension.

Jango looked up at him, his face blank except for that little area of tenseness between his eyebrows Obi-Wan had already memorized. "Something else I'm missing?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, eyes even wider, and left the room.

***

When he went to his guide, she was as gentle as a Mandalorian could be as she talked him through how to finish the Ka'ra'ur'cire.

The next day, after fruitless meetings with Satine and Tor, he was glad to see Jango. His soft smile must have said more than he thought, because Jango--who must have felt it this entire time but had patiently waited on him--didn't stalk into the room to his usual seat. He walked right up to Obi-Wan, cupping his cheek gently in a calloused hand.

Obi-Wan, at a loss for words, managed what he thought was a steady and suggestive, "Hello, there," before Jango's lips crashed into his own.

And a million stars lit up inside of him.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Mando'a: Olarom - Welcome/greetings Ka'rata - from ka'ra (stars/fate) and kar'ta (heart), word for Mand'alor's soulmate Mand'alor - sole ruler, basically the dictator of Mandalore Ka'ra'ur'cire - from ka'ra (stars) and urcir (meet) aruetiise - foreigners/outsiders to'hodar - from to (join) and hodar (deceive), ie a false bond epara'kyorare - from eparavur (to feast, devour) and kyorar (rot) Elek - yes Mando'ade - Mandalorian People to'manda- from to (join) and Manda (soul), ie a soulbound nau'ur - light up, illuminate (is also used in context of forging weapons, nau'ur kad, forge or light up a sword)

#jangobi #obi wan kenobi #jango fett #mandalorians #star wars fic #soulmate au #my stuff #ask answers #Anonymous

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mithrilwren · 4 years

Text

Ceremony

Wedding: You touch adult humanoids willing to be bonded together in marriage. For the next 7 days, each target gains a +2 bonus to AC while they are within 30 feet of each other. A creature can benefit from this rite again only if widowed.

Over the course of the Stolen Century, Barry and Lup shamelessly exploit a convenient magical loophole.

(Also on Ao3)

---

49.

Three months into the forty-ninth year, Barry turns to look at Lup. Her face is lit by the cascade of neon flashes from the frogs in the trees above, croaking their many-coloured song, and the air is cold on his tongue, and his hand is in hers as they walk through the night air. She notices him watching. She always does, and her eyes glint in amusement: purple and azure and green and gold.

“What’re you thinking?”

He takes a breath and says, “We’re going to get married, aren’t we?”

He says it not with nervous hesitation, but with the wonder of realization, like a child dazzled at their first snowfall. Lup’s smile is wicked, but the hand around his squeezes gently.

“Well, duh.”

And they do. Not that year, because Lup’s not having a wedding on the planet of radioactive frog slime, and Barry likes the evenness of 50 for an anniversary. It’s a nicer number than 49, at any rate. Some just are.

This world ends quietly. The Hunger comes and the whole crew, safe and sound aboard the Starblaster, watches from the bridge viewport as the neon lights that once sang amidst the blanket of leaves twinkle and then fade. Not even Taako, who’d spend the whole year cursing the frogs for disturbing his sleep, says a word.

None of them has ever seen silence fall before.

They all keep quiet, and still, and then they all fade too.

50.

The fiftieth year is spent planning. Lup tells Taako about their plan, and then Taako teases her about it in front of Magnus, who can’t contain his excitement long enough for damage control and suddenly the whole crew knows that this is the year they’re finally making it official, and they are pumped. Everyone is eager to sink into any strategizing endeavour that doesn’t involve thousands of lives, and preventing the destruction thereof.

Davenport and Magnus set to work chasing the light of creation on this new world, this fiftieth home – a vast oceania, with towns dotting the edges of the many archipelagos that make up the landmass of the planet. They find it easily enough in the rocky shoals of one of the smaller islands, before the locals can get too attached to the new meteorite in their bay. With that problem squared away, everyone’s attention is back on the wedding, and the first ever IPRE Party Planning Committee is brought to order.

Taako’s got the food on lock, because of course he does, but he also helps Lup pick a dress from one of the open-aired markets in town: a breezy lilac slip with golden threads that catch the highlights in her hair.

Lucretia gets all their paperwork in order in case they want to file properly when they get back to their own world or… well, in any case, it’s good to have a record. She’s also unofficially in charge of streamers, because nobody but her and Magnus are sufficiently inoculated towards slimy ocean creatures to spend their evenings weaving strands of shimmery seaweed into party decorations.

Davenport cozies up enough to the local mayor to score some fine liquor for toasts. He sneaks a few bottles extra into his quarters, for safekeeping.

Magnus works so hard. He spends every spare minute practicing his carving, getting ready for the main event. At first, he fills Fisher’s tank with progressively more detailed ducks – an attempt to sooth the loneliness of the now-orphaned child, as much as any other purpose. But soon he hides away in a little cave by the coast, only returning to the ship to retrieve more boughs from those he collected from the forests of the previous planet. He refuses to let anyone see what he’s making until it’s absolutely finished.

Merle… frets.

“I mean, you could just ask Davenport. I figure, since he’s the captain and all... Isn’t he, you know, vested with the powers that be?”

“We could,” Lup nods. “Or we could ask you. Like we just did.”

Merle rubs at the back of his neck, using every inch of height disparity to avoid looking at Lup and Barry’s eyes. “I’m not- are you really sure you want me doing this? Me?”

“Why not you?” Barry asks, genuinely curious.

“I know I’m like, a cleric...”

“Debatable!” chimes Taako from the other side of the wall, and Merle grits his teeth just a little harder.

“Not helping, dear brother mine!” Lup calls cheerfully, and shoots a subtle charm behind her back that stands the hair on Barry’s arm on end. Moments later, there’s a thud and a slew of curses, and Lup smiles. “You were saying?”

“I’ve honestly,” Merle lowers his voice in case Taako is still in earshot. “I’ve never done one of these before. It’s the type of thing they train you for when you’re fully initiated and I never got that far. There’s special words that you’re supposed to use to complete the bonding, and a spell, and I just… I don’t want to screw this up, ok?”

“Merle,” says Lup, bending at the waist till she’s on eye level with Merle’s flushed face. “There is nothing, nothing, that you could do on my wedding day that would make me happier than to completely fuck it up. Where’s the story in perfection? Where’s the pizzazz. Say the wrong words, blow something up! I live for uncertainty.”

“Please don’t actually blow anything up if you can help it, though-” Barry interjects.

“But if you do, I’ll be behind you, 100%. As I push you between me and any sparks that get too close to the bomb-ass dress Taako and I picked out.”

“Oh yes, I feel much better now,” Merle grumbles, but he also stops arguing, which means they’ve got the priest, which is really, the last thing they needed.

Lup and Barry get up one morning – a full two months before the Hunger’s arrival – and suddenly, it’s the day. Taako forces eggs and coffee down their throats, prescribing four hundred calories apiece before they’re allowed to get dressed. Merle picks wildflowers and lays them out in matching corsages on the breakfast table before rushing off to resume his muttered practicing. Davenport and Lucretia take them each aside and help them into their outfits, and Barry has never felt more nervous in his life than as he slips on the lightweight suit. Blue, to match the sea, and because he lives to meet expectations.

And then everyone else is outside, and they’re standing hand in hand, waiting to walk down from the open door of the ship, and Barry turns to look at Lup. “We’re getting married,” he manages to get out through his rapidly closing throat.

“Sure are, champ,” she says quietly.

It’s funny. He’d always figured he’d be the first one to cry.

Everyone’s waiting when they finally step through the door. Two thick streamers of seaweed form an aisle from the gangway to where Merle stands beneath Magnus’s project: a giant archway of hewn branches, twisting eagerly in an arc towards the sky. Whatever rough patches and nicks remain in the wood are covered by intertwining flowers, perfectly matched to the garlands around their wrists. On either side of the aisle, their friends sit cross-legged in the white sand: Taako and Davenport on one side, and Lucretia and Magnus on the other. Cradled in Magnus’s lap is Fisher, who hums cheerfully at the sunlight and the joy of living, probably.

They all end up sitting in the sand, even Merle, and it feels less like a ceremony than a congregation of friends sharing a lazy afternoon, and Barry wouldn’t have it any other way. Merle stumbles his way through his lines, but he manages all right in the end, or at least Barry assumes he does. He’s too busy staring at Lup to listen, committing every second of this perfect day to memory: her loose curls twisting in the breeze, her smudged mascara, her bare feet half-buried under the sand.

When he tunes back in, it’s to the last words of Merle’s benediction, and his chest swells with warmth and love and- that’s a little too much warmth, actually, and judging by the alarmed look on Lup’s face, she’s feeling the same strange glow in her chest.

“Well, shit,” Merle breathes. “It actually worked.” Before Barry can ask, he’s patting them both gleefully on the shoulder. “By the power invested in me, apparently, you’re now husband and wife! And also, you get a bonus week of Pan’s blessing – so now’s a good time to get into a boss fight I guess, if you’re itching for one.”

Barry doesn’t hear that last part too clearly. He’s too busy being shoved into the sand by his wife oh my god oh my god and kissed senseless.

Merle wasn’t lying about the blessing either. When they’re together, there’s this warmth of surety, like anyone or anything who tried to separate them would need a miracle to succeed. Magnus accidentally hucks a rock in Lup’s direction and it glances off her shoulder like a rubber ball. Barry stubs his toe on the edge of a reef and barely feels the sting. The warmth is strongest when they’re pressed against each other, every inch of them connected, and so they stay like that for three wonderful, magical days – never out of arm’s reach.

They go swimming, just the two of them, on the fourth day. Barry’s never been so pleased that Taako taught him as he is now. They’re just twirling together, treading water out past the dropoff, and the sky is growing dark when Lup says they might to head in, it’s getting chilly, darling, and then the hail starts to fall.

At first, there are only little pieces that ping in the water all around them, nipping at their bare shoulders like blackflies as they start to swim back. Then a great chunk of ice slams into the spot Barry’s outstretched hand was reaching towards. All around them a pounding rhythm picks up pace, and Lup starts muttering shit, shit as they double their speed. Through bleary, salt-drenched eyes Barry thinks he sees the shadow of a figure standing on the shore with arms outstretched, but he can’t hear what they’re calling over the wind and the waves and the relentless pounding in his ears. All he can hear is Lup and her desperate muttering as she tries to form a sigil in the air with the hand he isn’t desperately grasping, dragging along. With a cry, she sends a blast of force cascading out in a sphere around them, and for a moment, the roar of the sea and the storm disappear and it’s just the two of them in silence, clinging to each other-

And then red blooms behind Barry’s eyes and he’s sinking and with every foot he slips the water grows colder, or maybe it’s him that’s gone cold, without her. Or-

Or-

He wakes to find Lup already wrapped around him on the Starblaster deck, and the supernatural warmth of Pan’s blessing is gone but she’s safe and he’s alive and the press of her arms is enough for him any day.

She murmurs hoarsely, words meant only for his ears, and he can tell she’s crying even without seeing her face. “These last months, Barry… god, I missed you so much, you can’t even know-” He squeezes her shoulders and she sighs, before lifting her head and declaring to the room of equally tearful onlookers,

“This man had the nerve to fucking leave me in the middle of our honeymoon? That’s it, Barry Bluejeans.” Her smile is wet and determined and beautiful.

“I demand a do-over.”

51.

For Lup, the announcement is mostly a joke, but then everyone is… kind of on board and she… kind of very much wants them to be.

She got her perfect fairytale wedding once, and she doesn’t want – doesn’t need – to replace that, but to lose her husband three days after getting him? She’s imagined some pretty bleak futures in her time, and even the worst of them didn’t tip the scale to quite that depressing. They may have all eternity to cycle. Might as well try for the perfect fairytale honeymoon too.

The second wedding is a more rushed affair. The new planet comes with warring factions and a power struggle and the Light lost somewhere in the fray of muddy battlegrounds, and it takes all of their combined efforts to retrieve the thing before one despot or another can get their hands on it. By the time they do, they’ve got less than a month till the Hunger comes, and most of the crew are footsore and weary from the last push. In fact, Lup’s pretty sure it’s not going to happen at all. She doesn’t bring it up – no use adding one more mission to the pile – but it pulls at parts of her that she’d thought she buried, the memories of lonesome nights spent wondering if there was any happiness in the world that couldn’t be taken away.

Against all expectations, the one who brings it up is Merle.

He comes and knocks at their door and she answers, and waits patiently for him to stop shuffling his feet. Which is to say, she patiently says, “Spit it the fuck out, Merle.”

“Well, uh, what day were you wantin’ the wedding to be? Now that we’ve got this whole situation under wraps, I thought you’d-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish the thought with his head smothered in Lup’s shirt as she pulls him into a tight hug.

The roles are different now, but maybe they all are too. The years go by quicker, and they all seem a little older with each cycle, though their bodies stay the same. Lup likes to think the change is for the better.

Davenport finds a copse of trees somehow spared the ravages of war and they set down there, working to clear the area as quickly as possible. He coordinates decorations, not refugees, and his shoulders untense for the first time in six months.

Magnus apologizes for leaving the arch behind on the last world. The apology is for Barry’s benefit, not Lup’s, because Barry doesn’t need to know that no matter how hard Magnus had worked on it, and how much she wanted to spare his feelings, Lup couldn’t bear the sight of that arch after the night of the storm. She’s not sure what he did with his creation after she told him, but she never saw it again. Maybe it’s lying at the bottom of the same ocean that Barry- nope. That’s not a thought that needs to happen.

Taako hangs fairy lights from the eaves with his wand, and they all settle in on the newly-swept ground. The world around them couldn’t be more different than a seaside paradise, but they’re all still a congregation of friends. Merle is more comfortable this time around, even injecting a couple jokes into the stuffy liturgy, and though the overwhelming exhilaration of the first wedding is dampened, there’s an ease to the affair that’s new and welcome.

Merle places his hands on their shoulders again and says, “By the power invested in me, blah blah, you know the drill-” He startles backwards, grey eyebrows flying up into his hairline as a familiar warmth settles back into Lup’s chest. She cocks her head.

“What’s up?”

He blinks. “It’s just… the spell. The blessing from Pan. It’s a one-time-per-couple deal. You’re not supposed to be able to place it twice on the same people, not unless…”

“Go on,” she says, as he greens, suddenly cagey.

“Well, there’s a clause in the case of… if someone is widowed. Then they can get it again. Usually that means with another person though-”

“I think our whole existence is an affront to the natural order. Let’s not sweat the technicalities.” And she pulls Barry in for a kiss, because he’s her husband, and because she can.

They barely leave their room for the next week. Lup won’t admit to being afraid of the moment shattering again, and Barry is similarly reticent, and so they talk about everything else in the world except death. Barry learns a bit more about Lup and Taako’s childhood, and he tells her about the cat he rescued from a garbage can near his university, and they read, and make love, and sleep, and wake up to find the other still there. The rest of the crew give their cabin a wide berth.

It’s not quite a fairytale, but it’s nice. And that’s more than good enough.

On the evening of the seventh day, Lup is lazily drawing patterns on a sleeping Barry’s shoulder when she feels the warmth in her chest begin to ebb. She digs her nails in and shakes, heart beating too fast all at once because no, this can’t be happening, it can’t, not again, until Barry flips over with a yawn and she regains control of her lungs.

“What’s up?” he asks, and then his eyes widen, hand going to his own chest. “Guess that’s that.”

“End of the honeymoon,” she says faintly. Her chest is cold, like swallowed seawater.

“Time to rejoin the world of the living?”

“…Nah,” she says, and burrows her head back into his shoulder. His heart thuds against her ear with a gentle pulse, and she slows her breathing to match its rhythm.

They stay like that, curled into each other, until the silence is replaced by the roar of engines and Davenport’s voice through the intercom. Liftoff. Everyone to their stations. Lup closes her eyes and pulls Barry back down when he tries to get up.

She’s never been good at following orders.

58.

“Do you honestly think I would abuse Pan’s divine favour for something this trivial?” Barry, Lup, the entire cosmos sideeyes Merle. “… Yeah, fair enough. Fine,” he sighs, resigned. “Where do you want me?”

It was actually Barry’s idea. The scientist within him was burning away at the question, and true to form, Lup was just as eager to test out the constraints of any new and interesting magic.

“We can do it right here, if you want,” Barry says, gesturing down at the galley table they’re all seated at. Well, that he and Merle at seated at – technically, Lup is seated on. From the other side of the room, Lucretia pricks her ears up, obviously interested in what they’re doing, but keeping her nose firmly buried in her book.

“What, no garlands and twinkles this time around?” Merle says.

“I’ve had two beautiful wedding days already. I’m ok with this one being quick and dirty,” Lup explains.

Merle rubs his hands together, mouth twitching nervously beneath his beard. “Well, alright then. I guess we’re doing this… now?”

“Not getting any younger,” Lup says, which is both so completely true and completely untrue that Barry’s head spins too much to make a joke out of it. “Hey, Luce! Got a sec?”

Lucretia pads quietly from the other side of the room, her book still propped open in the crook of her arm. “What’s going on?”

“Getting married again, darling,” Lup says sweetly, and tugs her down till she’s seated in the chair next to Barry. “Want to be our witness?”

She looks confused a moment, but then slowly nods. “Sure. I’d be honoured.”

“Great!” Lup reaches down from her perch and ruffles her hair, which only drags a small frown to Lucretia’s face. “Let’s do this!”

Merle skips straight to the good stuff this time around, getting the blessing out in practically one breath, and Barry readies himself to feel the warmth in his chest, and-

Nothing.

“Huh,” all three of them say at once.

“Maybe Pan’s taking a nap,” Merle says. “Want me to try again?” Lucretia flips a page in her book, settling in for the long haul.

They do try again, more slowly this time, and Merle repeats every work of the liturgy, and Barry and Lup say their entire vows, and again, nothing.

“Sorry. Guess I lost my juju.”

“No, this actually tells us something interesting,” Barry reassures him. “I’d be wondering what happened to us at the end of our cycles, whether we just die and get remade, or if we blink out of reality and reappear. If we actually died, I’d assume the blessing would be nullified. Since it’s not, we can rule out death as what’s happening at the end of each year.”

“That’s only sort-of comforting, babe,” Lup says, patting his arm.

“I’m hoping neither of you are planning on dying again, just so you can reap my holy tax benefits.”

“Never,” Lup promises, and Barry thinks it’s another joke, until he turns and looks at Lup’s face. Her mouth is set in a grim line. The hand on his shoulder tightens, then tightens again. “Not if I can help it.”

59.

“Barry. Darling. Love of my life.”

“What?” he says, as Lup pulls him into her arms, back on the deck of the Starblaster once more. This time there are no tears, but she looks a little more faded than he’s ever seen her.

“Please tell me you didn’t take that crossbow bolt for science.”

He puts a hand over his chest, where only a moment before there had been a bleeding hole.

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even answer. He just holds her close.

78.

They fucked up.

They fucked up, oh fuck oh f-

Lup tears her eyes away from Magnus’s limp body, sprawled across the obsidian floor mere feet from the Light, his torn shirt cast in hazy red from the streams of magma that cascade from the ceiling. Another rock breaks free and crashes to the floor, and Lup can’t see Taako anymore, she can’t see him she-

“Lup!” Barry’s hand catches her and drags her back as a spire falls onto the place she was standing, shattering into jagged shrapnel that bites at her calves and thighs. “We have to go!”

“Taako’s still-”

“Taako’s gone, Lup!”

And he is. She saw him take that fateful misstep. She saw where he fell.

Nobody, not even her, could survive that much fire.

Then run maybe ten paces before another rock crashes down in front of them and they have to pivot back towards where they came. She can’t see anyone anymore, not Davenport or Lucretia or Merle and why did they all come, why did they get this careless? Yes, the stones were heavy to move but someone should have stayed behind-

Another rock tumbles from the ceiling and smashes into Lup’s arm. She’s flung forward, nearly wrenched from Barry’s grip by the impact, half-sobbing from frustration. They can see the exit from here… but they aren’t going to make it. It’s just too far.

None of them are going to make it.

Oh, fuck.

They have to try. They have to. Even if everyone else is dead, they have to-

A hand, smaller than Barry’s, grabs her shirt by the tails and yanks her back towards the wall. She feels Barry moving in the same direction and they both slam into the stone at once, coming face to face with Merle’s sweat-stained face.

“What-” but he’s already chanting, eyes closed, muttering words too gentle for the horrific sounds of death and destruction as the room collapses around them, and when he finishes Lup’s chest warms, and warms, and she does sob now, because it feels good. It feels like hope, when there was none.

“Bring us home,” Merle says, and shoves the two of them towards the blackened cavern entrance. “Go!”

Lup tries to grab his hand but he shoves her away, and she and Barry take off running, bounding around projectiles with catlike grace as they move in sync, like they share the same body. She only looks back when their feet pass the threshold, and she sees Merle still standing there against the wall, watching them with a sad, relieved smile.

Another rock loosens. She hears the crack as it breaks away, but Lup turns before she can see where it lands.

82.

The night before the ritual, Merle takes the two of them aside.

“So,” he says. “You’re really going through with it.”

“Yeah, Merle,” says Lup. “We really are.”

He smiles, something tight and curling and frightened. “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” Lup smiles back. “Didn’t think so, but I had to ask.” He takes out his book, and both Barry and Lup frown in confusion as he flips it open to a familiar page. “One last time, for old time’s sake?”

They look at each other. “Why?” asks Barry. “Once we’re liches, I’m sure the spell will dissipate. I doubt it transfers between metaphysical bodies.”

Merle snorts out through his nose, then turns his head away, rubbing one heel of his hand against his cheek, just above the tufts of his white beard. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re probably right.” His voice goes husky near the middle, but he refinds its center before he turns back to them. “But this is what I can do, so if there’s even a chance that’ll it’ll help…”

“Then we’ll take it,” Lup says, grabbing Merle’s hand before he can close the book. “Shit. Thank you.”

“Thanks for what? I haven’t done nothing yet.”

“For everything.” She swallows. “For everything. And if this doesn’t work-”

“Lup-“ Barry warns.

“If this doesn’t work,” Lup continues. “I just need you to know that. Alright? You did everything you could.”

“What are you talking about?” Merle laughs. “Of course it’s going to work. I’ve done it five times now. Have a little more faith.” He looks at Lup, and she looks at him, and their shared gaze is warm, and understanding. “So don’t you worry, I’m going to take good care of both of you. That’s my job.”

“Thanks, Merle,” Barry says, echoing loops words, and Merle’s wobbling tone.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this.” He takes both their hands and places them on top of the book. “By the powers vested in me…”

Merle’s words fade out as Barry looks at Lup. Her brilliant eyes meet his, and even as the warmth swells, the look they share is one of farewell.

No matter what happens tomorrow, this’ll be the last time they share this.

But no matter what happens, they’re going to be together.

Come hell or high water, he’s never going to leave her alone again.

~&$(No DATE given@(*#

It’s cold up here, in the sky.

Barry wraps his jacket around Lup’s shoulders, and she leans in under his arm, swinging her legs to keep warm, or just to keep moving. Her bare feet flicker as the lights below pass by – a sparkling metropolis by the sea, and they can see it all from their perch on the last metal outcropping of the base: Neverwinter, in all its evening glory. After everything, impossibly, safe and sound.

Lup slides a little farther, sticking her big toe out as far as she can reach it, and suddenly the entire foot becomes buoyant, like it weighs nothing at all. Lup giggles at the sudden loss of gravity, and Barry redoubles his grip on the fluttering pages in his lap.

It figures, that Lucretia would have still had these. If there’s one thing she takes seriously, it’s her paperwork.

“What do’ya think?” Lup says. “If I spit, do you think it would hit someone, or would it just burn up in the atmosphere?” Before he gets a chance to answer, she hocks a loogie and lets it fly. They both watch the orb of spit vanish into the frosty air.

“It’s more likely that it’ll find its way back around the moon and land on someone up here.”

“Even better.” Lup grins, and Barry pulls her in all the tighter.

He’s missed this.

He’s missed so much, and this most of all.

“This feels silly,” he admits, shuffling through the papers. “I don’t even know why Lucretia wanted them in the first place. It’s not like we even officially exist anymore. Nobody’s going to come checking to see if our personnel records are up to date.”

“Yeah, but what Luce wants, Luce gets,” and there’s a bite to the words that wasn’t there before, and the air gets a little colder, and he shivers for the both of them.

Even with so many things mended, there are some they can’t undo.

Still, Lup’s voice softens as she takes the first page and holds it up to the light of the second moon, the real moon. “You sure you don’t want one last ceremony? Just for old times’ sake?”

He chuckles, imagining Merle’s face if they asked. “I’m good. All I want is you, at my side, forever and always.”

“That’s some corny shit, Bluejeans.” He shrugs, and she tucks her feet back up under her. “But you know I love it.” She puts the page back down onto the pile and pulls a pen out from behind her ear, then passes it to Barry. “So, what do you say? Will you make me an honest woman, officially?”

In every lifetime, in every moment, past and present, his answer has never changed.

“Yes. I will.”

He takes the pen and scribbles his name down on the dotted line, then passes the pen back. Lup adds her own signature to the other, and they both sit back, staring at the blocky letters of script at the top of the page.

Certificate of Marriage

No ceremony, no warmth, no mystical connection. They set the papers aside and kiss under the lights from above and below, and it’s only them, and that’s plenty. That’s all they need to be.

Forever and always, connected.

#taz #taz balance #taz fic #blupjeans #barry bluejeans #lup #my writing #i started this fic all the way back in 2018 #it feels wonderful to finally finish it #even if it's been a while since i've listened to balance these characters still have my heart

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scott-magill · 3 years

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Shadow-Blessed Ep. 8

"Did you kill him?”

“No, I’m not a killer.”

“Won’t he just come right back then?” Ruby asked.

“Yes but by the time he gets here we’ll be gone and your essence will be wiped clean. Go pack,” I told her. I had a lot of practice scrubbing my essence from places. Granted, I never stayed in the same place for long, that made the spell a bit easier. Erasing her energy was harder since I’d know her for less than a day. I at least had the recent use of her powers to cut the lights to work off of. I focused on the lingering trace of magic in the hall. Once I’d isolated her magic there I could feel it more clearly in the apartment. My magic and the pyromancer’s were both strong presences in the room but Ruby’s technomancy was more subtle, like a quiet hum. Once I found it, I started drawing any sign of Ruby’s magic out of the apartment. She returned with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. I waved her towards the door. With her on the other side of the threshold, it got easier to pick out the remnants of her power.

After gathering every trace of Ruby’s power in the apartment, I pulled back all the evidence of my power in the space. There was far less of it, but I didn’t want to take any chances. When I was done, the only magic anyone could detect there belonged to the pyromancer. All together the energy I gathered wasn’t enough to cast any spells. That meant Ruby didn’t use a lot of magic at home. Considering the fact that Agent Boone was able to get in without issue I worried she hadn’t even been warding the place. We’d talk about that later. First we had to get as far from the building as possible.

“Are there any parking garages with lax security nearby?” I asked.

“Why?” she asked, keeping pace with me as we walked to the elevators.

“We’re going to need a car,” I said.

“I have one,” she said, as we stepped into the elevator.

“Registered to your name?” I asked. If she answered yes, I would’ve abandoned her right there.

“Of course not,” she said much to my relief. “I’m well aware of how easy it is to trace a vehicle. I’ve taken precautions.”

She didn’t elaborate. She started walking as soon as the elevator doors opened wide enough for her to fit through. I followed her. It felt like that was all I’d done since arriving in Orlando. I wasn’t used to following people and I didn’t like it much. Part of me couldn’t wait to get out of Orlando so that we were on even footing. The rest of me was still uncertain about Ruby. I wasn’t at all reassured when she stopped at a Tesla. We couldn’t keep a low profile in such a flashy car. It looked brand new with a shining red paint job. She opened the back door and put her bag on the back seat before looking at me. My concern must have shown on my face because she paused before closing the door.

“Seriously? This is your car?” I asked.

“It’s one of the most high-tech cars out right now,” she said, like that made it the most sensible car for a woman on the run. I had to remind myself that she wasn’t just any woman. She was a technomancer and for all I knew that made it the perfect car for her. “Can you just trust me until we’re out of town?”

I got into the car. If we had to, we could ditch it once we were far enough from Orlando. Right now, I was more concerned about the Pyromancer catching up to us. Ruby showed me a lot of trust so far. I held my tongue and gave her the benefit of the doubt. Our versions of flying under the radar might be different, but she’d gotten away from a cerebremancer and that was no easy feat. That alone was enough for me to put some faith in her ability. Either way, we didn’t have time to debate the subject of appropriate getaway cars while we both came so close to getting caught the past two days. When Ruby started the car “I Know What I Am” by Band of Skulls came on the radio. I took it as a good sign.

My concern about Ruby’s chosen vehicle, almost made me forget about my new shadowy companion. As she drove, I felt every dark corner of the city we passed in more vibrant detail. If just having its container on my person enhanced my magical perception this much, I couldn’t begin to imagine what would happen when I set it free. The bloodlust I’d felt from it in the apartment made me nervous to test that while we were confined to the Tesla. It didn’t seem right to keep it trapped. It was alive. It had emotions and urges. I had to find out more about it if I was going to set it free. I breathed deeply until the music and sounds of traffic faded to the background. The shadow’s mind was waiting for me.

“Hello Blessed-One,” the shadow said. Its voice was soft and welcoming.

“My name is Milo,” I thought. The shadow heard me without me speaking the words aloud. It was odd to have knowledge come to me so clearly without being told. “Do you have a name?”

“I’ve had many. The closest in your tongue is Umbra,” it said.

“Is it safe for Ruby if I let you out of the sphere?” I asked.

“I will only hurt those who you wish me to. My kind are guardians for those blessed by the shadow like you,” Umbra said. Images of Umbra at the side of other witches filled my mind. There wasn’t nearly as much violence as I’d expected. The companionship between the shadow and the witches was different for each of them. Umbra would relish the chance to protect me but I didn’t need to worry about them hurting the people around me without rhyme or reason.

“What do you need? Do you eat or sleep? How do I take care of you?” I asked.

“If you release me from this vessel I will bond with you and your magic. It will sustain me,” they told me. I saw a vision of the last witch Umbra bonded with cutting their connection and sealing them into the gold cage. She was dying and she wanted to give the shadow a chance at finding another shadow-blessed witch. I felt the loneliness that losing her created like it was my own. It wasn’t far off. I’d been friendless since running from the Coven. It seemed that if things went well I’d be moving on from Orlando with more than just two allies. If I let them in, Umbra and I could forge a bond like the ones they’d shared with all the witches before me.

Everything about Umbra felt right. They couldn’t lie to me and vice versa. Before feeling this connection, the idea of being bonded like this would have scared me. But there was no judgment in the shadow. I took the small golden sphere out of my bag and twisted the top so that Umbra could get out. A surge of power flowed around me. The living shadow settled deep within my existing shadow. New eddies of power were within my reach. For the first time in a long time I didn’t know what my limits were. The connection between us would only grow stronger. I’d glimpsed what our combined power could do in the visions Umbra shared. But for now I settled into the new security that they gave me. I could get used to this quickly. Maybe it should have worried me. I’d lived with fear for so long that it felt strange to be without it. I felt a smile spread across my lips. We were going to be all right.

#Fantasy #Fiction #Gay #Gay Fiction #Gay Author #Gay Protagonist #Gay Stories #Gay Writer #LGBTQ+#LGBTQ+ Fiction #LGBTQ+ Author #LGBTQ+ Protagonist #LGBTQ+ Stories #LGBTQ+ Writer #Urban Fantasy

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angelwars11 · 4 years

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Title: Gold

Prompt: Gold

Pairing: Echo5

Rating: G

Word count: 1k

‘The sunset is truly a blessing to see. It’s like a refined painting, painted by the most talented artist in the entire galaxy. It’s a perfect backdrop to the tall spiraling glass buildings, the speeders flying in the distance, and soon the colors of violet, blue, and magenta clash; indicating that nightlife has just begun.’

—

‘True Love is a meeting of two souls, fully accepting the dark and the light within each other, bound by the courage to grow through struggle into bliss.’

This is day 3 of the ClonecestInJuly challenge! I finally finished this one. Again, I am taking my time with this July thing because it’s stressful; so instead of rushing myself (and because I want to write long prompts) I probably will take this challenge all the way into August XD Screw July!! Thank you to my beta reader/editor @maplerosekisses! Yet again, you have done an amazing job and I am very appreciative!! I hope you all enjoy this one! ALL FLUFF!! It’s so cute and the ending is just perfect. uwu

*Warning: You may need to go to the hospital if your heart is throbbing from how cute this is!

The sunset is truly a blessing to see. It’s like a refined painting, painted by the most talented artist in the entire galaxy. It’s a perfect backdrop to the tall spiraling glass buildings, the speeders flying in the distance, and soon the colors of violet, blue, and magenta clash; indicating that nightlife has just begun.

Coruscant has been blessed with beautiful sights from dusk till dawn—even the clouds look so fluffy and salmon pink. Fives breathes it in at peace, where no one can find him. Well, actually, someone has found him; and it’s not a random somebody but rather the person he fell in love with a long time ago. Echo. Beautiful, attractive, soft-to-the-touch Echo, who’s eyes captivate my attention every time.

For the first year they’d been together, he couldn’t imagine ever needing more than just this, just being with Echo. But that changed when he watched one of his brothers face something he hoped he would never have to. One of his squadmates from Torrent lost his lover during a really bloody battle before he had the chance to tell his cyare he loved him. Fives remembers hearing quiet sobs coming from his teammate’s bunk that night.

After that, Fives started thinking deeply and very carefully about the things he might regret not doing.

Death doesn’t discriminate. That’s something he knows all too well.

Decision made, he’d taken Echo out on their last night in Coruscant. The full works—dinner, a romantic walk in the park—a classic perfect date. Which leads to where he is now. With the wind blowing against his face and a hand wrapped around his own, he feels warm. All of this is a surprise for his cyare. Fives turns his gaze onto him, Echo, and Echo’s golden eyes look back, shining with adoration.

“Fives, I’m really happy that you dragged me all the way up here. I’ve never seen anything quite this beautiful. I mean, I knew that Coruscant’s sunsets are jaw-dropping, but this!” Echo gestures with a wave of his hand to the red sky. “This is more than I could've dreamed. Did...did you do this...all for me?” The corner of Echo’s lips quirks up. Fives brushes one finger down the side of Echo’s face and nods.

“Well, I can’t take credit for the sunset,” —there’s that fond eye-roll he loves. “But of course. I did it for you because I wanted us to have a good time together. Just the two of us, and not with those scoundrels back at 79′s.”

Echo chuckles at that and Fives’ heart skips a beat.

“I appreciate it. I really do. I wish we could stay like this forever, but we’ll be needed back at the front real soon.” He looks down sadly, but Fives tips his chin up for a kiss. Echo’s lips are soft, delicate, like butterfly wings.

Echo raises his hand and pulls Fives towards him, and suddenly, the weight in his pocket that he’s been hyper-aware of all night feels so much lighter. It’s still there, a solid reminder of what his last surprise is, but it doesn’t feel nearly as heavy anymore.

Fives feels that if he kisses him long enough maybe he can survive on just sharing Echo’s breath, but all too soon, Fives’ chest begins to burn, screaming for him to breathe. Fives’ hand skims the side of Echo’s face and he slowly breaks the kiss.

Echo licks his lips longingly, for the electric taste of him, before opening his eyes as well. On cue, the sun starts to dip below the horizon behind Echo’s head, splashing green across the red-orange sky.

Fives stares at him in awe. He’s hypnotized by the pure beauty in front of him. Echo’s eyes are a deep ocean of gold and honey; he sees his reflection in them. Fives opens his mouth as if to say something. Echo swipes a finger over his lips, where it catches slightly on the lower one, dragging it down just a little before letting it go.

“Come on, darling. We should go. It’s getting dark and I'd rather get back to The Resolute before the others get there. You know they won't let us go to bed in peace if we're not already there when they get back,” Echo said. "I really don't feel like getting dragged into their drunken shenanigans while sober."

Fives rolls his eyes playfully. “Oh yes.”

Echo stands, and Fives takes the hand he offers to pull him to his feet as well. They smile at one another before Echo turns away and starts to head down to the slope of the hill, but Fives feels the circular object in his pocket again and can’t wait.

Death doesn’t discriminate.

“Wait, Echo.” Fives quickly digs into his pocket, brings out his surprise, and then he stares at his hand. I can’t believe I am doing this. Echo turns around and cocks his head to the side playfully. “What is it, Fives?” Echo asks softly.

Fives slowly kneels down to one knee and Echo’s eyes widen. At first, he worries that something is wrong, that he's hurt, but then the fading sunlight glints off of something shiny, and Fives holds out his hand. Echo gasps.

The ring seems so small, to represent something so monumental, but it's a gorgeous color that reminds Fives’ of Echo’s golden eyes, and Fives can't contain his smile.

“Echo, I confessed my feelings to you a year ago. To me, it feels like ages, when you pulled me into your arms and told me you returned my feelings. After that, I didn’t want to lose what we have. It is special to me and we are soldiers. Anything could happen and I would rather not face the regret of not having asked you the most important question.” Fives’ ends it on a breathy chuckle.

Echo’s eyes sting.

“I want to spend every day knowing you wear a ring I gave to you; to symbolize our love for one another and our eternal bond.” Fives looks up at Echo’s face and takes in his facial expression and body language. Echo’s hand is curled against his chest, right over his heart.

So, Fives quickly says, “It’s okay if I am going too fast for you and you don’t want to do this now—I am totally fine with that. I just really wanted to do this now and—” Echo steps closer with a wet smile on his face and tears in his eyes.

“Fives, oh baby, yes. I accept.”

Fives blinks. “Uhhh, but I didn’t even…” Fives chuckles nervously.

Echo shakes his head fondly.

“You don’t have to. I was going to say yes anyway. Yes, Fives, I will marry you and forever be yours.” Echo laughs breathlessly as Fives shoots up to his feet and grabs his hands.

“Really?!”

“Yes!” Echo chuckles at the flush on Fives’ face.

“Oh force! Echo, you just made me the luckiest and happiest man alive! Force, thank you. Thank you.” Fives holds him close against his chest and cries softly. Echo trembles.

“Aww, why are you crying?” Echo giggles. Fives sniffs.

“Because I am so damn happy. Look at what you did to me.” Fives wipes his tears away and fails. Then he whispers, “I love you, cyar’ika.”

Echo taps their foreheads together. “And I love you, darling.” Fives flicks his eyes down to the ring and slips it onto Echo’s ring finger before he stares into Echo’s eyes again.

The emotional connection and spiritual ties between the two are so strong and well-built that they yank each other into another kiss. This time it’s fervent and deep. Fives wraps his arms around Echo’s waist and pulls him close. Echo tilts his head and brings his arms up to drape around Fives’ neck, and pulls him closer to deepen the kiss.

The golden ring sits nestled close against his skin, an object that intertwines their confessions, their experiences, every heated moment spent together, and all of that sits within this ring. It symbolizes their love.

In Fives’ opinion, it looks damn fine on Echo’s finger.

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salemwritesxx · 3 years

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𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 | 𝓾𝓷𝓯𝓲𝔁𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮

𝔹 𝕒 𝕜 𝕦 𝕘 𝕠 𝕦 𝕂 𝕒 𝕥 𝕤 𝕦 𝕜 𝕚

⇴ male reader [24, pro-hero, alpha, quirk: ice-phoenix] ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↣ rating: mature ↣ warnings: abo universe, male pregnancy mentioned, angst version – if you want to read the happy ending version read here.